M v > Sy o "^ '> ^. <° . o N '■ * '< 1 » * MDTH~ER, ENGRAVED FOR HOMES. HOMES: flow they are Made Happy — BY — Chrifl t§f 3(|atu!s § Mmtnt 1 jcart^l By SAMUEL SMILES, author of "Self Help," "Character," "Thrift," "Duty," Etc. The home of the poorest man has a glory in it when it has honor, and truth, and virtue, and love. ILLUSTRATED, CHICAGO: THE HOME PUBLISHING CO. 1884. i? f) ?\1* Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884, By THE HOME PUBLISHING CO., In the office of tae librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. It 3 Vjx PRESS OF OTTAWAY PRINTING CO., 54 & 56 Franklin St. CHICAGO. mfmmrmmm 'TV HE writings of Samuel Smiles are so well and favor- ***■ ably known, and so live in the hearts and lives of reading people the world over, that this latest and most general compilation from his ethical works, will meet with a warm welcome from the friends of better education and purer literature. Thoughtful people will not for a moment decry the importance of the inculcation in youthful minds, of principles of industry, frugality, honesty, self-reliance, virtue and love. % We need not say here that in writing for the people, Mr. Smiles has written of the people in their homes, in their work-shops and places of business, in every walk of life. The fact is well known to every one who has ever read a chapter or even a page of his writings. He has shown by the lives of hundreds of men and women that these cardinal virtues are the foundation of the pros- perity not only of individuals, but of nations. While his writings possess the interest and fascination of a novel, in the portrayal of character and the sketch- ing of romance, they are a rich mine, almost a cyclo. pedia of biography, history and useful inventions. The cheap, trashy and vile literature of our day is 4 Preface. rapidly corrupting the minds of our youth and sapping all energy and desire for useful study, sound reasoning or sober thought. Unless a halt is called, and these active intellects be led to purer streams where flow untainted waters, not only are they lost, but society and the lives of nations are in imminent danger. This work must begin at home. Parents must see that their children are fed in mind with wholesome literature as they would supply the body with wholesome food. Nearly two decades elapsed between the writing of the first and second volumes of Mr. Smiles' works and his later writings have followed at comparatively long intervals. He has been able to draw from his own memory and within his own life time, many of the in- cidents and biographies produced by his pen. His life has been one of unusual activity, full of business which has brought him into contact with peo- ple in every phase of life and his keen perception and careful observation have made it unnecessary for him to draw from imagination or resort to the use of fiction to add interest to his literary work. That, in the publication of this volume, the dissemina- tion of these almost incomparable writings will be in- creased a hundred fold, and that by encouraging hands to honest labor and hearts to noble and generous pur- pose many homes may be made better and happier, is the sincere hope of the publishers. (^ A A A A A A_, A_A..,. A A A A A A A A A o^Soi rr Y "V V V V V *^ CHAPTER I. HOME POWER. Home makes the Man. — Domestic and Social Life. — The Child. — Surround- ings of Children. — Influence of the Mother. — Power of Example. — Civi- lization dependent on Good Women. — Boyhood of St. Augustine. — Influ- ence of Early Impressions 17 CHAPTER II. HOMES THE BEST SCHOOLS. The best Nursery of Character. — Influence of Women. — Mothers of Great and Good Men. — Washington, Cromwell, Wellington, the Napiers. ...29 CHAPTER III. MOTHERS OF GREAT LAWYERS AND STATESMEN. Curran and Adams. — The Wesleys. — Mothers of Poets. — Ary Scheffer's Mother. — Michelet's Tribute to his Mother. — Lord Byron. — The Footes. — Lamartine 36 CHAPTER IV. WOMEN AND BUSINESS HABITS. Education of Women. — Nations and Mothers. — True Sphere of Women. — Women and Work. — Women and the Art of Preparing Food 45 CHAPTER V. COMPANIONSHIP AND EXAMPLE. Influence of Companionship. — Force of Imitation. — Companionship of the Good. — Power of Associates. — Boyhood of Henry Martyn and of Dr. Paley. — Dr. Arnold an Exampler „ 53 V. yi. Contents* CHAPTER VI. POWER OF GOOD EXAMPLE. High Standard of Living.— The Inspiration of Goodness. — Admiration of Good Men. — Influence of Gentle Natures. — Sir W. Napier. — Energy evokes Energy. — Radiating Force of Great Minds. — Admire Nobly. — Johnson and Boswell 64 CHAPTER VII. YOUNG MEN'S HEROES. The Envy of Small Minds. — Admiration and Imitation. — The Great Musi- cians. — Masters and Disciples. — Enduringness of Good Example. — Con solations of a well-spent Life -* 74 CHAPTER VIII. INFLUENCE OF CHARACTER. Character a Great Power in the World. — Common Duty. — Character above Learning and Wealth. — Character a Property. — Honesty of Character. — Principles.— Reliableness.— Practical Wisdom.— Sheridan and Burke. .84 CHAPTER IX. CHARACTER AND CIRCUMSTANCES. Formation of Character. — The late Prince Consort. — Force of Character. — The Conscientious Man. — The Quality of Reverence. — Intrepidity of Character. — Lord Palmerston. — Contagiousness of Energy. — The Napiers and Sir John Moore. — Washington. — Wellington. — Influence of Personal Character. ^ 94 CHAPTER X. REVERENCE FOR GREAT MEN. Luther, Knox, Dante. — Character a Great Legacy. — Character of Nations. —Washington Irving and Sir Walter Scott. — Character and Freedom. — Nations Strengthened by Trials. — Noble and Ignoble Patriots. — Decline and Fall of Nations.— Stability of Character of Nations. 106 CHAPTER XI. WORK. Work the Law of our Being.— The Ancient Romans.— Pliny on Rural Labor. —The Curse of Idleness.— Causes of Melancholy.— Excuses of Indolence. — Industry and Leisure. — Work a Universal Duty. — Lord Stanley on Work.— Life and Work 117 ContetUs. viu CHAPTER XII. DIGNITY OF WORK. Work and Happiness. — Scott and Southey. — Work an Educator of Character. — Training to Business. — Business Character. — Wellington, Wollenstein, Washington 126 CHAPTER XIII. WORKING GENIUSES. Genius and Business. — Literature and Business. — The Great Men of Eliza- beth's Reign. — The Great Italians. — Modern Literary Workers. — Workers in Leisure Hours. — Business Value of Culture 136 CHAPTER XIV. SPECULATIVE AND PRACTICAL ABILITY. Napoleon and Men of Science. — Hobbies. — Literary Statesmen. — Sir G. C. Lewis. — Consolations of Literature. — Work and Over-work 14?" CHAPTER XV. COURAGE. Moral Courage. — Martyrs of Science.— Persecution of Great Discoveries.' — Hostility to New Views. — Socrates, Bruno, Galileo, R. Bacon, Vesalius, and others. — Martyrs of Faith. — Annie Askew, Mary Dyer, Fortitude of Luther.— Strafford and Elliot .,157 CHAPTER XVI. COMMON COURAGE. Success Won through Failure. — Tyranny of " Society." — Moral Cowardice.. — Pandering to Popularity. — Intellectual Intrepidity. — Energetic Cour- age 167 CHAPTER XVII. COURAGE AND TENDERNESS. Generosity of the Brave. — The Douglass. — Laplace. — The Magnanimous Man. — Education of Women in CoUrage. — Moral Strength of Women. — Heroism of Women 178 viii. Contents* CHAPTER XVIII. SELF-CONTROL. :Self -control the Root of the Virtues. — Value of Discipline. — Supremacy of Self-control. — Domestic Discipline. — Virtue of Patience. — Character of Hampden 190 CHAPTER XIX. STRONG TEMPER. Evils of Strong Temper. — Strafford, Cromwell, Washington, Wellington, etc. — Instances of Self-control. — Faraday, Anquetil. — Forbearance of Speech. — Honest Indignation 197 CHAPTER XX. FORBEARANCE — HONESTY. Forbearance in Conduct. — Faraday's Practical Philosophy. — Burns's Want of Self-control. — Beranger. — Tyranny of Appetite. — Honesty of Living. — Dishonesty of Improvidence. — Public Honesty. — Sir Walter Scott's Heroic Effort to pay his Debts. — Lockhart and Scott 20? CHAPTER XXI. DUTY — TRUTHFULNESS. Upholding Sense of Duty. — Conscience and Will. — Sense of Honor. — Sacredness of Duty. — Freedom of the Individual. — Washington's Sense of Duty. — Wellington's Ideal. — Duty and Truthfulness. — Wellington and his Aurist. — Truth the Bond of Society. — Equivocation. — Pretentious- ness 222 CHAPTER XXII. DUTY — CONSCIENCE . The Sphere of Duty. — An American Legislator. — Foundation of Duty. — Conscience. — Power of Will. — Religion. — Self-control. — The best Gov- ernment.— Plato. — The New Testament Ideal. — Dr. Macleod.— Char- acter 235 CHAPTER XXIII. DUTY IN ACTION. Duty at Home. — Direction of the Will. — Characterless Men. — Locke on the Will.— School Teaching and Morality.— Human Liberty.— Noble Work. — Difficulties. — Laziness. — Resolution and Courage. — Intellectual Ability. — Lady Verney on Literature. — Discipline of Home. 249 Contents. ix. CHAPTER XXIV. HONESTY — TRUTH. lying. — Little Lying. — Regulus the Roman. — Honesty in Business. — De- preciation of Manufactures. — The Chinese. — Bad Work Lying. — Socrates on Perfection of Work. — America on Money-making. — America without Apprentices. — Badness of Trade. — Commercial Gambling. — Repudiation of Pennsylvania. — Illinois remains Honest. — Honesty of a German Peasant 263 CHAPTER XXV. TEMPER. Cheerfulness of Disposition. — Jeremy Taylor. — Cheerfulness a Tonic. — A Beam in the Eye. — Dr. Marshall Hall, Luther, Lord Palmerston.— Great Men Cheerful. — Fielding, Johnson, Scott. — Cheerfulness of Men of Genius — Abauzit, Malcolm, Burke. 277 CHAPTER XXVI. TEMPER — CHEERFULNESS . Basis of Cheerfulness. — Beneficence and Benevolence. — Power of Kindness. — Shallowness of Discontent. — Morbidity of Temper. — Querulousness. — St. Francis de Sales on the Little Virtues. — Gentleness. — Cheerfulness and Hope 287 CHAPTER XXVII. SELF-HELP — NATIONAL AND INDIVIDUAL. Spirit of Self-help. — Institutions and Men. — Government a Reflex of the Individualism of a Nation. — Caesarism and Self-help. — Patient Laborers in all Ranks. — Self-help a feature in the English Character. — Power of Example and of Work in Practical Education. — Value of Biographies. —Great Men Belong to no Exclusive Class or Rank.— Illustrious Men Sprung from the Ranks. .. 297 CHAPTER XXVIII. SELF-HELP — EXAMPLES . Distinguished Astronomers.— Eminent Sons of Clergymen.— Of Attorneys. —Illustrious Foreigners of Humble Origin.— Promotions from the Ranks in the French Army.— Instances of Persevering Application and Energy. — Diligence Indispensable to Usefulness and Distinction. — The Wealth- ier Ranks not all Idlers.— Examples.— Military Men.— Philosophers.— Men of Science.— Politicians. — Literary Men.— Men their Own best Helpers - 310 x. Contents. CHAPTER XXIX. APPLICATION AND PERSEVERANCE. Great Results Attained by Simple Means.— Fortune Favors the Industrious. "Genius is Patience." — Industry of Eminent Men. — Power Acquired by Repeated Effort. — Anecdote of Sir Robert Peel's Cultivation of Mem- ory, — Facility Comes by Practice. — Importance of Patience.— Cheerful- ness. — Hope an Important Element in Character. — Perseverance of Watt and Stephenson 331 CHAPTER XXX. APPLICATION AND PERSEVERANCE. Comte de Buff on as Student.— Genius is Patience.— His Continuous and Unremitting Labors. — Sir Walter Scott's Perseverance. — His Working Qualities.— His Punctuality 343 CHAPTER XXXI. THE GREAT POTTER — PALISSY. Ancient Pottery. — Bernard Palissy: Sketch of His Life and Labors. — Inflamed by the Sight of an Italian Cup. — His Experiments During Years of Unproductive Toil. — Indomitable Perseverance; Burns His Furniture to Heat the Furnace. — Success at Last.— Reduced to Desti- tution. — Condemned to Death, and Released. — His Writings. — Dies in the Bastille » - 355 CHAPTER XXXII. THE GREAT POTTERS — BOTTGHER, WEDGWOOD. John Frederick Bottgher, the Berlin " Gold Cook." — His Trick in Alchemy, and Consequent Troubles. — Discovers How to Make Red and White Porcelain. — The Manufacture Taken up by the Saxon Government. — Bottgher Treated as a Prisoner and a Slave. — His Unhappy End. — Josiah Wedgwood, the English Potter. — Wedgwood's Indefatigable Industry.— His Success. — Wedgwood a National Benefactor. — Industrial Heroes... 372 CHAPTER XXXIII. LEADERS OF INDUSTRY — INVENTORS AND PRODUCERS. Industry of the English People. — Poverty and Toil not Insurmountable Obstacles. — Working men as Inventors. — Invention of the Steam-engine. — James Watt : His Industry and Habit of Attention. — The Cotton Man- ufacture. — The Early Inventors. — Arkwright: His Early Life. — Barber, Inventor and Manufacturer. — His Influence and Character. 390 Contents. xi. CHAPTER XXXIY. LEADERS OF INDUSTRY — INVENTORS AND PRODUCERS. The Peels of South Lancashire.— The Founder of the Family.— The First Sir "Robert Peel, Cotton-printer. — Lady Peel. — Rev. William Lee, Inven- tor of the Stocking-frame. — Dies Abroad in Misery. — James Lee. — The Nottingham Lace Manufacture 404 CHAPTER XXXV. LEADERS OP INDUSTRY — INVENTORS AND PRODUCERS. John Heathcoat, Inventor of the Bobbin-net Machine. — His Early Life. — Invention of his Machine. — Progress of the Lace-trade. — Heathcoat's Machines Destroyed by the Luddites. — His Character. — Jacquard: His Inventions and Adventures. — Vaucanson, his Mechanical Genius, Im- provements in Silk Manufacture. — The Jacquard Loom Adopted. — Joshua Heilman, Inventor of the Combing-machine. — History of the Invention. — Its Value ". 417 CHAPTER XXXVI. HELPS AND OPPORTUNITIES — SCIENTIFIC PURSUITS. No Great Result Achieved by Accident. — Newton's Discoveries. — Dr. Young. — Habit of Observing with Intelligence. — Galileo.— Philosophy in Little Things. — Discovery of Steam-power. — Opportunities Seized or Made. — Simple and Rude Tools of Great Workers.— Lee and Stone's Opportunities for Learning.— Sir Humphrey Davy.— Faraday.— Davy, Coleridge ...443 CHAPTER XXXVII. WORKERS IN ART. Sir Joshua Reynolds on the Power of Industry in Art.— Humble Origin of Eminent Artists. — Acquisition of Wealth not the Ruling Motive with Artists.— Michael Angelo on Riches.— Patient Labors of Michael Angelo and Titian.— West's Early Success a Disadvantage.— Hogarth a keen Observer.— Banks and Mulready.— Claude, Lorraine and Turner : Their Indefatigable Industry.— Perrier and Jacques Callot, and Their Visits to Rome.— Callot and the Gypsies.— Benvenuto Cellini.— Casting of His Statue of Perseus 45? xii. Contents. CHAPTER XXXVIII. MEN OF BUSINESS. Hazlitt's Definition of the Man of Business.— The Chief Requisite Qualities — Men of Genius Men of Business. — Labor and Application Necessary to Success. — The School of Difficulty a Good School. — Conditions of Success in Law. — The Industrious Architect. — The Salutary Influence of Work. — Consequences of Contempt for Arithmetic— Practical Qualities Necessary in Business.— Importance of Accuracy. — Method. — Value of Time. — Promptitude. — Economy of Time. — Punctuality 479 CHAPTER XXXIX. MEN OF BUSINESS — EXAMPLES. 'Firmness. — Tact. — Napoleon and Wellington, as Men of Business. — Napo- leon's Attention to Details. — The "Napoleon Correspondence." — Welling- ton's Business Faculty. — Wellington in the Peninsula. — "Honesty the best Policy." — Trade Tries Character. — Dishon3st Gains 496 CHAPTER XL. MONEY — ITS USE AND ABUSE. The Right Use of Money a Test of Wisdom.— The Virtue of Self-denial.— Self-imposed Taxes. — Economy Necessary to Independence. — Helplessness of the Improvident. — Frugality an Important Public Question. — The Bondage of the Improvident. — Independence Attainable by Working Men. — Living within the Means. — Bacon's Maxim. — Running into Debt. — Haydon's Debts. — Dr. Johnson on Debt. — The Duke of Wellington on Debt.— Washington ._ 512 CHAPTER XLI. MONEY — ITS USE AND ABUSE — EXAMPLES. Earl St. Vincent: his protested Bill. — Joseph Hume on living too high. — Ambition after Gentility. — Resistance to Temptation. — Hugh Miller's Case. — High Standard of Life necessary. — Proverbs on Money-making and Thrift 526 CHAPTER XLII. ENERGY AND COURAGE. Energy Characteristic of the Teutonic Race.— The Foundations of Strength of Character. — Force of Purpose. — Concentration.— Courageous Work- ing.— Words of Hugh Miller and Fowell Buxton.— Power and Freedom of Will.— Words of Lamennais.— Suwarrow.— Napoleon and "Glory."— Wellington and ' ' Duty!' 534 I Oontents- xiiL CHAPTER XLIII. SELF-CULTURE — FACILITIES AND DIFFICULTIES. Sir Walter Scott on Self-culture. — Active Employment salutary. — Import- ance of physical Health. — Early Labor. — Training in Use of Tools. — Healthiness of Great Men. — Labor conquers all Things. — Well-directed Labor. — The Virtue of patient Labor. — The right Use of Knowledge. — Books may impart learning, but well-applied Knowledge and Experience only exhibit Wisdom. — The Magna Charta Men. — Self-respect. — The Uses of Difficulty and Adversity. — Struggles with Difficulties 544 CHAPTER XLIY. THRIFT — INDUSTRY. Private Economy. — Useful Labors. — Our Birthright. — Results of Labor. — Necessity for Labor. — Industry and Intellect. — Thrift and Civilization. —Thrifty Industry.— Thrifty Economy 564 CHAPTER XLV. HABITS OF THRIFT. Workmen and Capital. — Habits of Economy. — Self-indulgence. — Results of Thriftlessness. — Uses of Saved Money. — Extravagant Living. — Bargain- buying.— Thrift and Unthrift.— Mortality.— Will Nobody Help Us?— Prosperous Times the Least Prosperous. — National Prosperity. — Moral Independence 576 CHAPTER XL VI. LITTLE THINGS. Luck and Labor.— Neglect of Little Things.—" It will Do!"— Spending of Pennies.— The Thrifty Woman.— A Helpful Wife.— A Man's Daily Life. The Two Workmen. — Rights and Habits. — Influence of the' Wife. — A Penny a Day.— The Power of a Penny.— Roads and Railways.— Business Maxims, i. 599 CHAPTER XLVn. ' COMPANIONSHIP IN MARRIAGE. Character Influenced by Marriage. — Mutual Relations of Man and Woman. Views of Woman's Character. — Early Education of the Sexes. — Woman's Aflectionateness. — The Sentiment of Love. — Love an Inspirer and Purifier. — Man in the Home. — The Golden Rule in Marriage 610 xiv. Contents. CHAPTER XL VIII. MANNER. Manner the Grace of Character.— Influence of Manner.— Politeness.— " Eti- quette." — True Courtesy. — Practical Unpoliteness. — Indications of Self- respect - 618 CHAPTER XLIX. COMPANIONSHIP OF BOOKS. — THE TRUE GENTLEMAN. Men are Known by the Books they Read. — Good Books the Best Society.— Interest of Biography. — The Great Lesson of Biography. — The Book of Books. — History and Biography. — Books the Inspirers of Youth. — Honor, Probity, Rectitude. — The Gentleman will not be bribed. — The poor in Purse may be rich in Spirit. — Use of Power, the Test of the Gentleman. — Fuller's Character of Sir Francis Drake 623 CHAPTER L. HEALTHY HOMES. Healthy Existence.— Necessity for Pure Air.— Healthy Homes.— Influence of the Home.— intelligent Women.— Wholesome Dwellings 631 CHAPTER LI. THE LAST. Youth and Old Age.— The Invisible Messenger.— Frederick the Great.— Sir Harry Vane.— Sir Walter Raleigh.— Sir John Moore.— Sir Walter Scott.— Jeremy Taylor on Life.— A Man's True Life.— Sir Francis of Assisi 635 BE IT EVER SO HUMBLE "Y^OWV^ \ ^VOWv^ \ V^^\ V vw ^ r ~ ^w^ ^ 15 10 Home, Sweet Home. 0©w u^UU ^wvw 4v©wvs, x ^blwwio'v &,o*adlw> vw \>Q*wi \ '3\v^ &Vw\lb V vv ^^ S(°^^ *CW$ <^©Wv^ ^O W©WV^W©& N^VVfV ^Wv© ". 3^V© 4vvavV© &v©vV©JS ^©W,© V^V©1 ^\MjXfr ov* © \fc u>©\< V^ ^^wXU, ^Wv©\ vv© *^©a©© Wk© 4v©w*© 2Wvw© w© btafc© Wv© ^©©W© \ CHAPTER I. HOME POWER. "So build we up the being that we are, Thus deeply drinking in the soul of things, We shall be wise perforce." — Wordsworth. Home makes the Man. — Domestic and Social Life. — The Child. — Surround- ings of Children. — Influence of the Mother. — Power of Example. — Civi- lization dependent on G-ood Women. — Boyhood of St. Augustine. — Influ- ence of Early Impressions. dTOME is the first and most important school of character. It is there that every human being receives his best moral training, or his worst; for it is there that he imbibes those principles of conduct which endure through manhood, and cease only with life. It is a common saying that " Manners make the man;" and there is a second, that "Mind makes the man;" but truer than either is a third, that "Home makes the man," For the home-training includes not only manners and mind, but character. It is mainly in the home that the heart is opened, the habits are formed, the intellect is awakened, and character mould- ed for good or for evil. From that source, b^ it pure or impure, issue the principles and maxims that govern society. Law itself 2 17 18 Home and Civilization. is but the reflex of homes. The tiniest bits of opinion sown in the minds of children in private life afterwards issue forth to the world, and become its public opinion; for nations are gathered out of nurseries, and they who hold the leading-strings of children may even exercise a greater power than those who wield the reins of government. It is in the order of nature that domestic life should be preparatory to social, and that the mind and charac- ter should first be formed in the home. There the in- dividuals who afterwards form society are dealt with in detail, and fashioned one by one. From the family they enter life, and advance from boyhood to citizenship. Thus the home may be regarded as the most influential school of civilization. For, after all, civilization mainly resolves itself into a question of individual training; and according as the respective members of society are well or ill trained in youth, so will the community which they constitute be more or less humanized and civil- ized. The training of any man, even the wisest, can not fail to be powerfully influenced by the moral surround ings of his early years. He comes into the world help- less, and absolutely dependent upon those about him for nurture and culture. From the very first breath that he draws, his education begins. When a mother once asked a clergyman when she should begin the edu- cation of her child, then four years old, he replied: " Madam, if you have not begun already, you have lost Domestic Training. 19 those four years. From the first smile that gleams upon an infant's cheek, your opportunity begins.. 1 '' But even in this case the education had already be- gun; for the child learns by simple imitation, without effort, almost through the pores of the skin. " A fig- tree looking on a fig-tree becometh fruitful," says the Arabian proverb. And so it is with children; their first great instructor is example. However apparently trivial the influences which con- tribute to form the character of the child, they endure through life. The child's character is the nucleus of the man's; all after-education is but superposition; the form of the crystal remains the same. Thus the saying of the poet holds true in a large degree, " The child is father ot the man;" or, as Milton puts it, u The child- hood shows the man, as morning shows the day." Those impulses to conduct which last the longest and are rooted the deepest, always have their origin near our birth. It is then that the germs of virtues or vices, of feelings or sentiments, are first implanted which de- termine the character for life. The child is., as it were, laid at the gate of a new world, and opens his eyes upon things all of which are full of novelty and wonderment. At first it is enough for him to gaze; but by-and-by he begins to see, to ob- serve, to compare, to learn, to store up impressions and ideas; and under wise guidance the progress which he makes is really wonderful. Lord Brougham has ob- served that between the ages of eighteen and thirty 20 Home Influences. months, a child learns more of the material world, of his own powers, of the nature of other bodies, and even of his own mind and other minds, than he acquires in all the rest of his life. The knowledge which a child ac- cumulates, and the ideas generated in his mind, during this period are so important, that if we could imagine them to be afterwards obliterated, all the learning of a senior wrangler at Cambridge, or a first-classman at Oxford, would be as nothing to it, and would literally not enable its object to prolong his existence for a week. It is in childhood that the mind is most open to im- pressions ; and ready to be kindled by the first spark that falls into it. Ideas are then caught quickly and live lastingly. Thus Scott is said to have received his first bent towards ballad literature from his mother's and grandmother's recitations in his hearing long be- fore he himself had learned to read. Childhood is like a mirror which reflects in after-life the images first pre- sented to it. The first thing continues forever with the child. The first joy, the first sorrow, the first success, the first failure, the first achievement, the first misad- venture, paint the foreground of his life. All this while, too, the training of the character is in progress — of the temper, the will, and the habits — on which so much of the happiness of human beings in after-life depends. Although man is endowed with a certain self-acting, self-helping power of contributing to his own development, independent of surrounding cir- cumstances, and of reacting upon the life around him, Surroundings of Children. 21 the bias given to his moral character in early life is of immense importance. Place even the highest-minded philosopher in the midst of daily discomfort, immorali- ty, and vileness, and he will insensibly gravitate towards brutality. How much more susceptible is the impres- sionable and helpless child amidst such surroundings! It is not possible to rear, a kindly nature, sensitive to evil, pure in mind and heart, amidst coarseness, discom- fort, and impurity. Thus homes, which are the nurseries of children who grow up into men and women, will be good or bad ac- cording to the power that governs them. Where the spirit of love and duty pervades the home — where head and heart bear rule wisely there— where the daily life is honest and virtuous — where the government is sensible, kind, and loving, then may we expect from such a home an issue of healthy, useful, and happy beings, capable, as they gain the requisite strength, of following the foot- steps of their parents, of walking uprightly, governing themselves wisely, and contributing to the welfare of those about them. On the other hand, if surrounded by ignorance, coarse- ness, and selfishness, they will unconsciously assume the same character, and grow up to adult years rude, uncul- tivated, and all the more dangerous to society if placed amidst the manifold temptations of what is called civil- ized life. " Give your child to be educated by a slave," said an ancient Greek, " and, instead of one slave, you will then have two." 22 Power of Example. The child can not help imitating what he sees. Every- thing is to him a model — of manner, of gesture, of speech, of habit, of character. " For the child," says Richter, " the most important era of life is that of child- hood, when he begins to color and mould himself by companionship with others. Every new educator effects less than his predecessor; until at last, if we regard all life as an educational institution, a circumnavigator of the world is less influenced by all the nations he has seen than by his nurse. Models are, therefore, of every importance in moulding the nature of the child; and if we would have fine characters, we must necessarily present before them fine models. Now, the model most constantly before every child's eye is the mother. One good mother, said George Herbert, is worth a hundred school-masters. In the home she is " loadstone to all hearts, and loadstar to all eyes." Imitation of her is constant — imitation, which Bacon likens to a " globe of precepts.'" But example is far more than precept. It is instruction in action. It is teaching without words, often exemplifying more than tongue can teach. In the face of bad example, the best of precepts are of but little avail. The example is followed, not the pre- cepts. Indeed, precept at variance with practice is worse than useless, inasmuch as it only serves to teach the most cowardly of vices— hypocrisy. Even children are judges of consistency, and the lessons of the parent who says one thing and does the opposite, are quickly seen through. The teaching of the friar was not worth Influence of Early Example. 2d much who preached the virtue of honesty with a stolen goose in his sleeve. By imitation of acts, the character becomes slowly and imperceptibly, but at length decidedly formed. The several acts may seem in themselves trivial ; but so are the continuous acts of daily life. Like snow-flakes they fall unperceived; each flake added to the pile pro- duces no sensible change, and yet the accumulation of snow-flakes makes the avalanche. So do repeated acts, one following another, at length become consolidated in habit, determine the action of the human being for good or for evil, and, in a word, form the character. It is because the mother, far more than the father, influences the action and conduct of the child, that her good example is of so much greater importance in the home. It is easy to understand how this should be so. The home is the woman's domain — her kingdom, where she exercises entire control. Her power over the little subjects she rules there is absolute. They look up to her for everything. She is the example and model constantly before their eyes, whom they unconsciously observe and imitate. Cowley, speaking of the influence of early example, and ideas early implanted in the mind, compares them to letters cut in the bark of a young tree, which grow and widen with age. The impressions then made, how- soever slight they may seem, are never effaced. The ideas then implanted in the mind are like seeds dropped into the ground, which lie there and germinate for a 24 Maternal Love- time, afterwards springing up in acts and thoughts and habits. Thus the mother lives again in her children. They unconsciously mould themselves after her manner, her speech, her conduct, and her method of life. Her habits become theirs; and her character is visibly repeat- ed in them. This maternal love is the visible providence of our race. Its influence is constant and universal. It begins with the education of the human being at the outstart of life, and is prolonged by virtue of the powerful in- fluence which every good mother exercises over her children through life. When launched into the world, each to take part in its labors, anxieties, and trials, they still turn to their mother for consolation, if not for coun- sel, in their time of trouble and difficulty. The pure and good thoughts she has implanted in their minds when children continue to grow up into good acts long after she is dead; and when there is nothing but a mem- ory of her left, her children rise up and call her blessed. It is not saying too much to aver that the happiness or misery, the enlightenment or ignorance, the civiliza- tion or barbarism of the world, depends in a very high degree upon the exercise of woman's power within her special kingdom of home. Indeed, Emerson says, broad- ly and truly, that u a sufficient measure of civilization is the influence of good women. 1 ' Posterity may be said to lie before us in the person of the child in the mother's lap. What that child will eventually become, mainly depends upon the training and example which he has Boyhood of St Augustine, 25 received from his first and most influential educator. Woman, above all other educators, educates humanly. Man is the brain, but woman is the heart of humanity : he its judgment, she its feeling; he its strength, she its grace, ornament, and solace. Even the understanding of the best woman seems to work mainly through her affections. And thus, though man may direct the intel- lect, woman cultivates the feelings, which mainly deter- mine the character. While he fills the memory, she occupies the heart. She makes us love what he can only make us believe, and it is chiefly through her that we are enabled to arrive at virtue. The respective influences of the father and the mother on the training and development of character are re- markably illustrated in the life of St. Augustine. While Augustine's father, a poor freeman of Thagaste, proud of his son's abilities, endeavored to furnish his mind with the highest learning of the schools, and was extolled by his neighbors for the sacrifices he made with that object " beyond the ability of his means " — his mother, Monica, on the other hand, sought to lead her son's mind in the direction of the highest good, and with pious care counseled him, entreated him, advised him to chastity, and, amidst much anguish and tribulation, because of his wicked life, never ceased to pray for him until her prayers were heard and answered. Thus her love at last triumphed, and the patience and goodness of the mother were rewarded, not only by the conversion of her gifted son, but also of her husband. Later in life 26 Early Impressions. and after her husband's death, Monica, drawn by her affection, followed her son to Milan, to watch over him; and there she died, when he was in his thirty -third year. But it was in the earlier period of his life that her ex- ample and instruction made the deepest impression upon his mind, and determined his future character. There are many similar instances of early impressions made upon a child's mind springing up into good acts late in life, after an intervening period of selfishness and vice. Parents may do all that they can to develop an upright and virtuous character in their children, and apparently in vain. It seems like bread cast upon the waters and lost. And yet sometimes it happens that long after the parents have gone to their rest — it may be twenty years or more — the good precept, the good example set before their sons and daughters in child- hood, at length springs up and bears fruit. One of the most remarkable of such instances was that of the Rev. John Newton, of Olney, the friend of Cowper, the poet. It was long subsequent to the death of both his parents, and after leading a vicious life as a youth and as a seaman, that he became sudden- ly awakened to a sense of his depravity; and then it was that the lessons which his mother had given him when a child sprang up vividly in his memory. Her voice came to him as it were from the dead, and led him gently back to virtue and goodness. Another instance is that of John Randolph, the American statesman, who once said: " I should have Good Mothers. 27 been an atheist if it had not been for one recollection — and that was the memory of the time when my departed mother used to take my little hand in hers, and cause me on my knees to say, ' Our Father who art in heaven!' " But such instances must, on the whole, be regarded as exceptional. As the character is biased in early life so it generally remains, gradually assuming its permanent form as manhood is reached. " Live as long as you may," said Southey, " the first twenty years are the long- est half of your life/' and they are by far the most preg- nant in consequences. When the worn out slanderer and voluptuary, Dr. Wolcot, lay on his death-bed, one of his friends asked if he could do anything to gratify him. " Yes," said the dying man, eagerly, "give me back my youth." Give him but that and he would repent — he would reform. But it was all too late. His life had become bound and inthralled by the chains of habit. Gretry, the musical composer, thought so highly of the importance of woman as an educator of character that he described a good woman as "Nature's chef- cPceuvre." And he was right: for good mothers, far more than fathers, tend to the perpetual renovation of mankind, creating as they do the moral atmosphere of the home, which is the nutriment of man's moral being as the physical atmosphere is of his corporeal frame By good temper, suavity and kindness, directed by in telligence, woman surrounds the in-dwellers with a per 2$ The Poorest Dwelling. vading atmosphere of cheerfulness, contentment, and peace, suitable for the growth of the purest as of the manliest natures. The poorest dwelling presided over by a virtuous, thrifty, cheerful and cleanly woman, may thus be the abode of comfort, virtue and happiness; it may be the scene of every ennobling relation in family life; it may be endeared to a man by many delightful associations; furnishing a sanctuary for the heart, a refuge from the storms of life, a sweet resting place after labor, a conso- lation in misfortune, a pride in prosperity, and a joy at all times. CHAPTER II. HOMES THE BEST SCHOOLS. The best Nursery of Character. — Influence of Women. — Mothers of Great and Good Men. — Washington, Cromwell, Wellington, the Napiers. "The Mill-streams that turn the clappers of the world, arise in solitary places." — Helps. JTxHE good home is the best of schools, not only in -*- youth but in age. There young and old best learn cheerfulness, patience, self-control, and the spirit of service and of duty. Izaak Walton, speaking of George Herbert's mother, says she governed her family with judicious care, not rigidly nor sourly, " but with such a sweetness and compliance with the recreations and pleasures of youth, as did incline them to spend much of their time in her company, which was to her great content. " The home is the true school of courtesy, of which woman is always the best practical instructor. u With- out woman," says the Provencal proverb, " men were but ill-licked cubs." Philanthropy radiates from the home as from a centre. " To love the little platoon we belong to in society," said Burke, "is the germ of all public affections." The wisest and the best have not 29 30 The best Nursery of Character. been ashamed to own it to be their greatest joy and happiness to sit " behind the heads of children 1 ' in the inviolable circle of home, A life of purity and duty there is not the least effectual preparative for a life of public work and duty; and the man who loves his home will not the less fondly love and serve his country. But while homes, which are the nurseries of charac- ter, may be the best of schools, they may also be the worst. Between childhood and manhood how incalcu- lable is the mischief which ignorance in the home has the power to cause! Between the drawing of the first breath and the last, how vast is the moral suffering and disease occasioned by incompetent mothers and nurses! Commit a child to the care of a worthless, ignorant woman, and no culture in after life will remedy the evil you have done. Let the mother be idle, vicious, and a slattern; let her home be pervaded by cavilling, petu- lance, and discontent, and it will become a dwelling of misery — a place to fly from, rather than to fly to; and the children whose misfortune it is to be brought up there will be morally dwarfed and deformed — the cause of misery to themselves as well as to others. Napoleon Bonaparte was accustomed to say that " the future good or bad conduct of a child depended entirely on the mother." He himself attributed his rise in life in a great measure to the training of his will, his energy, and his self-control, by his mother at home. " Nobody had any command over him," says one of his biographers, " except his mother, who found means, by The Mother's Influence. 31 a mixture of tenderness, severity and justice, to make him love, respect and obey her; from her he learnt the virtue of obedience.' 1 A curious illustration of the dependence of the char- acter of children on that of the mother incidentally oc- curs in one of Mr. Tufnell's school-reports. The truth, he observes, is so well established that it has even been made subservient to mercantile calculation. u I was in- formed, 71 he says, kt in a large factory where many chil- dren were employed, that the managers before they en- gaged a boy, always inquired into the mother's char- acter, and if that was satisfactory they were tolerably certain that her children would conduct themselves creditably. No attention was -paid to the character of the father" It has also been observed that in cases where the fa- ther has turned out badly — become a drunkard and u gone to the dogs " — provided the mother is prudent and sensible, the family will be kept together, and the children probably make their way honorably in life; whereas in cases of the opposite sort, where the mother turns out badly, no matter how well-conducted the fa- ther may be, the instances of after-success in life on the part of the children are comparatively rare. The greater part of the influence exercised by wo- men on the formation of character necessarily remains unknown. They acomplish their best works in the quiet seclusion of the home and the family, by sustained effort and patient perse verence in the path of duty. o2 Power of Good Women. Their greatest triumphs, because private and domestic, are rarely recorded; and it is not often, even in the biographies of distinguished men, that we hear of the share which their mothers have had in the formation of their character, and in giving them a bias towards goodness. Yet are they not on that account without their reward. The influence they have exercised, though unrecorded, lives after them and goes on pro- pagating itself in consequences forever. We do not often hear of great women as we do of great men. It is of good women that we mostly hear; and it is probable that by determining the character of men and women for good, they are doing even greater work than if they were to paint great pictures, write great books, or compose great operas. " It is quite true," said Joseph de Maistre, "that women have pro- duced no chefs-de-oeuvre. They have written no ' Iliad,' nor 'Jerusalem Delivered,' nor ' Hamlet,' nor ' Phsedre,' nor ' Paradise Lost,' nor ' Tartuffe;" they have design- ed no Church of St. Peters, composed no ' Messiah,' carved no ' Apollo Belvedere,' painted no ' Last Judg- ment;' they have invented neither algebra, nor tele. scopes, nor steam-engines; but they have done some- thing far greater and better than all this, for it is at their knees that upright and virtuous men and women have been trained — the most excellent productions in the world." De Maistre, in his letters and writings, speaks of his own mother with immense love and reverence. Her Johnson and Washington. 33 noble character made all other women venerable in his eyes. He described her as his " sublime mother " — " an angel to whom God had lent a body for a brief season.' 1 To her he attributed the bent of his character, and all his bias towards good; and when he had grown to ma- ture years, while acting as ambassador at the Court of St. Petersburg, he referred to her noble example and precepts as the ruling influence in his life. One of the most charming features in the character of Samuel Johnson, notwithstanding his rough and shaggy exterior, was the tenderness with which he in- variably spoke of his mother — a woman of strong under- standing, who firmly implanted in his mind, as he him- self acknowledges, his first impressions of religion. He was accustomed even in the time of his greatest diffi- culties, to contribute largely, out of his slender means, to her comfort; and one of his last acts of filial duty was to write " Rasselas " for the purpose of paying her little debts and defraying her funeral charges. George Washington was only eleven years of age — the eldest of five children — when his father died, leaving his mother a widow. She was a woman of rare excel- lence — full of resources, a good woman of business, an excellent manager, and possessed of much strength of character. She had her children to educate and bring up, a large household to govern, and extensive estates to manage, all of which she accomplished with complete success. Her good sense, assiduity, tenderness, indus- try, and vigilance, enabled her to overcome every obsta- 3 34 Cromwell and Wellington* cle ; and, as the richest reward of her solicitude and toil, she had the happiness to see all her children come for- ward with a fair promise into life, filling the spheres al- lotted to them in a manner equally honorable to them- selves, and to the parent who had been the only guide of their principles, conduct, and habits. The biographer of Cromwell says little about the Protector's father, but dwells upon the character of his mother, whom he describes as a woman of rare vigor and decision of purpose: "A woman," he says, u pos- sessed of the glorious faculty of self-help when other assistance failed her; ready for the demands of fortune in its extremest adverse turn; of spirit and energy equal to her mildness and patience; who, with the la- bor of her own hands, gave dowries to five daughters sufficient to marry them into families as honorable but more wealthy than their own; whose single pride was honesty, and whose passion was love; who preserved in the gorgeous palace at Whitehall the simple tastes that distinguished her in the old brewery at Huntingdon; and whose only care, amidst all her splendor, was for the safety of her son in his dangerous eminence." We have spoken of the mother of Napoleon Bona- parte as a woman of great force of character. Not less so was the mother of the Duke of Wellington, whom her son strikingly resembled in features, person and character; while his father was principally distinguish- ed as a musical composer and performer. But strange to say, Wellington's mother mistook him for a dunce; Parents of the -N~apiers. 35 and, for some reason or other, he was not such a favor- ite as her other children, until his great deeds in after life constrained her to be proud of him. The Napiers were blessed in both parents, but es- pecially in their mother, Lady Sarah Lennox, who ear- ly sought to inspire her sons' minds with elevating thoughts, admiration of noble deeds, and a chivalrous spirit, which became embodied in their lives, and con- tinued to sustain them, until death, in the path of duty and of honor. CHAPTER III. MOTHERS OF GREAT LAWYERS AND STATESMEN. Curran and Adams. — The Wesleys. — Mothers of Poets. — Ary Scheffer's Mother. — Michelet's Tribute to his Mother. — Lord Byron. — The Footes. — Lamartine. " In the course of a conversation with Madame Campan, Napoleon Bona- parte remarked : ' The old systems of instruction seem to be worth nothing ; what is yet wanting in order that the people should be properly educated ? ' 'Mothers,' replied Madame Campan. The reply struck the Emperor. ' Yes,' said he, ' here is a system of education in one word. Be it your care, then, to train up mothers who shall know how to educate their children.' — Abie Martin. MONG statesmen, lawyers and divines, we find marked mention made of the mothers of Lord Chancellors Bacon, Erskine, and Brougham — all women of great ability, and, in the case of the first, of great learning; as well as of the mothers of Canning, Curran and President Adams — of Herbert, Paley and Wesley. Lord Brougham speaks in terms almost approaching reverence of his grandmother, the sister of Professor Robertson, as having been mainly instrumental in instilling into his mind a strong desire for information, and the first principles of that persevering energy in the pursuit of every kind of knowledge which formed his prominent characteristic throughout life. 36 Canning and Curran. 37 Canning's mother was an Irishwoman of great natural ability, for whom her gifted son entertained the greatest love and respect to the close of his career. She was a woman of no ordinary intellectual power. " Indeed," says Canning's biographer, " were we not otherwise assured of the fact from direct sources, it would be im- possible to contemplate his profound and touching devotion to her, without being led to conclude that the object of such unchanging attachment must have been possessed of rare and commanding qualities. She was esteemed by the circle in which she lived as a woman of great mental energy. Her conversation was animated and vigorous, and marked by a distinct originality of manner, and a choice of topics fresh and striking, and out of the commonplace routine. To persons who were but slightly acquainted with her, the energy of her manner had even something of the air of eccen- tricity." Curran speaks with great affection of his mother, as a woman of strong original understanding, to whose wise counsel, consistent piety, and lessons of honorable ambition, which she diligently enforced on the minds of her children, he himself principally attributed his success in life. " The only inheritance/ ' he used to say, " that I could boast of from my poor father was the very scanty one of an unattractive face and person, like his own; and if the world has ever attributed to me something more valuable than face or person, or than earthly wealth, it .was that another and a dearer 38 Mother of the Wesleys. parent gave her child a portion from the treasure of her mind.' 1 . When ex-President Adams was present at the ex- amination of a girl's school at Boston, he was presented by the pupils with an address which deeply affected him; and in acknowledging it, he took the opportunity of referring to the lasting influence which womanly training and association had excercised upon his own life and character. " As a child,'' he said, "I enjoyed perhaps the greatest of blessings that can be bestowed on man — that of a mother who was anxious and capa- ble to form the characters of her children rightly. From her I derived whatever instruction (religious especially, and moral) has pervaded a long life — I will not say perfectly, or as it ought to be; but I will say, because it is only justice to the memory of her I revere, that in the course of that life, whatever imperfection there has been, or deviation from what she taught me, the fault is mine, and not hers." The Wesleys were peculiarity linked to their parents by natural piety, though the mother, rather than the father, influenced their minds and developed their char- acters. The father was a man of strong will, but oc- casionally harsh and tyrannical in his dealings with his family; while the mother, with much strength of un- derstanding and ardent love of truth, was gentle, per- suasive, affectionate, and simple. She was the teacher and cheerful companion of her children, who gradually became moulded by her example. It was through the Mothers of Poets. 39 bias given by her to her sons' minds in religious mat- ters that they acquired the tendency which, even in early years, drew to them the name of Methodists. In a letter to her son, Samuel Wesley, when a scholar at Westminster, in 1709, she said: " I would advise you as much as possible to throw your business into a certain method, by which means you will learn to improve every precious moment, and find an unspeakable facility in the performance of your respective duties." This " method, " she went on to describe, exhorting her son u in all things to act upon principle;" and the society which the brothers John and Charles afterwards found- ed at Oxford is supposed to have been in a great measure the result of her exhortations. In the case of poets, literary men, and artists, the in- fluence of the mother's feeling and taste has doubtless had great effect in directing the genius of their sons; and we find this especially illustrated in the lives of Gray, Thomson, Scott, Southey, Bulwer, Schiller, and Goethe. Gray, inherited almost complete, his kind and loving nature from his mother, while his father was harsh and unamiable. Gray was, in fact, a feminine man — shy reserved and wanting in energy — but thoroughly irreproachable in life and character. The poet's mother maintained the family after her unworthy hus- band deserted her; and, at her death, Gray placed on her grave, in Stoke Pogis, an epitaph describing her as " the careful, tender mother of man)* children, one of whom alone, had the misfortune to survive her." 40 Ary Schefer's Mother. The poet himself was, at his own desire, interred beside her worshipped grave. Goethe, like Schiller, owed the bias of his mind and character to his mother, who was a woman of extraor- dinary gifts. She was full of joyous, flowing mother- wit, and possessed in a high degree the art of stimula- ting young and active minds, instructing them in the science of life out of the treasures of her abundant ex- perience. After a lengthened interview with her, an enthusiastic traveler said: u Now do I understand how Goethe has become the man he is.' 1 Goethe himself affectionately cherished her memory. u She was wor- thy of life!" he once said of her; and when he visited Frankfort he sought out every individual who had been kind to his mother and thanked them all. It was Ary Scheffer's mother — whose beautiful fea- tures the painter so loved to reproduce in his pictures of Beatrice, St. Monica and others of his works — that encouraged his study of art, and by great self-denial provided him with the means of pursuing it. While living at Dordrecht, in Holland, she first sent him to Lille to study, and afterwards to Paris ; and her letters to him, while absent, were always full of sound moth- erly advice, and affectionate womanly sympathv. u If you could but see me,' 1 she wrote on one occasion, " kissing your picture, then, after a while taking it up again, and, with a tear in my eye, calling you ' my be- loved son,' you would comprehend what it costs me to use sometimes the stern language of authority, and to The word Must 41 occasion to you moments of pain Work dili- gently — be, above all, modest and humble: and when you rind yourself excelling others, then compare what you have done with Nature itself, or with the ' ideal ' of your own mind, and you will be secured, by the con- trast which will be apparent, against the effects of pride and presumption." Long years after, when Ary Scheffer was himself a grandfather, he remembered with affection the advice of his mother and repeated it to his children. And thus the vital power of good example lives on from generation to generation, keeping the world ever fresh and young. Writing to his daughter, Madame Marjolin, in 1846, his departed mother's advice recurred to him, and he said: " The word must — fix it well in your mem- mory, dear child; you grandmother seldom had it out of hers. The truth is, that through our lives nothing brings any good fruits except what is earned by either the work of the hands or by the exertion of one's self- denial. Sacrifices must, in short, be ever going on if we would obtain any comfort or happiness. Now that I am no longer young, I declare that few passages in my life afford me so much satisfaction as those in which I made sacrifices or denied myself enjoyments. ' Das Entsagen ' (the forbidden) is the motto of the wise man. Self-denial is the quality oi which Jesus Christ set us the example. 11 The French historian Michelet makes the following touching reference to his mother in the Preface to one 42 Michelefs Tribute to his Mother. of his most popular books, the subject of much im- bittered controversy at the time at which it appeared: " While writing all this I have had in my mind a woman whose strong and serious mind would not have failed to support me in these contentions. I lost her thirty years ago (I was a child then) — nevertheless, ever living in my memory she follows me from age to age. " She suffered with me in my poverty and was not allowed to share my better fortune. When young, I made her sad, and now I cannot console her. I know not even where her bones are : I was too poor then to buy earth to bury her ! " And yet I owe her much. I feel deeply that I am the son of woman. Every instant, in my ideas and words (not to mention my features and gestures), I find again my mother in myself. It is my mother's blood which gives me the sympathy I feel for by-gone ages, and the tender remembrance of all those who are now no more. " What return, then, could I, who am myself advan- cing towards old age, make her for the man)' things I owe her? One, for which she would have thanked me — this protest in favor of women and mothers." But while a mother may greatly influence the poetic or artistic mind of her son for ^ood, she mav also in- fluence it for evil. Thus the characteristics of Lord Byron — the waywardness of his impulses, his defiance of restraint, the bitterness of his hate, and the precipi- Byron and Foote. 43 tancy of his resentments — were traceable in no small de- gree to the adverse influences exercised upon his mind from his birth by his capricious, violent and headstrong mother. She even taunted her son with his personal deformity ; and it was no unfrequent occurrence, in the violent quarrels which occurred between them, for her to take up the poker or tongs and hurl them after him as he fled from her presence. It was this unnatural treatment that gave a morbid turn to Byron's after-life; and care-worn, unhappy, great, and yet weak, as he was, he carried about with him the mother's poison which he had sucked in his infancy. Hence he exclaims, in his "Childe Harold." " Yet must I think less wildly; I have thought Too long and darkly, till my brain became, In its own eddy boiling and o'erwrought, A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame; A.nd thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame, My springs of life were poisoned" In like manner, though in a different way the char- acter of Mrs. Foote, the actor's mother, was curiously repeated in the life of her joyous, jovial-hearted son. Though she had been heiress to a large fortune, she soon spent it all, and was at length imprisoned for debt. In this condition she wrote to Sam, who had been al- lowing her a hundred a year out of the proceeds of his acting: "Dear Sam, I am in prison for debt; come and assist your loving mother, E. Foote.' 1 To which her son characteristically replied — " Dear mother, so am I; which prevents his duty being paid to his loving mother by her affectionate son, Sam Foote.' 1 44 Lamartines Mother. A foolish mother may also spoil a gifted son by im- buing his mind with unsound sentiments. Thus Lamar- tine's mother is said to have trained him in altogether erroneous ideas of life, in the school of Rosseau and Bernardin de St. Pierre, by which his sentimentalism, sufficiently strong by nature, was exaggerated instead of repressed ; and he became the victim of tears, affec- tation, and improvidence all his life long. It almost savors of the ridiculous to find Lamartine, in his " Confi- dences," representing himself as a u statue of Adoles- cence raised as a model for young men."' 1 As he was his mother's spoilt child, so he was the spoilt child of his country to the end which was bitter and sad. Sainte-Beuve says of him : " He was the continual object of the richest gifts, which he had not the power of managing, scattering and wasting them — all excepting the gift of words, which seemed inexhaustible, and on which he continued to play to the end as on an enchant- ed flute. " CHAPTER IV. WOMEN AND BUSINESS HABITS. Education of Women. — Nations and Mothers. — True Sphere of Women. — Women and Work. — Women and the Art of Preparing Food. " Lord! with what care hast Thou begirt us round! Parents first season us. Then school-masters Deliver us to laws. They send us bound To rules of reason." — George Herbert. A "\ TE have spoken of the mother of Washington as an ^ ^ excellent woman of business; and to possess such a quality as capacity for business is not only compatible with true womanliness, but is in a measure essential to the comfort and well being of every properly-governed family. Habits of business do not relate to trade merely, but apply to all the practical affairs of life — to every thing that has to be arranged, to be organized, to be provided for, to be done. And in all those respects the management of a family and of a household is as much a matter ol business as the management of a shop or of a counting-house. It requires method, accuracy, organ- ization, industry, economy, discipline, tact, knowledge, and capacity for adapting means to ends All this is of 45 46 Business Qualities Requisite. the essence of business; and hence business habits are as necessary to be cultivated by women who would suc- ceed in the affairs of home — in other words, who would make home happy — as by men in the affairs of trade, of commerce, or of manufacture. The idea has, however, heretofore prevailed, that women have no concern with such matters, and that business habits and qualifications relate to men only. Take, for instance, the knowledge of figures. Mr. Bright has said of boys, u Teach a boy arithmetic thor- oughly, and he is a made man." And why? — Because it teaches him method, accuracy, value, proportions, rela- tions. But how many girls are taught arithmetic well? — Very few indeed. And what is the consequence? When the girl becomes a wife, if she knows nothing of figures, and is innocent of addition and multiplication, she can keep no record of income and expenditure, and there will probably be a succession of mistakes commit- ted which may be prolific in domestic contention. The woman, not being up to her business — that is, the man- agement of her domestic affairs in conformity with the simple principles of arithmetic — will, through sheer ignorance, be apt to commit extravagances, though unintentional, which may be most injurious to her family peace and comfort. Method, which is the soul of business, is also of essen- tial importance in the home. Work can only be got through by method. Muddle flies before it, and hugger- mugger becomes a thing unknown. Method demands Habits of Business. 47 punctuality, another eminently business quality. The unpunctual woman, like the unpunctual man, occasions dislike, because she consumes and wastes time, and provokes the reflection that we are not of sufficient importance to make her more prompt. To the business man, time is money; but to the business woman, method is more — it is peace, comfort, and domestic prosperity. Prudence is another important business quality in women, as in men. Prudence is practical wisdom, and comes of the cultivated judgment. It has reference in all things to fitness, to propriety; judging wisely of the right thing to be done, and the right way of doing it. It calculates the means, order, time, and method of doing. Prudence learns from experience, quickened by know- ledge. For these, among other reasons, habits of business are necessary to be cultivated by all women, in order to their being efficient helpers in the world's daily life and work. Furthermore, to direct the power of the home aright, women, as the nurses, trainers, and educators of children, need all the help and strength that mental culture can give them. Mere instinctive love is not sufficient. Instinct, which preserves the lower creatures, needs no training; but human intelligence, which is in constant request in a family, needs to be educated. The physical health of the rising generation is intrusted to woman by Provi- dence; and it is in the physical nature that the moral and mental nature lies enshrined. It is only by acting 48 Woman's Intelligence. in accordance with the natural laws, which, before she can follow, woman must needs understand, that the bless- ings of health of bod)', and health of mind and morals, can be secured at home. Without a knowledge of such laws, the mother's love too often finds its recompense only in a child's coffin. It is a mere truism to say that the intellect with which woman as well as man is endowed has been given for use and exercise, and not "to fust in her unused." Such endowments are never conferred without a pur- pose. The Creator may be lavish in his gifts, but he is never wasteful. Woman was not meant to be either an unthinking drudge, or the merely pretty ornament of man's leisure. She exists for herself as well as for others; and the serious and responsible duties she is called upon to per- form in life require the cultivated head as well as the sympathizing heart. Her highest mission is not to be fulfilled by the mastery of fleeting accomplishments, on which so much useful time is now wasted; for, though accomplishments may enhance the charms of youth and beauty, of themselves sufficiently charming, they will be found of very little use in the affairs of real life. The highest praise which the ancient Romans could express of a noble matron was that she sat at home and span — ^ Do mum mansit, lanam fecit.*' In our own time it has been said that chemistry enough to keep the pot boiling, and geography enough to know the differ- ent rooms in her house, was science enough for any Education of Women. 49 woman; while Byron, whose sympathies for woman were of a very imperfect kind, professed that he would limit her library to a Bible and a cookery-book. But this view of woman's character and culture is absurdly; narrow and unintelligent. Speaking generally, the training and discipline that are most suitable for the one sex in early life are also the most suitable for the other; and the education and culture that fill the mind of the man will prove equally wholesome for the woman. Indeed, all the arguments which have yet been advanced in favor of the higher education of men plead equally strongly in favor of the higher education of women. In all the departments of home, intelligence will add to woman's usefulness and efficiency. It will give her thought and forethought, enable her to anticipate and provide for the contingen- cies of life, suggest improved methods of management, and give her strength in every way. In disciplined mental power she will find a stronger and safer protec- tion against deception and imposture than in mere inno- cent and unsuspecting ignorance ; in moral and religious culture she will secure sources of influence more pow- erful and enduring than in physical attractions; and in due self-reliance and self-dependence she will discover the truest sources of domestic comfort and happiness. But while the mind and character of women ought to be cultivated with a view to their own well-being, they ought not the less to be educated liberally with a view to the happiness of others. Men themselves can not be 50 Nations and Mothers. i sound in mind or morals if women be the reverse; and if, as we hold to be the case, the moral condition of a people mainly depends upon the education of the home, then the education of women is to be regarded as a matter of national importance. Not only does the moral character but the mental strength of man find its best safeguard and support in the moral purity and men- tal cultivation of woman; but the more completely the powers of both are developed, the more harmonious and well-ordered will society be — the more safe and certain its elevation and advancement. When, about fifty years since, the first Napoleon said that the great want of France was mothers, he meant, in other words, that the French people needed the edu- cation of homes, presided over by good, virtuous, intelli- gent women. Indeed, the first French Revolution pre- sented one of the most striking illustrations of the so- cial mischiefs resulting from a neglect of the purifying influence of women. When that great national out- break occurred, society was impenetrated with vice and profligacy. Morals, religion, virtue, were swamped by sensualism. The character of woman had become de- praved. Conjugal fidelity was disregarded; maternity was held in reproach; family and home were alike cor- rupted. Domestic purity no longer bound society to- gether. France was motherless; the children broke loose; and the Revolution burst forth, "amidst the yells and the fierce violence of women.' ' But the terrible lesson was disregarded, and again True Sphere of Women. 51 and again France has grievously suffered from the want of that discipline, obedience, self-control, and self-respect which can only be truly learnt at home. It is said that the Third Napoleon attributed the recent powerlessness of France, which left her helpless and bleeding at the feet of her conquerors, to the frivolity and lack of prin- ciple of the people, as well as to their love of pleasure — which, however, it must be confessed, he himself did not a little to foster. It would thus seem that the disci- pline which France still needs to learn, if she would be good and great, is that indicated by the First Napoleon — home education by good mothers. The influence of woman is the same everywhere. Her condition influences the morals, manners, and char- acter of the people in all countries. Where she is de- based, society is debased; where she is morally pure and enlightened, society will be proportionately elevated. Hence, to instruct woman is to instruct man; to ele- vate her character is to raise his own; to enlarge her mental freedom is to extend and secure that of the whole community. For nations are but the outcomes of homes, and peoples of mothers. But while it is certain that the character of a nation will be elevated by the enlightenment and refinement of woman, it is much more than doubtful whether any advantage is to be derived from her entering into com- petition with man in the rough work of business. Women can no more do men's special work in the world than men can do women's. And wherever wo- 52 Women and Work- man has been withdrawn from her home and family to enter upon other work, the'result has been socially dis- astrous. Indeed, the efforts of some of the best philan- thropists have of late years been devoted to withdraw- ing women from toiling alongside of men in coal-pits, factories, nail-shops, and brick-yards. It is still not uncommon in the north of England, for the husbands to be idle at home, while the mothers and daughters are working in the factory; the result being, in many cases, an entire subversion of family order, of domestic discipline, and of home rule. One special department of woman's work demanding the earnest attention of all true female reformers, though it is one which has hitherto been unaccountably neg- lected, is the better economizing and preparation of human food. If that man is to be regarded as a bene- factor of his species who makes two stalks of corn to grow where only one grew before, not less is she to be regarded as a public benefactor who economizes and turns to the best practical account the food-products of human skill and labor. The improved use of even our existing supply would be equivalent to an immediate extension of the cultivable acreage of our country— not to speak of the increase in health, economy, and do- mestic comfort. CHAPTER V. COMPANIONSHIP AND EXAMPLE. Influence of Companionship. — Force of Imitation. — Companionship of the Good. — Power of Associates. — Boyhood of Henry Martyn and of Dr. Paley. — Dr. Arnold an Exampler. "Keep good company, ana you shall be of the number." — George Herbert. /T\HE natural education of the Home is prolonged far into life — indeed, it never entirely ceases. But the time arrives, in the progress of years, when the home ceases to exercise an exclusive influence on the forma- tion of character; and it is succeeded by the more ar- tificial education of the school, and the companionship of friends and comrades, which continue to mould the character by the powerful influence of example. Men, young and old — but the young more than the old — can not help imitating those with whom they associate. It was a saying of George Herbert's mother, intended for the guidance of her sons, " that as our bodies take a nourishment suitable to the meat on which we feed, so do our souls as insensibly take in virtue or vice by the example or conversation of good or bad companv." 53 54 Influence of Companionship. Indeed, it is impossible that association with those about us should not produce a powerful influence in the formation of character. For men are by nature imitators, and all persons are more or less impressed by the speech, the manners, the gait, the gestures, and the very habits of thinking of their companions. " Is example nothing ?" said Burke. " It is every thing. Example is the school of mankind, and they will learn at no other." Burke's grand motto, which he wrote for the tablet of the Marquis of Rockingham, is worth repeating; it was, u Remember— resemble — perse- vere." Imitation is for the most part so unconscious, that its effects are almost unheeded, but its influence is not the less permanent on that account. It is only when an im- pressive nature is placed in contact with an impression- able one that the alteration in the character becomes recognizable. Yet even the weakest natures exercise some influence upon those about them. The approxi- mation of feeling, thought, and habit is constant, and the action of example unceasing. Emerson has observed that even old couples, or per- sons who have been house-mates for a course of years, grow gradually like each other; so that, if they were to live long enough, we should scarcely be able to know them apart. But if this be true of the old, how much more true is it of the young, whose plastic natures are so much more soft and impressionable, and ready to The Force of Imitation. 55 take the stamp of the life and conversation of those about them ! a There has been," observed Sir Charles Bell in one of his letters, "a good deal said about education, but they appear to me to put out of sight example, which is all-in-all. My best education was the example set me by my brothers. There was, in all the members of the family, a reliance on self, a true independence, and by imitation I obtained it." It is in the nature of things that the circumstances which contribute to form the character should exercise their principal influence during the period of growth. As years advance, example and imitation become cus- tom, and gradually consolidate into habit, which is of so much potency that, almost before we know it, we have in a measure yielded up to it our personal freedom. It is related of Plato, that on one occasion he reproved a boy for playing at some foolish game. " Thou reprov- est me," said the boy, " for a very little thing." "But custom," replied Plato, " is not a little thing." Bad custom, consolidated into habit, is such a tyrant that men sometimes cling to vices even while they curse them. They have become the slaves of habits whose power they are impotent to resist. Hence Locke has said that to create and maintain that vigor of mind which is able to contest the empire of habit may be re- garded as one of the chief ends of moral discipline. Though much of the education of character by ex- ample is spontaneous and unconscious, the young need 56 Companions! dp of the Good. not necessarily be the passive followers or imitators of those about them. Their own conduct, far more than the conduct of their companions, tends to fix the pur- pose and form the principles of their life. Each pos- sesses in himself a power of will and of free activity, which, if courageously exercised, will enable him to make his own individual selection of friends and asso- ciates. It is only through weakness of purpose that young people, as well as old, become the slaves of their inclinations, or give themselves up to a servile imitation of others. It is a common saying that men are known by the company they keep. The sober do not naturally asso- ciate with the drunken, the refined with the coarse, the decent with the dissolute. To associate with depraved persons argues a low taste and vicious tendencies, and to frequent their society leads to inevitable degradation of character. u The conversation of such persons,' 1 says Seneca, " is very injurious; for even if it does no imme- diate harm, it leaves its seeds in the mind, and follows us when we have gone from the speakers — a plague sure to spring up in future resurrection. 17 If young men are wisely influenced and directed, and conscientiously exert their own free energies, they will seek the society of those better than themselves, and strive to imitate their example. In companionship with the good, growing natures will always find their best nourishment; while companionship with the bad will only be fruitful in mischief. There are persons The Uses of Association. ol whom to know is to love, honor, and admire; and others whom to know is to shun and despise — " dont le savoir n?est que beterie^ as says Rabelais when speak- ing of the education of Gargantua. Live with persons of elevated characters, and you will feel lifted and light- ed up in them: " Live with wolves, " says the Spanish proverb, "and you will learn to howl." Intercourse with even common place, selfish persons, may prove most injurious, by inducing a dry, dull, re- served, and selfish condition of mind, more or less inim- ical to true manliness and breadth of character. The mind soon learns to run in small grooves, the heart grows narrow and contracted, and the moral nature becomes weak, irresolute, and accommodating, which is fatal to all generous ambition or real excellence. On the other hand, association with persons wiser, better, and more experienced than ourselves, is always more or less inspiring and invigorating. They enhance our own knowledge of life. We correct our estimates by theirs, and become partners in their wisdom. We enlarge our field of observation through their eyes, profit by their experience, and learn not only from what they have enjoyed, but — which is still more instructive — from what they have suffered. If they are stronger than ourselves, we become participators in their strength. Hence companionship with the wise and energetic never fails to have a most valuable influence on the formation of character — increasing our resources, strengthening our resolves, elevating our aims, and enabling us to ,58 Boyhood of Henry Marty n. exercise greater dexterity and ability in our own affairs as well as more effective helpfulness of others. *' I have often deeply regretted in myself," says Mrs. Schimmelpenninck, " the great loss I have experienced from the solitude of my early habits. We need no worse companion than our unregenerate selves, and, by living alone, a person not only becomes wholly ignorant of the means of helping his fellow-creatures, but is with- out the perception of those wants which most need help. Association with others, when not on so large a scale as to make hours of retirement impossible, may be considered as furnishing to an individual a rich multi- plied experience; and sympathy so drawn forth, though, unlike charity, it begins abroad, never fails to bring back rich treasures home. Association with others is useful also in strengthening the character, and in enabling us, while we never lose sight of our main object, to thread our way wisely and well." An entirely new direction may be given to the life of a young man by a happy suggestion, a timely hint, or the kindly advice of an honest friend. Thus the life of Henry Martyn, the Indian missionary, seems to have been singularly influenced by a friendship which he formed, when a boy, at Truro Grammar School. Mar- tyn himself was of feeble frame, and of a delicate nerv- ous temperament. Wanting in animal spirits, he took but little pleasure in school sports; and being of a somewhat petulant temper, the bigger boys took pleas- ure in provoking him, and some of them in bullying MartyrCs /School friend. 59 him. One of the bigger boys, however, conceiving a friendship for Martyn, took him under his protection, stood between him and his persecutors, and not only fought his battles for him, but helped him with his les- sons. Though Martyn was rather a backward pupil, his father was desirous that he should have the advantage of a college education, and at the age of about fifteen he sent him to Oxford to try for a Corpus scholarship, in which he failed. He remained for two years more at the Truro Grammar School, and then went to Cam- bridge, where he was entered at St. John's College. Whom should he find already settled there as a student but his old champion of the Truro Grammar School? Their friendship was renewed; and the elder student from that time forward acted as the Mentor of the younger one. Martyn was fitful in his studies, excita- ble and petulant, and occasionally subject to fits of almost uncontrollable rage. His big friend, on the other hand, was a steady, patient, hard-working fellow; and he never ceased to watch over, to guide, and to advise for good his irritable fellow-student. He kept Martyn out of the way of evil company, advised him to work hard, " not for the praise of men, but for the glory of God;" and so successfully assisted him in his studies, that at the following Christmas examination he was the first of his year. Yet Martyn 's kind friend and Mentor never achieved any distinction himself; he passed away into obscurity, leading, most probably, a useful though an unknown career; his greatest wish in life having 60 Br. Paley' s College Life, been to shape the character of his friend, to inspire his soul with the love of truth, and to prepare him for the noble work, on which he shortly after entered, of an Indian missionary. A somewhat similar incident is said to have occurred in the college career of Dr. Paley. When a student at Christ's College, Cambridge, he was distinguished for his shrewdness as well as his clumsiness, and he was at the same time the favorite and the butt of his com- panions. Though his natural abilities were great, he was thoughtless, idle, and a spendthrift; and at the commencement of his third year he had made compara- tively little progress. After one of his usual night-dis- sipations, a friend stood by his bedside on the following morning. "'Paley," said he, "I have not been able to sleep for thinking about you. I have been thinking what a fool you are ! / have the means of dissipation, and can afford to be idle ; you are poor, and can not afford it : / could do nothing, probably, even were I to try : you are capable of doing any thing. I have lain awake all night thinking about your folly, and I have now come solemnly to warn you. Indeed, if you persist in your indolence, and go on in this way, I must renounce your society altogether." It is said that Paley was so powerfully affected by this admonition, that from that moment he became an altered man. He formed an entirely new plan of life, and diligently persevered in it. He became one of the most industrious of students. One by one he distanced Dr. Arnold an Uxampler. 61 his competitors, and at the end of the year he came out senior wrangler. What he afterwards accomplished as an author and a divine is sufficiently well known. No one recognized more fully the influence of per- sonal example on the } T oung than did Dr. Arnold. It was the great lever with which he worked in striving to elevate the character of his school. He made it his principal object, first to put a right spirit into the lead- ing boys by attracting their good and noble feelings; and then to make them instrumental in propagating the same spirit among the rest, by the influence of imita- tion, example, and admiration. He endeavored to make all feel that they were fellow-workers with himself, and sharers with him in the moral responsibility for the good government of the place. One of the first effects of this high-rninded system of management was, that it inspired the boys with strength and self-respect. They felt that they were trusted. There were, of course, mauvais sujets at Rugby, as there are at all schools; and these it was the master's duty to watch, to prevent their bad example contaminating others. " On one occasion he said to an assistant-master: u Do you see those two boys walking together? I never saw them together before. You should make an especial point of observing the company they keep: nothing so tells the changes in a boy's char- acter." Dr. Arnold's own example was an inspiration, as is that of every great teacher. In his presence, young men learned to respect themselves, and out of the root 62 Power of Goodness. of self-respect there grew up the manly virtues. " His very presence, 7 ' says his biographer, " seemed to create a new spring of health and vigor within them, and to give to life an interest and elevation which remained with them long after they had left him; and dwelt so habitually in their thoughts as a living image, that, when death had taken him away, the bond appeared to be still unbroken, and the sense of separation almost lost in the still deeper sense of a life and a union indestruc- tible. ,1 And thus it was that Dr. Arnold trained a host of manly and noble characters, who spread the influence of his example in all parts of the world. So also was it said of Dugald Stewart, that he breathed the love of virtue into whole generations of pupils. " To me," says the late Lord Cockburn, "his lectures were like the opening of the heavens. I felt that I had a soul. His noble views, unfolded in glori- ous sentences, elevated me into a higher world. . . . They changed my whole nature." Character tells in all conditions of life. The man of good character in a workshop will give the tone to his fellows, and elevate their entire aspirations. Thus Franklin, while a workman in London, is said to have reformed the manners of an entire workshop. So the man of bad character and debased energy will uncon- sciously lower and degrade his fellows. Captain John Brown — the " marching-on Brown" — once said to Em- erson, that " for a settler in a new country, one good believing man is worth a hundred, nay, worth a thou- Poiver of Goodness 63 sand men without character. 1 ' His example is so con- tagious, that all other men are directly and beneficially influenced by him, and he insensibly elevates and lifts them up to his own standard of energetic activity. CHAPTER VI. POWER OF GOOD EXAMPLE. High Standard of Living. — The Inspiration of Goodness. — Admiration of Good Men. — Influence of Gentle Natures. — Sir W. Napier. — Energy evokes Energy. — Radiating Force of Great Minds. — Admire Nobly. — Johnson and Boswell. ' ' For mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men." — Shakespeare. /COMMUNICATION with the good is invariably ^ productive of good. The good character is diffu- sive in his influence. " I was common clay till roses were planted in me," says some aromatic earth in the Eastern fable. Like begets like, and good makes good. " It is astonishing," says Canon Moseley, " how much good goodness makes. Nothing that is good is alone, nor any thing bad; it makes others good or others bad; and that other, and so on: like a stone thrown into a pond, which makes circles that make other wider ones, and then others, till the last reaches the shore. .... Almost all the good that is in the world has, I suppose, thus come down to us traditionally from remote times, and often unknown centres of good. So Mr. Ruskin says, " That which is born of evil begets evil; and that which is born of valor and honor teaches valor and honor. " 64 High Standard of Life. 0*5 Hence it is that the life of every man is a daily incul- cation of good or bad example to others. The life of a good man is at the same time the most eloquent lesson of virtue and the most severe reproof of vice. Dr # Hooker described the life of a pious clergyman of his acquaintance as " visible rhetoric," convincing even the most godless of the beauty of goodness. And so the good George Herbert said, on entering upon the duties of his parish: " Above all, I will be sure to live well, because the virtuous life of a clergyman is the most powerful eloquence to persuade all who see it to rever- ence and love, and at least to desire to live like him. And this I will do," he added, " because I know we live in an age that hath more need of good examples than precepts." It was a fine saying of the same good priest, when reproached with doing an act of kindness to a poor man considered beneath the dignity of his office — that the thought of such actions " would prove music to him at midnight." Izaak Walton speaks of a letter written by George Herbert to Bishop Andrewes about a holy life, which the latter "put into his bosom," and, after showing it to his scholars, " did always return it to the place where he first lodged it, and continued it so, near his heart, till the last day of his life." Great is the power of goodness to charm and to com- mand. The man inspired by it is the true king of men, drawing all. hearts after him. When General Nicholson lay wounded on his death-bed before Delhi, he dictated this last message to his equally noble and gallant friend, 5 $Q The Inspiration of Goodness. Sir Herbert Edwardes: " Tell him/' said he, " I should have been a better man if I had continued to live with him, and our heavy public duties had not prevented my seeing more of him privately. I was always the better for a residence with him and his wife, however short. Give my love to them both I M There are men in whose presence we feel as if we breathed a spiritual ozone, refreshing and invigorating, like inhaling mountain air, or enjoying a bath of sun- shine. The power of Sir Thomas More's gentle nature was so great that it subdued the bad at the same time that it inspired the good. Lord Brooke said of his deceased friend, Sir Philip Sidney, that " his wit and understanding beat upon his heart, to make himself and others, not in word or opinion, but in life and action, good and great." The very sight of a great and good man is often an inspiration to the young, who cannot help admiring and loving the gentle, the brave, the truthful, the magnani- mous ! Chateaubriand saw Washington only once, but it inspired him for life. After describing the interview, he says: "Washington sank into the tomb before any little celebrity had attached to my name. I passed before him as the most unknown of beings. He was in all his glory — I in the depth of my obscurity. My name probably dwelt not a whole day in his memory. Happy, however, was I that his looks were cast upon me. I have felt warmed for it all the rest of my life. There is a virtue even in the looks of a £reat man." The Inspiration of Goodness. 67 When Niebuhr died, his friend, Frederick Perthes, said of him: t; What a contemporary! The terror of all bad and base men, the stay of all the sterling and honest, the friend and helper of youth." Perthes said on another occasion: "It does a wrestling man good to be constantly surrounded by tried wrestlers; evil thoughts are put to flight when the eye falls on the portrait of one in whose living presence one would have blushed to own them." A Catholic money-lender, when about to cheat, was wont to draw a veil over the picture of his favorite saint. So Hazlitt has said of the portrait of a beautiful female, that it seemed as if an unhand- some action would be impossible in its presence. " It does one good to look upon his manly, honest face," said a poor German woman, pointing to a portrait of the great Reformer hung upon the wall of her humble dwelling. Even the portrait of a noble or a good man, hung up in a room, is companionship after a sort. It gives us a closer personal interest in him. Looking at the features, we feel as if we knew him better, and were more nearly related to him. It is a link that connects us with a higher and better nature than our own. And though we may be far from reaching the standard of our hero, we are, to a certain extent, sustained and fortified by his depicted presence constantly before us. Fox was proud to acknowledge how much he owed to the example and conversation of Burke. On one occasion he said of him, that " if he was to put all the 68 Admiration of the Good. political information he had gained from books, all that he had learned from science, or that the knowledge of the world and its affairs taught him, into one scale, and the improvement he had derived from Mr. Burke's con- versation and instruction into the other, the latter would preponderate." Professor Tyndall speaks of Faraday's friendship as " energy and inspiration/ 7 After spending an evening with him, he wrote: " His work excites admiration, but contact with him warms and elevates the heart. Here, surely, is a strong man. I love strength, but let me not forget the example of its union with modesty, tender ness, and sweetness, in the character of Faraday. 11 Even the gentlest natures are powerful to influence the character of others for good. Thus Wordsworth seems to have been especially impressed by the charac- ter of his sister Dorothy who exercised upon his mind and heart a lasting influence. He describes her as the blessing of his boyhood as well as of his manhood. Though two years younger than himself, her tenderness and sweetness contributed greatly to mould his nature, and open his mind to the influences of poetry : " She gave me eyes, she gave me ears, And humble cares, and delicate fears ; A heart, the fountain of sweet tears, And love^ and thought, and joy." Thus the gentlest natures are enabled, by the power of affection and intelligence, to mould the characters of Influence of Gentle Natures (59 men destined to influence and elevate their race through all time. Sir William Napier attributed the early direction of his character first to the impress made upon it by his mother, when a boy, and afterwards to the noble exam- ple of his commander, Sir John Moore, when a man. Moore early detected the qualities of the young officer; and he was one of those to whom the general addressed the encouragement, " Well done, my majors !" at Corunna. Writing home to his mother, and describing the little court by which Moore was surrounded, he wrote, u Where shall we find such a king ?" It was to his personal affection for his chief that the world is mainly indebted to Sir William Napier for his great book, " The History of the Peninsular War." But he was stimulated to write the book by the advice of another friend, the late Lord La.ngdale, while one day walking with him across the fields on which Belgravia is now built. " It was Lord Langdale," he says, " who first kindled the fire within me." And of Sir William Napier himself, his biographer truly says, that "no thinking person could ever come in contact with him, without being strongly impressed with the genius of the man."' 1 The career of the late Dr. Marshall Hall was a life- long illustration of the influence of character in forming character. Many eminent men still living trace their success in life to his suggestions and assistance, without which several valuable lines of study and investigation 70 Energy evokes Energy. might not have been entered on, at least at so early a period. He would say to young men about him, " Take up a subject and pursue it well, and you can not fail to succeed.' And often he would throw out a new idea to a young friend, saying, " I make you a present of it; there is fortune in it, if you pursue it with energy." Energy of character has always a power to evoke energy in others. It acts through sympathy, one of the most influential of human agencies. The zealous, ener- getic man unconsciously carries others along with him. His example is contagious, and compels imitation. He exercises a sort of electric power, which sends a thrill through every fibre, flows into the nature of those about him, and makes them give out sparks of fire. Dr. Arnold's biographer, speaking of the power of this kind exercised by him over young men, says: u It was not so much an enthusiastic admiration for true genius, or learning, or eloquence, which stirred within them; it was a sympathetic thrill, caught from a spirit that was earnestly at work in the world — whose work was healthy, sustained, and constantly carried forward in the fear of God — a work that was founded on a deep sense of its duty and its value." Such a power, exercised by men of genius, evokes courage, enthusiasm and devotion. It is this intense admiration for individuals — such as one can not con- ceive entertained for a multitude — which has in all times produced heroes and martyrs. It is thus that the mastery of character makes itself felt. It acts by Admire Nobly. 71 inspiration, quickening and vivifying the natures sub- ject to its influence. Great minds are rich in radiating force, not only ex- erting power, but communicating and even creating it. Thus Dante raised and drew after him a host of great spirits — Petrarch, Boccacio, Tasso, and many more. From him Milton learnt to bear the stings of evil tongues and the contumely of evil days; and long years after, Byron, thinking of Dante under the pine- trees of Ravenna, was incited to tune his harp to loftier strains than he had ever attempted before. Dante inspired the greatest painters of Italy — Giotto, Orcagna, Michael Angelo, and Raphael. So Ariosto and Titian mutually inspired one another, and lighted up each other's glory. Great and good men draw others after them, exciting the spontaneous admiration of mankind. This admira- tion of noble character elevates the mind, and tends to redeem it from the bondage of self, one of the greatest stumbling blocks to moral improvement. The recollec- tion of men who have signalized themselves by great thoughts or great deeds seems as if to create for the time a purer atmosphere around us: and "we feel as if our aims and purposes were unconsciously elevated. " Tell me whom you admire," said Sainte-Beuve, u and I will tell you what you are, at least as regards your talents, tastes, and character." Do you admire mean men? — your own nature is mean. Do you admire rich men? — you are of the earth, earthy. Do you ad- 72 Nil Admirari. mire men of title? — you are a toad-eater, or a tuft- hunter. Do you admire honest, brave, and manly men ? — you are yourself of an honest, brave, and manly spirit. It is in the season of youth, while the character is forming, that the impulse to admire is the greatest. As we advance in life we crystallize into habit ; and u Nil admit art " too often becomes our motto. It is well to encourage the admiration of great characters while the nature is plastic and open to impressions; for if the good are not admired — as young men will have their heroes of some sort — most probably the great bad may be taken by them for models. Hence it always rejoiced Dr. Arnold to hear his pupils expressing admi- ration of great deeds, or full of enthusiasm for persons or even scenery. " I believe," said he, " that ' Nil ad- mirari 1 is the devil's favorite text; and he could not choose a better to introduce his pupils into the more esoteric parts of his doctrine. And therefore I have always looked upon a man infected with the disorder of anti-romance as one who has lost the finest part of his nature, and his best protection against everything low and foolish. "No quality," said Dr. Johnson, "will get a man more friends than a sincere admiration of the qualities of others. It indicates generosity of nature, frankness, cordiality, and cheerful recognition of merit." It was to the sincere — it might almost be said the reverential — admiration of Johnson by Boswell, that we owe one of Johnson and Boswell. 73 the best biographies ever written. One is disposed to think that there must have been some genuine good qualities in Boswell to have been attracted by such a man as Johnson, and to have kept faithful to his wor ship in spite of rebuffs and snubbings innumerable Macaulay speaks of Boswell as an altogether contempt ible person — as a coxcomb and a bore — weak, vain pushing, curious, garrulous; and without wit, humor or eloquence. But Carlyle is doubtless more just in his characterization of the biographer, in whom — vain and foolish though he was in many respects — he sees a man penetrated by the old reverent feeling of disciple- ship, full of love and admiration for true wisdom and excellence. Without such qualities, Carlyle insists, the " Life of Johnson" never could have been written. " Boswell wrote a good book," he says, u because he had a heart and an eye to discern wisdom, and an ut- terance to render it forth; because of his free insight, his lively talent, and above all, of his love and child-like open-mindedness. " CHAPTER VII. YOUNG MEN'S HEROES. 'The Envy of Small Minds. — Admiration and Imitation. — The Great Musi- cians. — Masters and Disciples. — Enduringness of Good Example. — Con- solations of a well-spent Life. ' ' Examples preach to the eye — care, then, mine says, Not how you end, but how you spend your days." — Henry Martyn, "Last Thoughts" MOST young men of generous mind have their heroes, especially if they be book readers. Thus Allan Cunningham, when a mason's apprentice in Nithsdale, walked all the way to Edinburgh for the sole purpose of seeing Sir Walter Scott as he passed along the street. We unconsciously admire the enthusiasm of the lad, and respect the impulse which impelled him to make the journey. It is related of Sir Joshua Rey- nolds, that, when a boy of ten, he thrust his hand through intervening rows of people to touch Pope, as if there were a sort of virtue in the contact. At a much later period, the painter Haydon was proud to see and to touch Reynolds when on a visit to his native place. Rogers the poet used to tell of his ardent desire, when a boy, to see Dr. Johnson; but when his hand 74 The Envy of Small Minds. 75 was on the knocker of the house in Bolt Court, his courage failed him, and he turned away. So the late Isaac Disraeli, when a youth, called at Bolt Court for the same purpose; and though he had the courage to knock, to his dismay he was informed by the servant that the great lexicographer had breathed his last only a few hours before. On the contrary, small and ungenerous minds can not admire heartily. To their own great misfortune, they can not recognize, much less reverence, great men and great things. The mean nature admires meanly. The toad's highest idea of beauty is his toadness. The small snob's highest idea of manhood is the great snob. The slave-dealer values a man according to his muscles. When a Guinea trader was told by Sir Godfrey Knel- ler, in the presence of Pope, that he saw before him two of the greatest men in the world, he replied: " I don't know how great you may be, but I don't like your looks. I have often bought a man much better than both of you together, all bones and muscles, for ten guineas!" Although Rochefoucauld, in one of his maxims, says that there is something that is not altogether disagree- able to us in the misfortunes of even our best friends, it is only the small and essentially mean nature that finds pleasure in the disappointment, and annoyance at the success, of others. There are, unhappily for them- selves, persons so constituted that they have not the heart to be generous. The most disagreeable of all 76 The Envy of Small Minds* people are those who " sit in the seat of the scorner." Persons of this sort often come to regard the success of others, even in a good work, as a kind of personal offense. They can not bear to hear another praised, especially if he belong to their own art, or calling, or profession. They will pardon a man's failures, but can not forgive his doing a thing better than they can do. And where they have themselves failed, they are found to be the most merciless of detractors. The sour critic thinks of his rival : " When Heaven with such parts has blest him, Have I not reason to detest him ? " The mean mind occupies itself with sneering, carping, and fault-finding, and is ready to scoff at everything but impudent effrontery or successful vice. The great- est consolation of such persons are the defects of men of character. "If the wise erred not," says George Herbert, " it would go hard with fools." Yet, though wise men may learn of fools by avoiding their errors, fools rarely profit by the example which wise men set them. A German writer has said that it is a miserable temper that cares only to discover the blemishes in the character of great men or great periods. Let us rather judge them with the charity of Bolingbroke, who, when reminded of one of the alleged weaknesses of Marlbor- ough, observed, " He was so great a man that I forgot he had that defect." Admiration of great men, living or dead, naturally evokes imitation of them in a greater or less degree. Admiration and Imitation. 77 While a mere youth, the mind of Themistocles was fired, by the great deeds of his contemporaries, and he longed to distinguish himself in the service of his coun- try. When the battle of Marathon had been fought, he fell into a state of melancholy; and when asked by his friends as to the cause, he replied " that the trophies of Miltiades would not suffer him to sleep.*" A few years later, we find him at the head of the Athenian army, defeating the Persian fleet of Xerxes in the bat- tles of Artemisium and Salamis — his country gratefully acknowledging that it had been saved through his wis- dom and valor. It is related of Thucydides that, when a boy, he burst into tears on hearing Herodotus read his history, and the impression made upon his mind was such as to de- termine the bent of his own genius. And Demosthenes was so tired on one occasion by the eloquence of Callis- tratus, that the ambition was roused within him of be- coming an orator himself. Yet Demosthenes was phys- ically weak, had a feeble voice, indistinct articulation, and shortness of breath — defects which he was only en- abled to overcome by diligent study and invincible de- termination. But, with all his practice, he never became a ready speaker; all his orations, especially the most famous of them, exhibiting indications of careful elaboration — the art and industry of the orator being visible in almost every sentence. Similar illustrations of.character imitating character, and moulding itself by the style and manner and genius 7s Haydn and Porpora. of great men, are to be found pervading all history. Warriors, statesmen, orators, patriots, poets, and artists — all have been, more or less unconsciously, nurtured by the lives and actions of others living before them or presented for their imitation. Great men have evoked the admiration of kings, popes, and emperors. Francis de Medicis never spoke to Michael Angelo without uncovering, and Julius III. made him sit by his side while a dozen cardinals were standing. Charles V. made way for Titian; and one day, when the brush dropped from the painter's hand, Charles stooped and picked it up, saying, " You deserve to be served by an emperor." Leo X. threatened with excommunication whoever should print and sell the poems of Ariosto, without the author's consent. The same pope attended the death-bed of Raphael, as Fran- cis I. did that of Leonardo da Vinci. Though Haydn once archly observed that he was loved and esteemed by everybody except professors of music, yet all the greatest musicians were unusually ready to recognize each other's greatness. Haydn him- self seems to have been entirely free from petty jeal- ousy. His admiration of the famous Porpora was such, that he resolved to gain admission to his house and serve him as a valet. Having made the acquaintance of the family with whom Porpora lived, he was allowed to officiate in that capacity. Early each morning he took care to brush the veteran's coat, polish his shoes, and put his rusty wig in order. At first Porpora growl- I M 79* ed at the intruder, but his asperity soon softened, and eventually melted into affection. He quickly discovered his valet 7 s genius, anc directed it into the line in which Haydn eventually acquired so- rr.Uwh ::: ; :: ::::n. Haydn himself w : e r n: r. : :. Et: c in h i = admiration of Handel. M He is the father of us all," 7 he said on one occasion. Scarlatti followed Handel in admiration ail over Italy, and, when his name was mentioned, he cross- ed himself in token c: :ion. Mozart 7 s recogni- tion of the great compose: : less hearty. " When he cho-: s • Handel strikes like the thunder- z :'.:" Beethoven hailed him as " the monarch of the musical kingdom/ ' Beethoven was dying, one of his friends sent him a present of Handel's works, in forty volumes. They were brought into his chamber, ar.d. iizir.r :~ :htm :-';-'r. ztr-r.-.z:. -.::-:". ±; r. ht rx_'.:.:r:;e'i. pointing at them with his finger I bere — there is the Haydn not only recognized the genius of the great men who had passed : ; ung contempo- raries, Mozart and Beethoven. Small men may be en- vious of their fellows, but really great men seek out and love each othe I rote: 1 1 only wish I could impress on e end of music, and on great men in particular _ - ame depth of musical sym- pathy, and profound appreciation of Mozart's inimitable music, that I myself feel and e hen nations would vie with each other to po- in their SO Masters and Disciples. frontiers. Prague ought not only to strive to retain this precious man, but also to remunerate him; for without this the history of a great genius is sad indeed. It enrages me to think that the unparalleled Mozart is not yet engaged by some imperial or royal court. Forgive my excitement; but I love the man so dearly!" ' . Mozart was equally generous in his recognition of the merits of Haydn. "Sir," said he to a critic, speaking of the latter, " if you and I were both melted down to- gether, we should not furnish materials for one Haydn." And when Mozart first heard Beethoven, he observed : " Listen to that young man; be assured that he will yet make a great name in the world." BufFon set Newton above all other philosophers, and admired him so highly that he had always his portrait before him while he sat at work. So Schiller looked up to Shakespeare, whom he studied reverently and zealous- ly for years, until he became capable of comprehending nature at first hand and then his admiration became, even more ardent than before. Pitt was Canning's master and hero, whom he follow- ed and admired with attachment and devotion. " To one man while he lived," said Canning, " I was devoted with all my heart and all my soul. Since the death of Mr. Pitt I acknowledge no leader; my political alle- giance lies buried in his grave. A French physiologist, M. Roux, was occupied one day in lecturing to his pupils, when Sir Charles Bell, Consolation of a Well-spent Life. 81 whose discoveries were even better known and more highly appreciated abroad than at home, strolled into his class-room. The professor, recognizing his visitor, at once stopped his exposition, saying, " Messieurs, c^est assez pour aujourcPhui, vous avez vu Sir Charles Belly The first acquaintance with a great work of art has usually proved an important event in every young artist's life. When Correggio first gazed on Raphael's " Saint Cecilia," he felt within himself an awakened power, and exclaimed, "And I too am a painter! " So Constable used to look back on his first sight of Claude's picture of " Hagar " as forming an epoch in his career. Sir George Beaumont's admiration of the same picture was such that he always took it with him in his carriage when he traveled from home. The examples set by the great and good do not die; they continue to live and speak to all the generations that succeed them. It was very impressively observed by Mr. Disraeli, in the House of Commons, shortly after the death of Mr. Cobden: " There is this consolation remaining to us, when we remember our unequaled artd irreparable losses, that those great men are not altogether lost to us — that their words will often be quoted in this House — that their examples will often be referred to and appealed to, and that even their expressions will form part of our discus- sions and debates. There are now, I may say, some members of Parliament who, though they may not be 6 S2 Consolation of a Well-spent Life. present are still members of this House — who are inde- pendent of dissolutions, of the caprices of constituencies, and even of the course of time. I think that Mr. Cobden was one of those men." It is the great lesson of biography to teach what man can be and can do at his best. It may thus give each man renewed strength and confidence. The humblest, in sight of even the greatest, may admire, and hope, and take courage. These great brothers of ours in blood and lineage, who live a universal life, still speak to us from their graves, and beckon us on in the paths which they have trod. Their example is still with us, to guide, to influence and to direct us. For nobility of character is a perpetual bequest, living from age to age, and constantly tending to reproduce its like. " The sage," says the Chinese, " is the instructor of a hundred ages. When the manners of Loo are heard of, the stupid become intelligent, and the wavering deter- mined." Thus the acted life of a good man con- tinues to be a gospel of freedom and emancipation to all who succeed him: " To live in hearts we leave behind, Is not to die." The golden words which good men have uttered, the examples they have set, live through all time: they pass into the thoughts and hearts of their suc- cessors, help them on the road of life and often console them in the hour of death. " And the most miser- able or most painful of deaths," said Henry Marten, Consolation of a Well-spent Life* 83 the Commowealth man who died in prison, " is as nothing compared with the memory of a well- spent life; and great alone is he who has earned the glorious privilege of bequeathing such a lesson and example to his successors. " CHAPTER VIII. INFLUENCE OF CHARACTER. Character a Great Power in the World. — Common Duty. — Character above Learning and Wealth. — Character a Property. — Honesty of Character. — Principles. — Reliableness. — Practical Wisdom. — Sheridan and Burke. "Unless above himself, he can Erect himself, how poor a thing is man !" — Daniel. /\HARACTER is one of the greatest motive powers ^ in the world. In its noblest embodiments it exemplifies human nature in its highest forms, for it exhibits man at his best. Men of genuine excellence, in every station of life — men of industry, of integrity, of high principle, of sterling honesty of purpose — command the spontaneous homage of mankind. It is natural to believe in such men, to have confidence in them, and to imitate them. All that is good in the world is upheld by them, and without their presence in it the world would not be worth living in. Although genius always commands admiration, char- acter most secures respect. The former is more the product of brain-power, the latter of heart power; and in the. long run it is the heart that rules in life. Men 84 Sphere of Common Duty. 85 of genius stand to society in the relation of its intellect, as men of character of its conscience; and while the former are admired, the latter are followed, Great men are always exceptional men; and great ness itself is but comparative. Indeed, the range of most men in life is so limited, that very few have the opportunity of being great. But each man can act his part honestly and honorably, and to the best of his abil- ity. He can use his gifts, and not abuse them. He can strive to make the best of life. He can be true, just, honest and faithful, even in small things. In a word, he can do his duty in that sphere in which Providence has placed him. Commonplace though it may appear, this doing of one's duty embodies the highest ideal of life and char- acter. There may be nothing heroic about it; but the common lot of men is not heroic. And though the abiding sense of duty upholds man in his highest atti- tudes, it also equally sustains him in the transaction of the ordinary affairs of e very-day existence. Man's life is "centred in the sphere of common duties." The most influential of all the virtues are those which are the most in request for daily use. They wear the best, and last the longest. Superfine virtues, which are above the standard of common men, may only be sources of temptation and danger. Burke has truly said "that the human system which rests for its basis on the heroic virtues is sure to have a superstructure of weakness or of profligacy. 1 ' V 86 Sustaining Poiver of Duty. When Dr. Abbot, afterwards Archbishop of Canter- bury, drew the character of his deceased friend Thomas Sackville, he did not dwell upon his merits as a states- man, or his genius as a poet, but upon his virtues as a man in relation to the ordinary duties of life. " How many rare things were in him!" said he. "Who more loving unto his wife ? — Who more kind unto his chil- dren? — Who more fast unto his friend? — Who more moderate unto his enemy? — Who more true to his word?" Indeed, we can always better understand and appreciate a man's real character by the manner in which he conducts himself towards those who are the most nearly related to him, and by his transaction of the seemingly commonplace details of daily duty, than by his public exhibition of himself as an author, an ora tor, or a statesman. At the same time, while duty, for the most part, applies to the conduct of affairs in common life by the average of common men, it is also a sustaining power to men of the very highest standard of character. They may not have either money, or property, or learning, or power; and yet they may be strong in heart and rich in spirit — honest, truthful, dutiful. And whoever strives to do his duty faithfully is fulfilling the purpose for which he was created, and building up in himself the principles of a manly character. There are many per- sons of whom it may be said that they have no other possession in the world but their character, and yet they stand as firmly upon it as any crowned king. Character above Learning. 87 Intellectual culture has no necessary relation to purity or excellence of character. In the New Testament, appeals are constantly made to the heart of man and to " the spirit we are of," while allusions to the intellect are of very rare occurrence. " A handful of good life," says George Herbert, "is worth a bushel of learning." Not that learning .is to be despised, but that it must be allied to goodness. Intellectual capacity is sometimes found associated with the meanest moral character — with abject servility to those in high places, and arro- gance to those of low estate. A man may be accom- plished in art, literature, and science, and yet, in hon- esty, virtue, truthfulness, and the spirit of duty, be enti- tled to take rank after many a poor and illiterate peas- ant. "You insist," wrote Perthes to a friend, " on respect for learned men. I say, Amen! But at the same time, don't forget that largeness of mind, depth of thought, appreciation of the lofty, experience of the world, deli- cacy of manner, tact and energy in action, love of truth, honesty, and amiability — that all these may be wanting in a man who may yet be very learned." When some one, in Sir Walter Scott's hearing, made a remark as to the value of literary talents and accom- plishments, as if they were above all things to be es- teemed and honored, he observed, " God help us! what a poor world this would be if that were the true doc- trine! I have read books enough, and observed and conversed with enough of eminent and splendidly-cul- 88 Character above Wealth. tured minds, too, in my time; but I assure you, I have heard higher sentiments from the lips of poor unedu- cated men and women, when exerting the spirit of se- vere yet gentle heroism under difficulties and afflictions, or speaking their simple thoughts as to circumstances in the lot of friends and neighbors, than I ever yet met with out of the Bible. We shall never learn to feel and respect our real calling and destiny, unless we have taught ourselves to consider every thing as moonshine^ compared with the education of the heart." Still less has wealth any necessary connection with elevation of character. On the contrary, it is much more frequently the cause of its corruption and degra- dation. Wealth and corruption, luxury and vice, have very close affinities to each other. Wealth in the hands of men of weak purpose, of deficient self-control, or of ill-regulated passions, is only a temptation and a snare — the source, it may be, of infinite mischief to them- selves, and often to others. On the contrary, a condition of comparative poverty is compatible with character in its highest form. A man may possess only his industry, his frugality, his integrity, and yet stand high in the rank of true man- hood. The advice which Burns's father gave him was the best: " He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing, For without an honest manly heart no man was worth regarding." One of the purest and noblest characters the writer ever knew was a laboring-man in a northern county, Character above Wealth. 89 who brought up his family respectably on an income never amounting to more than ten shillings a week. Though possessed of only the rudiments of common education, obtained at an ordinary parish school, he was a man full of wisdom and thoughtfulness. His library consisted of the Bible, " Flavel," and " Boston " — books which, excepting the first, probably few readers have ever heard of. This good man might have sat for the portrait of Wordsworth's well-known " Wanderer." When he had lived his modest life of work and wor- ship, and finally went to his rest, he left behind him a reputation for practical wisdom, for genuine goodness, and for helpfulness in every good work, which greater and richer men might have envied. When Luther died, he left behind him, as set forth in his will, " no ready money, no treasure of coin of any description." He was so poor at one part of his life, that he was under the necessity of earning his bread by turning, gardening, and clock-making. Yet, at the very time when he was thus working with his hands, he was moulding the character of his country; and he was morally stronger, and vastly more honored and follow- ed, than all the princes of Germany. Character is property. It is the noblest of posses- sions. It is an estate in the general good-will and re- spect of men ; and they who invest in it — though they may not become rich in this world's goods — will find their reward in esteem and reputation fairly and honor- ably won. And it is right that in life good qualities 90 Honesty of Character. should tell — that industry, virtue, and goodness should rank the highest — and that the really best men should be foremost. Simple honesty of purpose in a man goes a long way in life, if founded on a just estimate of himself and a steady obedience to the rule he knows and feels to be right. It holds a man straight, gives him strength and sustenance, and forms a mainspring of vigorous action. " No man," once said Sir Benjamin Rudyard, " is bound to be rich or great — no, nor to be wise; but every man is bound to be honest." But the purpose, besides being honest, must be in- spired by sound principles, and pursued with undevi- ating adherence to truth, integrity, and uprightness. Without principles, a man is like a ship without rudder or compass, left to drift hither and thither with every wind that blows. He is as one without law, or rule, or order, or government. " Moral principles," says Hume, " are social and universal. They form, in a manner, the party of humankind against vice and disorder, its common enemy." Talent is by no means rare in the world; nor is even genius. But can the talent be trusted? — can the genius ? Not unless based on truthfulness — on veracity, It is this quality more than any other that commands the esteem and respect and secures the confidence of others. Truthfulness is at the foundation of all per- sonal excellence. It exhibits itself in conduct. It is rectitude — truth in action, and shines through every Reliableness* 91 word and deed. It means reliableness, and convinces other men that it can be trusted. And a man is al- ready of consequence in the world when it is known that he can be relied on — that when he says he knows a thing he does know it — that when he says he will do a thing, he can do, and does it. Thus reliableness becomes a passport to the general esteem and confi- dence of mankind. In the affairs of life or of business, it is not intellect that tells so much as character — not brains so much as heart — not genius so much as self-control, patience and discipline, regulated by judgment. Hence there is no better provision for the use of either private or public life, than a fair share of ordinary good sense guided by rectitude. Good sense, disciplined by experience and inspired by goodness, issues in practical wisdom. In- deed, goodness in a measure implies wisdom — the high est wisdom — the union of the worldly with the spiritual. " The correspondences of wisdom and goodness,^ says Sir Henry Taylor, " are manifold : and that they will accompany each other is to be inferred, not only because men's wisdom makes them good, but because their goodness makes them wise. 1 ' It is because of this controlling power of character in life that we often see men exercise an amount of influ- ence apparently out of all proportion to their intellectual endowments. They appear to act by means of some latent power, some reserved force, which acts secretly, by mere presence. As Burke said of a powerful noble- 92 Influence of Character. man of the last century, " his virtues were his means." The secret is, that the aims of such men are felt to be pure and noble, and they act upon others with a con- straining power. Though the reputation of men of genuine character may be of slow growth, their true qualities can not be wholly concealed. They may be misrepresented by some, and misunderstood by others; misfortune and adversity may, for a time overtake them; but, with patience and endurance, they will eventually inspire the respect and command the confidence which they really deserve. It has been said of Sheridan that, had he possessed reliableness of character, he might have ruled the world; whereas, for want of it, his splendid gifts were compar- atively useless. He dazzled and amused, but was with- out weight or influence in life or politics. Even the poor pantomimist of Drury Lane felt himself his supe- rior. Thus, when Delpini one day pressed the manager for arrears of salary, Sheridan sharply reproved him, telling him he had forgotten his station. " No, indeed, Monsieur Sheridan, I have not," retorted Delpini; "I know the difference between us perfectly well. In. birth, parentage and education, you are superior to me; but in life, character and behavior, I am superior to you." Unlike Sheridan, Burke, his countryman, was a great man of character. He was thirty-five before he gained a seat in Parliament, yet he found time to carve his Influence of Character. 93 name deep in the political history of England. He was a man of great gifts, and of transcendent force of char- acter. Yet he had a weakness, which proved a serious defect — it was his want of temper; his genius was sacr rificed to his irritability. And without this apparently minor gift of temper, the most splendid endowments may be comparatively valueless to their possessor. &*^j>/ CHAPTER IX. CHARACTER AND CIRCUMSTANCES. Formation of Character. — The late Prince Consort.— Force of Character. — The Conscientious Man. — The Quality of Keverence. — Intrepidity of Character. — Lord Palmerston. — Contagiousness of Energy. — The Napiers and Sir John Moore. — "Washington. — Wellington. — Influence of Personal Character. " Character is moral order seen through the medium of an individual nature. . . . Men of character are the conscience of the society to which they belong." — Emerson. /\HARACTER is formed by a variety of minute circumstances, more or less under the regulation and control of the individual. Not a day passes without its discipline, whether for good or for evil. There is no act, however trivial, but has its train of consequences, as there is no hair so small but casts its shadow. It was a wise saying of Mrs. Schimmelpenninck's mother, never to give way to what is little; or by that little, however you may despise it, you will be practically governed. _ Every action, every thouaft, every feeling, contrib- utes to the education of the^emper, the habits, and understanding, and exercises^Bpnevitable influence upon all the acts of our future life.'^fThus character is under- 94 Character and Circumstances. 95 going constant change, for better or for worse — either being elevated on the one hand or degraded on the other. " There is no fault nor folly of my life," says Mr. Ruskin, " that does not rise up against me, and take away my joy, and shorten my power of possession, of sight, of understanding. And every past effort of my life, every gleam of rightness or good in it, is with me now, to help me in my grasp of this art and its vision. The mechanical law, that action and reaction are equal, holds true also in morals. Good deeds act and react on the doers of them; and so do evil. Not only so: they produce like effects by the influence of exam- ple, on those who are the subjects of them. But man is not the creature, so much as he is the creator of circumstances; and by the exercise of his free-will, he can direct his actions so that they shall be productive of good rather than evil. " Nothing can work me damage but myself, 11 said St. Bernard, " the harm that I sustain I carry about with me ; and I am never a real sufferer but by my own fault." The best sort of character, however, can not be formed without effort. There needs the exercise of constant self- watchfulness, self-discipline, and self-control. There may be much faltering, stumbling and temporary defeat; difficulties and temptations manifold to be bat- tled with and overcome; but if the spirit be strong and the heart be upright, no one need despair of ultimate success. The very effort to advance — to arrive at a higher standard of character than we have reached — is i Formation of Character. inspiring and invigorating; and even though we may fall short of it. we can not fail to be improved by every honest effort made in an upward direction. And with the light of great examples to guide us — representatives of humanity in its best forms — every one is not only justified, but bound in duty, to aim at reaching the highest standard of character: not to become the richest in means, but in spirit; not the greatest in worldly position, but in true honor; not the most intellectual, but the most virtuous; not the most powerful and influential, but the most truthful, upright and honest. It was very characteristic of the late Prince Consort — a man himself of the purest mind, who powerfully im- pressed and influenced others by the sheer force of his own benevolent nature — when drawing up the condi- tions of the annual prize to be given by Her Majesty at Wellington College, to determine that it should be awarded, not to the cleverest boy, nor to the most bookish boy. nor to the most precise, diligent, and prudent boy, but to the noblest boy, to the bov who should show the most promise of becoming' a large- hearted, high-motived man. Character exhibits itself in conduct, guided and in- spired by principle, integrity, and practical wisdom. In its highest form, it is the individual will acting enero-et- ically under the influence of religion, moralitv. and rea- son. It chooses its way considerately, and pursues it steadfastly; esteeming duty above reputation, and the Force of Character. 97 approval of conscience more than the world's praise. While respecting the personality of others, it 'preserves its own individuality and independence; and has the courage to be morally honest, though it may be unpop- ular, trusting tranquilly to time and experience for recognition. Although the force of example will always exercise great influence upon the formation of character, the self-originating and sustaining force of one's own spirit must be the main-stay. This alone can hold up the life, and give individual independence and energy. " Un- less man can erect himself above himself, 11 said Daniel, a poet of the Elizabethan era, " how poor a thing is man! 11 Without a certain degree of practical efficient force — compounded of will, which is the root, and wis- dom, which is the stem of character — life will be indefi- nite and purposeless — like a body of stagnant water, instead of a running stream doing useful work and keep- ing the machinery of a district in motion. When the elements of character are brought into action by determinate will, and, influenced by high pur- pose, man enters upon and courageously perseveres in the path of duty, at whatever cost of worldly interest, he may be said to approach the summit of his being. He then exhibits character in its most intrepid form, and embodies the highest idea of manliness. The acts of such a man become repeated in the life and action of others. His very words live and become actions. Thus every word of Luther's rang through Germany like a 7 y men of character — by great leaders, kings, priests, philosophers, statesmen, and patriots — the true aristoc- racy of man. Indeed, Mr. Carlyle has broadly stated that Universal History is, at bottom, but the history of Great Men. They certainly mark and designate the epochs of national life. Their influence is active, as well as reactive. Though their mind is, in a measure, the product of their age, the public mind is also, to a great extent, their creation. Their individual action identifies the cause — the institution. They think great thoughts; cast them abroad, and the thoughts make events. Thus the early Reformers initiated the Refor- mation, and with it the liberation of modern thought. Emerson has said that every institution is to be regard- ed as but the lengthened shadow of some great man: as Islamism of Mohammed, Puritanism of Calvin, Jesuit- ism of Loyola, Quakerism of Fox, Methodism of Wes- ley, Abolitionism of Clarkson. 108 Dante's Influence on Italy. Great men stamp their mind upon their age and na- tion — as Luther did upon modern Germany, and Knox upon Scotland. And if there be one man more than another that stamped his mind on modern Italy, it was Dante. During the long centuries of Italian degrada- tion his burning words were as a watch-fire and a bea- con to all true men. He was the herald of his nation's liberty — braving persecution, exile, and death, for the love of it. He was always the most national of the Italian poets, the most loved, the most read. From the time of his death all educated Italians had his best pas- sages by heart; and the sentiments they enshrined in- spired their lives, and eventually influenced the history of their nation. "The Italians,'' wrote Byron in 1821, " talk Dante, write Dante, and think and dream Dante, at this moment to an excess which would be ridiculous but that he deserves their admiration. " A succession of variously gifted men in different ages — extending from Alfred to Albert — has in like manner contributed, by their life and example, to shape the mul- tiform character of England. Of these, probably the most influential were the men of the Elizabethan and Cromwellian, and the intermediate periods — among which we find the great names of Shakspeare, Raleigh T Burleigh, Sidney, Bacon, Milton, Herbert, Hampden, Pym, Eliot, Vane, Cromwell, and many more — some of them men of great force, and others of great dignity and purity of character. The lives of such men have become part of the public life of England, and their Character a Great Legacy. 109 deeds and thoughts are regarded as among the most cherished bequeathments from the past. So Washington left behind him, as one of the great- est treasures of his country, the example of a stainless life — of a great, honest, pure, and noble character— a model for his nation to form themselves by in all time to come. And in the case of Washington, as in so many other great leaders of men, his greatness did not so much consist in his intellect, his skill, and his genius, as in his honor, his integrity, his truthfulness, his high and controlling sense of duty — in a word, in his genuine nobility of character, Men such as these are the true life-blood of the coun- try to which they belong. They elevate and uphold it, fortify and ennoble it, and shed a glory over it by the example of life and character which the) 7 have bequeath- ed. " The names and memories of great men," says an able writer, " are the dowry of a nation. Widowhood, overthrow, desertion, even slavery, can not take away from her this sacred inheritance. . . . Whenever na- tional life begins to quicken .... the dead heroes rise in the memories of men, and appear to the living to stand by in solemn spectatorship and approval. No country can be lost which feels herself overlooked by such glorious witnesses. They are the salt of the earth, in death as well as in life. What they did once, their descendants have still and always a right to do after them; and their example lives in their country, a con- 110 Character of Nations. tinual stimulant and encouragement for him who has the soul to adopt it.' 1 But it is not great men only that have to be taken into account in estimating the qualities of a nation, but the character that pervades the great body of the peo- ple. When Washington Irving visited Abbotsford, Sir Walter Scott introduced him to many of his friends and favorites, not only among the neighboring farmers, but the laboring peasantry. " I wish to show you," said Scott, " some of our really excellent plain Scotch peo- ple. The character of a nation is not to be learnt from its fine folks, its fine gentlemen and ladies; such you meet everywhere, and they are everywhere the same.' 1 While statesmen, philosophers, and divines represent the thinking power of society, the men who found in- dustries and carve out new careers, as well as the com- mon body of working people, from whom the national strength and spirit are from time to time recruited, must necessarily furnish the vital force and constitute the real backbone of every nation. Nations have their character to maintain as well as individuals; and under constitutional governments — where all classes more or less participate in the exercise of political power — the national character will necessa- rily depend more upon the moral qualities of the many than of the few. And the same qualities which deter- mine the character of individuals also determine the character of nations. Unless they are high-minded, truthful, honest, virtuous, and courageous, they will be Character and Freedom. Ill held in light esteem by other nations, and be without weight in the world. To have character, they must needs also be reverential, disciplined, self-controlling, and devoted to duty. The nation that has no higher god than pleasure, or even dollars or calico, must needs be in a poor way. It were better to revert to Homer's gods than be devoted to these; for the heathen deities at least imaged human virtues, and were something to look up to. As for institutions, however good in themselves, they will avail but little in maintaining the standard of national character. It is the individual men, and the spirit which actuates them, that determine the moral standing and stability of nations. Government, in the long run, is usually no better than the people governed. Where the mass is sound in conscience, morals, and habit, the nation will be ruled honestly and nobly. But where they are corrupt, self-seeking and dishonest in heart, bound neither by truth nor by law, the rule of rogues and wire-pullers becomes inevitable. The only true barrier against the despotism of public opinion, whether it be of the many or of the few, is enlightened individual freedom and purity of personal character. Without these there can- be no vigorous manhood, no true liberty in a nation. Political rights, however broadly framed, will not elevate a people indi- vidually depraved. Indeed, the more complete a system of popular suffrage, and the more perfect its protection, the more completely will the real character of a people 112 Nations Strengthened by Trials. be reflected, as by a mirror, in their laws and govern- ment. Political morality can never have any solid ex- istence on a basis of individual immorality. Even free- dom, exercised by a debased people, would come to be regarded as a nuisance, and liberty of the press but a vent for licentiousness and moral abomination. Nations, like individuals, derive support and strength from the feeling that they belong to an illustrious race, that they are the heirs of their greatness and ought to be the perpetuators of their glory. It is of momentous importance that a nation should have a great past to look back upon. It steadies the life of the present, ele- vates and upholds it, and lightens and lifts it up, by the memory of the great deeds, the noble sufferings, and the valorous achievements of the men of old. The life of nations, as of men, is a great treasury of experience, which, wisely used, issues in social progress and im- provement; or, misused, issues in dreams, delusions, and failure. Like men, nations are purified and strength- ened by trials. Some of the most glorious chapters in their history are those containing the record of the sufferings by means of which their character has been developed. Love of liberty and patriotic feeling may have done much, but trial and suffering nobly borne more than all. A great deal of what passes by the name of patriot- ism in these days consists of the merest bigotry and narrow-mindedness; exhibiting itself in national preju- dice, national conceit and national hatred. It does not Nolle and Ignoble Patriotism. 113 show itself in deeds, but in boastings — in bowlings, ges- ticulations, and shrieking helplessly for help — in flying flags and singing songs — and in perpetual grinding at the hurdy-gurdy of long-dead grievances and long- remedied wrongs. To be infested by such a patriotism as this is perhaps among the greatest curses that can befall any country. But as there is an ignoble, so is there a noble pa- triotism — the patriotism that invigorates and elevates a country by noble work — that does its duty truthfully and manfully — that lives an honest, sober, and upright life, and strives to make the best use of the opportuni- ties for improvement that present themselves on every side; and at the same time a patriotism that cherishes the memory and example of the great men of old. who. by their sufferings in the cause of religion or of free- dom, have won for themselves a deathless glory, and for their nation those privileges of free life and free political institutions of which they are the inheritors and possessors. Nations are not to be judged by their size any more than individuals: i; It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make Man better be." For a nation to be great, it need not necessarily be big, though bigness is often confounded with greatness. A nation may be very big in point of territory and popu- lation, and yet be devoid of true greatness. The peo- ple of Israel were a small people, yet what a great life 8 114 Decline and Fall of Nations. they developed, and how powerful the influence they have exercised on the destinies of mankind! Greece was not big: the entire population of Attica was less than that of South Lancashire. Athens was less popu- lous than New York; and yet how great it was in arty in literature, in philosophy, and in patriotism! But it was the fatal weakness of Athens that its citi- zens had no true family or home life, while its freemen were greatly outnumbered by its slaves. Its public men were loose, if not corrupt, in morals. Its women, even the most accomplished, were unchaste. Hence its fall became inevitable, and was even more sudden than its rise. In like manner, the decline and fall of Rome was at- tributable to the general corruption of its people, and to their engrossing love of pleasure and idleness — work, in the latter days of Rome, being regarded only as fit for slaves. Its citizens ceased to pride themselves on the virtues of character of their great forefathers; and the empire fell because it did not deserve to live. And so* the nations that are idle and luxurious — that " will rath- er lose a pound of blood," as old Burton says, u in a sin- gle combat, than a drop of sweat in any honest labor" — must inevitably die out, and laborious, energetic nations take their place. When Louis XIV. asked Colbert how it was that,. ruling so great and populous a country as France, he had been unable to conquer so small a country as Hol- land, the minister replied: " Because, sire, the greatness Decline and Fall of Nations. 115 of a country does not depend upon the extent of its ter- ritory, but on the character of its people. It is because of the industry, the frugality, and the energy of the Dutch that your Majesty has found them so difficult to overcome. " It is also related of Spinola and Richardet, the am- bassadors sent by the King of Spain to negotiate a treaty at the Hague in 1608, that one day they saw some eight or ten persons land from a little boat, and sitting down upon the grass, proceed to make a meal of bread-and-cheese and beer. " Who are those travelers?" asked the ambassadors of a peasant. u These are our worshipful masters, the deputies from the States," was his reply. Spinola at once whispered to his companion, "We must make peace: these are not men to be con- quered." In fine, stability of institutions must depend upon stability of character. Any number of depraved units can not form a great nation. The people may seem to he highly civilized, and yet be ready to fall to pieces at the first touch of adversity. Without integrity of indi- vidual character, they can have no real strength, cohe- sion, or soundness. They may be rich, polite, and artist- ic, and yet hovering on the brink of ruin. If living for themselves only, and with no end but pleasure — each little self his own little god — such a nation is doomed, and its decay is inevitable. Where national character ceases to be upheld, a na- tion may be regarded as next to lost. Where it ceases 116 Stability of Character. to esteem and to practice the virtues of truthfulness, honesty, integrity, and justice, it does not deserve to live. And when the time arrives in any country when wealth has so corrupted, or pleasure so depraved, or faction so infatuated the people, that honor, order, obe- dience, virtue, and loyalty have seemingly become things of the past; then, amidst the darkness, when honest men — if, haply, there be such left — are groping about and feeling for each other's hands, their only remaining hope will be in the restoration and elevation of Individ- ual Character; for by that alone can a nation be saved; and if character be irrecoverably lost, then indeed there will be nothing left worth saving. CHAPTER XI. WORK. Work the Law of our Being. — The Ancient Romans. — Pliny on Rural Labor. —The Curse of Idleness.— Causes of Melancholy.— Excuses of Indolence. — Industry and Leisure. — Work a Universal Duty. — Lord Stanley on Work. — Life and Work. "Arise, therefore, and be doing, and the Lord will be with thee."— 1 Chronicles, xxii. 16. WORK is one of the best educators of practical character. It evokes and disciplines obedience, self-control, attention, application, and perseverance; giving a man deftness and skill in his special calling, and aptitude and dexterity in dealing with the affairs of ordinary life. Work is the law of our being — the living principle that carries men and nations onward. The greater number of men have to work with their hands, as a matter of necessity, in order to live; but all must work in one way or another, if they would enjoy life as it ought to be enjoyed. Labor may be a burden and a chastisement, but it is also an honor and a glorv. Without it nothing: can be -accomplished. All that is great in man comes through work, and civilization is its product. Were labor abol- 1 17 118 Pliny on Rural Labor. ished, the race of Adam were at once stricken by moral death. It is idleness that is the curse of man — not labor. Idleness eats the heart out of men as of nations, and consumes them as rust does iron. When Alexander conquered the Persians, and had an opportunity of ob- serving their manners, he remarked that they did not seem conscious that there could be anything more servile than a life of pleasure, or more princely than a life of toil. When the Emperor Severus lay on his death-bed at York, whither he had been borne on a litter from the foot of the Grampians, his final watch-word to his sol- diers was, " Labor emus''' 1 (we must work;) and nothing but constant toil maintained the power and extended the authority of the Roman generals. In describing the earlier social condition of Italy, when the ordinary occupations of rural life were con- sidered compatible with the highest civic dignity, Pliny speaks of the triumphant generals and their men return- ing contentedly to the plough. In those days the lands were tilled by the hands even of generals, the soil ex- ulting beneath a ploughshare crowned with laurels, and guided by a husbandman graced with triumphs: " Iftso- rmn tunc manibus im-peratorum colebantur agri: ut fasest credere, gaudente terra vomere laureato et tri~ umphali ar afore?" It was only after slaves became extensively employed in all departments of industry that labor came to be regarded as dishonorable and servile. The Curse of Idleness. 119 And so soon as indolence and luxury became the char- acteristics of the ruling classes of Rome, the down-fall of the empire, sooner or later, was inevitable. There is, perhaps, no tendency of our nature that has to be more carefully- guarded against than indolence. When Mr. Gurney asked an intelligent foreigner who had traveled over the greater part of the world, wheth- er he had observed any one quality which, more than another, could be regarded as a universal characteristic of our species, his answer was, in broken English, " Me tink dat all men love lazy" It is characteristic of the savage as of the despot. It is natural to men to en- deavor to enjoy the products of labor without its toils. Indeed, so universal is this desire that James Mill has argued that it was to prevent its indulgence at the ex- pense of society at large, that the expedient of govern- ment was originally intended. Indolence is equally degrading to individuals as to nations. Sloth never made its mark in the world, and never will. Sloth never climbed a hill, nor overcame a difficulty that it could avoid. Indolence always failed in life, and always will. It is in the nature of things that it should not succeed in anything. It is a burden, an incumbrance and a nuisance — always useless, com- plaining melancholy and miserable. Burton, in his quaint and curious book — the only one, Johnson says, that ever took him out of bed two hours sooner than he wished to rise — describes the causes of Melancholy as hinging mainly on Idleness. " Idleness," 120 Causes of Melancholy. he says, " is the bane of body and mind; the nurse of naughtiness, the chief mother of all mischief, one of the seven deadly sins, the devil's cushion, his pillow and chief reposal. . . . An idle dog will be mangy; and how shall an idle person escape? Idleness of the mind is much worse than that of the body: wit, without em- ployment, is a disease — the rust of the soul, a plague r a hell itself. As in a standing pool, worms and filthy creepers increase, so do evil and corrupt thoughts in an idle person; the soul is contaminated. . . . Thus much I dare boldly say: he or she that is idle, be they of what condition they will, never so rich, so well allied, fortunate, happy — let them have all things in abundance and felicity that heart can wish and desire, all content- ment — so long as he, or she, or they, are idle, they shall never be pleased, never well in body or mind, but weary still, sickly still, vexed still, loathing still, weep- ing, sighing, grieving, suspecting, offended with the world, with every object, wishing themselves gone or dead, or else carried away with some foolish phantasie or other." Burton says a great deal more to the same effect ; the burden and lesson of his book being embodied in the pregnant sentence with which it winds up: " Only take this for a corollary and conclusion, as thou tenderest thine own welfare in this, and all other melancholy, thy good health of body and mind, observe this short pre- cept, Give not way to solitariness and idleness. Be not solitary — be not idle" Excuses of Indolence. 121 The indolent, however, are not wholly indolent. Though the body may shirk labor, the brain is not idle. If it do not grow corn, it will grow thistles, which will be found springing up all along the idle man's course in life. The ghosts of indolence rise up in the dark, ever staring the recreant in the face, and tormenting him: " The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices, Make instruments to scourge us." True happiness is never found in torpor of the faculties^ but in their action and useful employment. It is indo- lence that exhausts, not action, in which there is life, health, and pleasure. The spirits may be exhausted and wearied by employment, but they are utterly wasted by idleness. m Hence a wise physician was accustomed to regard occupation as one of his most valuable remedial measures. "Nothing is so injurious," said Dr. Marshall Hall, " as unoccupied time."" An archbishop of May- ence used to say that "the human heart is like a mill- stone: if you put wheat under it, it grinds the wheat into flour: if you put no wheat, it grinds on, but then 'tis itself it wears away." Indolence is usually full of excuses ; and the sluggard, though unwilling to work, is often an active sophist. "There is a lion in the path;" or " The hill is hard to climb;" or " There is no use trying — I have tried, and failed, and cannot do it." To the sophistries of such an excuser, Sir Samuel Romilly once wrote to a young man: " My attack upon your indolence, loss of time, etc. Was most serious, and I really think that it can be to 122 Industry and Leisure. nothing but your habitual want of exertion that can be ascribed your using such curious arguments as you do in your defense. Your theory is this : Every man does all the good that he can. If a particular individual does no good, it is a proof that he is incapable of doing it. That you don't write proves that you can't; and your want of imitation demonstrates your want of talents. What an admirable system ! — and what beneficial effects would it be attended with if it were but universally received!" It has been truly said that to desire to possess with- out being burdened with the trouble of acquiring is as much a sign of weakness, as to recognize that every thing worth having is only to be got by paying its price is the prime secret of practical strength. Even leisure can not be enjoyed unless it is won by effort. If it have not been earned by work, the price has not been paid for it. There must be work before and work behind, with leisure to fall back upon; but the leisure, without the work, can no more be enjoyed than a surfeit. Life must needs be disgusting alike to the idle rich man as to the idle poor man, who has no work to do, or, having work, will not do it. The words found tattooed on the right arm of a sentimental beggar of forty, undergo- ing his eighth imprisonment in the jail of Bourges in France, might be adopted as the motto of all idlers: " Le passe m^a trompe; le present me tourments ; Pave nir m ''epouvante" (The past has deceived me; the pres- ent torments me; the future terrifies me.) Work a Universal Duty. 123 The duty of industry applies to all classes and condi- tions of society. All have their work to do in their re- spective conditions of life — the rich as well as the poor. The gentleman by birth and education, however richly he may be endowed with worldly possessions, can not but feel that he is in duty bound to contribute his quota of endeavor towards the general well-being in which he shares. He can not be satisfied with being fed, clad, and maintained by the labor of others, without making some suitable return to the society that upholds him. An honest, high-minded man would revolt at the idea of sitting down to and enjoying a feast, and then going away without paying his share of the reckoning. To be idle and useless is neither an honor nor a privilege; and though persons of small natures may be content merely to consume — fruges consumer e nati — men of average endowment, of manly aspirations, and of honest purpose, will feel such a condition to be incompatible with real honor and true dignity. " I don't believe, " said Lord Stanley (now Earl of Derby) at Glasgow, " that an unemployed man, however amiable and otherwise respectable, ever was, or ever can be, really happy. As work is our life, show me what you can do, and I will show you what you are. I have spoken of love of one's work as the best preventive of merely low and vicious tastes. I will go farther, and say that it is the best preservative against petty anxie- ties, and the annoyances that arise out of indulged self- love. Men have thought before now that they could 124 Lord Stanley on Work. take refuge from trouble and vexation by sheltering themselves, as it were, in a world of their own. The experiment has often been tried, and always with one result. You can not escape from anxiety and labor — it is the destiny of humanity. . . . Those who shirk from facing trouble find that trouble comes to them. The indolent may contrive that he shall have less than his share of the world's work to do, but Nature, propor- tioning the instinct to the work, contrives that the little shall be much and hard to him. The man who has only himself to please finds, sooner or later, and probably sooner than later, that he has got a very hard master; and the excessive weakness which shrinks from respon- sibility has its own punishment too, for where great inter- ests are excluded little matters become great, and the same wear and tear of mind that might have been at least usefully and healthfully expended on the real busi- ness of life is often wasted in petty and imaginary vex- ations, such as breed and multiply in the unoccupied brain. 11 Even on the lowest ground — that of personal enjoy- ment — constant useful occupation is necessar}'. He who labors not can not enjoy the reward of labor. " We sleep sound, " said Sir Walter Scott, " and our waking hours are happy, when they are employed ; and a little sense of toil is necessary to the enjoyment of lei- sure, even when earned by study and sanctioned by the discharge of duty. 11 It is true, there are men who die of overwork; but Life and Work. 125 many more die of selfishness, indulgence, and idleness. Where men break down by overwork, it is most com- monly from want of durjj ordering their lives, and neg- lect of the ordinary conditions of physical health. Lord Stanley was probably right when he said, in his address to the Glasgow students above mentioned, that he doubted whether u hard work, steadily and regularly carried on, ever yet hurt any body.' 1 Then, again, length of years is no proper test of length of life. A man's life is to be measured by what he does in it, and what he feels in it. The more useful work the man does, and the more he thinks and feels, the more he really lives. The idle, useless man, no mat- ter to what extent his life may be prolonged, merely vegitates. The early teachers of Christianity ennobled the lot of toil by their example. "He that will not work," said St. Paul, "neither shall he eat;" and he glorified him- self in that he had labored with his hands, and had not been chargeable to any man. When St. Boniface land- ed in Britain, he came with a gospel in one hand and a carpenter's rule in the other; and from England he afterwards passed over into Germany, carrying thither the art of building. Luther also, in the midst of a mul- titude of other employments, worked diligently for a living, earning his bread by gardening, building, turn- ing, and even clock-making." CHAPTER XII. DIGNITY OF WORK Work and Happiness. — Scott and Southey. — Work an Educator of Char- acter. — Training to Business. — Business Qualities. — Wellington, Wollen- stein, Washington. "Work as if thou hadst to live for aye; Worship as if thou Avert to die to-day." — Tuscan Proverb. TT was characteristic of Napoleon, when visiting a work of mechanical excellence, to pay great respect to the inventor, and, on taking his leave, to salute him with a low bow. Once at St. Helena, when walking with Mrs. Balcombe, some servants came along carrying a load. The lady, in an angry tone, ordered them out of the way, on which Napoleon interposed, saying, " Re- spect the burden, madam." Even the drudgery of the humblest laborer contributes towards the general well- being of society ; and it was a wise saying of a Chinese emperor that " if there was a man who did not work, or a woman that was idle, somebody must suffer cold or hunger in the empire." The habit of constant useful occupation is as essen- tial for the happiness and well-being of woman as of man. Without it women are apt to sink into a state of 126 The Dignity of Work. 127 listless ennui and uselessness, accompanied by sick-head- ache and attacks of " nerves. " Caroline Perthes care- fully warned her married daughter Louisa to beware of giving away to such listlessness. " I, myself, " she said, " when the children are gone out for a half-holiday, sometimes feel as stupid and dull as an owl by day- light; but one must not yield to this, which happens more or less to all young wives. The best relief is tvo?'k, engaged in with interest and diligence. Work, then, constantly and diligently, at something or other; for idleness is the devil's snare for small and great, as your grandfather says, and he says true." Constant useful occupation is thus wholesome, not only for the body, but for the mind. While the sloth- ful man drags himself indolently through life, and the better part of his nature sleeps a deep sleep, if not mor- ally and spiritually dead, the energetic man is a source of activity and enjoyment to all who come within reach of his influence. Even any ordinary drudgery is better than idleness. Fuller says of Sir Francis Drake, who was early sent to sea, and kept close to his work by his master, that such " pains and patience in his youth knit the joints of his soul, and made them more solid and compact." Schiller used to say that he considered it a great advantage to be employed in the discharge of some dairy mechanical duty — some regular routine of work, that rendered steady application necessary. Thousands can bear testimony to the truth of the saying of Greuze, the French ' painter, that work — em- 128 Work and Happiness- ployment, useful occupation — is one of the great secrets of happiness. Casaubon was once induced by the entreaties of his friends to take a few days' entire rest, but he returned to his work with the remark, that it was easier to bear illness doing something than doing nothing. When Charles Lamb was released for life from his daily drudgery of desk-work at the India Office, he felt himself the happiest of men. " I would not go back to my prison,' 1 he said to a friend, "ten years longer for ten thousand pounds." He also wrote in the same ec- static mood to Bernard Barton: " I have scarce steadi- ness of head to compose a letter," he said; u I am free! free as air! I will live another fifty years. ... Would I could sell you some of my leisure! Positively the best thing a man can do is — Nothing ; and next to that, perhaps, Good Works." Two years — two long and tedious years — passed; and Charles Lamb's feelings had undergone an entire change. He now discovered that official, even humdrum work—" the appointed round, the daily task" — had been good for him, though he knew it not. Time had formerly been his friend; it had now become his enemy. To Bernard Barton he again wrote: "I assure you, no work is worse than overwork ; the mind preys on itself — the most unwhole- some of food. I have ceased to care for almost any thing Never did the waters of heaven pour down upon a forlorner head. What I can do, and over- do, is to walk. I am a sanguinary murderer of time. But the oracle is silent." Practical Importance of Industry. 129 No man could be more sensible of the practical im- portance of industry than Sir Walter Scdtt, who was himself one ot the most laborious and indefatigable of men. Indeed, Lockhart says of him that, taking all ages and countries together, the rare example of inde- fatigable energy, in union with serene self-possession of mind and manner, such as Scott's, must be sought for in the roll of great sovereigns or great captains, rather than in that of literary genius. Scott himself was most anxious to impress upon the minds of his own children the importance of industry as a means of usefulness and happiness in the world. To his son Charles, when at school, he wrote: "I can not too much impress upon your mind that labor is the condition which God has imposed upon us in every station of life; there is nothing worth having that can be had without it, from the bread which the peasant wins with the sweat of his brow to the sports by which the rich man must get rid of his ennui. .... As for knowledge, it can no more be planted in the human mind without labor than a field of wheat can be produced without the previous use of the plough. There is, indeed, this great difference, that chance or circumstances may so cause it that another shall reap what the farmer sows ; but no man can be deprived, whether by accident or misfortune, of the fruits of his own studies; and the liberal and extended acquisitions of knowledge which he makes are all for his own use. Labor, therefore, my dear boy, and improve the time. In youth our steps are light, and our minds 9 130 Scott and Southey. are ductile, and knowledge is easily laid up; but if we neglect our spring, our summers will be useless and con- temptible, our harvest will be chaff, and the winter of our old age unrespected and desolate." Southey was as laborious a worker as Scott. Indeed, work might almost be said to form part of his religion. He was only nineteen when he wrote these words : "Nineteen years! certainly a fourth part of my life; perhaps how great a part! and yet I have been of no service to society. The clown who scares crows for twopence a day is a more useful man; he preserves the bread which I eat in idleness.' ' And yet Southey had not been idle as a boy — on the contrary, he had been a most diligent student. He had not only read largely in English literature, but was well acquainted, through translations, with Tasso, Ariosto, Homer, and Ovid. He felt, however, as if his life had been purposeless, and he determined to do something. He began, and from that time forward he pursued, an unremitting career of liter- ary labor down to the close of his life — " daily progress- ing in learning," to use his own words — " not so learned as he is poor, not so poor as proud, not so proud as happy." The maxims of men often reveal their character. That of Sir Walter Scott was, " Never to be doing nothing." Robertson the historian, as early as his fif- teenth year, adopted the maxim of " Vita sine Uteris mors est" (Life without learning is death). Voltaire's motto was, Toujour s au travail" (always at work.), Work an Educator of Character- 131 The favorite maxim of Lacepede, the naturalist, was, " Vivre c^est veiller" (To live is to observe): it was also the maxim of Pliny. When Bossuet was at College, he was so distinguished by his ardor in study, that his fel- low-students, playing upon his name, designated him as Bos-suetus aratro (the ox used to the plough). The name of Vita-Its (life a struggle), which the Swedish poet Sjoberg assumed, as Frederik von Hardenberg assumed that of Nova-lis, described the aspirations and the labors of both these men of genius. We have spoken of work as a discipline: it is also an educator of character. Even work that produces no results, because it is work, is better than torpor — inas- much as it educates faculty, and is thus preparatory to successful work. The habit of working teaches method. It compels economy of time, and the disposition of it with judicious forethought. And when the art of pack- ing life with useful occupations is once acquired by practice, every minute will be turned to account; and leisure, when it comes, will be enjoyed with all the great- er zest. Coleridge has truly observed, that " if the idle are described as killing time, the methodical man may be justly said to call it into life and moral being, while he makes it the distinct object not only of the conscious- ness, but of the conscience. He organizes the hours and gives them a soul; and by that, the very essence of which is to fleet and to have been, he communicates an imperishable and spiritual nature. Of the good and 132 Training to Business- faithful servant, whose energies thus directed are thus methodized, it is less truly affirmed that he lives in time than that time lives in him. His days and months and years, as the stops and punctual marks in the record of duties performed, will survive the wreck of worlds, and remain extant when time itself shall be no more.'" It is because application to business teaches method most effectually, that it is so useful as an educator of character. The highest working qualities are best train- ed by active and sympathetic contact with others in the affairs of daily life. It does not matter whether the business relate to the management of a household or of a nation. Indeed, as we have endeavored to show in a preceding chapter, the able housewife must necessarily be an efficient woman of business. She must regulate and control the details of her home, keep her expendi- ture within her means, arrange everything according to plan and system, and wisely manage and govern those subject to her rule. Efficient domestic management implies industry, application, method, moral discipline, forethought, prudence, practical ability, insight into char- acter, and power of organization — all of which are required in the efficient management of business of whatever sort. Business qualities have, indeed, a very large field of action. They mean aptitude for affairs, competency to deal successfully with the practical work of life — wheth- er the spur of action lie in domestic management, in the Business Qualities. 133 conduct of a profession, in trade or commerce, in social organization, or in political government. And the train- ing which gives efficiency in dealing with these various affairs is of all others the most useful in practical life. Moreover, it is the best discipline of character; for it involves the exercise of diligence, attention, self-de- nial, judgment, tact, knowledge of and sympathy with others. Such a discipline is far more productive of happiness, as well as useful efficiency in life, than any amount of literary culture or meditative seclusion; for in the long run it will usually be found that practical ability carries it over intellect, and temper and habits over talent. It must, however, be added that this is a kind of culture that can only be acquired by diligent observation and carefully improved experience. " To be a good black- smith," said General Trochu, in a recent publication, " one must have forged all his life : to be a good admin- istrator, one should have passed his whole life in the study and practice of business.''' It was characteristic of Sir Walter Scott to entertain the highest respect for able men of business; and he professed that he did not consider any amount of literary distinction as entitled to be spoken of in the same breath with the mastery in the higher depart- ments of practical life — least of all with a first-rate captain. The great commander leaves nothing to chance, but provides for every contingency. He condescends to ap- 1 34 Wellington — Wash ington. parently trivial details. Thus, when Wellington was at the head of his army in Spain, he directed the precise manner in which the soldiers were to cook their provis- ions. When in India, he specified the exact speed at which the bullocks were to be driven; every detail in equipment was carefully arranged beforehand. And thus not. only was efficiency secured, but the devotion of his men, and their boundless confidence in his com- mand. Like other great captains, Wellington had an almost boundless capacity for work. He drew up the heads of a Dublin Police Bill (being still the Secretary for Ire- land) when tossing off the mouth of the Mondego, with Junot and the French army waiting for him on the shore. So Csesar, another of the greatest commanders, is said to have written an essay on Latin Rhetoric while crossing the Alps at the head of his army. And Wal- lenstein, when at the head of 60,000 men, and in the midst of a campaign, with the enemy before him, dic- tated from headquarters the medical treatment of his poultry-yard. Washington, also, was an indefatigable man of busi- ness. From his boyhood he diligently trained himself in habits of application, of study, and of methodical work. His manuscript school-books, which are still preserved, show that, as early as the age of thirteen, he occupied himself voluntarily in copying out such things as forms of receipts, notes of hand, bills of exchange, bonds, indentures, leases, land-warrants, and other dry Washington. 135 documents, all written out with great care. And the habits which he thus early acquired were, in a great measure, the foundation of those admirable business qualities which he afterwards so successfully brought to bear in the affairs of government. The man or woman who achieves success in the management of any great affair of business is entitled to honor — it may be, to as much as the artist who paints a picture, or the author who writes a book, or the soldier who wins a battle. Their success may have been gained in the face of as great difficulties, and after as great struggles ; and where they have won their bat- tle, it is at least a peaceful one, and there is no blood on their hands. CHAPTER XIII. WORKING GENIUSES. Genius and Business. — Literature and Business. — The Great Men of Eliza- beth's Reign. — The Great Italians. — Modern Literary Workers. — Workers in Leisure Hours. — Business Value of Culture. " Blest work! if ever thou wert curse of God, What must His blessing be !'" — J. B. Selkirk. /T\ HE idea has been entertained by some that business habits are incompatible with genius. In the Life of Richard Lovell Edgeworth, it is observed of a Mr. Bicknell — a respectable but ordinary man, of whom lit- tle is known but that he married Sabrina Sidney, the eleve of Thomas Day, author of " Sandford and Mer- ton " — that " he had some of the too usual faults of a man of genius: he detested the drudgery of business. " But there can not be a greater mistake. The great- est geniuses have, without exception, been the greatest workers, even to the extent of drudgery. They have not only worked. harder than ordinary men; but brought to their work higher faculties and a more ardent spirit. Nothing great and durable was ever improvised. It is only by noble patience and noble labor that the master- pieces of genius have been achieved. 136 Great Toilers. 137 Power belongs only to the workers; the idlers are always powerless. It is the laborious and painstaking men who are the rulers of the world. There has not been a statesman of eminence but was a man of indus- try. "It is by toil, 'J said even Louis XIV., "that kings govern. 1 ' When Clarendon described Hampden, he spoke of him as " of an industry and vigilance not to be tired out or wearied by the most laborious, and of parts not to be imposed on by the most subtile and sharp, and of a personal courage equal to his best parts." While in the midst of his laborious though self-imposed duties, Hampden, on one occasion, wrote to his mother: " My lyfe is nothing but toyle, and hath been for many yeares, nowe to the Commonwealth, nowe to the Kinge Not so much tyme left as to doe my dutye to my deare parents, nor to sende to them." Indeed, all the statesmen of the Commonwealth were great toilers; and Clarendon himself, whether in office or out of it, was a man of indefatigable application and industry. The same energetic vitality, as displayed in the power of working, has distinguished all the eminent men in our own as well as in past times. During the Anti-Corn- Law movement, Cobden, writing to a friend, described himself as "working like a horse, with not a moment to spare." Lord Brougham was a remarkable instance of the indefatigably active and laborious man; and it might be said of Lord Palmerston, that he worked harder for success in his extreme old age than he had 138 Great Toilers. ever done in the prime of his manhood — preserving his working faculty, his good humor and bonhomie, unim- paired to the end. He himself was accustomed to say that being in office, and consequently full of work, was good for his health. It rescued him from ennui. Hel- vetius even held that it is man's sense of ennui that is the chief cause of his superiority over the brute — that it is the necessity which he feels for escaping from its intol- erable suffering that forces him to employ himself active- ly, and is hence the greatest stimulus to human progress. Indeed, this living principle of constant work, of abundant occupation, of practical contact with men in the affairs of life, has, in all times, been the best ripener of the energetic vitality of strong natures. Business habits, cultivated and disciplined, are found alike useful in every pursuit — whether in politics, literature, science, or art. Thus, a great deal of the best literary work has been done by men systematically trained in business pursuits. The same industry, application, economy of time and labor, which have rendered them useful in the one sphere of employment, have been found equally available in the other. Most of the early English writers were men of affairs, trained to business; for no literary class as yet existed, excepting it might be the priesthood. Chaucer, the father of English poetry, was first a soldier, and after- wards a comptroller of petty customs. The office was no sinecure either, for he had to write up all the records with his own hand; and when he had done his " reck- Literature and Business. 139 onings" at the custom-house, he returned with delight to his favorite studies at home — poring over his books until his eyes were "dazed" and dull. The great writers in the reign of Elizabeth, during which there was such a development of robust life in England, were not literarv men according to the mod- ern acceptation of the word, but men of action trained in business. Spenser acted as secretary to the Lord Deputy of Ireland; Raleigh was, by turns, a courtier, soldier, sailor, and discoverer; Sydney was a politician, diplomatist, and soldier; Bacon was a laborious lawyer before he became lord keeper and lord chancellor; Sir Thomas Browne was a physician in country practice at Norwich; Hooker was the hard-working pastor of a country parish; Shakspeare was the manager of a the- atre, in which he was himself but an indifferent actor, and he seems to have been even more careful of his money investments than he was of his intellectual off- spring. Yet these, all men of active business habits, are among the greatest writers of any age ; the period of Elizabeth and James I. standing out in the history of England as the era of its greatest literary activity and splendor. In the reign of Charles I , Cowley held various offices of trust and confidence. He acted as private secretary to several of the royalist leaders, and was afterwards engaged as private secretary to the queen, in ciphering and deciphering the correspondence which passed be- tween her and Charles I. — the work occupying all his 140 Literary Men and Business. days, and often his nights, during several years. And while Cowley was thus employed in the royal cause r Milton was employed by the Commonwealth, of which he was the Latin secretary, and afterwards secretary to the lord protector. Yet, in the earlier part of his life, Milton was occupied in the humble vocation of a teach- er. Dr. Johnson says, " that in his school, as in every thing else which he undertook, he labored with great diligence, there is no reason for doubting. 1 ' It was after the Restoration, when his official employment ceased, that Milton entered upon the principal literary work of his life; but before he undertook the writing of his great epic, he deemed it indispensable that to ^indus- trious and select reading" he should add " steady obser- vation," and " insight into all seemly and generous arts and affairs. Locke held office in different reigns: first under Charles II. as secretary to the board of trade, and after- wards under William III. as commissioner of appeals and of trade and plantations. Many literary men of eminence held office in Queen Anne's reign. Thus Addison was secretary of state; Steele, commissioner of stamps; Prior, under-secretary of state, and afterwards ambassador to France; Tickell, under-secretary of state, and secretary to the lords justices of Ireland; Congreve, secretary to Jamaica ; and Gay, secretary of legation at Hanover. Indeed, habits of business, instead of unfitting a cul- tivated mind for scientific or literary pursuits, are often Literary Men and Business. 141 the best training for them. Voltaire insisted with truth that the real spirit of business and literature are the same; the perfection of each being the union of energy and thoughtfulness, of cultivated intelligence and prac- o tical wisdom, of the active and contemplative essence — a union commended by Lord Bacon as the concentrated excellence of man's nature. It has been said that even the man of genius can write nothing worth reading in relation to human affairs, unless he has been in some way or other connected with the serious every-day busi- ness of life. Hence it has happened that man}* of the best books extant have been written by men of business; with whom literature was a pastime rather than a profession. Gifford, the editor of the "Quarterly," who knew the drudgery of writing for a living, once observed that " a single hour of composition, won from the business of the day, is worth more than the whole day's toil of him who works at the trade of literature: in the one case the spirit comes joyfully to refresh itself, like a hart to the water-brooks; in the other, it pushes its miserable way, panting and jaded, with the dogs and hunger of neces- sity behind." The first great men of letters in Italy were not mere men of letters; they were men of business — merchants, statesmen, diplomatists, judges, and soldiers.- Villani, the author of the best history of Florence, was a mer- chant; Dante, Petrarch, and Boccacio were all engaged in more or less important embassies; and Dante, before 142 The Great Italians. becoming a diplomatist, was for some time occupied as a chemist and druggist. Galileo, Galvani, and Farini were physicians: and Goldoni a lawyer. Ariosto's tal- ent for affairs was as great as his genius for poetry. At the death of his father, he was called upon to manage the family estate for the benefit of his younger broth- ers and sisters, which he did with ability and integrity. His genius for business having been recognized, he was employed by the Duke of Ferrara on important missions to Rome and elsewhere. Having afterwards been appointed governor of a turbulent mountain district, he succeeded, by firm and just government, in reducing it to a condition of comparative good order and security. Even the bandits of the country respected him. Being arrested one day in the mountains by a body of out- laws, he mentioned his name, when they at once offered to escort him in safety wherever he chose. It has been the same in other countries. Vattel, the author of the "Rights of Nations," was a practical diplomatist, and a first-rate man of business. Rabelais was a physician, and a successful practitioner; Schiller was a surgeon; Cervantes, Lope de Vega, Calderon, Camoens, Descartes, Maupertius, La Rochefoucauld, Lacepecle, Lamark, were soldiers in the early part of their respective lives. In our own country, many men now known by their writings earned their living by their trade. Lillo spent the greater part of his life as a working jeweler in the Poultry, occupying the intervals of his leisure in the Literature, and Business* H3 production of dramatic works, some of them of acknowl- edged power and merit. Izaak Walton was a linen- draper in Fleet Street, reading much in his leisure hours, and storing his mind with facts for future use in his capacity of biographer. De Foe was by turns horse- factor, brick and tile maker, shop-keeper, author, and political agent. Samuel Richardson successfully combined literature with business — writing his novels in his back shop in Salisbury Court, Fleet Street, and selling them over the counter in his front shop. William Hutton, of Birming- ham, also successfully combined the occupations of book- selling and authorship. He says, in his Autobiography, that a man may live halt a century and not be acquaint- ed with his own character. He did not know that he was an antiquary until the world informed him of it, from having read his u History of Birmingham," and then, he said, he could see it himself. Benjamin Frank- lin was alike eminent as a printer and bookseller — an author, a philosopher, and a statesman. Coming clown to our own time, we find Ebenezer El- liott successfully carrying on the business of a bar-iron merchant in Sheffield, during which time he wrote and published the greater number of his poems; and his success in business was such as to enable him to retire into the country and build a house of his own, in which he spent the remainder of his days. Isaac Taylor, the author of the " Natural History of Enthusiasm," was an engraver of patterns for Manchester calico-printers ; and 144 Modern Literary Workers. other members of this gifted family were followers of the same branch of art. The principal early works of John Stuart Mill were written in the intervals of official work, while he held the office of principal examiner in the East India House — in which Charles Lamb, Peacock, the author of *' Headlong Hall," and Edwin Norris, the philologist, were also clerks. Macaulay wrote his "Lays of Ancient Rome " in the war office, while holding the post of sec- retary of war. It is well known that the thoughtful writings of Mr. Helps are literally u Essays written in the Intervals of Business."" Many of our best living authors are men holding important public offices — such as Sir Henry Taylor, Sir John Kaye, Anthony Trol- lope, Tom Taylor, Matthew Arnold, and Samuel War- ren. Mr. Proctor the poet, better known as " Barry Corn- wall," was a barrister and commissioner in lunacy. Most probably he assumed the pseudonym for the same reason that Dr. Paris published his u Philosophy in Sport made Science in Earnest" anonymously — because he apprehended that, if known, it might compromise his professional position. For it is by no means an uncom- mon prejudice, still prevalent among City men, that a person who has written a book, and still more one who has written a poem, is good for nothing in the way of business. Yet Sharon Turner, though an excellent his- torian, was no worse a solicitor on that account; while the brothers Horace and James Smith, authors of " The Workers in Leisure Hours. 145 Rejected Addresses," were, men of such eminence in their profession, that they were selected to fill the im- portant and lucrative post of solicitors to the Admiral- ty, and they filled it admirably. It was while the late Mr. Broclerip, the barrister, was acting as a London police magistrate, that he was attracted to the study of natural history, in which he occupied the greater part of his leisure. He wrote the principal articles on the subject for the " Penny Cyclo- paedia," besides several separate works of great merit, more particularly the " Zoological Recreations," and " Leaves from the Note-Book of a Naturalist." It is recorded of him that, though he devoted so much of his time to the production of his works, as well as to the Zoological Society and their admirable establishment in Regent's Park, of which he was one of the founders, his studies never interfered with the real business of his life, nor is it known that a single question was ever raised upon his conduct or his decisions. And while Mr. Broderip devoted himself to natural history, the late Lord Chief Baron Pollock devoted his leisure to natural science, recreating himself in the practice of photography and the study of mathematics, in both of which he was thoroughly proficient. Among literary bankers we find the names of Rog- ers, the poet; Roscoe, of Liverpool, the biographer of Lorenzo de Medici; Ricardo, the author of u Political Economy and Taxation;" Grote, the author of the u History of Greece;" Sir John Lubbock, the scientific 10 146 Business Value of Culture* antiquarian; and Samuel Bailey, of Sheffield, the au- thor of " Essays on the Formation and Publication of Opinions,' 1 besides various important works on ethics, political economy, and philosophy. Nor, on the other hand, have thoroughly-trained men of science and learning proved themselves inefficient as first-rate men of business. Culture of the best sort trains the habit of application and industry, disciplines the mind, supplies it with resources, and gives it free- dom and vigor of action — all of which are equally req- uisite in the successful conduct of business. Thus, in young men, education and scholarship usually indicate steadiness of character, for they imply continuous atten- tion, diligence, and the ability and energy necessar}' to master knowledge; and such persons will also usually be found possessed of more than average promptitude, address, resource, and dexterity. CHAPTER XIV. ] SPECULATIVE AND PRACTICAL ABILITY. Napoleon and Men of Science. — Hobbies. — Literary Statesmen. — Sir G. C. Lewis. — Consolations of Literature. — Work and Over-work. "Let every man be occupied, and occupied in the highest employment of which his nature is capable, and die in the consciousness that he has done his best." — Sydney Smith. "1 /TONTAIGNE has said of true philosophers that " if J ^ they were great in science, they were yet much greater in action; . . . and whenever they have been put upon the proof, they have been seen to fly to so high a pitch, as made it very well appear their souls were strangely elevated and enriched with the knowledge of things." At the same time, it must be acknowledged that too exclusive a devotion to imaginative and philosophical literature, especially if prolonged in life until the habits become formed, does to a great extent incapacitate a man for the business of practical life. Speculative abil- ity is one thing, and practical ability another; and the man who, in his study, or with his pen in hand, shows himself capable of forming large views of life and poli- cy, may, in the outer world, be found altogether unfitted for carrying them into practical effect. 147 148 Speculative and Practical Ability. Speculative ability depends on vigorous thinking — practical ability on vigorous acting; and the two quali- ties are usually found combined in very unequal propor- tions. The speculative man is prone to indecision; he sees all the sides of a question, and his action becomes suspended in nicely weighing the pros and cons, which are often found pretty nearly to balance each other; whereas the practical man overleaps logical prelimina- ries, arrives at certain definite convictions, and proceeds forthwith to carry his policy into action. Yet there have been many great men of science who have proved efficient men of business. We do not learn that Sir Isaac Newton made a worse Master of the Mint because he was the greatest of philosophers. Nor were there any complaints as to the efficiency of Sir John Hershel who held the same office. The brothers Hum- boldt were alike capable men in all that they undertook — whether it was literature, philosophy, mining-, philolo- g} T , diplomacy, or statesmanship. Niebuhr, the historian, was distinguished for his energy and success as a man of business. He proved so efficient as secretary and accountant to the African con- sulate, to which he had been appointed by the Danish Government, that he was afterwards selected as one of the commissioners to manage the national finances; and he quitted that office to undertake the joint directorship of a bank at Berlin. It was in the midst of his business occupations that he found time to study Roman history, to master the Arabic, Russian, and other Sclavonic Napoleon and Men of Science. 149 languages, and to build up the great reputation as an author by which he is now chiefly remembered. Having regard to the views professed by the First Napoleon as to men of science, it was to have been ex- pected that he would endeavor to strengthen his admin- istration by calling them to his aid. Some of his ap- pointments proved failures, while others were complete- ly successful. Thus Laplace was made minister of the interior; but he had no sooner been appointed than it was seen that a mistake had been made. Napoleon afterwards said of him, that " Laplace looked at no ques- tion in its true point of view. He was always search- ing after subtleties; all his ideas were problems, and he carried the spirit of the infinitesimal calculus into the management of business." But Laplace's habits had been formed in the study, and he was too old to adapt them to the purposes of practical life. With Daru it was different. But Daru had the advantage of some practical training in business, having served as an intendant of the army in Switzerland under Massena, during which he also distinguished him- self as an author. When Napoleon proposed to ap- point him a councillor of state and intendant of the imperial household, Daru hesitated to accept the office. "I have passed the greater part of my life," he said, " among books, and have not had time to learn the func- tions of a courtier." " Of courtiers," replied Napoleon, " I have plenty about me; they will never fail. But I want a minister at once enlightened, firm, and vigilant; 150 Employment of Leisure. and it is for these qualities that 1 have selected you." Daru complied with the emperor's wishes and eventu- ally became his prime minister, proving thoroughly efficient in that capacity, and remaining the same mod- est, honorable, and disinterested man that he had ever been through life. Men of trained working faculty so contract the habit of labor that idleness becomes intolerable to them; and when driven by circumstances from their own special line of occupation, they find refuge in other pursuits. The diligent man is quick to find employment for his leisure; and he is able to make leisure when the idle man finds none. " He hath no leisure," says George Herbert, " who useth it not." " The most active or busy man that hath been or can be," says Bacon, " hath, no question, many vacant times of leisure, while he expect- eth the tides and returns of business, except he be either tedious and of no dispatch, or lightly and unworthi- ly ambitious to meddle with things that may be better done by others." Thus many great things have been done during such " vacant times of leisure," by men to whom industry had become a second nature, and who found it easier to work than to be idle. Even hobbies are useful as educators of the working faculty. Hobbies evoke industry of a certain kind, and at least provide agreeable occupation. Not such hob- bies as that of Domitian, who occupied himself in catch- ing flies. The hobbies of the King of Macedon, who made lanterns, and of the King of France, who made Use of Hobbies. 151 locks, were of a more respectable order. Even a rou- tine mechanical employment is felt to be a relief by minds acting under high pressure; it is an intermission of labor — a rest — a relaxation, the pleasure consisting in the work itself rather than in the result. But the best of hobbies are intellectual ones. Thus men of active mind retire from their daily business to find recreation in other pursuits — some in science, some in art, and the greater number in literature. Such rec- reations are among the best preservatives against self- ishness and vulgar worldliness. We believe it was Lord Brougham who said, " Blessed is the man that hath a hobby!" and, in the abundant versatility pf his nature, he himself had many, ranging from literature to optics, from history and biography to social science. Lord Brougham is even said to have written a novel; and the remarkable story of the " Man in the Bell," which appeared many years ago in " Blackwood," is reputed to have been from his pen. Intellectual hob- bies, however, must not be ridden too hard; else, instead of recreating, refreshing, and invigorating a man's nature, they may only have the effect of sending him back to his business exhausted, enervated, and depressed. Many laborious statesmen besides Lord Brougham have occupied their leisure, or consoled themselves in retirement from office, by the composition of works which have become part of the standard literature of the world. Thus "Caesar's Commentaries " still sur- vive as a classic; the perspicuous and forcible style in 152 Literary Statesmen. which they are written placing him in the same rank with Xenophon, who also successfully combined the pursuit of letters with the business of active life. When the great Sully was disgraced as a minister, and driven into retirement, he occupied his leisure in writing out his "Memoirs," in anticipation of the judg- ment of posterity upon his career as a statesman. Be- sides these, he also composed part of a romance after the manner of the Scuderi school, the manuscript of which was found among his papers at his death. Turgot found, a solace for the loss of office, from which he had been driven by the intrigues of his ene- mies, in the study of physical science. He also revert- ed to his early taste for classical literature. During his long journeys, and at nights when tortured by the gout, he amused himself by making Latin verses ; though the only line of his that has been preserved was that intended to designate the portrait of Benjamin Franklin: Among more recent French statesmen — with whom, however, literature has been their profession as much as politics — may be mentioned De Tocqueville, Thiers, Guizot, and Lamartine ; while Napoleon III. challenged a place in the Academy by his " Life of Caesar." Literature has also been the chief solace of our great- est English statesmen. When Pitt retired from office, like his great contemporary, Fox, he reverted with delight to the study of the Greek and Roman classics. Indeed, Grenville considered Pitt the best Greek scholar he had ever known. Canning and Wellesley, when in Sir George C- Lewis- 153 retirement, occupied themselves in translating the odes and satires of Horace. Canning's passion for literature entered into all his pursuits, and gave a color to his whole life. His biographer says of him, that alter a dinner at Pitt's while the rest of the company were dis- persed in conversation, he and Pitt would be observed poring over some old Grecian in a corner of the draw- ing-room. Fox also was a diligent student of the Greek authors, and, like Pitt, read Lycophron. He was also the author of a History of James II., though the book is only a fragment, and, it must be confessed, is rather a disappointing work. One of the most able and laborious of our recent statesmen — with whom literature was a hobby as well as a pursuit — was the late Sir George Cornewall Lewis. He was an excellent man of business — diligent, exact, and painstaking. He rilled by turns the offices of presi- dent of the poor-law board — the machinery of which he created — chancellor of the exchequer, home secretary, and secretary at war; and in each he achieved the repu- tation of a thoroughly successful administrator. In the intervals of his official labors he occupied himself with inquiries into a wide range of subjects — history, politics, philology, anthropology, and antiquarianism. His works on " The Astronomy of the Ancients, 1 ' and " Essays on the Formation of the Romanic Languages," might have been written by the profoundest of German savants. He took especial delight in pursuing the abstruser branches of learning, and found in them his chief 154. Sir George C Lewis. pleasure and recreation. Lord Palmerston sometimes remonstrated with him, telling him he was " taking too much out of himself" by laying aside official papers after office-hours in order to study books; Palmerston himself declaring that he had no time to read books — that the reading of manuscript was- quite enough for him. Doubtless Sir George Lewis rode his hobby too hard, and, but for his devotion to study, his useful life would probably have been prolonged. Whether in or out of office, he read, wrote, and studied. He relinquished the editorship of the u Edinburgh Review 11 to become chan- cellor of the exchequer; and when no longer occupied in preparing budgets, he proceeded to copy out a mass of Greek manuscripts at the British Museum. He took particular delight in pursuing any difficult inquiry in classical antiquity. . One of the odd subjects with which he occupied himself was an examination into the truth of reported cases of longevity, which, according to his custom, he doubted or disbelieved. This subject was uppermost in his mind while pursuing his canvass of Herefordshire in 1852. On applying to a voter one day for his support, he was met by a decided refusal. " I am sorry, 11 was the candidate's reply, "that you can't give me your vote ; but perhaps you can tell me wheth- er any body in your parish has died at an extraordi- nary age!" The contemporaries of Sir George Lewis also furnish many striking instances of the consolations afforded by Consolations of Literature- 155 .literature to statesmen wearied with the toils of public life. Though the door of office may be closed, that of literature stands always open, and men who are at dag- gers-drawn in politics, join hands over the poetry of Homer and Horace. The late Earl of Derby, on retiring from power, produced his noble version of " The Iliad," which will probably continue to be read when his speech- es have been forgotten. Mr. Gladstone similarly occu- pied his leisure in preparing for the press his " Studies on Homer," and in editing a translation, of " Farini's Roman State " while Mr. Disraeli signalized his retire- ment from office by the production of his u Lothair." Among statesmen who have figured as novelists, besides Mr. Disraeli, are Lord Russell, who has also contributed largely to history and biography: the Marquis of Nor- mandy, and the veteran novelist, Lord Lytton, with whom, indeed, politics may be said to have been his recreation, and literature the chief employment of his life. To conclude : a fair measure of work is good for mind as well as body. Man is an intelligence sustained and preserved by bodily organs, and their active exercise is necessary to the enjoyment of health. It is not work, but over- work, that is hurtful; and it is not hard work that is injurious so much as monotonous work, fagging work, hopeless work. All hopeful work is healthful; and to be usefully and hopefully employed is one of the great secrets of happiness. Brain-work, in moderation, is no more wearing than any other kind of work. Duly 156 Work and Over-work. regulated, it is as promotive of health as bodily exer- cise; and, where due attention is paid to the physical system, it seems difficult to put more upon a man than he can bear. Merely to eat and drink and sleep one's way idly through life is vastly more injurious. The wear-and-tear of rust is even faster than the tear-and- wear of work. But over- work is always bad economy. It is, in fact, great waste, especialty if conjoined with worry. In- deed, worry kills far more than work does. It frets, it excites, it consumes the body — as sand and grit, which occasion excessive friction, wear out the wheels of a ma- chine. Over- work and worry have both to be guarded against. For over-brain- work is strain- work; and it is exhausting and destructive according as it is in excess of nature. And the brain-worker may exhaust and overbalance his mind by excess, just as the athlete may overstrain his muscles and break his back by attempting feats beyond the strength of his physical system. CHAPTER XV. COURAGE. Moral Courage. — Martyrs of Science. — Persecution of Great Discoverers. — Hostility to New Views. — Socrates, Bruno, Galileo. R. Bacon. Vesalius, and others. — Martyrs of Faith. — Annie Askew, Mary Dyer. — Fortitude of Luther.— Strafford and Elliot. " It is not but the tempest that doth show The seaman's cunning ; but the field that tries The captain's courage ; and we come to know Best what men are, in their worst jeopardies." — Daniel. /T\HE world owes much to its men and women of courage. We do not mean physical courage, in which man is at least equaled by the bull-dog; nor is the bull-dog considered the wisest of his species. The courage that displays itself in silent effort and endeavor — that dares to endure all and suffer all for truth and duty — is more truly heroic than the achieve- ments of physical valor, which are rewarded by honors and titles, or by laurels sometimes steeped in blood. It is moral courage that characterizes the highest order of manhood and womanhood — the courage to seek and to speak the truth; the courage to be just; the courage to be honest; the courage to resist temptation; the courage to do one's duty. If men and women do 157 158 Moral Courage. not possess this virtue, they have no security whatever for the preservation of any other. Every step of progress in the history of our race has been made in the face of opposition and difficulty, and been achieved and secured by men of intrepidity and valor— by leaders in the van of thought — by great dis- coverers, great patriots, and great workers in all walks of life. There is scarcely a great truth or doctrine but has had to fight its way to public recognition in the face of detraction, calumny, and persecution. " Everywhere," says Heine, " that a great soul gives utterance to its thoughts, there also is a Golgotha." " Many loved Truth and lavished life's best oil, Amid the dust of books to find her, Content at last, for guerdon of their toil, With the cast mantle she had left behind her. Many in sad faith sought for her, Many with crossed hands sighed for her, But these, our brothers, fought for her, At life's dear peril wrought for her, So loved her that they died for her, Tasting the ra^ured fleetness Of her divine completeness." Socrates was condemned to drink the hemlock at Athens in his seventy-second year, because his lofty teaching ran counter to the prejudices and party spirit of his age. He was charged by his accusers with cor- rupting the youth of Athens by inciting them to despise the tutelary deities of the state. He had the moral courage to brave not only the tyranny of the judges who condemned him, but of the mob who could not under- stand him. He died discoursing of the doctrine of the Martyrs of Science- 159 immortality of the soul; his last words to his judges being, " It is now time that we depart — I to die, you to live; but which has the better destiny is unknown to all except to the God." How many great men and thinkers have been perse- cuted in the name of religion! Bruno was burnt alive at Rome, because of his exposure of the fashionable but false philosophy of his time. When the judges of the Inquisition condemned him to die, Bruno said, proudly, " You are more afraid to pronounce my sentence than I am to receive it." To him succeeded Galileo, whose character as a man of science is almost eclipsed by that of the martyr. Denounced by the priests from the pulpit, because of the views he taught as to the motion of the earth, he was summoned to Rome, in his seventieth year, to answer for his heterodoxy. And he was imprisoned in the In- quisition, if he was not actually put to the torture there. He was pursued by persecution even when dead, the pope refusing a tomb for his body. Roger Bacon, the Franciscan monk, was persecuted on account of his studies in natural philosophy, and he was charged with dealing in magic, because of his investigations in chemistry. His writings were con- demned, and he was thrown into prison, where he lay for ten years, during the lives Gf four successive popes. It is even averred that he died in prison. The Inquisition branded Vesalius as a heretic for revealing man to man, as it had before branded Bruno 160 Persecution of Great Discoverers. and Galileo for revealing the heavens to man. Vesalius had the boldness to study the structure of the human body by actual dissection, a practice until then almost entirely forbidden. He laid the foundations of a sci- ence, but he paid for it with his life. Condemned by the Inquisition, his penalty was commuted, by the intercession of the Spanish king, into a pilgrimage to the Holy Land: and when on his way back, while still in the prime of life, he died miserably at Zante, of fever and want — a martyr to his love of science. While the followers of Copernicus were persecuted as infidels, Kepler was branded with the stigma of heresy, " because, " said he, "I take that side which seems to me to be consonant with the Word of God." Even the pure and simple-minded Newton, of whom Bishop Burnet said that he had the whitest soul he ever knew — who was a very infant in the purity of his mind — even Newton was accused of " dethroning the Deity" by his sublime discovery of the law of gravitation; and a similar charge was made against Franklin for explaining the nature of the thunderbolt. The philosophy of Descartes was denounced as lead- ing to irreligion; the doctrines of Locke were said to produce materialism; and in our own day, Dr Buck- land, Mr. Sedgewick, and other leading geologists, have been accused of overturning revelation with regard to the constitution and history of the earth. Indeed, there has scarcely been a discovery in astronomy, in natural history, or in physical science, that has not been Hostility to New Views. 161 attacked by the bigoted and narrow-minded as leading to infidelity. Other great discoveries, though they may not have been charged with irreligion, have had not less obloquy of a professional and public nature to encounter. When Dr. Harvey published his theory of the circulation of the blood, his practice fell off, and the medical profes- sion stigmatized him as a fool. " The few good things I have been able to do," said John Hunter, u have been accomplished with the greatest difficulty, and encount- ered the greatest opposition." Sir Charles Bell, while employed in his important investigations as to the nerv- ous system, which issued in one of the greatest of phys- iological discoveries, wrote to a friend: " If I were not so poor, and had not so many vexations to encounter, how happy would I be! " But he himself observed that his practice sensibly fell off after the publication of each successive stage of his discovery. Thus nearly every enlargement of the domain of knowledge, which has made us better acquainted with the heavens, with the earth, and with ourselves, has been established by the energy, the devotion, the self- sacrifice, and the courage of the great spirits of past times, who, however much they have been opposed or reviled by their contemporaries, now rank among those whom the enlightened of the human race most delight to honor. Nor is the unjust intolerance displayed towards men of science in the past without its lesson for the present. 1 1 162 Martyrs of Faith. It teaches us to be forbearant towards those who differ from us, provided they observe patiently, think honest- ly, and utter their convictions freely and truthfully. It was a remark of Plato, that " the world is God's epistle to mankind ; " and to read and study that epistle, so as to elicit its true meaning, can have no other effect on a well-ordered mind than to lead to a deeper impression of His power, a clearer perception of His wisdom, and a more grateful sense of His goodness. While such has been the courage of the martyrs of science, not less glorious has been the courage of the martyrs of faith. The passive endurance of the man or woman, who, for conscience' sake, is found ready to suffer and to endure in solitude, without so much as the en- couragement of even a single sympathizing voice, is an exhibition of courage of a far higher kind than that displayed in the roar of battle, where even the weakest feels encouraged and inspired by the enthusiasm of sym- pathy and the power of numbers. Time would fail to tell of the deathless names of those who through faith in principles, and in the face of difficulty, danger, and suffering, " have wrought righteousness and waxed val- iant " in the moral warfare of the world, and been content to lay down their lives rather than prove false to their conscientious convictions of the truth. Men of this stamp, inspired by a high sense of duty, have in past times exhibited character in its most heroic aspects, and continue to present to us some of the noblest spectacles to be seen in history. Even women, full Martyrs of Faith. 163 of tenderness and gentleness, not less than men, have in this cause been found capable of exhibiting the most unflinching courage. Such, for instance, as that of Anne Askew, who, when racked until her bones were dislo- cated, uttered no cry, moved no muscle, but looked her tormentors calmly in the face, and refused either to confess or to recant; or such as that of Latimer and Ridley, who, instead of bewailing their hard fate and beating their breasts, went as cheerfully to their death as a bridegroom to the altar — the one bidding the other to u be of good comfort,'" for that " we shall this day light such a candle in England, by God's grace, as shall never be put out;" as such, again, as that of Mary Dyer, the Quakeress, hanged by the Puritans of New England for preaching to the people, who ascended the scaffold with a willing step, and, after calmly addressing those who stood about, resigned herself into the hands of her persecutors, and died in peace and joy. Martin Luther was not called upon to lay down his life for his faith; but, from the day that he declared himself against the pope he daily ran the risk of losing it. At the beginning of his great struggle he stood almost entirely alone. The odds against him were tre- mendous. " On one side," said he himself, "are learn- ing, genius, numbers, grandeur, rank, power, sanctity, miracles: on the other Wycliff, Lorenzo Valla, Au- gustine, and Luther — a poor creature, a man of yes- terday, standing well-nigh alone with a few friends." Summoned by the emperor to appear at Worms, to 164 Fortitude of Luther. answer the charge made against him of heresy, he deter- mined to answer in person. Those about him told him that he would lose his life if he went, and they urged him to fly. " No. 1 ' said he ; "I will repair thither, though I should find there thrice as many devils as there are tiles upon the house-tops!" Warned against the bitter enmity of a certain Duke George, he said, " I will go there, though for nine whole days running it rained Duke Georges!' 1 Luther was as good as his word, and he set forth upon his perilous journey. When he came in sight of the old-bell towers of Worms, he stood up in his chariot and sang, " Einfeste Burgistunser Gott " — the " Mar- seillaise " of the Reformation — the words and music of which he is said to have improvised only two days before. Shortly before the meeting of the Diet, an old soldier, George Freundesberg. put his hand upon Lu- ther's shoulder, and said to him: "Good monk, good monk, take heed what thou doest: thou art going- into a harder fight than anv of us have ever vet been in. 11 But Luther's only answer to the veteran was, that he had " determined to stand upon the Bible and his conscience."' Luther's courageous defense before the Diet is on record, and forms one of the most glorious pages in his- tory. When finally urged by the emperor to retract, he said, firmly: " Sire, unless I am convinced of my error by the testimony of Scripture, or by manifest evidence, I can not and will not retract, for w r e must never act Fortitude of Luther. 165 contrary to our conscience. Such is my profession of faith, and you must expect none other from me. Hier stehe zch: Ich kann nicht anders: Gott helfe mir '/" (Here stand I: I can not do otherwise: God help me!) He had to do his duty — to obey the orders of a Power higher than that of kings ; and he did it at all hazards. Afterwards, when hard pressed by his enemies at Augsburg, Luther said that, " if he had five hundred heads, he would lose them all rather than recant his article concerning faith." Like all courageous men, his strength only seemed to grow in proportion to the diffi- culties he had to encounter and overcome. " There is no man in Germany," said Hutten, "who more utterly despises death than does Luther." And to his moral courage, perhaps more than to that of any other single man, do we owe the liberation of modern thought, and the vindication of the great rights of the human under- standing. The honorable and brave man does not fear death compared with ignominy. It is said of the royalist Earl of Strafford that, as he walked to the scaffold on Tower Hill, his step and manner were those of a gen- eral marching at the head of an army to secure victory, rather than of a condemned man to undergo sentence of death. So the Commonwealth's man, Sir John Eliot, went alike bravely to his death on the same spot, say- ing: " Ten thousand deaths rather than defile my con- science, the chastity and purity of which I value beyond all this world." Eliot's greatest tribulation was on 166 Sir John Eliot account of his wife, whom he had to leave behind. When he saw her looking down upon him from the Tower win- dow, he stood up in the cart, waved his hat, and cried : " To heaven, my love! — to heaven! — and leave you in the storm!" As he went on his way, one in the crowd called out, " That is the most glorious seat you ever sat on;" to which he replied, "It is so, indeed!" and re- joiced exceedingly. CHAPTER XVI. COMMON COURAGE. Success Won through Failure.— Tyranny of ;; Society. "—Moral Cowardice.— Pandering to Popularity. — Intellectual Intrepidity. — Energetic Courage. " If thou canst plan a noble deed, And never flag till it succeed. Though in the strife thy heart should bleed, Whatever obstacles control, Thine hour will come — go on, true soul ! Thou'lt win the prize, thou'lt reach the goal." — C. Mackey. vAjLTHOUGH success is the guerdon for which all ^- men toil, they have nevertheless often to labor on perseveringly, without any glimmer of success in sight. They have to live, meanwhile, upon their cour- age — sowing their seed, it may be, in the dark, in the hope that it will yet take root and spring up in achieved result. The best of causes have had to fight their way to triumph through a long succession of failures, and many of the assailants have died in the breach before the fortress has been won. The heroism they have displayed is to be measured not so much by their im- mediate success, as by the opposition they have encoun- tered, and the courage with which they have maintain ed the struggle. 167 168 Common Courage. The patriot who fights an always-losing battle— the martyr who goes to death amidst the triumphant shouts of his enemies — the discoverer, like Columbus, whose heart remains undaunted through the bitter years of his " long wandering woe' 1 — are examples of the moral sub- lime which excite a profounder interest in the hearts of men than even the most complete and conspicuous suc- cess. By the side of such instances as these, how smalt by comparison seem the greatest deeds of valor, incit- ing men to rush upon death and die amidst the frenzied excitement of physical warfare! But the greater part of the courage that is needed in the world is not of a heroic kind. Courage may be dis- played in every-day life as well as in historic fields of action. There needs, for example, the common courage to be honest — the courage to resist temptation — the courage to speak the truth — the courage to be what we really are, and not to pretend to be what we are not — the courage to live honestly within our own means, and not dishonestly upon the means of others. A great deal of the unhappiness, and much of the vice, of the world is owing to weakness and indecision of purpose — in other words, to lack of courage. Men may know what is right, and yet fail to exercise the courage to do it; they may understand the duty they have to do, but will not summon up the requisite reso- lution to perform it. The weak and undisciplined man is at the mercy of every temptation; he can not say u No," but falls before it. And if his companionship be The Virtue of Self -Help. 169 bad, he will be all the easier led away by bad example into wrong-doing. Nothing can be more certain than that the character can only be sustained and strengthened by its own ener- getic action. The will, which is the central force of character, must be trained to habits of decision — other- wise it will neither be able to resist evil nor to follow good. Decision gives the power of standing firmly, when to yield, however slightly, might be only the first step in a down-hill course to ruin. Calling upon others for help in forming a decision is worse than useless. A man must so train his habits as to rely upon his own powers, and depend upon his own courage in moments of emergency. Plutarch tells of a King of Macedon who, in the midst of an action, with- drew into the adjoining town under pretense of sacrifi cing to Hercules; while his opponent Emilius, at the same time that he implored the Divine aid, sought for victory, sword in hand, and won the battle. And so it ever is in the actions of daily life. Many are the valiant purposes formed, that end mere- ly in words; deeds intended, that are never done; de-' signs projected, that are never begun; and all for want of a little courageous decision. Better far the silent tongue but the eloquent deed. For in life and in busi- ness, dispatch is better than discourse; and the shortest answer of all is, Doing. " In matters of great concern, and which must be done," says Tillotson, " there is no surer argument of a weak mind than irresolution — to be 170 Despotism of Fashion. undetermined when the case is so plain and the neces- sity so urgent. To be always intending to live a new life but never to find time to set about it — this is as if a man should put off eating and drinking and sleeping from one day to another, until he is starved and destroyed." There needs also the exercise of no small degree of moral courage to resist the corrupting influences of what is called "Society.'" Although u Mrs. Grundy" may be a very vulgar and commonplace personage, her influence is nevertheless prodigious. Most men, but especially women, are the moral slaves of the class or cast to which they belong. There is a sort of uncon- scious conspiracy existing among them against each other's individuality. Each circle and section, each rank and class, has its respective customs and observances, to which conformity is required at the risk of being tabooed. Some are immured within a bastile of fashion, others of custom, others of opinion; and few there are who have the courage to think outside their sect, to act outside their party, and to step out into the free air of individual thought and action. We dress, and eat, and follow fashion, though it may be at the risk of debt, ruin, and misery; living not so much according to our means as according to the superstitious observances of our class. Though we may speak contemptuously of the Indians who flatten their heads, and of the Chinese who cramp their toes, we have only to look at the deformities of fashion among ourselves, to see that the reign of " Mrs. Grundy 11 is universal. Pandering to Popularity. 171 13ut moral cowardice is exhibited quite as mi dh in •public as in private life. Snobbism is not confined to the toadying of the rich, but is quite as often displayed in the toadying of the poor. Formerly, sycophancy showed itself in not daring to speak the truth to those in high places; but in these days it rather shows itself in not daring to speak the truth to those in low places. Now that " the masses " exercise political power, there is a growing tendency to fawn upon them, to flatter them, and to speak nothing but smooth words to them. They are credited with virtues which they themselves know they do not possess. The public enunciation of whole- some, because disagreeable, truths is avoided; and, to win their favor, sympathy is often pretended for views, the carrying out of which in practice is known to be hopeless. It is not the man of the noblest character — the high- est-cultured and best-conditioned man — whose favor is now sought, so much as that of the lowest man, the least-cultured and worst-conditioned man, because his vote is usually that of the majority. Even men of rank, wealth, and education are seen prostrating them- selves before the ignorant, whose votes are thus to be got. They are ready to be unprincipled and unjust rather than unpopular. It is so much easier for some men to stoop, to bow, and to flatter, than to be manly, resolute, and magnanimous; and to yield to prejudices, than run counter to them. It requires strength and courage to swim against the stream, while any dead fish can float with it. 172 Pandering to Popularity. This servile pandering to popularity has been rapidly on the increase of late years, and its tendency has been to lower and degrade the character of public men. Consciences have become more elastic. There is now- one opinion for the chamber and another for the platform. Prejudices are pandered to in public which in private are despised. Pretended conversions — which invariably jump with party interests — are more sudden ; and even hypoc- risy now appears to be scarcely thought discreditable. The same moral cowardice extends downward as well as upward. The action and reaction are equal. Hy- pocrisy and time-serving above are acccompanied by hypocrisy and time-serving below. Where men of high standing have not the courage of their opinions, what is to be expected from men of low standing? They will only follow such examples as are set before them. They too will skulk, and dodge, and prevaricate — be ready to speak one way and act another — just like their betters. Give them but a sealed box, or some hole and corner to hide their act in, and they will then enjoy their "liberty!" Popularity, as won in these days, is by no means a presumption in a man's favor, but is quite as often a presumption against him. " No man," says the Russian proverb, " can rise to honor who is cursed with a stiff backbone." But the backbone of the popularity-hunter is of gristle; and he has no difficulty in stooping and bending himself in any direction to catch the breath of popular applause. Moral Cowardice. 173 Where popularity is won by fawning upon the people, by withholding the truth from them, by writing and speaking down to the lowest tastes, and, still worse, by appeals to class-hatred, such a popularity must be simply contemptible in the sight of all honest men. Jeremy Bentham, speaking of a well-known public character, said: " His creed of politics results less from love of the many than from hatred of the few; it is too much under the influence of selfish and dissocial affection." To how many men in our own day might not the same description apply? Men of sterling character have the courage to speak the truth, even when \it is unpopular. It was said of Colonel Hutchinson by his wife, that he never sought after popular applause, or prided himself on it: "He more delighted to do well than to be praised, and never set vulgar commendations at such a rate as to act con- trary to his own conscience or reason for the obtaining them; nor would he forbear a good action which he was bound to, though all the world disliked it; for he ever looked on things as they were in themselves, not through the dim spectacles of vulgar estimation." " Popularity, in the lowest and most common sense," said Sir John Pakington, on a recent occasion, " is not worth the having. Do your duty to the best of your power, win the approbation of your own conscience, and popularity, in its best and highest sense, is sure to follow." Intellectual intrepidity is one of the vital conditions 174 Intellectual Intrepidity. of independence and self-reliance of character. A man must have the courage to be himself, and not the shadow or the echo of another. He must exercise his own powers, think his own thoughts, and speak his own sen- timents. He must elaborate his own opinions, and form his own convictions. It has been said that he who dare not form an opinion must be a coward; he who will not, must be an idler; he who can not, must be a fool. But it is precisely in this element of intrepidity that so many persons of promise fall short, and disappoint the expectations of their friends. They march up to the scene of action, but at every step their courage oozes out. They want the requisite decision, courage, and preseverance. They calculate the risks and weigh the chances, until the opportunity for effective effort has passed, it may be, never to return. Men are bound to speak the truth in the love of it. " I had rather suffer," said John Pym, the Common- wealth man, " for speaking the truth, than that the truth should suffer for want of my speaking." When a man's convictions are honestly formed, after fair and full con- sideration, he is justified in striving by all fair means to bring them into action. There are certain states of society and conditions of affairs in which a man is bound to speak out and be antagonistic — when conformity is not only a weakness, but a sin. Great evils are in some cases only to be met by resistance; they can not be wept down, but must be battled down. The honest man is naturally antagonistic to fraud, the Energetic Courage. 175 truthful man to lying, the justice-loving man to oppres- sion, the pure-minded man to vice and iniquity. They have to do battle with these conditions, and, if possible, overcome them. Such men have in all ages represented the moral force of the world. Inspired by benevolence and sustained by courage, they have been the main-stays of all social renovation and progress. But for their continuous antagonism to evil conditions, the world were for the most part given over to the dominion of selfish- ness and vice. All the great reformers and martyrs were antagonistic men — enemies to falsehood and evil- doing. The Apostles themselves were an organized band of social antagonists, who contended with pride, selfishness, superstition, and irreligion. And in our own time the lives of such men as Clarkson and Granville Sharpe, Father Mathew and Richard Cobclen, inspired by singleness of purpose, have shown what high-minded social antagonism can effect. It is the strong and courageous men who lead and guide and rule the world. The weak and timid leave no trace behind them; while the life of a single upright and energetic man is like a track of light. His example is remembered and appealed to; and his thoughts, his spirit, and his courage continue to be the inspiration of succeeding generations. It is energy — the central element of which is will — that produces the miracles of enthusiasm in all ages. Everywhere it is the mainspring of what is called force' of character, and the sustaining power of all great 176 Energy and Perseverance. action. In a righteous cause the determined man stands upon his courage as upon a granite block; and, like David, he will go forth to meet Goliath, strong in heart though a host be encamped against him. Men often conquer difficulties because they feel they can. Their confidence in themselves aspires the confi- dence of others. When Caesar was at sea, and a storm began to rage, the captain of the ship which carried him became unmanned by fear. " What art thou afraid of?" cried the great captain; " tlry vessel carries Cae- sar !" The courage of the brave man is contagious, and carries others along with it. His stronger nature awes weaker natures into silence, or inspires them with his own will and purpose. The persistent man will not be baffled or repulsed by opposition. Diogenes, desirous of becoming the disciple of Antisthenes, went and offered himself to the cynic. He was refused. Diogenes still persisting, the cynic raised his knotty staff, and threatened to strike him if he did not depart. "Strike! 1 '' said Diogenes; "you will not find a stick hard enough to conquer my perse- verance. " Antisthenes, overcome, had not another word to say, but forthwith accepted him as his pupil. Energy of temperament, with a moderate degree of wisdom, will carry a man farther than any amount of intellect without it. Energy makes the man of practical ability. It gives him vis, force, momentum. It is the active motive power of character; and, if combined with sagacity and self-possession, will enable a man to em- Energy and Perseverance. Ill ploy his powers to the best advantage in all the affairs of life. Hence it is that, inspired by energy of purpose, men of comparatively mediocre powers have often been enabled to accomplish such extraordinary results. For the men who have most powerfully influenced the world have not been so much men of genius as men of strong convictions and enduring capacity for work, impelled by irresistible energy and invincible determination: such men, for example, as were Mohammed, Luther, Knox, Calvin, Loyola, and Wesley. Courage, combined with energy and perseverance, will overcome difficulties apparently insurmountable. It gives force and impulse to effort, and does not permit it to retreat. Tyndall said of Farady, that " in his warm moments he formed a resolution, and in his cool ones he made that resolution good. 1 ' Perseverance, working in the right direction, grows with time, and when steadily practiced, even by the most humble, will rarely fail of its reward. Trusting in the help of others is of comparatively little use. When one of Michael Angelo's principle patrons died, he said: "I begin to understand that the promises of the world are for the most part vain phantoms, and that to confide in one's self, and become something of worth and value, is the best and safest course." 12 CHAPTER XVII. COURAGE AND TENDERNESS. Generosity of the Brave.— The Douglass.— Laplace.— The Magnanimous Man.— Education of Women in Courage.— Moral Strength of Women.— Heroism of Women. •• The heroic example of other days is in great part the source of the courage in each generation, and men walk up composedly to the most perilous enterprises, beckoned onward by the shades of the brave that were." — Helps. /\OURAGE is by no means incompatible with ten- ^ derness. On the contrary gentleness and tenderness have been found to characterize the men, not less than the women, who have done the most courageous deeds. Sir Charles Napier gave up sporting because he could not bear to hurt dumb creatures. The same gentleness and tenderness characterized his brother, Sir William, the historian of the Peninsular War. Such, also, was the character of Sir James Outram, pronounced by Sir Charles Napier to be u the Bayard of India, sans pear et sans reprocJie " — one of the bravest and yet gentlest of men; respectful and reverent to women, tender to children, helpful of the weak, stern to the corrupt, but kindly as summer to the honest and deserving. More- over, he was himself as honest as day, and as pure as 178 Courage and Self- Sacrifice* 179 virtue. Of him it might be said with truth, what Fulke Greville said of Sidney: " He was a true model of worth — a man lit for conquest, reformation, planta- tion, or what action soever is the greatest and hardest among men; his chief ends withal being, above all things, the good of his fellows ; and the service of his sovereign and country. " It is the courageous man who can best afford to be generous; or, rather, it is his nature to be so. When Fairfax, at the battle of Naseby, seized the colors from an ensign whom he had struck down in the fight, he handed them to a common soldier to take care of. The soldier, unable to resist the temptation boasted to his comrades that he had himself seized the colors, and the boast was repeated to Fairfax. " Let him retain the honor, 1 ' said the commander; " I have enough besides." So when Douglas, at the battle of Bannockburn, saw Randolph, his rival, outnumbered and apparently over- powered by the enemy, he prepared to hasten to his as- sistance; but, seeing that Randolph was already driving them back, he cried out, " Hold and halt ! We are come too late to aid them; let us not lessen the victory they have won by affecting to claim a share in it." Quite as chivalrous, though in a very different field of action, was the conduct of Laplace to the young philosopher Biot, when the latter had read to the French Academy his paper, " Sur les Equations aux difference Melees" The assembled savants, at its close, felicitated the reader of the paper on his originality. Monge was 180 Courage and Self-Sacrifice. delighted at his success. Laplace also praised him for the clearness of his demonstrations, and invited Biot to accompany him home. Arrived there, Laplace took from a closet in his study a paper yellow with age, and handed it to the young philosopher. To Biot's surprise, he found that it contained the solutions, all worked out, for which he had just gained so much applause. With rare magnanimity, Laplace withheld all knowledge of the circumstances from Biot until the latter had ini- tiated his reputation before the Academy; moreover, he enjoined him to silence; and the incident would have remained a secret had not Biot himself published it, some fifty years afterwards. An incident is related of a French artisan, exhibiting the same characteristic of self-sacrifice in another form. In front of a lofty house in course of erection at Paris was the usual scaffold, loaded with men and materials. The scaffold, being too weak, suddenly broke down, and the men upon it were precipitated to the ground — all except two, a young man and a middle aged one, who hung on to a narrow ledge, which trembled under their weight, and was evidently on the point of giving way. u Pierre," cried the elder of the two, u let go; I am the father of a family." " Cest juste!" said Pierre; and, instantly letting go his hold, he fell and was killed on the spot. The father of the family was saved. The brave man is magnanimous as well as gentle. He does not take even an enemy at a disadvantage, nor strike a man when he is down and unable to defend Magnanimity. 181 himself. Even in the midst of deadly strife such in- stances of generosity have not been uncommon. Thus, at the battle of Dettingen, during the heat of the action, a squadron of French cavalry charged an English regiment; but when the young French officer, who led them, and was about to attack the English leader, observed that he had only one arm, with which he held his bridle, the Frenchman saluted him courteously with his sword and passed on. It is related of Charles V. that, after the siege and capture of Wittenburg by the Imperialist army, the monarch went to see the tomb of Luther. While read- ing the inscription on it, one of the servile courtiers who accompanied him proposed to open the grave and give the ashes of the i( heretic" to the winds. The monarch's cheek flushed with honest indignation: "I war not with the dead," said he; u let this place be respected. 11 The portrait which the great heathen, Aristotle, drew of the Magnanimous Man, in other words, the True Gen- tleman, more than two thousand years ago, is as faithful now as it was then. " The magnanimous man," he said, " will behave with moderation both with good fortune and bad. He will know how to be exalted and how to be abased. He will neither be delighted with success nor grieved bv failure. He will neither shun danger nor seek it, for there are few things which he cares for. He is reticent, and somewhat slow of speech, but speaks his mind openly and boldly when occasion calls for it. 182 Fear to be Avoided. He is apt to admire, for nothing is great to him. He overlooks injuries. He is not given to talk about him- self or about others; for he does not care that he him- self should be praised, or that other people should be blamed. He does not cry out about trifles, and craves help from none." On the other hand, mean men admire meanly. They have neither modesty, generosity, nor magnanimity. They are ready to take advantage of the weakness or defencelessness of others, especially where they have themselves succeeded, by unscrupulous methods, in climbing to positions of authority. Snobs in high places are always much less tolerable than snobs of low degree, because they have more frequent opportunities of making their want of manliness felt. They assume greater airs, and are pretentious in all that they do; and the higher their elevation, the more conspicuous is the incongruity of their position. " The higher the monkey climbs," says the proverb, " the more he shows his tail" Much depends on the way in which a thing is done. An act which might be taken as a kindness if done in a generous spirit, when done in a grudging spirit may be felt as stingy, if not harsh and even cruel. When Ben Johnson lay sick and in poverty, the king sent him a paltry message, accompanied by a gratuity. The sturdy, plain-spoken poet's reply was: "I suppose he sends me this because I live in an alley; tell him his soul lives in an alley.' 1 Fear to be Avoided. 183 From what we have said, it will be obvious that to be of an enduring and courageous spirit is of great impor- tance in the formation of character. It is a source not only of usefulness in life, but of happiness. On the other hand, to be of a timid and, still more, of a cow- ardly nature, is one of the greatest misfortunes. A wise man was accustomed to say that one of the principal objects he aimed at in the education of his sons and daughters was to train them in the habit of fearing nothing" so much as fear. And the habit of avoiding fear is, doubtless, capaple of being trained like any other habit, such as the habit of attention, of diligence, of study, or of cheerfulness. Much of the fear that exists is the offspring of imag- ination, which creates the images of evils which may happen, but perhaps rarely do, and thus many persons who are capable of summoning up courage enough to grapple with and overcome real dangers, are paralyzed or thrown into consternation by those wru'ch are imag- inary. Hence, unless the imagination be held under strict discipline, we are prone to meet evils more than half-way — to suffer them by forestallment, and to assume the burdens which we ourselves create. Education in courage is not usually included among the branches of female training, and yet it is really of much greater importance than either music, French, or the use of the globes. Contrary to the view of Sir Richard Steele, that woman should be characterized by a "tender fear," and "an inferiority which makes her 184 Courage of Women. lovely," we would have women educated in resolu- tion and courage, as a means of rendering them more helpful, more self-reliant, and vastly more useful and happy. There is, indeed, nothing attractive in timidity, noth- ing lovable in fear. All weakness, whether of mind or body, is equivalent to deformity, and the reverse of interesting. Courage is graceful and dignified; while fear, in any form, is mean and repulsive. Yet the ut- most tenderness and gentleness are consistent with cour- age.^ Ary SchefTer, the artist, once wrote to his daugh- ter: " Dear daughter, strive to be of good courage, to be gentle-hearted; these are the true qualities for woman. 4 Troubles ' every body must expect. There is but one way of looking at fate — whatever that be, whether blessings or afflictions — to behave with dignity under both. We must not lose heart, or it will be the worse both for ourselves and for those whom we love. To struggle, and again and again to renew the conflict — this is life's inheritance." In sickness and sorrow none are braver and less com- plaining sufferers than women. Their courage, where their hearts are concerned, is indeed proverbial. Experience has proved that women can be as enduring as men under the heaviest trials and calamities; but too little pains are taken to teach them to endure petty terrors and frivolous vexations with fortitude. Such little miseries, if petted and indulged, quickly run into sickly sensibility, and become the bane of their life, Moral Strength of Women. 185 keeping themselves and those about them in a state of chronic discomfort. The best corrective of this condition of mind is whole- some moral and mental discipline. Mental strength is as necessary for the developement of woman's character as of man's. It gives her capacity to deal with the affairs of life, and presence of mind, which enable her to act with vigor and effect in moments of emergency. Character in a woman, as in a man, will always be found the best safeguard of virtue, the best nurse of religion, the best corrective of Time. Personal beauty soon passes; but beauty of mind and character increase in attractiveness the older it grows. Ben Jonson gives a striking portraiture of a noble woman in these lines: i; I meant she should be courteous, facile, sweet, Free from that solemn vice of greatness, pride; I meant each softed virtue there should meet, Fit in that softer bosom to abide. Only a learned and manly soul I purposed her, that should with even powers The rock, the spindle and the shears control Of destiny, and spin her own free hours." The courage of woman is not the less true because it is for the most part passive. It is not encouraged by the cheers of the world, for it is mostly exhibited in the quiet recesses of private life. Yet there are cases of heroic patience and endurance on the part of women which occasionally come to the light of day. One of the most celebrated instances in history is that of Ger- trude Von der Wart. Her husband falsely accused of 186 Heroism of Women. being an accomplice in the murder of the Emperor Albert, was condemned to the most frightful of all pun- ishments — to be broken alive in the wheel. With the most profound conviction of her husband's innocence, the faithful woman stood by his side to the last, watch- ing over him during two days and nights, braving the empress's anger and the inclemency of the weather, in the hope of contributing to soothe his dying agonies. But women have not only distinguished themselves for their passive courage; impelled by affection, or the sense of duty, they have occasionally become heroic. When the band of conspirators who sought the life of James II. of Scotland burst into his lodgings at Perth, the king called to the ladies, who were in the chamber outside his room, to keep the door as well as they could, and give him time to escape. The conspirators had previously destroyed the locks of the doors, so that the keys could not be turned; and when they reached the ladies' apartment, it was found that the bar had also been removed. But, on hearing them approach, the brave Catharine Douglas, with the hereditary courage of her family, boldly thrust her arm across the door instead of the bar, and held it there until, her arm being broken, the conspirators burst into the room with drawn swords and daggers, overthrowing the ladies, who, though, unarmed, still endeavored to resist them. The defense of Lathom House by Charlotte de Tre- mouille, the worthy descendant of William of Nassau and Admiral Coligny, was another striking instance of Lady Franklin. 187 heroic bravery on the part of a noble woman. When summoned by the Parliamentary forces to surrender, she declared that she had been intrusted by her hus- band with the defense of the house, and that she could not give it up without her dear lord's orders, but trust- ed in God for protection and deliverance. In her ar- rangements for the defense, she is described as having " left nothing with her eye to be excused afterwards by fortune or negligence, and added to her former patience a most resolved fortitude. " The brave lady held her house and home good against the enemy for a whole year — during three months of which the place was strictly besieged and bombarded — until at length the siege was raised, after a most gallant defense, by the advance of the Royalist army. Nor can we forget the courage of Lady Franklin, who persevered to the last, when the hopes of all others had died out, in prosecuting the search after the Franklin Expedition. On the occasion of the Royal Geograph- ical Society determining to award the " Founder's Med- al " to Lady Franklin, Sir Roderick Murchison observed that, in the course of a long friendship with her, he had abundant opportunities of observing and testing the ster- ling qualities of a woman who had proved herself wor- thy of the admiration of mankind. " Nothing daunted by failure after failure, through twelve long years of hope deferred, she had perserved, with a singleness of purpose and a sincere devotion which were truly unpar- alleled. And now that her one last expedition of the 188 Women Philanthropists. Fox^ under the gallant M'Clintock, had realized the two great facts — that her husband had traversed wide seas unknown to former navigators, and died in discovering a north-west passage — then, surely, the adjudication of the medal would be hailed by the nation as one of the many recompenses to which the widow of the illustrious Franklin was so eminently entitled. ■" But that devotion to duty which marks the heroic character has more often been exhibited by women in deeds of charity and mercy. The greater part of these are never known, for they are done in private, out of the public sight, and for the mere love of doing good. Where fame has come to them, because of the success which has attended their labors in a more general sphere, it has come unsought and unexpected, and is often felt as a burden. Who has not heard of Mrs. Fry and Miss Carpenter as prison- visitors and reformers; of Mrs. Chisholm and Miss Rye as promoters of emigration; and of Miss Nightingale and Miss Garrett as apostles of hospital nursing ? That these women should have emerged from the sphere of private and domestic life to become leaders in philanthropy, indicates no small degree of moral courage on their part; for to women, above all others-, quiet and ease and retirement are most natural and welcome. Very few women step beyond the bound- aries of home in search of a larger field of usefulness. But when they have desired one, they have had no T Vbm e i i pji if a nth ropists. m» difficulty in rinding it. The ways in which men and women can help their neighbors are innumerable. It needs but the willing heart and ready hand. Most of the philanthropic workers we have named, however, have scarcely been influenced by choice. The duty lay in their way — it seemed to be the nearest to them — and they set about doing it without desire for fame, or any other reward but the approval of their own conscience. CHAPTER XVIII SELF-CONTROL. Self-control the Root of the Virtues. — Value of Discipline. — Supremacy of Self-control. — Domestic Discipline. — Virtue of Patience. — Character of Hampden. "Honor and profit do not always lie in the same sack." — George Herbert. 0( ELF-CONTROL is only courage under another A-^ form. It may almost be regarded as the primary essence of character. It is in virtue of this quality that Shakspeare defines man as a being "looking before and after.' ' It forms the chief distinction between man and the mere animal; and, indeed, there can be no true man- hood without it. Self-control is at the root of all the virtues. Let a man give the reins to his impulses and passions, and from that moment he yields up his moral freedom. He is carried along the current of life, and becomes the slave of his strongest desire for the time being. To be morally free — to be more than an animal — man must be able to resist instinctive impulse, and this can only be done by the exercise of self-control. Thus it is this power which constitutes the real distinction 190 The Value of Discipline. 191 between a physical and a moral life, and that forms the primary basis of individual character. In the Bible praise is given, not to the strong man who wi taketh a city," but to the stronger man who k ' ru- leth his own spirit.' , This stronger man is he who, by discipline, exercises a constant control over his thoughts, his speech, and his acts. Nine-tenths of the vicious desires that degrade society, and which, when indulged, swell into the crimes that disgrace it, would shrink into insignificance before the advance of valiant self-disci- pline, self-respect, and self-control. By the watchful exercise of these virtues, purity of heart and mind be- come habitual, and the character is built up in chastity, virtue, and temperance. The best support of character will always be found in habit, which, according as the will is directed rightly or wrongly, as the case may be, will prove either a be- nignant ruler or a cruel despot. We may be its willing subject on the one hand, or its servile slave on the other. It may help us on the road to good, or it may hurry us on the road to ruin. Habit is formed by careful training. And it is aston- ishing how much can be accomplished by systematic discipline and drill. See how, for instance, out of the most unpromising materials — such as roughs picked up in the streets, or raw unkempt country lads taken from the plough — steady discipline and drill will bring out the unsuspected qualities of , courage, endurance, and self-sacrifice; and how, in the field of battle, or even 192 Supremacy of Self-Control. on the more trying occasions of perils by sea^such as the burning- of the Sarah Sands or the wreck of the Birkenhead — such men, carefully disciplined, will ex- hibit the unmistakable characteristics of true bravery and heroism! Nor is moral discipline and drill less influential in the formation of character. Without it, there will be no proper system and order in the regulation of the life. Upon it depends the cultivation of the sense of self- respect, the education of the habit of obedience, the de- velopment of the idea of duty. The most self-reliant, self-governing man is always under discipline; and the more perfect the discipline, the higher will be his moral •condition. He has to drill his desires, and keep them in subjection to the higher powers of his nature. They must obey the word of command of the internal moni- tor, the conscience — otherwise they will be but the mere slaves of their inclinations, the sport of feeling, and impulse. "In the supremacy of self-control," says Herbert Spencer, " consist one of the perfections of the ideal man. Not to be impulsive — not to be spurred hither and thither by each desire that in turn comes upper- most — but to be self-restrained, self-balanced, governed by the joint decision of the feelings in council assem- bled, before whom every action shall have been fully debated and calmly determined — that it is which edu- cation, moral education at least, strives to produce. The first seminary of moral discipline, and the best, Domestic Discipline. 193 as we have already shown, is the home; next comes the school, and after that the world, the great school of practical life. Each is preparatory to the other, and what the man or woman becomes^ depends for the most part upon what has gone before. If they have enjoyed the advantage of neither the home nor the school, but have been allowed to grow up untrained, untaught, and undisciplined, then woe to themselves — woe to the society of which they form a part ! The best-regulated home is always that in which the discipline is the most perfect, and yet where it is the least felt. Moral discipline acts with the force of a law of nature. Those subject to it yield themselves to it unconsciously: and though it shapes and forms the whole character, until the life becomes crvstallized in habit, the influence thus exercised is for the most part unseen and almost unfelt. The importance of strict domestic discipline is cu- riously illustrated by a fact mentioned in Mrs. Schim- melpenninck's Memoirs, to the following effect: that a lady, who, with her husband, had inspected most of the lunatic asylums of England and the Continent, found the most numerous class of patients was almost always composed of those who had been only children, and whose wills had, therefore, rarely been thwarted or dis- ciplined in early life; while those who were members of large families, and who had been trained in self-dis- cipline, were far less frequent victims to the malady. Although the moral character depends in a great 194 Self- Discipline. degree on temperament and on physical health, as well as on domestic and early training and the example of companions, it is also in the power of each individual to regulate, to restrain, and to discipline it by watchful and persevering self-control. A competent teacher has said of the propensities and habits, that they are as teachable as Latin and Greek, while they are much more essential to happiness. Dr. Johnson, though himself constitutionally prone to melancholy, and afflicted by it as few have been from his earliest years, said that " a man's being in a good or bad humor very much depends upon his will." We may train ourselves in a habit of patience and content- ment on the one hand, or of grumbling and discontent on the other. We may accustom ourselves to exag- gerate small evil, and to underestimate great blessings. We may even become the victim of petty miseries by giving way to them. Thus, we may educate ourselves in a happy disposition, as well as in a morbid one. In- deed, the habit of viewing things cheerfully, and of thinking about life hopefully, may be made to grow up in us like any other habit. It was not an exaggerated estimate of Dr. Johnson to say that the habit of looking at the best side of any event is worth far more than a thousand pounds a year. The religious man's life is pervaded by rigid self-dis- cipline and self-restraint. He is to be sober and vigi- lant, to eschew evil and do good, to walk in the Spirit, to be obedient unto death, to withstand in the evil day > Tlte Virtue of Patience. 195 and, having done all, to stand; to wrestle against spirit- ual wickedness, and against the rulers of the darkness of this world ; to be rooted and built up in faith, and not to be weary of well doing; for in due season he shall reap, if he faint not. The man of business, also, must needs be subject to strict rule and system. Business, like life, is managed by moral leverage; success in both depending in no small degree upon that regulation of temper and careful self discipline, which give a wise man not only a com- mand over himself, but over others. Forbearance and self-control smooth the road of life, and open many ways which would otherwise remain closed. And so does self-respect; for as men respect themselves, so will they usually Tespect the personality of others. It is the same in politics as in business. Success in that sphere of life is achieved less by talent than by temper, less by genius than by character. If a man have not self-control, he will lack patience, be wanting in tact, and have neither the power of governing him- self nor of managing others. When the quality most needed in a prime minister was the subject of conversa- tion in the presence of Mr. Pitt, one of the speakers said it was " eloquence;" another said it was "knowledge;" and a third said it was "toil." "No," said Pitt, "it is patience! " And patience means self-control, a quali- ty in which he himself was superb. His friend George Rose has said of him that he never once saw Pitt out of temper. Yet, although patience is usually regarded as 19(5 Character of Hampden* a " slow virtue. Pitt combined with it the most extraor- dinary readiness, vigor, and rapidity of thought as well as action. It is by patience and self-control that the truly heroic character is perfected. These were among the most prominent characteristics of the great Hampden, whose noble qualities were generously acknowledged even by his political enemies. Thus Clarendon described him as a man of rare temper and modesty, naturally cheerful and vivacious, and above all, rjf a flowing courtesy. He was kind and intrepid, yet gentle, of unblamable conver- sation, and his heart glowed with love to all men. He was not a man of many words, but, being of unimpeach- able character, every word he uttered carried weight. " No man had ever a greater power over himself. . . . He was very temperate in diet, and a supreme governor over all his passions and affections; and he had thereby great power over other men's." Sir Philip Warwick, another of his political opponents, incidentally describes his great influence in a certain debate: u We had catch- ed at each other's locks, and sheathed our swords in each other's bowels, had not the sagacity and great calmness of Mr. Hampden, by a short speech, prevented it, and led us to defer our angry debate until the next morning. CHAPTER XIX. STRONG TEMPER. Evils of Strong Temper. — Strafford, Cromwell, Washington, Wellington, etc. —Instances of Self-control.— Faraday, Anquetil.— Forbearance of Speech. — Honest Indignation. " The Government of one's self is the only true freedom for the indi- vidual. " — Frederick Perthes. \ STRONG temper is not necessarily a bad tem- per. But the stronger the temper, the greater is the need of self-discipline and self-control. Dr. Johnson says men grow better as they grow older, and improve with experience; but this depends upon the width and depth and generousness of their nature. It is not men's faults that ruin them so much as the manner in which they conduct themselves after the faults have been com- mitted. The wise will profit by the suffering they cause, and eschew them for the future; but there are those on whom experience exerts no ripening influence, and who only grow narrower and bitterer, and more vicious with time. What is called strong temper in a young man, often indicates a large amount of unripe energy, which will expend itself in useful work if the road be fairly opened 197 198 Evils of Strong Temper. to it. It is said of Stephen Girard, a Frenchman, who pursued a remarkably successful career in the United States, that when he heard of a clerk with a strong tem- per, he would readily take him into his employment, and set him to work in a room by himself; Girard being of opinion that such persons were the best workers, and that their energy would expend itself in work if remov- ed from the temptation to quarrel. Strong temper may only mean a strong and excitable will. Uncontrolled, it displays itself in fitful outbreaks of passion; but controlled and held in subjection — like steam pent-up within the organized mechanism of a steam-engine, the use of which is regulated and con- trolled by slide-valves and governors and levers — it may become a source of energetic power and useful- ness. Hence some of the greatest characters in history have been men of strong temper, but of equally strong determination to hold their motive-power under strict regulation and control. Cromwell is described as having been of a wayward and violent temper in his youth — cross, untracta- ble, and masterless — with a vast quantity of youthful energy, which exploded in a variety of youthful mis- chiefs. He even obtained the reputation of a roysterer in his native town, and seemed to be rapidly going to the bad, when religion, in one of its most rigid forms, laid hold upon his strong nature, and subjected it to the iron discipline of Calvinism. An entirely new direction was thus given to his energy of temperament, which Uses of Strong Temper. 199 forced an outlet for itself into public life, and eventually became the dominating influence in England for a period of nearly twenty years. Mr. Motley compares William the Silent to Washing- ton, whom he in many respects resembled. The Ameri- can, like the Dutch patriot, stands out in history as the very impersonation of dignity, bravery, purity, and per- sonal excellence. His command over his feelings, even in moments of great difficulty and danger, was sucji as to convey the impression, to those who did not know him intimately, that he was a man of inborn calmness and almost impassiveness of disposition. Yet Wash- ington was by nature ardent and impetuous; his mild- ness, gentleness, politeness, and consideration for others, were the result of rigid self-control and unwearied self- discipline, which he diligently practiced even from his boyhood. His biographer says of him, that " his tem- perament was ardent, his passions strong, and, amidst the multiplied scenes of temptation and excitement through which he passed, it was his constant effort, and ultimate triumph, to check the one and subdue the other." And again: " His passions were strong, and sometimes they broke out with vehemence, but he had the power of checking them in an instant. Perhaps self-control was the most remarkable trait of his char- acter. It was in part the effect of discipline; yet he seems by nature to have possessed this power in a degree which has been denied to other men." The Duke of Wellington's natural temper, like that 200 Power of Self-Restraint. of Napoleon, was irritable in the extreme, and it was only by watchful self control that he was enabled to restrain it. He studied calmness and coolness in the midst of danger, like an Indian chief. At Waterloo, and elsewhere, he gave his orders in the most critical moments without the slightest excitement, and in a tone of voice almost more than usually subdued. A man may be feeble in organization, but, blessed with a happy temperament, his soul may be great, act- ive, noble, and sovereign. Professor Tyndall has given us a fine picture of the character of Faraday, and of his self-denying labors in the cause of science — exhibiting him as a man of strong, original, and even fiery nature, and yet of extreme tenderness and sensibility. "Un- derneath his sweetness and gentleness," he says, "was the heat of a volcano. He was a man of excitable and fiery nature; but, through high self-discipline, he had converted the fire into a central glow and motive-power of life, instead of permitting it to waste itself in useless passion." There was one fine feature in Faraday's character which is worthy of notice — one closely akin to self-con- trol: it was his self-denial. By devoting himself to analytical chemistry, he might have speedily realized a large fortune; but he nobly resisted the temptation, and preferred to follow the path of pure science. " Tak- ing the duration of his life into account," says Mr. Tyn- dall, " this son of a blacksmith and apprentice to a book- binder had to decide between a fortune of $750,000 on Self- Denial 201 the one side, and his undowered science on the other r he chose the latter, and died a poor man. But his was the glory of holding aloft among the nations the scien- tific name of England for a period of forty years. 1 ' Take a like instance of the self-denial of a Frenchman. The historian Anquetil was one of the small numbers of literary men in France who refused to bow to the Na- poleonic yoke. He sank into great poverty, living on bread-and-milk, and limiting his expenditure to only three sous a day. " I have still two sous a day left," said he, " for the conqueror of Marengo and Auster- litz." " But if you fall sick," said a friend to him, " you will need the help of a pension. Why not do as others do ? Pay court to the emperor — you have need of him to live." " I do not need him to die," was the historian's reply. But Anquetil did not die in poverty; he lived to the age of ninety-four, saying to a friend, on the eve of his death, " Come, see a man who dies still full of life!" * If a man would get through life honorably and peace- ably, he must necessarily learn to practice self-denial in small things as well as great. Men have to bear as well as forbear. The temper has to be held in subjection to the judgment; and the little demons of ill-humor, petu- lance, and sarcasm, kept resolutely at a distance. If once they find an entrance to the mind, they are very apt to return, and to establish for themselves a perma- nent occupation there. It is necessary to one's personal happiness, to exercise 202 Self -Control in Speech. ■ control over one's words as well as acts: for there are words that strike even harder than blows; and men may " speak daggers," though they use none. " Un coup de langue" says the French proverb, a est pire qu?un coup de lance" The stinging repartee that rises to the lips, and which, if uttered, might cover an adver- sary with confusion, how difficult it sometimes is to resist saying it ! " Heaven keep us," says Miss Bremer, in her " Home," " from the destroying power of words! There are words which sever hearts more than sharp swords do; there are words the point of which sting the heart through the course of a whole life." Thus character exhibits itself in self-control of speech as much as in anything else. The wise and forbearant man will restrain his desire to say a smart or severe thing at the expense of another's feelings; while the fool blurts out what he thinks, and will sacrifice his friend rather than his joke. " The mouth of a wise man," said Solomon, "is in his heart; the heart of a fool is in his mouth." There are, however, men who are no fools, that are headlong in their language as in their acts, because of their want of forbearance and self-restraining patience. The impulsive genius, gifted with quick thought and in- cisive speech — perhaps carried away by the cheers of the moment — lets fly a sarcastic sentence which may return upon him to his own infinite damage. Even statesmen might be named, who have failed through their inability to resist the temptation of saying clever and spiteful Self- Control in Speech 203 things at their adversary's expense. " The turn of a sen- tence, 1 ' says Bentham, " has decided the fate of many a friendship, and, for aught that we know, the fate of many a kingdom." So, when one is tempted to write a clever but harsh thing, though it may be difficult to restrain it, it is always better to leave it in the inkstand. " A goose's quill," says the Spanish proverb, "often hurts more than a lion's claw." Carlyle says, when speaking of Oliver Cromwell, " He that can not withal keep his mind to himself, can not practice any considerable thing whatsoever." It was said of William the Silent, by one of his greatest ene- mies, that an arrogant or indiscreet word was never known to fall from his lips. Like him, Washington was discretion itself in the use of speech, never taking advantage of an opponent, or seeking a short lived tri- umph in a debate. And it is said that, in the long run, the world comes round to and supports the wise man who knows when and how to be silent. We have heard men of great experience say that they have often regretted having spoken, but never once regretted holding their tongue. u Be silent," says Pythagoras, " or say something better than silence." " Speak fitly," says George Herbert, " or be silent wise- ly." St. Francis de Sales, whom Leigh Hunt styled "the Gentleman Saint," has said: ' ; It is better to re- main silent than to speak the truth ill-humoredly, and so spoil an excellent dish by covering it with bad sauce." Another Frenchman, Lacordaire, characteris- 204: The Expression of Indignation. tically puts speech first, and silence next. " After speech," he says, " silence is the greatest power in the world.' 1 Yet a word spoken in season, how powerful it may be! As the old Welsh proverb has it, " A golden tongue is in the mouth of the blessed. " It is related, as a remarkable instance of self-control on the part of De Leon, a distinguished Spanish poet of the sixteenth century, who lay for years in the dungeons of the Inquisition without light or society, because of his having translated a part of the Scriptures into his native tongue, that, on being liberated and restored to his pro- fessorship, an immense crowd attended his first lecture, expecting some account of his long imprisonment; but De Leon was too wise and too gentle to indulge in recrimination. He merely resumed the lecture which, five years before, had been so sadly interrupted, with the accustomed formula " Heri dicebamus" and went directly into his subject. There are, of course, times and occasions when the expression of indignation is not only justifiable but nec- essary. We are bound to be indignant at falsehood, selfishness, and cruelty. A man of true feeling fires up naturally at baseness or meanness of any sort, even in cases where he may be under no obligation to speak out. " I would have nothing to do," said Perthes, " with the man who can not be moved to indignation. There are more good people than bad in the world, and the bad get the upper hand merely because they are bolder. We can not help being pleased with a man Practiced Wisdom. 205 who uses his powers with decision, and we often take his side for no other reason than because he does so use them. No doubt, I have often repented speaking; but not less often have I repented keeping silence." One who loves right can not be indifferent to wrong, or wrong-doing. If he feels warmly, he will speak warmly, out of the fullness of his heart. As a noble lady has written: "A noble heart doth teach a virtuous scorn — To scorn to owe a duty overlong, To scorn to be for benefits forborne, To scorn to lie, to scorn to do a wrong, To scorn to bear an injury in mind. To scorn a freeborn heart slave like to bind." We have, however, to be on our guard against impa- tient scorn. The best people are apt to have their impatient side, and often the very temper which makes men earnest makes them also intolerant. " Of all men- tal gifts," says Miss Julia Wedgwood, "the rarest is intellectual patience; and the last lesson of culture is to believe in difficulties which are invisible to ourselves." The best corrective of intolerance in disposition, is increase of wisdom and enlarged experience of life. Cultivated good sense will usually save men from the entanglements in which moral impatience is apt to involve them: good sense consisting chiefly in that temper of mind which enables its possessor to deal with the prac- tical affairs of life with justice, judgment, discretion, and charity. Hence men of culture and experience are invariably found the most forbearant and tolerant, as 206 Practical • Wisdom. ignorant and narrow-minded persons are found the most unforgiving and intolerant. Men of large and generous natures, in proportion to their practical wisdom, are dis- posed to make allowance for the defects and disadvan- tages of others — allowing for the controlling power of circumstances in the formation of character, and the limited power of resistance of weak and fallible natures to temptation and error. " I see no fault committed," said Goethe,' ' which I also might not have committed."" So a wise and good man exclaimed, when he saw a crim- inal drawn on his hurdle to Tyburn: " There goes Jona- than Bradford — but for the grace of God!" CHAPTER XX. FORBEARANCE HONESTY. Forbearance in Conduct. — Faraday's Practical Philosophy. — Burns's Want of Self-control. — Beranger. — Tyranny of Appetite. — Honesty of Liying. — Dishonesty of Improvidence. — Public Honesty. — Sir Walter Scott's- Heroic Effort to pay his Debts. — Lockhart and Scott. " It is in length of patience, and endurance, and forbearance, that so much of what is good in mankind and womankind is shown." — Arthur Helps. T IFE will always be, to a great extent, what we our- -^-\ selves make it. The cheerful man makes a cheer- ful world, the gloomy man a gloomy one. We usually find but our own temperament reflected in the disposi- tions of those about us. If we are ourselves querulous,. we will find them so; if we are unforgiving and unchar- itable to them, they will be the same to us. A person returning from an evening party not long ago, com- plained to a policeman on his beat that an ill-looking fellow was following him: it turned out to be only hi's own shadow! And such usually is human life to each of us; it is, for the most part, but the reflection of ourselves. If we would be at peace with others, and insure their respect, we must have regard for their personality. 207 208 Forbearance toivards Others. Every man has his peculiarities of manner and character, as he has peculiarities of form and feature; and we must have forbearance in dealing with them, as we ex- pect them to have forbearance in dealing with us. We may not be conscious of our own peculiarities, yet they exist nevertheless. There is a village in South America where gotos or goitres are so common that to be with- out one is regarded as a deformity. One day a party of Englishmen passed through the place, when quite a crowd collected to jeer them, shouting, " See, see these people — they have got no gotos J" Many persons give themselves a great deal of fidget concerning what other people think of them and their peculiarities. Some are too much disposed to take the ill-natured side, and, judging by themselves, infer the worst. But it is very often the case that the unchari- tableness of others, where it really exists, is but the re- flection of our own want of charity and want of temper. It still oftener happens, that the worry we subject our- selves to has its source in our own imagination. And even though those about us may think of us uncharita- bly, we shall not mend matters by exasperating ourselves against them. We may thereby only expose ourselves unnecessarily to their ill-nature or caprice. " The ill that comes out of our mouth," says George Herbert,. " oft- times falls into our bosom.' The great and good philosopher Faraday communi- cated the following piece of admirable advice, full of practical wisdom, the result of a rich experience of life, Faraday's Practical Philosophy- 209" in a letter to his friend, Professor Tyndall: " Let me, as an old man, who ought by this time to have profited by experience, say that when I was younger, I found I often misrepresented the intentions of people, and that they did not mean what at the time I supposed they meant ; and further, that as a general rule, it was better to be a little dull of apprehension where phrases seemed to imply pique, and quick in perception when, on the contrary, they seemed to imply kindly feeling. The real truth never fails ultimately to appear; and opposing parties, if wrong, are sooner convinced when replied to forbearingly, than when overwhelmed. All I mean to say is, that it is better to be blind to the results of par- tisanship, and quick to see good-will. One has more happiness in one's self in endeavoring to follow the things that make for peace. You can hardly imagine how often I have been heated in private when opposed, as I have thought unjustly and superciliously, and yet I have striven, and succeeded, I hope, in keeping down re- plies of the like kind ; and I know I have never lost by it." While the painter Barry was at Rome, he involved himself, as was his wont, in furious quarrels with the artists and dilettanti, about picture-painting and picture- dealing, upon which his friend and countryman, Edmund Burke — always the generous friend of struggling merit — wrote to him kindly and sensibly: " Believe me, dear Barry, that the arms with which the ill dispositions of the world are to be combatted, and the qualities by which it is to be reconciled to us, and we reconciled to 210 Burns } s Want of Self -Control. it, are moderation, gentleness, a little indulgence to others, and a great deal of distrust of ourselves; which are not qualities of a mean spirit, as some may possibly think them, but virtues of a great and noble kind, and such as dignify our nature as much as they contribute to our repose and fortune; for nothing can be so un- worthy of a well-composed soul as to pass away life in bickerings and litigations — in snarling and scuffling with every one about us. We must be at peace with our species, if not for their sakes, at least very much for our own." No one knew the value of self-control better than the poet Burns, and no one could teach it more eloquently to others; but when it came to practice, Burns was as weak as the weakest. He could not deny himself the pleasure of uttering a harsh and clever sarcasm at another's expense. One of his biographers observes of him, that it was no extravagant arithmetic to say that for every ten jokes he made himself a hundred enemies. But this was not all. Poor Burns exercised no control over his appetites, but freely gave them the rein: " Thus thoughtless follies laid him low i\nd stained his name." Beranger who has been styled " the Burns of France, ,v was of the same bright incisive genius; he had the same love of pleasure, the same love of popularity; and while he flattered French vanity to the top of its bent, he also painted the vices most loved by his countrymen with the pen of a master. Beranger's songs and Thiers's Mischief of Berangers Songs. 211 History probably did more than any thing else to re- establish the Napoleonic dynasty in France. But that was a small evil compared with the moral mischief which many of Befanger's songs are calculated to pro- duce; for, circulating freely as they do in French households, they exhibit pictures of nastiness and vice which are enough to pollute and destroy a nation. One of Burns 's finest poems, written in his twenty- eighth year, is entitled "A Bard's Epitaph." It is a description, by anticipation, of his own life. Words- worth has said of it: "Here is a sincere and solemn avowal; a public declaration from his own will; a con- fession at once devout, \poetical, and human; a history in the shape of a prophecy. " It concludes with these lines: " Reader, attend — whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, Or darkling grubs this earthly hole In low pursuit; Know — prudent, cautious self-control, Is Wisdom's root." One of the vices before which Burns fell — and it may be said to be a master-vice, because it is productive of so many other vices — was drinking. Not that he was a drunkard, but because he yielded to the temptations of drink, with its degrading associations, and thereby low- ered and depraved his whole nature. But poor Burns did not stand alone; for, alas! of all vices, the unre- strained appetite for drink was in his time, as it contin- ues to be now, the most prevalent, popular, degrading, and destructive. 212 The Tyranny of Appetite* . Were it possible to conceive the existence of a tyrant Who should compel his people to give up to him one- third or more of their earnings, and require them at the same time to consume a commodity that should brutal- ize and degrade them, destroy the peace and comfort of their families, and sow in themselves the seeds of dis- ease and premature death — what indignation meetings, what monster processions, there would be! What elo- quent speeches and apostrophes to the spirit of liberty! — what appeals against despotism so monstrous and so unnatural! And yet such a tyrant really exists among us — the tyrant of unrestrained appetite, whom no force of arms, or voices or votes can resist, while men are willing to be his slaves. The power of this tyrant can only be overcome by moral means — by self-discipline, self-respect, and self- control. The pursuit of ignoble pleasure is the degra- dation of true happiness, it saps the morals, destroys the energies, and degrades the manliness and robustness of individuals as of nations. The courage of self-control exhibits itself in many ways, but in none more clearly than in honest living. Men without the virtue of self-denial are not only sub- ject to their own selfish desires, but they are usually in bondage to others who are like-minded with themselves. What others do, they do. They must live according to the artificial standard of their class, spending like their neighbors, regardless of the consequences, at the same time that all are, perhaps, aspiring after a style of living Honest Living. 213 higher than their means. Each carries the others along with him, and they have not the moral courage to stop. They cannot resist the temptation of living high, though it may be at the expense of others ; and they gradually become reckless of debt, until it enthralls them. In all this there is great moral cowardice, pusillanimity, and want of manly independence of character. A right-minded man will shrink from seeming to be what he is not, or pretending to be richer than he really is, or assuming a style of living that his circumstances will not justify. He will have the courage to live hon- estly within his own means, rather than dishonestly upon the means of other people; for he who incurs debts in striving to maintain a style of living beyond his income, is in spirit as dishonest as the man who openly picks your pocket. To many this may seem an extreme view, but it will bear the strictest test. Living at the cost of others is not only dishonesty, but it is untruthfulness in deed, as lying is in word. The proverb of George Herbert, that " debtors are liars," is justified by experience. Shaftes- bury somewhere says that a restlessness to have some- thing which we have not, and to be something which we are not, is the root of all immorality. No reliance is to be placed on the saying — a very dangerous one — of Mirabeau, that " La petite morale etait Pennemie de la grande.^ On the contrary, strict adherence to even the smallest details of morality is the foundation of all manly and noble character. 214 The Virtue of Honesty. The honorable man is frugal of his means, and pays his way honestly. He does not seek to pass himself off as richer than he is, or, by running into debt, open an account with ruin. As that man is not poor whose means are small but whose desires are under control, so that man is rich whose means are more than sufficient for his wants. When Socrates saw a great quantity of riches, jewels, and furniture of great value, carried in pomp through Athens, he said, "Now do I see how many things I do not desire." " I can forgive every thing but selfishness," said Perthes. " Even the narrow- est circumstances admit of greatness with reference to i mine and thine ; ' and none but the very poorest need fill their daily life with thoughts of money, if they have but prudence to arrange their housekeeping within the limits of their income. " A man may be indifferent to money because of higher considerations, as Faraday was, who sacrificed wealth to pursue science; but if he would have the enjoyments that money can purchase, he must honestly earn it, and not live upon the earnings of others, as those do who habitually incur debts which they have no means of paying. When Maginn, always drowned in debt, was asked what he paid for his wine, he replied that he did not know, but he believed they " put something down in a book." This " putting-down in a book" has proved the ruin of a great many weak-minded people who can not resist the temptation of taking things upon credit which they Sydney Smith's Honesty. 215 have not the present means of paying for; and it would probably prove a great social benefit if the law which enables creditors to recover debts contracted under cer- tain circumstances were altogether abolished. But, in the competition for trade, every encouragement is given to the incurring of debt, the creditor relying upon the law to aid him in the last extremity. When Sydney Smith once went into a new neighborhood, it was given out in the local papers that he was a man of high con- nections, and he was besought on all sides for his "cus- tom.' 1 But he speedily undeceived his new neighbors. " We are not great people at all," he said: " we are only common honest people — people that pay our debts. 11 Hazlitt, who was a thoroughly honest though rather thriftless man, speaks of two classes of persons, not unlike each other — those who can not keep their own money in their hands, and those who can not keep their hands from other peopled. The former are always in want of money, for they throw it away on any object that first presents itself, as if to get rid of it ; the latter make away with what they have of their own, and are perpetual borrowers from all who will lend to them; and their genius for borrowing, in the long run, usually proves their ruin. Sheridan was one of such eminent unfortunates. He was impulsive and careless in his expenditure, borrow- ing money, and running into debt with every body who would trust him. When he stood for Westminster, his unpopularity arose chiefly from his general indebted- 216 Sheridaris Public Honesty. ness. " Numbers of poor people," says Lord Palmer- ston in one of his letters, " crowded round the hustings, demanding payment for the bills he owed them." In the midst of all his difficulties, Sheridan was as light- hearted as ever, and cracked many a good joke at his creditor's expense. Lord Palmerston was actually present at the dinner given by him, at which the sheriff's officers in possession were dressed up and officiated as waiters. Yet, however loose Sheridan's morality may have been as regarded his private creditors, he was honest so far as the public money was concerned. Once, at a dinner, at which Lord Byron happened to be present, an observation happened to be made as to the sturdiness of the Whigs in resisting office and keeping to their prin- ciples — on which Sheridan turned sharply round, and said: " Sir, it is easy for my Lord this, or Earl that, or the Marquis of t'other, with thousands upon thousands a year, some of it either presently derived or inherited in sinecure or acquisitions from the public money, to boast of their patriotism and keep aloof from tempta- tion; but they do not know from what temptaticn those have kept aloof who had equal pride, at least equal tal- ents, and not unequal passions, and nevertheless knew not, in the course of their lives, what it was to have a shilling of their own." And Lord Byron adds, that, in saying this Sheridan wept. x . The tone of public morality in money matters was very low in those days. Political peculation was not Public Honesty. 217 thought discreditable; and heads of parties did not hes- itate to secure the adhesion of their followers by a free use of the public money. They were generous, but at the expense of others — like that great local magnate, who, " Out of his great bounty, Built a bridge at the expense of the county." When Lord Cornwallis was appointed Lord Lieu- tenant of Ireland, he pressed upon Colonel Napier, the father of the Napiers, the comptrollership of army ac- counts. "I want, 1 ' said his lordship, " an honest man, and this is the only thing I have been able to wrest from the harpies around me. 1 ' It is said that Lord Chatham was the first to set the example of disdaining to govern by petty larceny; and his great son was alike honest in his administration. While millions of money were passing through Pitt's hands, he himself was never otherwise than poor; and he died poor. Of all his rancorous libellers, not one ever ventured to call in question his honesty. In former times, the profits of office were sometimes enormous. When Audley, the famous annuity-monger of the sixteenth century, was asked the value of an office which he had purchased in the Court of Wards, he replied: " Some thousands to any one who wishes to get to heaven immediately; twice as much to him who does not mind being in purgatory; and nobody knows what to him who is not afraid of the devil." Sir Walter Scott was a man who was honest to the 218 Sir Walter Scott. core of his nature; and his strenuous and determined efforts to pay his debts, or rather the debts of the firm with which he had become involved, has always appeared to us one of the grandest things in biography. When his publisher and printer broke down, ruin seem- ed to stare him in the face. There was no want of sym- pathy for him in his great misfortune, and friends came forward who offered to raise money enough to enable 'him to arrange with his creditors. "No!" said he, proudly; " this right hand shall work it all off ! " " If we lose every thing else," he wrote to a friend, " we will at least keep our honor unblemished." While his health was already becoming undermined by overwork, he went on " writing like a tiger," as he himself expressed it, until no longer able to wield a pen; and though he paid the penalty of his supreme efforts with his life, he nevertheless saved his honor and his self- respect. Everybody knows how Scott threw off "Woodstock," the "Life of Napoleon " (which he thought would be his death), articles for the "Quarterly," " Chronicles of the Canongate," " Prose Miscellanies," and " Tales of a Grandfather " — all written in the midst of pain, sorrow, and ruin. The proceeds of those various works went to his creditors. " I could not have slept sound," he wrote, " as I now can, under the comfortable impression of receiving the thanks of my creditors, and the con- scious feeling of discharging my duty as a man of honor and honesty. I see before me a long, tedious, and dark Scott's Courage and Honesty* 219 path, but it leads to stainless reputation. If I die in the harrows, as is very likely, I shall die with honor. If I achieve my task, I shall have the thanks of all concerned, and the approbation of my own conscience." And then followed more articles, memoirs, and even sermons — " The Fair Maid of Perth, 1 ' a completely revised edition of his novels, " Anne of Geierstein," and more " Tales of a Grandfather" — until he was suddenly struck down by paralysis. But he had no sooner re- covered sufficient strength to be able to hold a pen, than we find him again at his desk writing the " Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft," a volume of Scottish History for " Lardner's Cyclopaedia," and a fourth series of " Tales of a Grandfather " in his French History. In vain his doctors told him to give up work; he would not be dissuaded. "As for bidding me not work," he said to Dr. Abercrombie, " Molly might just as well put the kettle on the fire and say, L Now; kettle, don't boil;'" to which he added, "If I were to be idle, I should go mad!" By means of the profits realized by these tremendous efforts, Scott saw his debts in course of rapid diminu- tion, and he trusted that, after a few more years' work, he would again be a free man. But it was not to be. He went on turning out such works as his "Count Robert of Paris" with greatly-impaired skill, until he was prostrated by another and severer attack of palsy. He now felt that the plow was nearing the end of the furrow; his physical strength was gone; he was "not 220 Scott's Courage and Honesty. quite himself in all things," and yet his eourage and perseverance never failed. u I have suffered terribly," he wrote in his Diar} T , " though rather in body than in mind, and I often wish I could lie down and sleep with- out waking. But / will fight it out if I can." He again recovered sufficiently to be able to write, " Castle Dangerous," though the cunning of the workman's hand had departed. And then there was his last tour to Italy in search of rest and health, during which, while at Naples, in spite of all remon- strances, he gave several hours every morning to the composition of a new novel, which, however, has not seen the light. Scott returned to Abbotsford to die. " I have seen much," he said on his return, " but nothing like my own house — give me one turn more." One of the last things he uttered, in one of his lucid intervals, was worthy of him. " I have been," he said, "perhaps the most voluminous author of my day, and it is a comfort to me to think that I have tried to unsettle no man's faith, to corrupt no man's principles, and that I have written nothing which on my death-bed I should wish blotted out." His last injunction to his son-in-law was: u Lockhart, I ma)/ have but a minute to speak to you. My dear, be virtuous — be religious — be a good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie here." The devoted conduct of Lockhart himself was worthy of his great relative. The "Life of Scott," Scott's Courage and Honesty.. 221 which he afterwards wrote, occupied him several years and was a remarkably successful work. Yet he him- self derived no pecuniary advantage from it; handing over the profits of the whole undertaking to Sir Walter's creditors, in payment of debts for which he was in no way responsible, but influenced entirely by. a spirit of honor, and of regard for the memory of the illustrious dead. CHAPTER XXL DUTY TRUTHFULNESS. Upholding Sense of Duty. — Conscience and Will. — Sense of Honor. — Sacredness of Duty. — Freedom of the Individual. — Washington's Sense of Duty. — Wellington's Ideal. — Duty and Truthfulness. — Wellington and his Aurist. — Truth the Bond of Society. — Equivocation. — Pretentiousness. "I slept, and dreamt that life was Beauty, I woke, and found that life was Duty." (l) |UTY is a thing that is due, and must be paid by -^ every man who would avoid present discredit and eventual moral insolvency. It is an obligation — a debt — which can only be discharged by voluntary effort and resolute action in the affairs ot life. Duty embraces man's whole existence. It begins in the home, where there is the duty which children owe to their parents on the one hand, and the duty which parents owe to their children on the other. There are, in like manner, the respective duties of husbands and wives, of masters and servants; while outside the home there are the duties which men and women owe to each other as friends and neighbors, as employers and employed, as governors and governed. a Render, therefore," says St. Paul, "to all their dues: tribute to whom tribute is due; custom to whom custom; 222 The Abiding Sense of Duty. 223 tear to whom fear; honor to whom honor. Owe no man any thing, but to love one another; for he that loveth another hath fulfilled the law." Thus duty rounds the whole of life, from our entrance into it until our exit from it — duty to superiors, duty to inferiors, and duty to equals — duty to man, and duty to God. Wherever there is power to use or to direct, there is duty. For we are but as stewards, appointed to employ the means entrusted to us for our own and for other's good. The abiding sense of duty is the very crown of char- acter. It is the upholding law of man in his highest attitudes. Without it, the individual totters and falls before the first puff of adversity or temptation; where- as, inspired by it, the weakest becomes strong and full of courage. "Duty," says Mrs. Jameson, "is the ce- ment which binds the whole moral edifice together; without which, all power, goodness, intellect, truth, happiness, love itself, can have no permanence] but all the fabric of existence crumbles away from under us, and leaves us at last sitting in the midst of a ruin,, astonished at our own desolation." Duty is based upon a sense of justice — justice inspired by love, which is the most perfect form of goodness. Duty is not a sentiment, but a principle pervading the life: and it exhibits itself in conduct and in acts, which are mainly determined by man's conscience and free- will. The voice of conscience speaks in duty done; and 224 Conscience and Will. without its regulating and controlling influence, the brightest and greatest intellect may be merely as a light that leads astray. Conscience sets a man upon his feet, while his will holds him upright. Conscience is the moral governor of the heart — the governor of right action, of right thought, of right faith, of right life — and only through its dominating influence can the noble and upright character be fully developed. The conscience, however, may speak never so loudly, but without energetic will it may speak in vain. The will is free to choose between the right course and the wrong one, but the choice is nothing unless followed by immediate and decisive action. If the sense of duty be strong, and the course of action clear, the courageous will, upheld by the conscience, enables a man to proceed on his course bravely, and to accomplish his purposes in the face of all opposition and difficulty. And should failure be the issue, there will remain at least this satis- faction, that it has been in the cause of duty. " Be and continue poor, young man," said Heinzel- mann, " while others around you grow rich by fraud and disloyalty; be without place or power, while others beg their way upward ; bear the pain of disappointed hopes, while others gain the accomplishment of theirs by flat- tery ; forego the gracious pressure of the hand, for which others cringe and crawl. Wrap yourself in your own virtue, and seek a friend and your daily bread. If you have in your own cause grown gray with unbleached honor, bless God and die! " The Sense of Honor. 225 To live really is to act energetically. Life is a battle to be fought valiantly. Inspired by high and honorable resolve, a man must stand to his post, and die there, if need be. Like the old Danish hero, his determination should be, " to dare nobly, to wilL strongly, and never to falter in the path of duty." The power of will, be it great or small, which God has given us, is a Divine gift; and we ought neither to let it perish for want of using, on the one hand, nor profane it by employing it for ignoble purposes, on the other. Robertson, of Brighton, has truly said, that man's real greatness consists not in seeking his own pleasure, or fame or advancement — <( not that every one shall save his own life, not that every man shall seek his own glory — but that every man shall do his own duty." What most stands in the way of the performance of duty, is irresolution, weakness of purpose, and indecis- ion. On the one side are conscience and the knowledge of good and evil; oi^the other are indolence, selfishness, love of pleasure, or passion. The weak and ill-disci- plined will may remain suspended for a time between these influences; but at length the balance inclines one way or the other, according as the will is called into action or otherwise. If it be allowed to remain passive, the lower influence of selfishness or passion will pre- vail ; and thus manhood suffers abdication, individuality is renounced, character is degraded, and the man permits himself to become the mere passive slave of his sense. 15 226 Bacredness of Duty. Thus, the power of exercising the will promptly, in obedience to the dictates of conscience, and thereby resisting the impulses of the lower nature, is of essential importance in moral discipline, and absolutely necessary for the developement of character in its best forms. To acquire the habit of well-doing, to resist evil propensi- ties, to fight against sensual desires, to overcome inborn selfishness, may require a long and perservering disci- pline; but when once the practice of duty is learned, it becomes consolidated in habit, and thenceforward is comparatively easy. The valiant good man is he who, by the resolute exercise of his free-will, has so disciplined himself as to have acquired the habit of virtue, as the bad man is he who by allowing his free-will to remain inactive, and giving the bridle to his desires and passions, has acquired the habit of vice, by which he becomes, at last, bound as by chains of iron. A man can only achieve strength of purpose by the action of his own free will. If he is to stand erect, it must be by his own efforts; for he can not be kept propped up by the help of others. He is master of himself and of his actions. He can avoid falsehood, and be truthful; he can shun sensualism and be con- tinent; he can turn aside from doing a cruel thing, and be benevolent and forgiving. All these lie within the sphere of individual efforts, and come within the range of self-discipline. And it depends upon men themselves whether in these respects they will be free, pure, and The Spirit of Duty. 221 good, on the one hand; or enslaved, impure, and miser- able, on the other. The sense of duty is a sustaining power even to a courageous man. It holds him upright, and makes him strong. It was a noble saying of Pompey, when his friends tried to dissuade him from embarking for Rome in a storm, telling him that he did so at the great peril of his life: tc It is necessary for me to go," he said; " it is not necessary for me to live.'" What it was right that he should do, he would do, in the face of danger and in defiance of storms. As might be expected of the great Washington, the chief motive power in his life was the spirit of duty. It was the regal and commanding element in his charac- ter which gave it unity, compactness, and vigor. When he clearly saw his duty before him, he did it at all hazards, and with inflexible integrity. He did not do it for effect ; nor did he think of glory, or of fame and its rewards; but of the right thing to be done, and the best way of doing it. Yet Washington had a most modest opinion of him- self; and when offered the chief command of the Amer- ican patriot army, he hesitated to accept it until it was pressed upon him. When acknowledging in Congress the honor which had been done him in selecting him to so important a trust, on the execution of which the fu- ture of his country in a great measure depended, Wash- ington said: U I beg it may be remembered, lest some un- lucky event should happen unfavorable to my reputation, 228 Washington s Sense of Duty. that I this clay declare, with the utmost sincerity, I do not think myself equal to the command I am honored with." And in his letter to his wife, communicating to her his appointment as commander-in-chief, he said: " I have used every endeavor in my power to avoid it, not only from my unwillingness to part with you and the family, but from a consciousness of its being a trust too great for my capacity; and that I should enjoy more real happiness in one month with you at home than I have the most distant prospect of finding abroad, if my stay were to be seven times seven years. But, as it has been a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon this service, I shall hope that my undertaking it is design- ed for some good purpose. It was utterly out of my power to refuse the appointment, without exposing my character to such censures as would have reflected dis- honor upon myself, and given pain to my friends. This, I am sure, could not, and ought not, to be pleasing to you, and must have lessened me considerably in my own esteem." Washington pursued his upright course through life, first as commander-in-chief, and afterwards as president, never faltering in the path of duty. He had no regard for popularity, but held to his purpose through good and through evil report, often at the risk of his power and influence. Thus, on one occasion, when the rati- fication of a treaty, arranged by Mr. Jay with Great Britain, was in question, Washington was urged to reject it. But his honor, and the honor of his country, Washington's Ideal of Duty. 229 was committed, and he refused to do so. A great out- cry was raised against the treaty, and for a time Wash- ington was so unpopular that he is said to have been actually stoned by the mob. But he, nevertheless, held it to be his duty to ratify the treaty ; and it was carried out in despite of petitions and remonstrances from all quarters. " While I feel," he said, in answer to the remonstrants, " the most lively gratitude for the many instances of approbation from my country, I can no otherwise deserve it than by obeying the dictates of my conscience." Wellington's watch-word, like Washington's, was duty; and no man could be more loyal to it than he was. " There is little or nothing," he once said, " in this life worth living for ; but we can all of us go straight forward and do our duty." None recognized more cheerfully than he did the duty of obedience and willing service; for unless men can serve faithfully, they will not rule others wisely. There is no motto that becomes the wise man better than Ich dien, " I serve;" and " They also serve who only stand and wait." When the mortification of an officer, because of his being appointed to a command inferior to what he con- sidered to be his merits, was communicated to the duke, he said: "In the course of my military career, I have gone from the command of a brigade to that of a regi- ment, and from the command of an army to that of a brigade or a division, as I was ordered, and without any feeling of mortification." 230 Duty and 'Truthfulness. Duty is closely allied to truthfulness of character; and the dutiful man is, above all things, truthful in his words as in his actions. He says and he does the right thing in the right way, and at the right time. There is probably no saying of Lord Chesterfield that commends itself more strongly to the approval of man- ly-minded men, than that it is truth that makes the success of the gentleman. Clarendon, speaking of one of the noblest and purest gentlemen of his age, says of Falkland, that he " was so severe an adorer of truth, that he could as easily have given himself leave to steal as to dissemble." It was one of the finest things that Mrs. Hutchinson could say of her husband, that he was a thoroughly truthful and reliable man: " He never professed the thing he intended not, nor promised what he believed out of his power, nor failed in the performance of any thing that was in his power to fulfill." Wellington was a severe admirer of truth. An illus- tration may be given. When afflicted by deafness, he consulted a celebrated aurist, who, after trying all reme- dies in vain, determined, as a last resource, to inject into the ear a strong solution of caustic. It caused the most intense pain, but the patient bore it with his usual equa- nimity. The family physician accidently calling one day, found the duke with flushed cheeks and blood-shot eyes, and when he rose he staggered about like a drunk- en man. The doctor asked to be permitted to look at his ear, and then he found that a furious inflammation Resistance to Falsehood. 231 was going on, which, if not immediately checked, must shortly reach the brain and kill him. Vigorous reme- dies were at once applied, and the inflammation was checked. But the hearing of that ear was completely destroyed. When the aurist heard of the danger his patient had run, through the violence of the remedy he had employed, he hastened to Apsley House to express his grief and mortification; but the duke merely said: " Do not say a word more about it — you did all for the best." The aurist said it would be his ruin when it became known that he had been the cause of so much suffering and danger to his grace. " But nobody need know any thing about it: keep your own counsel, and, depend upon it, I won't say a word to any one." " Then your grace will allow me to attend } T ou as usual, which will show the public that you have not withdrawn your confidence from me?" " No," replied the duke, kindly but firmly; "I can't do that, for that would be a lie." He would not act a falsehood any more than he would speak one. Truth is the very bond of society, without which it must cease to exist, and dissolve into anarchy and chaos. A household can not be governed by lying ; nor *can a nation. Sir Thomas Browne once asked, " Do the devils lie?" " No," was his answer; " for then even hell could not subsist." No considerations can justify the sacrifice of truth, which ought to be sovereign in all the relations of life. Of all mean vices, perhaps lying is the meanest. It is 232 Truth the Bond of Society. in some cases the offspring of perversity and vice, and in many others of sheer moral cowardice. Yet man}^ persons think so lightly of it that they will order their servants to lie for them; nor can they feel surprised if, after such ignoble instruction, they find their servants lying for themselves. Sir Harry Wotton's description of an ambassador as. " an honest man sent to lie abroad for the benefit of his country," though meant as a satire, brought him into disfavor with James I. when it became published; for an adversary quoted it as a principle of the king's religion. That it was not Wotton 1 s real view of the duty of an honest man, is obvious" from the lines quoted at the head of this chapter, on " The Character of a Happy Life," in which he eulogizes the man "Whose armor is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill." But lying assumes many forms — such as diplomacy, expediency, and moral reservation; and, under one guise or another, it is found more or less pervading all classes of society. Sometimes it assumes the form of equivo- cation or moral dodging- — twisting and so stating the things said as to convey a false impression — a kind of lying which a Frenchman once described as " walking round about the truth." There are even men of narrow minds and dishonest natures, who pride themselves upon their Jesuitical clev- erness in equivocation, in their serpent-wise shirking of the truth and getting out of moral back-doors, in order Equivocation and Pretentiousness. 233 to hide their real opinions and evade the consequences of holding and openly professing them. Institutions or systems based upon any such expedients must necessa- rily prove false and hollow. "Though a lie be ever so well dressed,' 1 says George Herbert, "it is ever over- come." Downright lying, though bolder and more vicious, is even less contemptible than such kind of shuffling and equivocation. Untruthfulness exhibits itself in many other forms: in reticency on the one hand, or exaggeration on the other; in disguise or concealment; in pretended concur- rence in others' opinions; in assuming an attitude of conformity which is deceptive; in making promises, or allowing them to be implied, which are never intended to be performed; or even in refraining from speaking the truth when to do so is a duty. There are also those who are all things to all men, who say one thing and do another, like Bunyan's Mr. Facing-both-ways; only deceiving themselves when they think they are deceiving- others — and who, being essentially insincere, fail to evoke confidence, and invariably in the end turn out failures, if not impostors. Others are untruthful in their pretentiousness, and in assuming merits which they do not really possess. The truthful man is, on the contrary, modest, and makes no parade of himself and his deeds. When Pitt was in his last illness, the news reached England of the great deeds of Wellington in India. " The more I hear of his ex- ploits," said Pitt, " the more I admire the modesty with 234 Dr. Hall— Dr. Arnold. ^vhich he receives the praises he merits for them. He is the only man I ever knew that was not vain of what he had done, and yet had so much reason to be so." So it is said of Faraday by Professor Tyndall, that "pretense of all kinds, whether in life or in philosophy, was hateful to him." Dr. Marshall Hall was a man of like spirit — courageously truthful, dutiful, and manly. One of his most intimate friends has said of him that, wherever he met with untruthfulness or sinister motive, he would expose it, saying, " I neither will, nor can, give my consent to a lie." The question, " right or wrong," once decided in his own mind, the right was followed, no matter what the sacrifice or the difficulty — neither expediency nor inclination weighing one jot in the balance. There was no virtue that Dr. Arnold labored more sedulously to instill into young men than the virtue of truthfulness, as being the manliest of virtues, as indeed the very basis of all true manliness. He designated truthfulness as " moral transparency," and he valued it more highly than any other quality. When lying was detected, he treated it as a great moral offense; but when a pupil made an assertion, he accepted it with confidence. "If you say so, that is quite enough; of course I believe your word." By thus trusting and be- lieving them, he educated the young in truthfulness; the hoys at length coming to say to one another: " It's a shame to tell Arnold a lie — he always believes one." CHAPTER XXIT. DUTY CONSCIENCE. The Sphere of Duty. — An American Legislator. — Foundation of Duty.— Conscience. — Power of Will. — Religion. — Self-control. — The best Govern- ment. — Plato. — The New Testament Ideal. — Dr. Macleod. — Character. " He walked attended By a strong, aiding champion — Conscience." — Milton. \ li /TAN does not live for himself alone. He lives J^ for the good of others as well as of himself. Every one has his duties to perform — the richest as well as the poorest. To some life is pleasure, to others .suffering/ But the best do not live for self-enjoyment, or even for fame. Their strongest motive power is hopeful, useful work in every good cause. Hierocles says that each one of us is a centre, circumscribed by many concentric circles. From ourselves the first circle extends — comprising parents, wife, and children. The next concentring circle com- prises relations; then fellow-citizens; and lastly, the whole human race. To do our duty in this world toward God and toward man, consistently and steadily, requires the cultivation of all the faculties which God hath given us. And He 2 35 23(3 The Sphere of Duty. has given us everything. It is the higher Will that instructs and guides our will. It is the knowledge of good and evil, the knowledge of what is right and what is wrong, that makes us responsible to man here, and to God hereafter. The sphere of Duty is infinite. It exists in every station of life. We have it not in our choice to be rich or poor, to be happy or unhappy; but it becomes us to do the duty that everywhere surrounds us. Obedience to duty, at all costs and risks, is the very essence of the highest civilized life. Great deeds must be worked for, hoped for, died for, now as in the past. But how to learn to do one's duty. Can there be any difficulty here? First, there is the pervading, abiding sense of duty to God. Then follow others: Duty to one's family; duty to our neighbors; duty of masters to servants, and of servants to masters, duty to our fellow-creatures; duty to the state, which has also its^duty to perform to the citizen. Many of these duties are performed privately. Our public life may be well known, but in private there is that which no one sees — the inner life of the soul and spirit. We have it in our choice to be worthy or worth- less. No one can kill our soul, which can perish only by its own suicide. If we can only make ourselves and each other a little better, holier, and nobler, we have perhaps done the most that we could. Here is the manner in which an American legislator stood to his post: Foundation of Duty. 237 An eclipse of the sun happened in New England about a century ago. The heavens became very dark, and it seemed by many that the Day of Judgment was at hand. The Legislature of Connecticut happened then to be in session, and on the darkness coming on, a member moved the adjournment of the House, on which an old Puritan legislator, Davenport of Stamford, rose up and said that if the last day had come, he desired to be found in his place and doing his duty; for which reasons he moved that candles should be brought, so that the House might proceed with its business. Waiting at the post of Duty was the maxim of the wise man, and he carried his motion. The foundation of Duty depends upon Liberty. Me must be free in order to perform their public duties, as well as to build up their individual character. They are free to think; they must also be free to act. At the same time liberty may be used to do evil rather than to do good. There is a stronger word than Liberty — Conscience. From the beginning of civilization the power of this word has been acknowledged. " In our own breast, we have a God — our conscience." Conscience is that peculiar faculty of the soul which may be called the religious instinct. It first reveals itself when we become aware of the strife between a higher and a lower nature within us — of spirit warring against flesh — of good striving for the mastery over evil. Look where you will, in the church or without 238 Power of Will the church, the same struggle is always going on — war for life or death ; men and women wrung with pain because they love the good and cannot yet attain it. It is out of this experience that Religion is born — the higher law leading us up to One whom the law of conscience represents. "It is an introspection," says Canon Mosely, " on which all religion has been built. Man going into himself and seeing the struggle within him, and thence getting self-knowledge, and thence the knowledge of God." Under this influence man knows and feels what is right and wrong. He has the choice between good and evil. And because he is free to choose, he is responsible. Whatever men may theoretically believe, none practi- cally feel that their actions are necessary and inevitable. There is no constraint upon our volition. We know that we are not compelled, as by a spell, to obey any particular motive. " We feel," says John Stuart Mill, " that if we wished to prove that we have the power of resisting the motive, we could do so; and it would be humiliating to our pride, and paralyzing to our desire of excellence, if we thought otherwise." Our actions are controllable, else why do men all over the world enact laws ? They are enacted in order to be obeyed because it is the universal belief, as it is the universal fact that men obey them or not, very much as they determine. We feel each one of us that our habits and temptations are not our masters, but we of them. Even in yielding to them we know Religion. 23$ that we could resist, and that, were we desirous of throwing them off altogether, there could not be required for that purpose a stronger desire or will than we know ourselves to be capable of feeling. To enjoy spiritual freedom of the highest kind, the mind must have been awakened by knowledge. As the mind has become enlightened, and conscience shows its power, the responsibility of man increases. He submits himself to the influence of the Supreme Will, and acts in conformity with it — not by constraint, but cheerfully^ and the law which holds him is that of Love. In the act of belief, implying knowledge and confidence, his humanity unfolds. He feels that by his own free act, his faith in and his working in conformity to the purpose of a Divine Will, he is achieving good, and securing the highest good. Where there is no such acknowledgment of Divine law, men act in obedience to sense, to passion, to self- ishness. In indulging any vicious propensity, they know they are doing wrong. Their conscience con- demns them. The law of nature cries out against them. They know that their act has been willful and sinful. But their power to resist in the future has become weakened. Their will has lost power; and next time the temptation offers, the resistance will be less. Then the habit is formed. The curse of every evil deed is that, propagating still, it brings forth evil. But conscience is not dead. We cannot dig a grave for it, and tell it to lie there. We may trample it under 240 Self -Control. foot, but it still lives. Every sin or crime has, at the moment of its perpetration, its own avenging angel. We can not blind our eyes to it, or stop our ears to it. " 'Tis conscience that makes cowards of us all." There comes a day of judgment, even in this world, when it stands up confronting us, and warning us to return to the life of well-doing. Conscience is permanent and universal. It is the very essence of individual character. It gives a man self-control — the power of resisting temptations and defying them. Every man is bound to develop his individuality, to endeavor to find the right way of life, and to walk in it. He has the will to do so: he has the power to be himself and not the echo of somebody else, nor the reflection of lower conditions, nor the spirit of current conventions. True manhood comes from self- control — from subjection of the lower powers to the higher conditions of our being. The only comprehensive and sustained exercise of self-control is to be attained through the ascendency of conscience — in the sense of duty performed. It is con- science alone which sets a man on his feet, frees him from the dominions of his own passions and propensities. It places him in relation to the best interests of his kind. The truest source of enjoyment is found in the paths of duty alone. Enjoyment will come as the unbidden sweetener of labor, and crown every right work. Without conscience a man can have no higher principle of action than pleasure. He does what he 16 Mercy and Loving Kindness* 241 likes best, whether it be sensuality or even sensuous intellectual enjoyment. We are not sent into the world to follow our own bent — to indulge merely in self-satis- faction. The whole constitution of nature works against this idea of life. The mind ought never to be held in subjection to the lower parts of our nature. There can be no self-sacrifice, no self-denial, no self- control — except what may be necessary to avoid the consequences of human law. A race so constituted, with intellect and passions such as man possesses, and without the paramount influence of conscience to govern their deeds, would soon be consigned to utter anarchy, and terminate in mutual destruction. We partly see the results already, in the mad riot in human life which has recently prevailed among the Nihilists in Germany and Russia, and the fire and destruction of the Communists' war in Paris. Such a principle prevailing throughout society can lead to nothing else than utter demoralization — individual, social, and national. It is well for the soul to look on actions done for love, not for selfish objects, but for duty, mercy, and loving- kindness. There are many things done for love which are a thousand times better than those done for money. The former inspire the spirit of heroism and self-devo- tion. The latter die with the giving. Duty that is bought is worth little. " I consider," said Dr. Arnold, " beyond all wealth, honor, or even health, is the attachment due to noble souls: because to become one 242 Intellectual Power. with the good, generous, and true, is to be in a manner good, generous, and true yourself.' 1 Every man has a service to do, to himself as an individual, and to those who are near him. In fact,, life is of little value unless it be consecrated by duty* " Show those qualities, then," said Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, " which are altogether in thy power — sin- cerity^ gravity, endurance of labor, aversion to pleasure,, contentment with thy portion, and with few things r benevolence, frankness, and magnanimity. " The greatest intellectual power may exist without a particle of magnanimity. The latter comes from the highest power in man's mind — conscience, and from the highest faculty, reason, and capacity for faith — that by which man is capable of apprehending more than the senses supply. It is this which makes man a reasonable creature — more than a mere animal. Mr. Darwin has truly said " that the motives of conscience as connected with repentance and the feelings of duty, are the most important differences which separate man from the animal." We are invited to believe in the all-powerful potency of matter. We are to believe only in what we can see with our eyes and touch with our hands. We are to believe in nothing that we do not understand. But how very little do we absolutely know and understand! We see only the surfaces of things, " as in a glass darkly." How can matter help us to understand the mysteries of life? We know absolutely nothing about The Materialist. 243 the causes of volition, sensation, and mental action. We know that they exist, but we can not understand them. When a young man declared to Dr. Parr that he would believe nothing he did not understand, " Then sir," said the doctor, " your creed would be the shortest of any man whom I ever knew." But Sydney Smith said a better thing than this. At a dinner at Holland House a foreigner announced himself as a materialist. Presently Sydney Smith observed, " A very good soufflet this!" To which the materialist rejoined, " Oui, monsieur; il est ravissant!" "By the way," replied Smith, with his usual knock-down application, " may I ask, sir, whether you happen to believe in a cook?" We must believe a thousand things that we do not understand. Matter and its combinations are as great a mystery as Life is. Look at those numberless far-off worlds majestically wheeling in their appointed orbits; or at this earth on which we live, performing its diurnal motion on its own axis, during its annual circle round the sun. What do we understand about the causes of such motions? What can we ever know about them beyond the fact that such things are? " The circuit of the sun in the heavens," says Pascal, " vast as it is, is itself only a delicate point when com- pared with the vaster circuit that is accomplished by the stars. Beyond the range of sight, this universe is but a spot in the ample bosom of nature. We can 244 Conduct. only imagine of atoms as compared with the reality, which is an infinite sphere, of which the centre is every- where, the circumference nowhere. What is man in the midst of this infinite? But there is another prospect not less astounding; it is the Infinite beneath him. Let him look to the smallest of the things which come under his notice — a mite. It has limbs, veins, blood circulat- ing in them, globules in that blood, humors, and serum. Within the inclosure of this atom I will show you not merely the visible universe, but the very immensity of Nature. Whoever gives his mind to thoughts such as this will be terrified at himself — trembling where Nature has placed him — suspended, as it were, between infinity and nothingness. The Author of these wonders comprehends them; none but he can do so." Confucius taught his disciples to believe that Conduct is three-fourths of life. " Ponder righteousness, and practise virtue. Knowledge, magnanimity, and energy, are universally binding. Gravity, generosity of soul, sincerity, earnestness, and kindness, constitute perfect virtue.' 1 These words come to us as the far-off echo of the great teacher of ten thousand ages, as his disciples called him — the holy and prescient sage Confucius. But all these virtues come from the innate monitor Conscience. From this first principle all rules of behavior are drawn. It bids us do what we call right, and forbids us doing what we call wrong. At its fullest growth it bids us do what makes others happy, Plato. 245 and forbids us doing what makes others unhappy. The great lesson to be learned is, that man must strengthen himself to perform his duty and do what is right, seeking his happiness and inward peace in objects that cannot be taken away from him. Conscience is the conflict by which we get the mastery over our own failings. It is a silent working of the inner man, by which he proves his peculiar power of the will and spirit of God. Plato taught without money and without price. It is not necessary to follow his history. Suffice it to say, that he devoted himself to the inculcation of truth, morality, and duty. He divided the four cardinal virtues into (i) Prudence and wisdom; (2) Courage, constancy, and fortitude; (3) Temperance, discretion, and self-control; and (4) Justice and righteousness. He assumed this division of virtue as the basis of his moral philosophy. " Let men of all ranks," he said, " whether they are successful or unsuccessful, whether they triumph or not — let them do their duty, and rest satisfied." What a lesson for future ages lies in these words ! The New Testament gives a glorified ideal of a possible human life; but hard are his labors who endeavors to keep that ideal uppermost in his mind. We feel that there is something else that we would like to do, much better than the thing that is incumbent upon us. But the duty is there, and it must be done, without dreaming or idling. How much of the 2-46 Faithfulness. philosophy of moral health and happiness is involved in the injunction, " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might." He that does his best, whatever his lot may be, is on the sure road of advancement. It is related of one, who in the depths of his despair cried, " It is of no use to be good, for you can not be good, and if you were, it would do you no good." It is hopeless, truthless, and faithless, thus to speak of the goodness of word and work. Each one of us can do a little good in our own sphere of life. If we can do it, we are bound to do it. We have no more right to render ourselves useless than to destroy ourselves. We have to be faithful in small things as well as in great. We are required to make as good a use of our one talent as of the many talents that have been conferred upon us. We can follow the dictates of our conscience, and walk, though alone, in the paths of duty. We can be honest, truthful, diligent, were it only out of respect for one's self. We have to be faithful even to the end. Who is not struck with the answer of the slave who, when asked by an intending purchaser, " Wilt thou be 'faithful if I buy thee?" " Yes," said the slave, " whether you buy me or not." In the description of a sermon preached to the work- ing classes by the late Dr. Macleod, in the Barony Church of Glasgow, it is said that he made a grand stand for Character. From the highest to the lowest Faithfulness. 2il that was the grand aim to be made. He said that " the most valuable thing that Prince Albert had left was Character. He knew perfectly well that many very poor people thought it was impossible for them to have a character. It was not true; he would not hear of it. There was not a man or woman before him, however poor they might be, but had it in their power, by the grace of God, to leave behind them the grandest thing on earth, Character; and their children might rise up after them and thank God that their mother was a pious woman, or their father a pious man.'" Character is made up of small duties faithfully per- formed — of self-denials, of self-sacrifices, of kindly acts of love and duty. The backbone of character is laid at home; and whether the constitutional tendencies be good or bad, home influences will as a rule fan them into activity. " He that is faithful in little is faithful in much; and he that is unfaithful in little is unfaithful also in much." Kindness begets kindness, and truth and trust will bear a rich harvest of truth and trust. There are many little trivial acts of kindness which teach us more about a man's character than many vague phrases. These are easy to acquire, and their effects will last much longer than this very temporary life. For no good thing is ever lost. Nothing dies, not even life, which gives up one form only to resume another. No good action, no good example, dies. It lives forever in our race. While the frame moulders and disappears, the deed leaves an indelible stamp, and 248 Faithfulness* moulds the very thought and will of future generations. Time is not the measure of a noble work; the coming age will share our joy. A single virtuous action has elevated a whole village, a whole city, a whole nation. "The present moment," says Goethe, " is a powerful deity." Man's best products are his happy and sancti- fying thoughts, which, when once formed and put in practice, extend their fertilizing influence for thousands of years, and from generation to generation. It is from small seeds dropped into the ground that the finest pro- ductions grow; and it is from the inborn dictates of Conscience and the inspired principle of Duty that the finest growths of character have arisen. CHAPTER XXIII. DUTY IN ACTION, Duty at Home. — Direction of the Will. — Characterless Men. — Lock on the Will. — School Teaching and Morality. — Human Liberty. — Noble Work. — Difficulties. — Laziness. — Resolution and Courage. — Intellectual Ability. — Lady Verney on Literature. — Discipline of Home. ' ' Do noble things, not dream them, all day long. And so make life, death, and that vast forever, one grand, sweet song." — Charles Kingsley. vlTE who has well considered his duty will at once carry his convictions into action. Our acts are the only things that are in our power. They not only form the sum of our habits, but of our character. At the same time the course of duty is not always the easy course. It has many oppositions and difficul- ties to surmount. We may have the sagacity to see> but not the strength of purpose to do. To the irresolute there is many a lion in the way. He thinks and moral- izes and dreams, but does nothing. " There is little to see,' 1 said a hard worker, "and little to do; it is only to do it." There must not only be a conquest over likings and dislikings; but, what is harder to attain, a triumph over adverse repute. The man whose first question, after a 249 250 Duty at Home. right course of action has presented itself, is " What will people say?' 1 is not the man to do anything at all. But if he asks, " is it my duty?" he can then proceed in his moral panoply, and be ready to incur men's censure, and even to brave their ridicule. iC Let us have faith in fine actions," says M. de la Cretelle, " and let us reserve doubt and incredulity for bad. It is even better to be deceived than to distrust." Duty is first learned at home. The child comes into the world helpless and dependent on others for its health, nurture, and moral and physical development. The child at length imbibes ideas; under proper influences he learns to obey, to control himself, to be kind to others, to be dutiful and happy. He has a will of his own; but whether it be well or ill directed depends very much upon parental influences. The habit of willing is called purpose; and, from what has been said, the importance of forming a right purpose early in life will be obvious. ''Character," says Novals, "is a completely-fashioned will ; and the will, when once fashioned, may be steady and constant for life. When the true man, bent on good, holds by his purpose, he places but small value on the rewards or praises of the world; his own approving conscience, and the " well done " which awaits him, is his best reward. Will, considered without regard to direction, is simple constancy, firmness, perseverance. But it will be obvious that, unless the direction of the character Direction of the Will 251 be right, the strong will ma}- be merely a power for mischief. In great tyrants it is a demon; with power to wield, it knows no bounds nor restraint. It holds millions subject to it; inflames their passions, excites them to military fury, and is never satisfied but in conquering, destroying, and tyrannizing. The bound- less Will produces an Alexander or a Napoleon. Alexander cried because there were no more kingdoms to conquer; and Bonaparte, after overrunning Europe, spent his force amid the snows of Russia. " Conquest has made me,' 1 he said, "and conquest must maintain me. 1 ' But he was a man of no moral principle, and Europe cast him aside when his work of destruction was done. The strong Will, allied to right motives, is as full of blessings as the other is of mischief. The man thus influenced moves and inflames the minds and consciences of others. He bends them in his views of duty, carries them with him in his endeavors to secure worthy objects, and directs opinion to the suppression of wrong and the establishment of right. The man of strong will stamps power upon his actions. His energetic perseverance becomes habitual. He gives a tone to the company in which he is, to the society in which he lives, and even to the nation in which he is born. He is a joy to the timid, and a perpetual reproach to the sluggard. He sets the former on their feet by giving them hope. He may even inspire the latter to good deeds by the influence of his example. 252 Characterless Men. Besides the men of strong bad wills and strong good wills, there is a far larger number who have very weak wills, or no wills at all. They are characterless. They have no strong will for vice, yet they have none for virtue. They are the passive recipients of im- pressions, which, however, take no hold of them. They seem neither to go forward nor backward. As the wind blows, so their vane turns round; and when the wind blows from another quarter, it turns round again. Any instrument can write on such spirits; any will can govern theirs. They cherish no truth strongly, and do not know what earnestness is. Such persons constitute the mass of society everywhere — the care- less, the passive, the submissive, the feeble, and the indifferent. It is, therefore, of the utmost importance that at- tention should be directed to the improvement and strengthening of the Will; for without this there can neither be indepencence, nor firmness, nor individuality of character. Without k we cannot give truth its proper force, nor morals their proper direction, nor save ourselves from being machines in the hands of worthless and designing men. Intellectual cultivation will not give decision of character. Philosophers discuss; decisive men act. u Not to resolve," says Bacon, " is to resolve " — that is, to do nothing., "The right time," says Locke, "to educate the Will aright is in youth. There is a certain season when our minds may be enlarged, when a vast stock Shaftesbury and Locke- 253 of useful truths may be acquired; when our passions will readily submit to the government of reason: when right principles may be so fixed in us as to influence every important action in our future lives. But the season for this extends neither to the whole nor to any considerable length of our continuance upon earth. It is limited to but a few years of our term; and if throughout these we neglect it, error or ignorance is, according to the ordinary course of things, entailed upon us. Our Will becomes our law; and our lusts gain a strength which we afterward vainly oppose." The first Lord Shaftesbury, in a conversation with Locke, broached a theory of character and conduct which threw a light upon his own. He said that wis- dom lay in the heart and not in the head, and that it was not the want of knowledge but the perverseness of will that filled men's actions with folly, and their lives with disorder. Mere knowledge does not give vigor to character. A man may reason too much. He may weigh the thousand probabilities on either side, and come to no action, no decision. Knowledge is thus a check upon action. The Will must act in the light of the spirit and the understanding, and the soul then springs into full light and action. Indeed the learning of letters and words and sentences is not of the importance that some think it to be. Learning has nothing to do with goodness or happiness. It may destroy humilit} T and give place to pride. The chief movers of men have been little addicted to 254 School Teaching. literature. Literary men have often attained to great- ness of thought which influences men in all ages; but they rarely attain to moral greatness of action, Men cannot be raised in masses, as the mountains were in the early geological states of the world. They must be dealt with as units; for it is only by the eleva- tion of individuals that the elevation of the masses can be effectually secured. Teachers and preachers may influence them from without, but the main action comes from within. Individual men must exert themselves and help themselves, otherwise they never can be effectually helped b} T others. " As habits belonging to the body," says Dr. Butler, " are produced by external acts, so habits of the mind are produced by the exertion of inward practical purposes — by carrying them into action or acting upon them — the principles of obedience, of veracity, justice, and charity." There is little or no connection between school teach- ing and morality. Mere cultivation of the intellect has hardly any influence upon conduct. Creeds posted upon the memory will not eradicate vicious propensities. The intellect is merely an instrument, which is moved and worked by forces behind it — by emotions, by self- restraint, by self-control, by imagination, by enthusiasm, by everything that gives force and energy to character. The most of these principles are implanted at home, and not at school. Where the home is miserable, worthless, and unprincipled — a place rather to be avoided than entered — then school is the only place for Human Liberty. 2bo learning ooeclience and discipline. At the same time, home is the true soil where virtue grows. The events of the household are more near and affecting to us than those of the school and the academy, It is in the study of the home that the true character and hopes of the times are to be consulted. To train up their households is the business of the old ; to obey their parents and to grow in wisdom is the business of the young. Education is a work of author- ity and respect. Christianity, according to Guizot, is the greatest school of respect that the world has ever seen. Religious instruction alone imparts the spirit of self-sacrifice, great virtues, and lofty thoughts. It penetrates to the conscience, and makes life bearable without a murmur against the mystery of human conditions. " The great end of training, 11 says a great writer, " is liberty; and the sooner you can get a child to be a law unto himself, the sooner you will make a man of him." "I will respect human liberty, 11 said Monseigneur Dupanloup, u in the smallest child even more scrupu- lously than in a grown man; for the latter can defend it against me, while the child can not. Never will I insult the child so far as to regard him as material to be cast into a mould, to emerge with the stamp given by my will." Paternal authority and family independence is a sacred domain; and if momentarily obscured in troublous times, Christian sentiment protests and resists until it regains. 256 JVoble Work. its authority. But liberty is not all that should be struggled for; obedience, self-restraint, and self-govern- ment, are the conditions to be chiefly aimed at. The latter is the principle end of education. It is not imparted by* teaching, but by example. The first instruction for youth, says Bonald, consists in habits, not in reasonings, in examples rather than in direct lessons. Example preaches better than precept, and that too because it is so much more difficult. At the same time, the best influences grow slowly, and in a gradual correspondence with human needs. Noble work is the true educator. Idleness is a thorough demoralizer of body, soul, and conscience. Nine tenths of the vices and miseries of the world proceed from idleness. Without work there can be no active progress in human welfare. Mo more insuffera- ble misery can be conceived than that which must follow incommunicable privileges. Imagine an idle man condemned to perpetual youth, while all around him decay and die. How sincerely would he call upon death for deliverance! " The weakest living creatures," says Carlyle, " by concentrating his powers on a single object, can accomplish something; whereas the strong- est, by dispersing his over many, may fail to accomplish any thing.' ' Have we difficulties to contend with? Then work through them. No exorcism charms like labor. Idle- ness of mind and body resembles rust. It wears more than work. " I would rather work out than rust out," Difficulties. 257 said a noble worker. Schiller said that he found the greatest happiness in life to consist in the permormance of some mechanical duty. He was also of opinion that " the sense of beauty never furthered the performance of a single duty." The highest order of being is that w r hich loses sight in resolution, and feeling in work. The greatest of difficulties often lie where we are not looking for them. When painful events occur, they are, perhaps, sent only to try and prove us. If we stand firm in our hour of trial, the firmness gives serenity to the mind, which always feels satisfaction in acting con- formably to duty. " The battles of the wilderness, 11 said Norman Macleod, " are the sore battles of every- day life. Their giants are our giants, their sorrows our sorrows, their defeats and victories ours also. As they had honors, defeats, and victories, so have we.' 1 The school of difficult) 7 is the best school of moral discipline. When difficulties have to be encountered, they must be met with courage and cheerfulness. Did not Aristotle say that happiness is not so much in our objects as in our energies? Grappling with difficulties is the surest way of overcoming them. The determi- nation to realize an object is the moral conviction that we can and will accomplish it. Our wits are sharpened by our necessity, and the individual man stands forth to meet and overcome the difficulties which stand in his way. The memoirs of men who have thrown their oppor- tunities away would constitute a painful but a mem- orable volume for the world's instruction. " No strong 17 258 Laziness. man, in good health," says Ebenezer Elliot, " can be neglected, if he be true to himself. For the benefit of the young, I wish we had a correct account of the number of persons who fail of success, in a thousand who resolutely strive to do well. I do not think it exceeds one per cent." Men grudge success, but it is only the last term of what looked like a series of fail- ures. They failed at first, then again and again, but at last their difficulties vanished, and success was achieved. The desire to possess, without being burdened with the trouble of acquiring, is a great sign of weakness and laziness. Everything that is worth enjoying or possessing can only be got by the pleasure of working. This is the great secret of practical strength. " One may very distinctly prefer industry to indolence, the healthful exercise of all one's faculties to allowing them to rest unused in drowsy torpor. In the long run we shall probably find that the exercise of the faculties has of itself been the source of a more genuine happiness than has followed the actual attainment of what the exercise was directed to procure." We must work, trusting that some of the good seed we throw into the ground will take root and spring up into deeds of well-doing. What man begins for him- self God finishes for others. Indeed we can finish noth- ing. Others begin where we leave off, and carry on our work to a stage nearer perfection. We have to bequeath to those who come after us a noble design, Resolution and Courage. 259 worthy of imitation. Well done, well doing, and well to do, are inseparable conditions that reach through all the ages of eternity. Very few people can realize the idea that they are of no use in the world. The fact of their existence implies the necessity for their existence. The world is before them. They have their choice of good and evil — of usefulness and idleness. What have they done with their time and means? Have they shown the world that their existence has been of any use whatever? Have they made any one the better because of their life? Has their career been a mere matter of idleness and selfishness, of laziness and indifference? Have they been seeking pleasure? Pleasure flies before idleness. Happiness is out of the reach of laziness. Pleasure and happiness are the fruits of work and labor, never of care- lessness and indifference. A resolute will is needed not only for the perform- ance of difficult duties, but in order to go promptly, energetically, and with self-possession, through the thousand difficult things which come in almost every- body's way. Thus courage is as necessary as integrity in the performance of duty. The force may seem small which is needed to carry one cheerfully through any of these things singly, but to encounter one by one the crowding aggregate, and never to be taken by surprise, or thrown out of temper, is one of the last attainments of the human spirit. Every generation has to bear its own burden, to 260 Courage. weather its peculiar perils, to pass through its manifold trials. We are daily exposed to temptations, whether it be of idleness, self-indulgence, or vice. The feeling of duty and the power of courage must resist these things at whatever sacrifice of worldly interest. When virtue has thus become a daily habit, we become pos- sessed of an individual character, prepared for fulfilling, in a great measure, the ends for which we were created. How much is lost to the world for want of a little courage! We have the willingness to do, but we fail to do it. The state of the world is such, and so much depends on action that everything seems to say loudly to every man, " Do something; do it, do it." The poor country parson, fighting against evil in his parish, against wrong-doing, injustice, and iniquity, has nobler ideas of duty than Alexander the Great ever had. Some men are mere apologies for workers, even when they pretend to be up and at it. They stand shivering on the brink; and have not the courage to plunge in. Every day sends to the grave a number of obscure men, who, if they had had the courage to begin, would, in all probability, have gone great lengths in the career of well-doing. One of the greatest dangers that at present beset the youth of England is laziness. What is called " culture " amounts to little. It may be associated with the mean- est moral character, abject servility to those in high places, and arrogance to the poor and lowly. The fast idle youth believes nothing, venerates nothing, hopes Intellectual. Ability. 261 nothing; no, not even the final triumph of good in human hearts. There are many Mr. Tootses in the world, saying "'It's all the same," "It's of no conse- quence." It is not all the same, nor will it be all the same a hundred years hence. The life of each man tells upon the whole life of society. Each man has his special duty to perform, his special work to do. If he does it not, he himself suffers, and others suffer through him. His idleness infects others, and propagates a bad example. A useless life is only an early death. Oh, the vain pride of mere intellectual ability! how worthless, how contemptible, when contrasted with the riches of the heart ! What is the understanding of the hard dry capacity of the brain and body? A mere dead skeleton of opinions, a few dry bones tied up together, if there be not a soul to add moisture and life, substance and reality, truth and joy. Every one will remember the modest saying of Newton — perhaps the greatest man who ever lived — the discoverer of the method of Fluxions, the theory of universal gravitation, and the decomposition of light — that he felt himself but as a child playing by the sea-shore, while the immense ocean of truth lay all unexplored before him! Have we any philosophers who will make such a confession now? The widest field of duty lies outside the line of literature and books. Men are social beings more than intellectual creatures. The best part of human cultiva- tion is derived from social contact; hence courtesy, 262 Discipline of Home* self-respect, mutual toleration, and self-sacrifice for the good of others. Experience of men is wider than literature. Life is a book which lasts one's lifetime, but it requires wisdom to understand its difficult pages. " In our days," says Lady Verney, "there is an indissoluble connection between the ideas of cultivation and reading and writing. It is now only the ignorant and stupid who can not do both. But fifty years ago books, except in the highest education, were the excep- tion, and very clever men and women thought out their own thoughts, with very little assistance from anything beyond the Testament. Even among the upper classes reading was not very common among women. ' My grandmother could hardly spell when she wrote, and she read nothing but her livre cPheuresJ said a French- man who was well able to judge, ' but she was far more worthy and wise than women are now.'' " In the old times boys had duty placed before them as an incentive. To fail was to disgrace one's self, and to succeed was merely to do one's duty. " As for the dream," said Hugh Miller, " that there is to be some extraordinary elevation of the general platform of the human race achieved by means of education, it is simply the hallucination of the age — the world's present alchemical expedient for converting farthings into guineas, sheerly by dint of scouring." After all, the best school of discipline is home. Family life is God's own method of training the young. And homes are very much as women make them. CHAPTER XXIV. HONESTY TRUTH. Lying. — Little Lying. — Regulus the Roman. — Honesty in Business. — Depreciation of Manufactures. — The Chinese. — Bad Work Lying. — Socrates on Perfection of Work. — America on Money-making. — America without Apprentices. — Badness of Trade. — Commercial Gambling. — Repudiation of Pennsylvania. — Illinois Remains Honest. — Honesty of a German Peasant. "The honest man, though e'er so poor, Is king o' men for a' that." — Burns. (iTONESTY and truthfulness go well together. -*"*- Honesty is truth, and truth is honesty. Truth alone may not constitute a great man, but it is the most important element of a great character. It gives security to those who employ him, and confidence to those who serve under him. Truth is the essence of principle, integrity, and independence. It is the primary need of every man. Absolute veracity is more needed now than at any former period in our history. Lying, common though it be, is denounced even by the liar himself. He protests that he is speaking the truth, for he knows that truth is universally respected, while lying is universally condemned. Lying is not only dishonest, but cowardly. u Dare to be true," said George Herbert; " nothing can ever need a lie." The 263 264: Lying. most mischievous liars are those who keep on the verge of truth. They have not the courage to speak out the fact, but go round about it, and tell what is really untrue. A lie which is half the truth is the worst of lies. There is a duplicity of life which is quite as bad as verbal falsehood. Actions have as plain a voice as words. The mean man is false to his profession. He evades the truth that he professes to believe. He plays at double dealing. He wants sincerity and veracity. The sincere man speaks as he thinks, believes as he pretends to believe, acts as he professes to act- and per- forms as he promises. " Other forms of practical contradiction are common," says Mr. Spurgeon; " some are intolerantly liberal; others are ferocious advocates for peace, or intemperate on intemperance. We have known pleaders for gener- osity who were themselves miserably stingy. We have heard of persons who have been wonderful sticklers for 'the truth' — meaning thereby a certain form of doctrine — and yet they have not regarded the truth in matters of buying and selling, or with regard to the reputation of their neighbors, or the incidents of domes- tic life." Lying is one of the most common and conventional of vices. It prevails in what is called " Society." Not at home is the fashionable mode of reply to a visitor. Lying is supposed to be so necessary to cany on human affairs that it is tacitly agreed to. One lie may be Little Lying. 265 considered harmless, another slight, another unintended. Little lies are common. However tolerated, lying is more or less loathsome to every pure-minded man or woman. "Lies," says Ruskin, "may be light and accidental, but they are an ugly soot from the smoke of the pit, and it is better that our hearts should be swept clean of them, without our care as to which is largest or blackest." " Lying abroad for the benefit of one's country " used to be the maxim of the diplomatist. Yet a man should care more for his word than for his life. When Regulus was sent by the Carthaginians, whose prisoner he was, to Rome, with a x convoy of ambassadors to sue for peace, it was under the condition that he should return to his prison if peace were not effected. He took the oath, and swore that he would come back. When he appeared /at Rome he urged the senators to persevere in the war, and not to agree to the exchange of prisoners. That involved his return to captivity at Carthage. The senators, and even the chief priest, held that as his oath had been wrested from him by force, he was not bound to go. " Have you resolved to dishonor me? 11 asked Regulus. "I am not ignorant that death and tortures are preparing for me ; but what are these to the shame of an infamous action, or the wounds of a guilty mind? Slave as I am to Carthage, I have still the spirit of a Roman. I have sworn to return. It is my duty to go. Let the gods take care of the rest." Regulus returned to Carthage, and died under torture. 2Q6 Honesty in Business. Truth and honesty show themselves in various ways. They characterize the man of just dealing, the faithful men of business, the men who will not deceive you to their own advantage. Honesty is the plainest and humblest manifestation of the principle of truth. Full measures, just weights, true samples, full service, strict fulfilment of engagements, are all indispensable to men of character. Take a common case. Sam Foote had reason to complain of the shortness of the beer served to him at dinner. He called the landlord, and said to him, " Pray, sir, how many butts of beer do you draw in a month?" "Ten, sir," replied the publican. " And would you like to draw eleven if yqu could?" " Cer- tainly, sir." u Then I will tell you how," said Foote; ' ' fill your measure ! ' ' But the case goes farther than this. We complain of short weights and adulteration of goods. We buy one thing and get another. But goods must sell; if with a profit, so much the better. If the dealer is found out, the customer goes elsewhere. M. Le Play, when he visited England many years ago, observed with great pleasure the commercial probity of English manu- facturers. " They display," he said, " a scrupulous exactitude in the quantity and qualit} T of their foreign consignments." Could he say the same now? Have we not heard in public courts of the depreciation of our manufactures — of cotton loaded with china clay, starch, magnesium, Depreciation of Manufactures. 267 and zinc? We have seen the loading, and therefore know what it is. The cotton becomes mildewed, dis- colored, and therefore unsalable. The mildew is a fungoid which, when developed by moisture, lives and grows upon the starch. China was one of the many marts for England-made cotton. But when the mildew appeared, the trade vanished There is a Chinese proverb to the effect that '• the conjuror does not deceive the man who beats the gong for him." The Chinaman is as great a deceiver as we are. He puts iron filings into his tea, and water into his silk. He is therefore quite awake to the deceptions of others. " The consequence is," says the British Consul at Cheefoo, " that our textiles have got a bad name, and their place is being supplied by American manufacturers. American drills, though forty per cent dearer, are driving English drills out of the market." We are no longer trusted. The English brand used to be a guarantee of honesty. It is so no longer. All bad work is lying. It is thoroughly dishonest. You pay for having a work done well; it is done bad- ly and dishonestly. It may be varnished over with a fair show of sufficiency, but the sin is not discovered until it is too late. So long as these things continue, it is in vain to talk of the dignity of labor, or of the social value of the so-called working man. There can be no dignity of labor where there is no truthfulness of work. u Dignity does not consist in hollowness and in light- uandedness, but in substantiality and in strength. If 2$8 Bad Work Lying. there be flimsiness and superficiality of all kinds appa- rent in the work of the present day more than in the work of our forefathers, whence comes it ? From eager- ness and competition, and the haste to be rich.'' Socrates explained how useful and excellent a thing it was that a man should resolve on perfection in his own line, so that, if he be a carpenter, he will be the best possible carpenter; or if a statesman, that he will be the best possible statesman. It is by such means that true success is achieved. Such a carpenter, Socra- tes said, would win the wreath of carpentering, though it was only of shavings. Strange to say, the Americans are beginning to think that the badness of work, and the unwillingness to do good work, is, to a certain extent, the outcome of the common school system. Everybody is so well educated that he is above doing manual labor. There are no American apprentices, and no American servants. We do not speak without authority. A writer in Scribner^s Monthly says " that the Americans make a god of their common school system. It is treason to speak a word against it. A man is regarded as a foe to education who expresses any doubt of the value of it. But we may as well open our eyes to the fact that in preparing men for the work of life, especially for that work depending on manual skill, it is a hindrance and a failure. It is a mere smatter, veneering, and cram." The writer of the article says that the old system of apprenticeship has grown almost entirely into disuse. America Without Apprentices. 269 The boys are at school and cannot be apprenticed to a trade. Hence most mechanical work is done by foreigners. The lad who has made a successful begin- ning of the cultivation of his intellect does not like the idea of getting a living by the skillful use of his hands in the common employment of life. He has no taste for bodily labor. He gets some light employment, or tries to live upon his wits. " Under a spreading chestnut tree The village smithy stands. ' ; So said Longfellow. The village smithy stands there no longer. When General Armstrong, of the colored college of Hampton, went to the North in search of blacksmiths, he found no Americans to engage. Every blacksmith was an Irishman. And in the next genera- tion of Irishmen every boy will be so well educated that he will not put his hands to any bodily labor. A New York clergyman possessing a large family (to correct this spreading influence) recently declared from his pulpit that he intended that every lad of his family should learn some mechanical employment, by which, on an emergency, he might get a living Rich and poor should alike be taught to work, skilfully if possible; for it is quite as likely that the rich will become poor as that some of the poor will become rich; and that is a poor education which fails to prepare a man to take care of himself and his dependants throughout life. We have lately been complaining of the badness of trade, but has not much of it happened through our 270 Badness of Trade. own misdoing? In the arithmetic of the counting- house two and two do not always make four. How many tricks are resorted to — in which honesty forms no part — for making money faster than others ! Instead of working patiently and well for a modest living, many desire to get rich all at once. The spirit of the age is not that of a trader, but of a gambler. The pace is too fast to allow of any one stopping to inquire as to those who have fallen out by the way. They press on; the race for wealth is for the swift. Their faith is in money. It needs no prophet to point out the connection of our distress with the sin of commercial gambling and fraud, and of social extravagance and vanity, of widespread desolation and misery. " My son, 1 ' said a father, u ye 're gawn out into t'warld; ye may be wranged; but if it comes to that, chet rather than be dieted." Another said, " Make money, honestly, if you can; but if not, make it." A third said, "Honesty is better than dishonesty; IVe tried both." Of course we quote these phrases as being at utter variance with truth and honesty. But it is to be doubted whether higher principles of conduct prevail in many of the commercial classes of life. A young man begins business. He goes on slowly yet safely. His gains may be small, but they are justly come by. "A faithful man shall abound with blessings; but he that maketh haste to be rich shall not be innocent: he hath an evil eye, and considereth not that poverty may come upon him." Commercial Gambling. 271 In large commercial towns young men are amazed at the splendor of the leaders of trade. They are sup- posed to be enormously rich. Every door opens to them. They command the highest places in society. They give balls, parties, and dinners. Their houses are full of pictures by the greatest artists. Their cellars are full of wine of the choicest vintage. Their conver- sation is not great; it is mostly about wine, horses, or prices. They seem to sail upon the golden sea of a great accumulated fortune. Young business men are often carried away by such examples. If they have not firmness and courage, they are apt to follow in their x footsteps. The first specula- tion may be a gain. The gain may be followed by another, and they are carried off their feet by the lust for wealth. They become dishonest and unscrupulous. Their bills are all over the discount market. To keep up their credit they spend more money upon pictures, and even upon charities. Formerly greedy and unjust men seized the goods of others by violence ; to-day they obtain them by fraudulent bankruptcies. Formerly every attempt was open; to-day everything is secret, until at length the last event comes, and everything is exposed. The man fails; the bills are worthless; the pictures are sold; and the recreant flies to avoid the curses of his creditors. Nations and states are dishonest as well as individuals. Their condition is to be measured by the state of their three per cents. Spain and Greece and Turkey are 212 Repudiation. dishonored in the commercial world. Spain was killed by her riches. The gold which came pouring into Spain from her vanquished colonies in South America depraved the people, and rendered them indolent and lazy. Nowadays a Spaniard will blush to work; he "will not blush to beg. Greece has repudiated her debts for many years. Like Turkey, she has nothing to pay. All the works of industry in those countries are done by foreigners. Much better things might have been hoped from Penns}'lvania and the other American States which repudiated their debts many years ago. These were rich States, and the money borrowed from abroad made them richer, by opening up roads, and construct- ing canals for the benefit of the people. The Rev. Sydney Smith — who lent his money, " the savings from a life's income made with difficulty and privation " — let the world know of his loss. He addressed a remon- strance to the House of Congress at Washington, which he afterwards published. " The Americans," he said, " who boast to have improved the institutions of the Old World have at least equalled its crimes. A great nation, after trampling under foot all earthly tyranny, has been guilty of a fraud as enormous as ever dis- graced the worst king of the most degraded nation of Europe." The State of Illinois acted nobly, though it was poor. It had borrowed money, like Pennsylvania, for the purpose of carrying out internal improvements. When Honesty of Illinois. 273 the inhabitants of rich Pennsylvania set the example of repudiating their debts, many of the poorer States wished to follow in their footsteps. As every house- holder had a vote, it was easy, if they were dishonest, to repudiate their debts. A convention met at Spring field, the capital of the State, and the repudia- tion ordinance was offered to the meeting. It was about to be adopted, when it was stopped by an honest man. Stephen A. Douglas (let his honorable name be mentioned!) was lying sick at his hotel, when he desired to be taken to the convention. He was carried on a mattress, for he was too ill to walk. Lv- ing on his back he wrote the following resolution, which he offered as a substitute for the repudiation ordinance: — u Resolved, that Illinois will be honest, although she never pays a cent." The resolution touched the honest sentiment of every member of the convention. It was adopted with enthusiasm. It dealt a death-blow to the system of repudiation. The canal bonds immediately rose. Capital and emigration flowed into the State; and Illinois is now one of the most prosperous States in America. She has more miles of railway than any of the other States. Her broad prairies are one great grain-field, and are dotted about with hundreds of thousands of peaceful, happy homes. This is what honesty does. The truth is, we have become too selfish. We think 18 274 Selfish People* of ourselves far more than of others. The more devoted to pleasure the less we think of our fellow-creatures. Selfish people are impervious to the needs of others. They exist in a sort of mailed armor, and no weapons r either of misery or want, can assail them. Their senses are only open to those who can minister to their gratifications. " There are men," says St. Crysostom, " who seem to have come into the world only for pleasure, and that they might fatten this perishable body. ... At sight of their luxurious table the angels retire — God is offended — the demons rejoice — virtuous men are shocked — and even the domestics scorn and laugh. . . . The just men who have gone before left sumptuous feasts to tyrants, and to men enriched by crime, who were the scourges of the world." We no longer know how to live upon little. A man must have luxury about him. And yet a man's life does not consist in the abundance of things he possesseth; he must live honestly, though poor. Retrenchment of the useless, the want even of the relatively necessary, is the high-road to Christian self-denial, as well as to antique strength of character. That of which our age stands most in need is a man able to gratify every just desire, and yet to be contented with little. " A great heart in a little house," says Lacordaire, " is of all things here below that which has ever touched me most. Happy the man who soweth the good and the true. The harvest will not fail him!" Honesty of a German Peasant 215 Here is a fine specimen of honesty and truthfulness on the part of the poor German peasant. Bernardin de Saint-Pierre has told the story in his " Etudes de la Nature." He was serving as an engineer under the Count de Saint-Germain during his campaign in Hesse, in 1760. For the first time he became familiar with the horrors of war. Day by day he passed through sacked villages and devastated fields and farm-yards. Men, women, and children were flying from their cottages in tears. Armed men were everywhere destroying the fruits of their labor, regarding it as a part of their glory. But in the midst of so many acts of cruelty Saint-Pierre was consoled by a sub- lime trait of character displayed by a poor man whose cottage and farm* lay in the way of the advancing army. A captain of dragoons was ordered out with his troop to forage for provisions. They reached a poor cabin and knocked at the door. An old man with a white beard appeared. " Take me to a field, 11 said the officer, " where I can obtain forage for my troops." " Immediately, sir," replied the' old man. He put him- self at their head, and ascended the valley. After about half an hour's march a fine field of barley appeared. " This will do admirably," said the officer. "No," said the old man; "wait a little, and all will be right." They went on again, until they reached another -field of barley. The troops dismounted, mowed down the grain, and trussing it up in bundles, 276 Honesty of a German Peasant put them on their horses. " Friend," said the officer, " how is it that you have brought us so far. The first field of barley that we saw was quite as good as this." " That is quite true," said the peasant, " but it was not mine!" CHAPTER XXV. TEMPER. Cheerfulness of Disposition. — Jeremy Taylor. — Cheerfulness a Tonic. — A Beam in the Eye. — Dr. Marshall Hall, Luther, Lord Palmerston.— Great Men Cheerful.— Fielding, Johnson, Scott. — Cheerfulness of Men of Genius. — Abauzit, Malcolm, Burke. "Temper is nine-tenths of Christianity." — Bishop Wilson. " Heaven is a temper, not a place." — Dr. Chalmers. [~T has been said that men succeed in life quite as -*- much by their temper as by their talents: How- ever this may be, it is certain that their happiness in life depends mainly upon their equanimity of disposition, their patience and forbearance, and their kindness and thoughtfulness for those about them. It is really true what Plato says, that in seeking the good of others we find our own. There are some natures so happily constituted that the}^ can find good in every thing. There is no calam- ity so great but they can educe comfort or consolation from it — no sky so black but they can discover a gleam of sunshine issuing through it from some quarter or another; and if the sun be not visible to their eyes, they at least comfort themselves with the thought that it is there, though veiled from them for some good and wise purpose. 277 278 Cheerfulness of Nature. Such happy natures are to be envied. They have a beam in the eye — a beam of pleasure, gladness, religious cheerfulness, philosophy, call it what you will. Sun- shine is about their hearts, and their mind gilds with its own hues all that it looks upon. When they have burdens to bear, they bear them cheerfully — not repin- ing, nor fretting, nor wasting their energies in useless lamentation, but struggling onward manfully, gathering up such flowers as lie along their path. Let it not for a moment be supposed that men such as those we speak of are weak and unreflective. The largest and most comprehensive natures are generally also the most cheerful, the most loving, the most hope- ful, the most trustful. It is the wise man, of large vis- ion, who is the quickest to discern the moral sunshine gleaming through the darkest cloud. In present evil, he sees prospective good; in pain, he recognizes the effort of nature to restore health; in trials, he finds correction and discipline; and in sorrow and suffering, he gathers courage, knowledge, and the best practical wisdom. When Jeremy Taylor had lost all — when his house had been plundered, and his family driven out of doors, and all his worldly estate had been sequestrated — he could still write thus: "I am fallen into the hands of publicans and sequestrators, and they have taken all from me; what now? Let me look about me. They haVe left me the sun and moon, a loving wife, and many friends to pity me, and some to relieve me; and I can still discourse, and, unless I list, thev have not taken Uses of Cheerfulness. 279 away my merry countenance and my cheerful spirit, and a good conscience; they have still left me the provi- dence of God, and all the promises of the Gospel, and my religion, and my hopes of heaven, and my charity to them, too; and still I sleep and digest, I eat and drink, I read and meditate. . . . And he that hath so many causes of joy, and so great, is very much in love with sorrow and peevishness, who loves all these pleasures, and chooses to sit down upon his little handful of thorns. Although cheerfulness of disposition is very much a matter of inborn temperament, it is also capable of being trained and cultivated like any other habit. We may make the best of life, or we may make the worst of it; and it depends very much upon ourselves whether we extract joy or misery from it. There are always two sides of life on which we can look, according as we choose — the bright side or the gloomy. We can bring the power of the will to bear in making the choice, and thus cultivate the habit of being happy or the reverse. We can encourage the disposition of looking at the brightest side of things, instead of the darkest. And while we see the cloud, let us not shut our eyes to the silver lining. The beam in the eye sheds brightness, beauty, and joy upon life in all its phases. It shines upon coldness, and warms it; upon suffering, and comforts it; upon ignorance, and enlightens it; upon sorrow, and cheers It. The beam in the eye gives lustre to intellect, and 280 Cheerfulness a Tonic. brightens beauty itself. Without it the sunshine of life is not felt, flowers bloom in vain, the marvels of heaven and earth are not seen or acknowledged, and creation is but a dreary, lifeless, soulless blank. While cheerfulness of disposition is a great source of enjoyment in life, it is also a great safeguard of charac- ter. A devotional writer of the present day, in answer to the question, How are we to overcome temptations? says: "Cheerfulness is the first thing, cheerfulness is the second, and cheerfulness is the third." It furnishes the best soil for the growth of goodness and virtue. It gives brightness of heart and elasticity of spirit. It is the companion of charity, the nurse of patience, the mother of wisdom. It is also the best of moral and mental tonics. " The best cordial of all," said Dr. Mar- shall Hall to one of his patients, " is cheerfulness." And Solomon has said that " a merry heart doeth good like a medicine." When Luther was once applied to for a remedy against melancholy, his advice was: " Gayety and courage — innocent gayety, and rational, honorable courage — are the best medicine for young men, and for old men too; for all men against sad thoughts." Next to music, if not before it, Luther loved children and flowers. The great gnarled man had a heart as tender as a woman's. Cheerfulness is also an excellent wearing quality. It has been called the bright weather of the heart. It gives harmony of soul, and is a perpetual song without Cheerfulness a Tonic* 281 words. It is tantamount to repose. It enables nature to recruit its strength; whereas worry and discontent debilitate it, involving constant wear-and-tear. How is it that we see such men as Lord Paimerston growing old in harness, working on vigorously to the end? Mainly through equanimity of temper and habitual cheerfulness. They have educated themselves in the habit of endurance, of not being easily provoked, of bearing and forbearing, of hearing harsh and even unjust things said of them without indulging in undue resentment, and avoiding worrying, petty, and self-tor- menting cares. An intimate friend of Lord Paimer- ston, who observed him closely for twenty years, has said that he never saw him angry, with perhaps one exception; and that was when the Ministry responsible for the calamity in Afghanistan, of which he was one, were unjustly accused by their opponents of falsehood, perjury, and willful mutilation of public documents. So far as can be learned from biography, men of the greatest genius have been for the most part cheerful, contented men — not eager for reputation, money, or power — but relishing life, and keenly susceptible of enjoyment, as we find reflected in their works. Such seem to have been Homer, Horace, Virgil, Montaigne, Shakspeare, Cervantes. Healthy, serene cheerfulness is apparent in their great creations. Among the same class of cheerful- minded men may also be mentioned Luther, More, Bacon, Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, 282 Great Men Cheerful and Michael Angelo. Perhaps they were happy because constantly occupied, and in the pleasantest of all work — that of creating out of the fullness and richness of their great minds. Milton, too, though a man of many trials and suffer- ings, must have been a man of great cheerfulness and elasticity of nature. Though overtaken by blindness, deserted by friends, and fallen upon evil days — " dark- ness before, and danger's voice behind " — yet did he not bate heart or hope, but " still bore up, and steered right onward." Henry Fielding was a man borne down through life by debt, and difficulty, and bodily suffering; and yet Lady Mary Wortley Montague has said of him that, by virtue of his cheerful disposition, she was persuaded he u had known more happy moments than any person on earth."' 1 Dr. Johnson, through all his trials and sufferings and hard fights with fortune, was a courageous and cheer- ful-natured man. He manfully made the best of life, and tried to be glad in it. Once when a clergyman was complaining of the dullness of society in the country, saying "they only talk of runts" (young cows), Johnson felt flattered by the observation of Mrs. Thrale's mother, who said, " Sir, Dr. Johnson would learn to talk of runts " — meaning that he was a man who would make the most of his situation, whatever it was. Johnson was of opinion that a man grew better as Instances of Cheerful Men 283 he grew older, and that his nature mellowed with age # This is certainly a much more cheerful view of human nature than that of Lord Chesterfield, who saw life through the eyes of a cynic, and held that " the heart never grows better by age; it only grows harder.'" But both sayings may be true, according to the point from which life is viewed and the temper by which a man is governed ; for while the good, profiting by experience, and disciplining themselves by self-control, will grow better, the ill-conditioned, uninfluenced by experience, will only grow worse. Sir Walter Scott was a man full of the milk of human kindness. Every body loved him. He was never five minutes in a room ere the little pets of the family, whether dumb or lisping, had found out his kindness for all their generation. Scott related to Captain Hall an incident of his boyhood which showed the tender- ness of his nature. One day, a dog coming towards him, he took up a big stone, threw it, and hit the dog. The poor creature had strength enough left to crawl up to him and lick his feet, although he saw its leg was broken. The incident, he said, had given him the bitterest remorse in his after-life; but he added, "An only an aggregate of indi- vidual conditions, and civilization itself is but a question of the personal improvement of the men, women, and children of whom society is composed. National progress is the sum of individual industry, energy, and uprightness, as national decay is of individ- ual idleness, selfishness, and vice. What we are accus- tomed to decry as great social evils, will for the most part be found to be but the outgrowth of man's own perverted life; and though we may endeavor to cut them down and extirpate them by means of Law, they will only spring up again with fresh luxuriance in some other form, unless the conditions of personal life and character are radically improved. If this view be cor- rect, then it follows that the highest patriotism and philanthropy consist, not so much in altering laws and modifying institutions, as in helping and stimulating men to elevate and improve themselves by their own free and independent individual action. It may be of comparatively little consequence how a man is governed from without, whilst every thing 300 National Progress. depends upon how he governs himself from within. The greatest slave is not he who is ruled by a despot, great though that evil be, but he who is the thrall of his own moral ignorance, selfishness,, and vice. Nations who are thus enslaved at heart can not be freed by any mere changes of masters or of institutions; and so long as the fatal delusion prevails, that liberty solely depends upon and consists in government, so long will such changes, no matter at what cost they may be affected, have as little practical and lasting result as the shifting of the figures in a phantasmagoria. The solid founda- tions of liberty must rest upon individual character; which is also the only'sure guaranty for social security and national progress. John Stuart Mill truly observes that " even despotism does not produce its worst effects so long as individuality exists under it; and whatever crushes individuality is despotism, by whatever name it be called." Old fallacies as to human progress are constantly turning up. Some call for Caesars, others for National- ities, and others for Acts of Parliament. We are to wait for Csesars, and when they are found, " happy the people who recognize and follow them." This doctrine shortly means, every thing for the people, nothing by them — a doctrine which, if taken as a guide, must, by destroying the free conscience of a community, speedily prepare the way for any form of despotism. Caesarism is human idolatry in its worst form — a wor- ship of mere power, as degrading in its effects as the Caesarism — Independence. 301 worship of mere wealth would be. A far wealthier doctrine to inculcate among the nations would be that of Self- Help; and so soon as it is thoroughly understood and carried into action, Csesarism will be no more. The two principles are directly antagonistic; and what Victor Hugo said of the Pen and the Sword alike applies to them, u Ceci tuera cela." The power of Nationalities and Acts of Parliament is also a prevalent superstition. What William Dargan, one of Ireland's truest patriots, said at the closing of the first Dublin Industrial Exhibition, may well be quoted now. ■■" To tell the truth," he said, " I never heard the word independence mentioned that my own country and my own fellow-townsmen did not occur to my mind. I have heard a great deal about the inde- pendence that we were to get from this, that, and the other place, and of the great expectations we were to have from persons from other countries coming amongst us. Whilst I value as much as any man the great advantages that must result to us from that intercourse, I have already been deeply impressed with the feeling that our industrial independence is dependent upon our- selves. I believe that with simple industry and care- ful exactness in the utilization of our energies, we never had a fairer chance nor a brighter prospect, than the present. We have made a step, but perseverance is the great agent of success; and if we but go on zeal- ously, I believe in my conscience that in a short period we shall arrive at a position of equal comfort, of equal 302 Life "a Soldiers Battle:' happiness, and of equal independence, with that of any other people." All nations have been made what they are by the thinking and the working of many generations of men. Patient and persevering laborers in all ranks and con- ditions of life, cultivators of the soil and explorers of the mine, inventors and discoverers, manufacturers, mechanics and artisans, poets, philosophers and politi- cians, all have contributed towards the grand result, one generation building upon another's labors, and carrying them forward to still higher stages. This constant succession of noble workers — the artisans of civilization — has served to create order out of chaos in industry, science, and art; and the living race has thus, in the course of nature, become the inheritor of the rich estate provided by the skill and industry of our fore- fathers, which is placed in our hands to cultivate, and to hand down, not only unimpaired but improved, to our successors. The spirit of self-help, as exhibited in the energetic action of individuals, has in all times been a marked feature in the English character, and furnishes the true measure of our power as a nation. Rising above the heads of the mass, there were always to be found a series of individuals distinguished beyond others, who commanded the public homage. But our progress has also been owing to multitudes of smaller and less known men. Though only the generals' names may be re- membered in the history of any great campaign, it has The Best Practical Education. 303 been in a great measure through the individual valor and heroism of the privates that victories have been won. And life, too, is " a soldier's battle " — men in the ranks having in all times been amongst the greatest of workers. Many are the lives of men unwritten, which have nevertheless as powerfully influenced civilization and progress as the more fortunate Great whose names are recorded in biography. Even the humblest person,, who sets before his fellows an example of industry, sobriety, and upright honesty of purpose in life, has a present as well as a future influence upon the well-being of his country; for his life and character pass uncon- sciously into the lives of athers, and propagate good example for all time to come. Daily experience shows that it is energetic individu- alism which produces the most powerful effects upon the life and action of others, and really constitutes the best practical education. Schools, academies, and col- leges, give but the merest beginnings of culture in com- parison with it. Far- more influential is the life-educa- tion daily given in our homes, in the streets, behind counters, in workshops, at the loom and the plough, in counting-houses and manufactories, and in the busy haunts of men. This is that finishing instruction as members of society, which Schiller designated " the edu- cation of the human race," consisting in action, conduct, self-culture, self-control — all that tends to discipline a man truly, and fit him for the proper performance of the duties and business of life — a kind of education not 304 Difficulties the Best Helpers. to be learned from books, or acquired by any amount of mere literary training. With his usual weight of words Bacon observes, that " Studies teach not their own use; but that is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation;" a remark that holds true of actual life, as well as of the cultivation of the intellect itself. For all experience serves to illustrate and enforce the lesson, that a man perfects himself by work more than by reading — that it is life rather than literature, action rather than study, and character rather than biography, which tend perpetually to renovate mankind. Biographies of great, but especially of good men, are nevertheless most instructive and useful, as helps, guides, and incentives to others. Some of the best are almost equivalent to gospels — teaching high living, high thinking and energetic action for their own and the world's good. The valuable examples which they furnish of the power of self-help, of patient purpose, resolute working, and steadfast integrity, issuing in the formation of truly noble and manly character, exhibit in language not to be misunderstood, what it is in the power of each to accomplish for himself; and eloquent- ly illustrate the efficacy of self-respect and self-reliance in enabling men of even the humblest rank to work out for themselves an honorable competency and a solid reputation. Great men of science, literature, and art — apostles of great thoughts and lords of the great heart — have belonged to no exclusive class or rank in life. They have Difficulties the Best Helpers. 305 come alike from colleges, workshops, and farm-houses — from the huts of poor men and the mansions of the rich. Some of God's greatest apostles have come from " the ranks." The poorest have sometimes taken the highest places, nor have difficulties apparently the most insuperable proved obstacles in their way. Those very difficulties, in many instances, would even seem to have been their best helpers, by evoking their powers of labor and endurance, and stimulating into life faculties which might otherwise have lain dormant. The in- stances of obstacles thus surmounted, and of triumphs thus achieved, are indeed so numerous, as almost to jus- tify the proverb that " with Will one can do anything." Take, for instance, the remarkable fact, that from the barber's shop came Jeremy Taylor, the most poetical of divines ; Sir Richard Arkwright, the inventor of the spinning-jenny and founder of the cotton manufacture; Lord Tenterden, one of the most distinguished of Lord Chief Justices; and Turner, the greatest among land- scape painters. No one knows to a certainty what Shakspeare was; but it is unquestionable that he sprang from a humble rank. His father was a butcher and grazier; and Shakspeare himself is supposed to have been in early life a wool-comber; whilst others aver that he was an usher in a school, and afterwards a scrivener's clerk. He truly seems to have been " not one, but all man- kind's epitome." For such is the accuracy of his sea- phrases that a naval writer alleges that he must have 20 306 Some of the Greatest Men. been a sailor; whilst a clergyman "infers, from internal evidence in his writings, that he was probably a parson's clerk; and a distinguished judge of horse-flesh insists that he must have been a horse-dealer. Shakspeare was certainly an actor, and in the course of his life "played many parts," gathering his wonderful stores of knowledge from a wide field of experience and obser- vation. In any event, he must have been a close student and a hard worker, and to this day his writings continue to exercise a powerful influence on the forma- tion of English character. The common class of d ay- laborers • has given us Brindley the engineer, Cook the navigator, and Burns the poet. Masons and bricklayers can boast of Ben Jonson, who worked at the building of Lincoln's Inn, with a trowel in his hand and a book in his pocket, Edwards and Telford the engineers, Hugh Miller the geologist, and Allen Cunningham the writer and sculptor; whilst among distinguished carpenters we find the names of Inigo Jones the architect, Harrison the chronometer-maker, John Hunter the physiologist, Romney and Opie the painters, Professor Lee the Orientalist, and John Gibson the sculptor. From the weaver class have sprung Simson the mathematician. Bacon the sculptor, the two Milners, Adam Walker, John Foster, Wilson the ornithologist, Dr. Livingstone the missionary traveller, and Tannahill the poet. Shoemakers have given us Sir Cloudesiey Shovel the great Admiral, Sturgeon the electrician. Have Come from " the Hanks" 307 Samuel Drew the essayist, Gifford the editor of the u Quarterly Review," Bloomfield the poet, and William Carey the missionary; whilst Morrison, another labori- ous missionary, was a maker of shoe-lasts. Within the last few years, a profound naturalist has been discovered in the person of a shoemaker at Banff, named Thomas Edwards, who, while maintaining himself by his trade, has devoted his leisure to the study of natural science, in all its branches, his researches in connection with the smaller crustacean having been rewarded by the discovery of a new species, to which the name of "Praniza Edwardsii " has been given by naturalists. Nor have tailors been undistinguished. John Stow, the historian, worked at the trade during some part of his life. Jackson, the painter, made clothes until he reached manhood. The brave Sir John Hawks wood, who so greatly distinguished himself at Poictiers, and was knighted by Edward III. for his valor, was in early life apprenticed to a London tailor. Admiral Hobson, who broke the boom at Vigo in 1702, belonged to the same calling. He was working as a tailor's apprentice near Bonchurch, in the Isle of Wight, when the news flew through the village that a squadron of men-of-war was sailing off the island. He sprang from the shop- board, and ran down with his comrades to the beach, to gaze upon the glorious sight. The boy was suddenly inflamed with the ambition to be a sailor; and springing into a boat, he rode off to the squadron, gained the ad- miral's ship, and was accepted as a volunteer. Years 308 Men of Science. after, he returned to his native village full of honors, and dined off bacon and eggs in the cottage where he had worked as an apprentice. But the greatest tailor of all is unquestionably Andrew Johnson, the late Pre- sident of the United States — a man of extraordinary force of character and vigor of intellect. In his great speech at Washington, when describing himself as hav- ing begun his political career as an alderman, and run through ail the branches of the legislature, a voice in the crowd cried, "From a tailor up.' 1 It was charac- teristic of Johnson to take the intended sarcasm in good part, and even to turn it to account. " Some gentleman says I have been a tailor. That does not disconcert me in the least; for when I was a tailor I had the reputa- tion of being a good one, and making close fits ; I was always punctual with my customers, and always did good work." Cardinal Wolsey, DeFoe, Akenside, and Kirk White were the sons of butchers; Bunyan was a tinker, and Joseph Lancaster a basket-maker. Among the great names identified with the invention of the steam engine are those of Newcomen, Watt, and Stephenson; the first a blacksmith, the second a maker of mathematical instruments, and the third an engine-fireman. Hunt- ington the preacher was originally a coal-heaver, and Bewick, the father of wood-engraving, a coal-miner. Dodsley was a footman, and Holcroft a groom. Baffin the navigator began his seafaring career as a man be- fore the mast, and Sir Cloudesley Shovel as a cabin-boy. Men of Science. 309 Herschel played the oboe in a military band. Chantrey, was a journeyman carver, Etty a journeyman printer and Sir Thomas Lawrence the son of a tavern-keeper. Michael Farady, the son of a blacksmith, was in early life apprenticed to a book-binder, and worked at that trade until he reached his twenty-second year; he now occupies the very first rank as a philosopher, excelling even his master, Sir Humphrey Davy, in the art of lu- cidly expounding the most difficult and abstruse points in natural science. CHAPTER XXVIII. SELF-HELP EXAMPLES. Distinguished Astronomers. — Eminent Sons of Clergymen. — Of Attorneys. — Illustrious Foreigners of Humble Origin.— Promotions from the Ranks in the French Army. — Instances of Persevering Application and Energy. — W. J. Fox. — Diligence Indispensable to Usefulness and Distinction. — The Wealthier Ranks not all Idlers. — Examples. — Military Men. — Philos- ophers. — Men of Science. — Politicians. — Literary Men. — Wadsworth on Self-reliance. — Men their Own best Helpers. "We put too much faith in sy terns, and look too little to men." — B. Disraeli. CA)M0NG those who have given the greatest im- -*--*- pulse to the sublime science of astronomy, we find Copernicus, the son of a Polish baker; Kepler, the son of a German public-house keeper, and himself the " gar- con de cabaret;" d'Alembert, a foundling picked up one winter's night on the steps of the church of St. Jean le Rond at Paris, and brought up by the wife of a gla- zier; and Newton and Laplace, the one the son of a poor peasant of Beaumont-en-Auge, near Honfleur. Notwithstanding their comparatively adverse circum- stances in early life, these distinguished men achieved a solid and enduring reputation by the exercise of their genius, which all the wealth in the world could not have purchased. The very possession of wealth might in- 310 Eminent Middle- Class Men. 311 * deed have proved an obstacle greater even than the humble means to which they were born. The father of Lagrange, the astronomer and mathematician, held the office of Treasurer of War at Turin; but having ruined himself by speculations, his family were reduced to comparative poverty. To this circumstance Lagrange was in after-life accustomed partly to attribute his own fame and happiness. " Had I been rich, 71 said he, " I should probably not have become a mathematician. The sons of clergymen and ministers of religion gen- erally have particularly distinguished themselves in our country's history. Amongst them we find the names of Drake and Nelson, celebrated in naval heroism; of Wren, Reynolds, Wilson, and Wilkie, in art; of Thur- low and Campbell, in law; and of Addison, Thompson, Goldsmith, Coleridge, and Tennyson, in literature. Lord Hardinge, Colonel Edwardes, and Major Hodson, so honorably known in Indian warfare, were also the sons of clergymen. Indeed, the empire of England in India was won and held chiefly by men of the middle class — such as Clive, Warren Hastings, and their suc- cessors — men for the most part bred in factories and trained to habits of business. Among the sons of attorneys we find Edmund Burke, Smeaton the engineer, Scott and Wordsworth, and Lords Somers, Hardwick, and Dunning. Sir William Blackstone was the posthumous son of a silk-mercer. Lord Gilford's father was a grocer at Dover; Lord Denhairfs a physician; Judge Talfourd's a country 312 Illustrious Foreigners. brewer; and Lord Chief Baron Pollock's a celebrated saddler at Charing Cross. Layard, the discoverer of the monuments of Nineveh, was an articled clerk in a London solicitor's office; and Sir William Armstrong, the inventor of hydraulic machinery and of the Arm- strong ordinance, was also trained to the law and prac- ticed for some time "as an attorney, Milton was the son of a London scrivener, and Pope and Southey were the sons of linen-drapers. Professor Wilson was the son of a Paisley manufacturer, and Lord Macaulay ot an African merchant. Keats was a druggist, and Sir Humphry Davy a country apothecary's apprentice. Speaking of himself, Davy once said, " What I am I i have made myself: I say this without vanity, and in pure simplicity of heart." Richard Owen, the Newton of Natural History, began life as a midshipman, and did not enter upon the line of scientific research in which he has since become so distinguished, until compara- tively late in life. Pie laid the foundations of his great knowledge while occupied in cataloguing the magnifi- cent museum accumulated by the industry of John Hunter, a work which occupied him at the college of Surgeons during a period of about ten years. Foreign not less than English biography abounds in illustrations of men who have glorified the lot of pov- erty by their labors and their genius. In Art we find Claude, the son of a pastry-cook; Geefs, of a baker; Leopold Robert, of a watchmaker; and Haydn, of a wheelwright; whilst Daguerre was a scene-painter at Of Humble Origin. 318 the opera. The father of Gregory VIL was a carpen- ter; of Sextus V., a shepherd; and of Adrian VI., a poor bargeman. When a boy, Adrian, unable to pay for a light by which to study, was accustomed to prepare his lessons by the light of the lamps in the streets and the church porches, exhibiting a degree of patience and industry which were the certain forerunners of his fu- ture distinction. Of like humble origin were Hauy, the mineralogist, who was the son of a weaver of Saint- Just; Hautefeuille, the mechanician, of a baker at Or- leans; Joseph Fourier, the mathematician, of a tailor at Auxerre; Durand, the architect, of a Paris shoema- ker; and Gesner, the naturalist, of a skinner or worker in hides, at Zurich. This last began his career under all the disadvantages attendant on poverty, sickness, and domestic calamity; none of which, however, were sufficient to damp his courage or hinder his progress. His life was indeed an eminent illustration of the truth of the saying, that those who have most to do and are willing to work, will find the most time. Pierre Ramus was another man of like character. He was the son of poor parents in Picardy, and when a boy was employed to tend sheep. But not liking the occupation he ran away to Paris. After encountering much misery, he succeeded in entering the College of Navarre as a ser vant. The situation however, opened for him the road to learning, and he shortly became one of the most dis- tinguished men of his time. The chemist Vauquelin was the son of a peasant of 314 Promotions from "the Ranks" St. Andre-d'Herbetot, in the Calvados. When a boy at school, though poorly clad, he was full of bright intelligence; and the master, who taught him to read and write, when praising him for his diligence, used to say, " Go on, my boy; work, study, Colin, and one day you will go as well dressed as the parish church-war- den!" A country apothecary who visited the school admired the robust boy's arms, and offered to take him into his laboratory to pound his drugs, to which Vau- quelin assented in the hope of being able to continue his lessons. But the apothecary would not permit him to spend any part of his time in learning; and on ascertaining this, the youth immediately determined to quit his service. He therefore left St. Andre and took the road for Paris with his haversack on his back. Ar- rived there, he searched for a place as apothecary's boy, but could not find one. Worn out by fatigue and des- titution, Vauquelin fell ill, and in that state was taken to the hospital, where he thought he should die. But better things were in store for the poor boy. He recov- ered, and again proceeded in his search for employment, which he at length found with an apothecary. Shortly after, he became known to Fourcroy the eminent chemist, who was so pleased with the youth that he made him his private secretary; and many years after, on the death of that great philosopher, Vauquelin suc- ceeded him as Professor of Chemistry. Finally in 1829, the electors of the district of Calvados appointed him their representative in the Chamber of Deputies, In the French Army. 315 and he re-entered in triumph the village which he had left so many years before, so poor and so obscure. England has no parallel instance to show, of promo- tions from the ranks of the army to the highest military offices, which have been so common in France since the first Revolution. " La carriere ouverte aux ta- lents ;1 has there received many striking illustrations, which would doubtless be matched among ourselves were the road to promotion as open. Hoche, Hum- bert, and Pichegru, began their respective careers as private soldiers. Hoche, while in the King's army, was accustomed to embroider waistcoats to enable him to \ earn money wherewith to purchase books on military science. Humbert was a scapegrace when a youth; at sixteen he ran away from home, and was by turns servant to a tradesman at Nancy, a workman at Lyons, and a hawker of rabbit-skins. In 1792, he enlisted as a volunteer; and in a year he was General of Brigade. Kleber, Lefevre, Suchet, Victor, Lannes, Soult, Massena, St. Cyr, D'Erlon, Murat, Augereau, Bessieres, and Ney, all rose from the ranks. In some cases promotion was rapid, in others it was slow. St. Cyr, the son of a tan- ner of Toul, began life as an actor, after which he en- listed in the Chasseurs, and was promoted to a captain- cy within a year. Victor, Due de Belluno, enlisted in the Artillery in 1781: during the events preceding the Revolution he was discharged; but immediately on the outbreak of war he re-enlisted, and in the course of a few months his intrepidity and ability secured his 316 Persevering Application and Energy. promotion as Adjutant-Major and chief of battalion. Murat, " le beau sabreur,' 1 was the son of a village inn- keeper in Perigord, where he looked after the horses. He first enlisted in a regiment of Chasseurs, from which he was dismissed for insubordination; but again enlist- ing he shortly rose to the rank of Colonel. Ney enlist- ed at eighteen in a hussar regiment, and gradually ad- vanced step by step: Kleber soon discovered his mer- its, surnaming him " The Indefatigable," and promoted him to be Adjutant-General when only twenty-five. On the other hand, Soult was six years from the date of his enlistment before he reached the rank of sergeant. But Soult's advancement was rapid compared with that of Massena, who served for fourteen years before he was made sergeant; and though he afterwards rose successively, step by step, to the grades of Colonel, General of Division, and Marshal, he declared that the post of sergeant was the step which of all others had cost him the most labor to win. Similar promotions from the ranks in the French army, have continued down to our own day. Changarnier entered the King's bodyguard as a private in 1815. Marshal Bugeaud served four years in the ranks, after which he was made an officer. Marshal Randon, the present French Min- ister of War, began his military career as a drummer- boy; and in the portrait of him in the gallery at Ver- sailles, his hand rests upon a drum-head, the picture be- ing thus painted at his own request. Instances such as these inspire French soldiers with enthusiasm for Persevering Application and Energy. 317 their service, as each private feels that he may possibly carry the baton of a marshal in his knapsack The instances of men, in this and other countries, who, by dint of persevering application and energy, have raised themselves from the humblest ranks of in- dustry to eminent position of usefulness and influence in society, are indeed so numerous that they have long ceased to be regarded as exceptional. Looking at some of the more remarkable, it might almost be said that early encounter with difficulty and adverse cir- cumstances was the necessary and indispensable con- dition of success. The British House of Commons has always contained a considerable number of such self- raised men — fitting representatives of the industrial character of the people; and it is to the credit of our Legislature that they have been welcomed and honored there. When the late Joseph Brotherton, member for Salford, in the course of the discussion on the Ten Hour's Bill, detailed with true pathos the hardships and fatigues to which he had been subjected when working as a factory-boy in a cotton-mill, and de- scribed the resolution which he had then formed, that if ever it was in his power he would endeavor to ame- liorate the condition of that class, Sir James Graham rose immediately after him, and declared, amidst the cheers of the House, that he did not before know that Mr. Brotherton's origin had been so humble, but that it rendered him more proud than he had ever before been of the House of Commons, to think that a person risen 318 Mr. Lindsay. from that condition should be able to sit side by side on equal terms with the hereditary gentry of the land. The late Mr. Fox member for Oldham, was accus tomed to introduce his recollections of past times with the words, "when I was working as a weaver-boy at Norwich," and there are other members of parliament, still living, whose origin has been equally humble. Mr. Lindsay, the well-known ship-owner, until recently member for Sunderland, once told the simple story of his life to the electors of Weymouth, in answer to an attack made upon him by his political opponents. He had been left an orphan at fourteen, and when he left Glasgow for Liverpool to push his way in the world, not being able to pay the usual fare, the captain of the steamer agreed to take his labor in exchange, and the boy worked his passage by trimming the coals in the coal-hole. At Liverpool he remained for seven weeks before he could obtain employment, during which time he lived in sheds and fared hardly ; until at last he found shelter on board a West Indiaman. He entered as a boy, and before he was nineteen, by steady good con- duct he had risen to the command of a ship. At twenty-three he retired from the sea, and settled on shore, after which his progress was rapid: " he had prospered," he said, a by steady industry, by constant word, and by ever keeping in view the great principle of doing to others as you would be done by." The career of Mr. William Jackson, of Birkenhead^ the present member for North Derbyshire, bears con- William Jackson — Richard Cobden. 319 siclerable resemblance to that of Mr. Lindsay. His fa- ther, a surgeon at Lancaster, died, leaving a family of eleven children, of whom William Jackson was the seventh son. The elder boys had been well-educated while the father lived, but at his death the younger mem- bers had to shift for themselves. William, when under twelve years old, was taken from school, and put to hard work at a ship's side from six in the morning till nine at night. His master falling ill, the boy was taken into the counting-house, where he had more leisure. This gave him an opportunity of reading, and having obtained access to a set of the " Encyclopaedia Britan- nica," he read the volumes through from A to Z, part- ly by day, but chiefly at night. He afterwards put himself to a trade, was diligent, and succeeded in it. Now he has ships sailing on almost every sea, and holds commercial relations with nearly every country on the globe. Among like men, of the same class may be ranked the late Richard Cobden, whose start in life was equally humble. The son of a small farmer at Midhurst in Sus- sex, he was sent at an early age to London and em- ployed as a boy in a warehouse in the City. He was diligent, well conducted, and eager for information. His master, a man of the old school, warned him against too much reading; but the boy went on in his own course, storing his mind with the wealth found in books. He was promoted from one position of trust to another. — became a traveller for his house — secured a large con- 320 Diligence Indispensable. nection, and eventually started in business as a calico- printer at Manchester. Taking an interest in public questions, more especially in popular education, his at- tention was gradually drawn to the subject of the Corn Laws, to the repeal of which he may be said to have devoted his fortune and his life. It may be mentioned as a curious fact, that the first speech he delivered in public was a total failure. But he had great perseve- rance, application, and energy; and with persistency and practice, he became at length one of the most persua- sive and effective of public speakers, extorting the disin- terested eulogy of even Sir Robert Peel himself. M. Drouyn de Lhuys, the French Ambassador, has elo- quently said of Mr. Cobden, that he was " a living proof of what merit, perseverance, and labor can accom- plish; one of the most complete examples of those men who, sprung from the humblest ranks of society, raise themselves to the highest rank in public estimation by the effect of their own worth and of their personal ser- vices; finally, one of the rarest examples of the solid qualities inherent in the English character.' 1 In all these cases, strenuous individual application was the price paid for distinction; excellence of any sort being invariably placed beyond the reach of indo- lence. It is the diligent hand and head alone that maketh rich — in self-culture, growth in wisdom, and in business. Even when men are born to wealth and high social position, any solid reputation which they may in- dividually achieve can only be attained by energetic The Wealthier Hanks not Idlers. 321 application; for though an inheritance of acres may be bequeathed, an inheritance of knowledge and wisdom can not. The wealthy man may pay others for doing his work for him, but it is impossible to get his think- ing done for him by another, or to purchase any kind of self-culture. Indeed, the doctrine that excellence in any pursuit is only to be achieved by laborious appli- cation, holds as true in the case of the man of wealth as in that of Drew and Gifford, whose only school was a cobbler's stall, or Hugh Miller, whose only college was a Cromarty stone quarry. Riches and ease, it is perfectly clear, are not neces- sary for man's highest culture, else had not the world been so largely indebted in all times to those who have sprung from the humbler ranks. An easy and luxuri- ous existence does not train men to effort or encounter with difficulty; nor does it awaken that consciousness of power which is so necessary for energetic and effect- ive action in life. Indeed, so far from poverty being a misfortune, it may, by vigorous self-help, be converted even into a blessing; rousing a man to that struggle with the world in which, though some may purchase ease by degradation, the right minded and true-hearted find strength, confidence, and triumph. Bacon says, " Men seem neither to understand their riches nor their strength : of the former they believe greater things than they should; of the latter much less. Self-reliance and self-denial will teach a man to drink out of his own cis- tern, and eat his own sweet bread, and to learn and 21 322 The Wealthier Hanks not Idlers. labor truly to get his living, and carefully to expend the good things committed to his trust." Riches are so great a temptation to ease and self- indulgence, to which men are by nature prone, that the glory is all the greater of those who, born to ample for- tunes, nevertheless take an active part in the work of their generation — who " scorn delights and live labori- ous days. " It is to the honor of the wealthier ranks in this country that they are not idlers; for they do their fair share of the work of the state, and usually take more than their fair share of its dangers. It was a fine thing said of a subaltern officer in the Peninsular cam- paigns, observed trudging alone through mud and mire by the side of his regiment, " There goes £15,000 a year!" and in our own day, the bleak slopes of Sebas- topol and the burning soil of India have borne witness to the like noble self-denial and devotion on the part of our gentler classes; many a gallant and noble fel- low, of rank and estate, having risked his life, or lost it, in one or other of those fields of action, in the service of his country. Nor have the wealthier classes been undistinguished in the more peaceful pursuits of philosophy and science. Take, for instance, the great names of Bacon, the father of modern philosophy, and of Worcester, Boyle, Cav- endish, Talbot, and Rosse, in science. The last named may be regarded as the great mechanic of the peerage; a man who, if he had not been born a peer, would prob- ably have taken the highest rank as an inventor. So Sir Robert Peel. 323 thorough is his knowledge of smith-work that he is said to have been pressed on one occasion to accept the foremanship of a large workshop, by a manufacturer to whom his rank was unknown. The great Rosse tel- escope, of his own fabrication, is certainly the most ex- traordinary instrument of the kind that has yet been constructed. But it is principally in the departments of politics and literature that we find the most energetic laborers amongst our higher classes. Success in these lines of action, as in all others, can only be achieved through in- dustry, practice, and study; and the great Minister, or parliamentary leader, must necessarily be amongst the very hardest of workers. Such was Palmerston; and such are Derby and Russell, Disraeli and Gladstone. These men have had the benefit of no Ten Hours' Bill, but have often, during the busy season of Parliament, worked " double shift," almost day and night. One of the most illustrious of such workers in modern times was unquestionably the late Sir Robert Peel. He pos- sessed in an extraordinary degree the power of contin- uous intellectual labor, nor did he spare himself. His career indeed presented a remarkable example of how much a man of comparatively moderate powers can ac- complish by means of assiduous application and inde- fatigable industry. During the forty years that he held a seat in Parliament, his labors were prodigious. He was a most conscientious man, and whatever he un- dertook to do, he did thoroughly. All his speeches 324 Lord Brougham. bear evidence of his careful study of everything that had been spoken or written on the subject under con- sideration. He was elaborate almost to excess; and spared no pains to adapt himself to the various capaci- ties of his audience. Withal, he possessed much prac- tical sagacity, great strength of purpose, and power to direct the issues of action with steady hand and eye. In one respect he surpassed most men: his principles broadened and enlarged with time; and age, instead of contracting, only served to mellow and ripen his na- ture. To the last he continued open to the reception of new views, and, though many thought him cautious to excess, he did not allow himself to fall into that in- discriminating admiration of the past, which is the palsy of many minds similarly educated, and renders the old age of many nothing but a pity. The indefatigable industry of Lord Brougham has become almost proverbial. His public labors have ex- tended over a period of upwards of sixty years, during which he has ranged over many fields — of law, litera- ture, politics, and science — and achieved distinction in them all. How he contrived it, has been to many a mystery. Once, when Sir Samuel Romilly was request- ed to undertake some new work, he excused himself by saying that he had no time; "but," he added, " go with it to that fellow Brougham; he seems to have time for everything." The secret of it was that he never left a minute unemployed; withal he possessed a constitution of iron. When arrived at an age at which most men Sir E. Bidwer Lylton. 325 would have retired from the world to enjoy their hard- earned leisure, perhaps to dose away their time in an easy-chair, Lord Brougham commenced and prosecuted a series of elaborate investigations as to the laws of Light, and he submitted the results to the most scien- tific audiences that Paris and London could muster. About the same time, he was passing through the press his admirable sketches of the " Men of Science and Literature of the Reign of George III.," and taking his full share of the law business and the political discus- sions in the House of Lords. Sidney Smith once re- commended him to confine himself to only the transac- tion of so much business as three strong men could get through. But such was Brougham's love of work — long become a habit — that no amount of application seemed to have been too great for him; and such was his love of excellence, that it has been said of him that if his station in life had only been that of a shoeblack, he would never have rested satisfied until he had become the best shoeblack in England. Another hard-working man of the same class is Sir E. Bulwer Lytton. Few writers have done more, or achieved higher distinctions in various walks as a novel- ist, poet, dramatist, historian, essayist, orator, and poli- tician. He has worked his way step by step, disdainful of ease, and animated throughout by the ardent desire to excel. On the score of mere industry, there are few living English writers who have written so much, and none that have produced so much of high quality. The 326 Sir E. Bulwer Lytton. industry of Bulwer is entitled to all the greater praise that it has been entirely self-imposed. To hunt, and shoot, and live at ease — to frequent the clubs and enjoy the opera, with the variety of London visiting and sight-seeing during the "season," and then off to the country mansion, with its well-stocked preserves, and its thousand delightful out-door pleasures — to travel abroad, to Paris, Vienna, or Rome — all this is excessive- ly attractive to a lover of pleasure and a man of fortune, and by no means calculated to make him voluntarily undertake continuous labor of any kind. Yet these pleasures, all within his reach, Bulwer must, as compar- ed with men born to similar estate, have denied himself in assuming the position and pursuing the career of a literary man. Like Byron, his first effort was poetical ("Weeds and Wild Flowers,") and a failure. His second was a novel ( u Falkland,") and it proved a fail- ure too. A man of weaker nerve would have dropped authorship; but Bulwer had pluck and perseverance; and he worked on, determined to succeed. He was in- cessantly industrious, read extensively, and from failure went courageously onward to success. " Pelham " followed " Falkland " within a year, and the remainder of Bulwer's literary life, now extending over a period of thirty years, has been a succession of triumphs. Mr. Disraeli affords a similar instance of the power of industry and application in working out an eminent public career. His first achievements were, like Bul- wer 's, in literature; and he reached success only through Mr. Disraeli. 327 a succession of failures. His " Wondrous Tale of Alroy " and " Revolutionary Epic " were laughed at, and regarded as indications of literary lunacy. But he worked on in other directions, and his " Coningsby," " Sybil," and " Tancred," proved the sterling stuff of which he was made. As an orator, too, his first appear- ance in the House of Commons was a failure. It was spoken of as "more screaming than an Adelphi farce." Though composed in a grand and ambitious strain, every sentence was hailed with " loud laughter." "Hamlet " played as a comedy were nothing to it. But he concluded with a sentence which embodied a prophecy. Writhing under the laughter with which his studied eloquence had been received, he exclaimed, u I have begun several times many things, and have suc- ceeded in them at last. I will sit down now, but the time will come when you will hear me." The time did come; and how Disraeli succeeded in at length com- manding the attention of the first assembly of gentlemen in the world, affords a striking illustration of what energy and determination will do; for Disraeli earned his position by dint of patient industry. He did not, as many young men do, having once failed, retire dejected, to mope and whine in a corner, but diligently set him- self to work. He carefully unlearnt his faults, studied the character of his audience, practiced sedulously the art of speech, and industriously filled his mind with the elements of parliamentary knowledge. He worked patiently for success, and it came but slowly; then the 328 Alexis de Tocqueville* House laughed with him, instead of at him. The recollection of his early failure was effaced, and by general consent he was at length admitted to be one of the most finished and effective of parliamentary speakers- Although much may be accomplished by means of individual industry and energy, as these and other instances set forth in the following pages served to illus- trate, it must at the same time be acknowledged that the help which we derive from others in the journey of life is of very great importance. The poet Words- worth has well said that " these two things, contradic- tory though they may seem, must go together — manly dependence and manly independence, manly reliance and manly self-reliance." From infancy to old age, all are more or less indebted to others for nurture and cul- ture; and the best and strongest are usually found the readiest to acknowledge such help. Take, for example, the career of the late Alexis de Tocqueville, a man doubly well-born, for his father was a distinguished peer of France, and his mother a grand-daughter of Malesherbes. Through powerful family influence, he was appointed Judge Auditor of Versailles when only twenty-one; but probably feeling that he had not fairly won the position by merit, he determined to give it up and owe his future advancement in life to hinself alone. " A foolish resolution," some will say; but De Tocqueville bravely acted it out. He resigned his ap- pointment, and made arrangements to leave France for the purpose of travelling through the United States. Alexis de TocqueviUe* 32& the results of which were published in his great book on ''Democracy in America/' His friend and travel- ling companion, Gustave de Beaumont, has described his indefatigable industry during this journey. "His nature,' 1 he says, "was wholly averse to idleness, and whether he was travelling or resting, his mind was always at work. . . . With Alexis, the most agreeable conversation was that which was the most useful. The worst day was the lost day, or the day ill spent; the least loss of time annoyed him." TocqueviUe himself wrote to a friend — " There is no time of life at which one can wholly cease from action; for effort without one's self, and still more, effort within, is equally neces- essary, if not more so, when we grow old, as it is in youth. I compare man in this world to a traveller journeying without ceasing towards a colder and colder region; the higher he goes, the faster he ought to walk. The great malady of the soul is cold. And in resisting this formidable evil, one needs not only to be sustained by the action of a mind employed, but also by contact with ones fellows in the business of life." Human character is moulded by a thousand subtle influences; by example and precept; by life and litera- ture; by friends and neighbors; by the world we live in as well as by the spirit of our forefathers, whose legacy of good words and deeds we inherit. But great, unquestionably, though these influences are acknowl- edged to be, it is nevertheless equally clear that men must necessarily be the active agents of their own well- 330 Men Their Own Best Helpers. being and well-doing; and that, however much the wise and the good may owe to others, they themselves must in the very nature of things be their own best helpers. CHAPTER XXIX. APPLICATION AND PERSEVERANCE. Oreat Results Attained by Simple Means. — Fortune Favors the Industrious. — "Genius is Patience." — Newton and Kepler. — Industry of Eminent Men. — Power Acquired by Repeated Effort. — Anecdote of Sir Robert Peel's Cultivation of Memory. — Facility Comes by Practice.— Importance of Patience. — Cheerfulness. — Hope an Important Element in Character. — Anecdote of Audubon the Ornithologist. — Anecdote of Mr. Carlyle and His MS. of the "French Revolution." — Perseverance of Watt and Stephenson. '• Rich are the diligent, who can command Time, nature's stock? and could his b our-glass fall, Would, as for seed of stars, stoop for the sand, And, by incessant labor, gather all." — D'Avenant. 'TAHE greatest results in life are usually attained by simple means, and the exercise of ordinary quali- ties. The common life of every day, with its cares, necessities, and duties, affords ample opportunity for acquiring experience of the best kind; and its most beaten paths provide the true worker with abundant scope for effort and room for self-improvement. The road of human welfare lies along the old highway of steadfast well-doing; and they who are the most per- sistent, and work in the truest spirit, will usually be the anost successful. 33 1 332 Sir Isaac Newton* Fortune has often been blamed for her blindness ; but fortune is not so blind as men are. Those who look into practical life will find that fortune is usually on the side of the industrious, as the winds and waves are on the side of the best navigators. In the pursuit of even the highest branches of human inquiry, the commoner qualities are found the most useful — such as common sense, attention, application, and perseverance. Genius may not be necessary, though even genius of the high- est sort does not disdain the use of these ordinary quali- ties. The very greatest men have been among the least believers in the power of genius, and as worldly wise and persevering as successful men of the common- er sort. Some have even defined genius to be only common sense intensified. A distinguished teacher and president of a college spoke of it as the power of mak- ing efforts. John Foster held it to be the power of lighting one's own fire. Buffon said of genius, "It is patience. " Newton's was unquestionably a mind of the very highest order, and yet, when asked by what means he had worked out his extraordinary discoveries, he mod- estly answered, " By always thinking unto them.' 1 At another time he thus expressed his method of study : " I keep the subject continually before me, and wait till the first dawnings open slowly by little and little into a full and clear light. 1 ' It was in Newton's case as in every other, only by diligent application and perseve- rance that his great reputation was achieved. Even Application and Perseverance. 333 his recreation consisted in change of study, laying down one subject to take up another. To Dr. Bentley he said: " If I have done the public any service, it is due to nothing but industry and patient thought." So Kep- ler, another great philosopher, speaking of his studies and his progress, said: " As in Virgil, ' Fama mobili- tate viget, vires acquirit eundo,'' so it was with me, that the diligent thought on these things was the occasion of further thinking; until at last I brooded with the whole energy of my mind upon the subject." The extraordinary results effected by dint of sheer in- dustry and perseverance, ha\^e led many distinguished men to doubt whether the gift of genius be so excep- tional an endowment as it is usually supposed to be. Thus Voltaire held that it is only a very slight line of separation that divides the man of genius from the man of ordinary mould, Beccaria was even of opinion that all men might be poets and orators, and Reynolds that they might be painters and sculptors. If this were really so, that stolid Englishman might not have been so very far wrong after all, who, in Canova's death, in- quired of his brother whether it was " his intention to carry on the business!" Locke, Helvetius,and Diderot believed that all men have an equal aptitude for genius, and that what some are able to effect under the laws which regulate the operations of the intellect, must also be within the reach of others who, under like cir- cumstances, apply themselves to like pursuits. But while admitting to the fullest extent the wonderful 334 Application and Perseverance. achievements of labor, and recognizing the fact that men of the most distinguished genius have invariably been found the most indefatigable workers, it must nev- ertheless be sufficiently obvious that, without the orig- inal endowment of heart and brain, no amount of labor, however well applied, could have produced a Shaks- peare, a Newton, a Beethoven, or a Michael Angelo. Dalton, the chemist, repudiated the notion of his being " a genius," attributing every thing which he had accomplished to simple industry and accumulation. John Hunter said of himself, " My mind is like a bee- hive; but full as it is of buzz and apparent confusion, it is yet full of order and regularity, and food collected with incessant industry from the choicest stores of na- ture." We have, indeed, but to glance at the biogra- phies of great men to find that the most distinguished inventors, artists, thinkers, and workers of all kinds, owe their success, in a great measure to their indefati- gable industry and application. They were men who turned all things to gold — even time itself. Disraeli the elder held that the secret of success consisted in being master of your subject, such master} 7 being at- tainable only through continuous application and study. Hence it happens that the men who have most moved the world, have not been so much men of genius, strict ^ ly so called, as men of intense mediocre abilities, and untiring perseverance; not so often the gifted, of nat- urally bright and shining qualities, as those who have applied themselves diligently to their work, in whatso- Anecdote of Sir Robert Peel. 335 ever line that might lie. '■ Alas!" said a widow, speak- ing of her brilliant but careless son, " he has not the gift of continuance." Wanting in perseverance, such volatile natures are outstripped in the race of life by the diligent and even the dull. " Che va piano, va longano, e valontano," says the Italian proverb: Who goes slowly, goes long, and goes far. Hence, a great point to be aimed at is to get the working quality well trained. When that is done the race will be found comparatively easy. We must re- peat and again repeat; facility will come with labor. Not even the simplest art can be accomplished without it; and what difficulties it is found capable of achiev- ing! It was by early discipline and repetition that the late Sir Robert Peel cultivated those remarkable r though still mediocre powers, which rendered him so illustrious an ornament of the British Senate. When a boy at Drayton Manor, his father was accustomed to set him up at table to practice speaking extempore; and he early accustomed him to repeat as much of the Sunday's sermon as he could remember. Little prog- ress was made at first, but by steady perseverance the habit of attention became powerful, and the ser- mon was at length repeated almost verbatim. When afterwards replying in succession to the arguments of his parliamentary opponents— an art in which he was perhaps unrivaled — it was little surmised that the ex- traordinary power of accurate remembrance which he displayed on such occasions had been originally trained 336 Continuous Application. 4 under the discipline of his father in the parish church of Drayton It is indeed marvellous what continuous application will effect in the commonest of things. It may seem a simple affair to play upon a violin; yet what a long and laborious practice it requires! Giardini said to a youth who asked him how long it would take to learn it, " Twelve hours a day for twenty years together." Industry, it is said, fait Pours danser. The poor figu- rante must devote years of incessant toil to her profit- less task before she can shine in it. When Taglioni was preparing herself for her evening exhibition, she would, after a severe two hours' lesson from her father, fall down exhausted, and had to be undressed, sponged, and resuscitated, totally unconscious. The agility and bounds of the evening were insured only at a price like this. Progress, however, of the best kind, is comparatively slow. Great results can not be achieved at once; and we must be satisfied to advance in life as we walk, step by step. DeMaistre says that u To know how to wait is the great secret of success. We must sow before we can reap, and often have to wait long, content meanwhile to look patiently forward in hope; the fruit best worth waiting for often ripening the slowest. But " Time and patience," says the Eastern proverb, "change the mulberry leaf to satin." To wait patiently, however, men must work cheer- fully. Cheerfulness is an excellent working quality, Cheerfulness. 337 imparting great elasticity to the character. As a bishop has said, "Temper is nine-tenths of Christianity;" so are cheerfulness and diligence nine-tenths oi practical wisdom. They are the life and soul of success, as well as of happiness; perhaps the very highest pleasure in life consisting in clear, brisk, conscious working; ener- gy, confidence, and every other good quality mainly depending upon it. Sydney Smith, when laboring as a parish priest at Foston-le-Clay, in Yorkshire — though he did not feel himself to be in his proper element — went cheerfully to work in the firm determination to do his best. " I am resolved," he said, " to like it, and reconcile myself to it, which is more manly than to feign myself above it, and to send up complaints by the post of being thrown away, and being desolate, and such like trash." So Dr. Hook, when leaving Leeds for a new sphere of labor, said, " Wherever I may be, I shall, by God's blessing, do with my might what my hand findeth to do ; and if I do not find work, I shall make it." Laborers for the public good especially, have to work long and patiently, often uncheered by the prospect of immediate recompense or result. The seeds they sow sometimes lie hidden under the winter's snow, and be- fore the spring comes the husbandman may have gone to his rest. It is not every public worker, who like Rowland Hill, sees his great idea bring forth fruit in his lifetime. Adam Smith sowed the seeds of a great social amelioration in that dingy old University of 22 338 Hope — William Carey. Glasgow where he so long labored, and laid the founda tions of his "Wealth of Nations ;" but seventy years passed before his work bore substantial fruits, nor indeed are they all gathered in yet. Nothing can compensate for the loss of hope in a man : it entirely changes the character. " How can I work — how can I be happy," said a great but miserable think- er, "when I. have lost all hope?" One of the most cheerful and courageous, because one of the most hope- ful of workers, was Carey, the missionary. When in India, it was no uncommon thing for him to weary out three pundits, who officiated as his clerks, in one day, he himself taking rest only in change of employment. Carey, the son of a shoemaker, was supported in his labors by Ward, the Son of a carpenter, and Marsham, the son of a weaver. By their labors a magnificent college was erected at Serampore; sixteen flourishing stations were established; the Bible was translated into sixteen languages, and the seeds were sown of a beneficent moral revolution in British India. Carey was never ashamed of the humbleness of his origin. On one occasion, when at the Governor- General's table he overheard an officer opposite him asking another, loud enough to be heard, whether Carey had not once been a shoemaker: " No, Sir," exclaimed Carey immediately; only a cobbler." An eminently characteristic anecdote has been told of his perseverance as a boy. When climbing a tree one day, his foot slipped, and he fell to the ground, breaking his leg by the fall. He was con- Dr. Young — Audubon. 339 lined to his bed for weeks, but when he recovered and was able to walk without support , the very first thing he did was to go and climb that tree. Carey had need of this sort of dauntless courage for the great mission- ary work of his life, and nobly and resolutely he did it. It was a maxim of Dr. Young, the philosopher, that " Any man can do what any other man has done;" and it is unquestionable that he himself never recoiled from any trials to which he determined to subject himself. It is related of him, that the first time he mounted a horse he was in company with the grandson of Mr. Barclay, of Ury, the well-know sportsman, when the horseman who preceded them leaped a high fence. Young wished to imitate him, but fell off his horse in the attempt. Without saying a word, he remounted, made a second effort, and was again unsuccessful, but this time he was not thrown farther than on to the horse's neck, to which he clung. At the third trial he succeeded, and cleared the fence. The story of Timour the Tartar learning a lesson of perseverance under adversity from the spider is well- known. Not less interesting is the anecdote of Audu- bon, the American ornithologist, as related by himself: " An accident," he says, " which happened to two hundred of my original drawings, nearly put a stop to my researches in ornithology. I shall relate it, merely to show how far enthusiasm — for by no other name can I call my perseverance — may enable the preserver of nature to surmount the most disheartening difficulties. 340 Audubon. I left the village of Henderson, in Kentucky, situated on the banks of the Ohio, where I resided for several years, to proceed to Philadelphia on business. I looked to my drawings before my departure, placed them care- fully in a wooden box, and gave them in charge of a relative, with injunctions to see that no injury should happen to them. My absence was of several months; and when I returned, after having enjoyed the pleasures of home for a few days, I inquired after my box, and what I was pleased to call my treasure. The box was produced and opened; but, reader, feel for me — a pair of Norway rats had taken possession of the whole, and reared a young family among the gnawed bits of paper, which, but a month previous, represented nearly a thousand inhabitants of air! The burning heat which instantly rushed through my brain was too great to be endured without affecting my whole nervous system. I slept for several nights, and the days passed like days of oblivion — until the animal powers being recalled into action through the strength of my constitution, I took up my gun, my note-book and my pencils, and went forth in the woods as gayly as if nothing had happened. I felt pleased that I might now make better drawings than before; and, ere a period not exceeding three years had elapsed, my portfolio was again filled." The accidental destruction of Sir Isaac Newton's papers, by his little dog " Diamond " upsetting a lighted taper upon his desk, by which the elaborate cal- Newton. 341 culatons of many years were in a moment destroyed, is a well-known anecdote, and need not be repeated: it is said that the loss caused the philosopher such pro- found grief that it seriously injured his health, and impaired his understanding. An accident of a some- what similar kind happened to the manuscript of Mr. Carlyle's first volume of his " French Revolution." He had lent the manuscript to a literary neighbor to peruse. By some mischance, it had been left lying on the parlor floor, and become forgotten. Weeks ran on, and the historian sent for his work, the printers being loud for " copy." Inquiries were made, and it was found that the maid-of-all-work, finding what she conceived to be a bundle of waste paper on the floor, had used it to light the kitchen and parlor fires with! Such was the answer returned to Mr. Carlyle; and his feelings may be imagined. There was, however, no help for him but to set resolutely to work to rewrite the book; and he turned to and did it. He had no draft, and was com- pelled to rake up from his memory facts, ideas, and expressions which had been long since dismissed. The composition of the book in the first instance had been a work of pleasure; the re- writing of it a second time was one of pain and anguish almost beyond belief. That he persevered and finished the volume under such circumstances, affords an instance of determination of purpose which has seldom been surpassed. The lives of eminent inventors are eminently illus- trative of the same quality of perseverance. George 34:2 Eminent Inventors. Stephenson, when addressing young men, was accus- tomed to sum up his best advice to them in the words, "Do as I have done — persevere." He had worked at the improvement of his locomotive for some fifteen years before achieving his decisive victory at Rainhill; and Watt was engaged for some thirty years upon the condensing-engine before he brought it to perfection. But there are equally striking illustrations of persever- ance to be found in every other branch of science, art, and industry. CHAPTER XXX. APPLICATION AND PERSEVERANCE. Comte de Buffon as Student. — Genius is Patience. — His Continuous and Unremitting Labors. — Sir Walter Scott's Perseverance. — His Working Qualities. — His Punctuality. "Love, therefore, labor: if thou shouldst not want it for food, thou may'st for physic. It is wholesome to the body, and good for the mind : it prevents the fruit of idleness." — William Penn. /TV HE career of the Comte de Buffon presents another -■- remarkable illustration of the power of patient industry, as well as his own saying, that " Genius is patience." Notwithstanding the great results achieved by him in natural history, BurTon, when a youth, was regarded as of mediocre talents. His mind was slow in forming itself, and slow in reproducing what it had acquired. He was also constitutionally indolent; and being born to good estate, it might be supposed that he would indulge his liking for ease and luxury. Instead ■of which, he early formed the resolution of denying himself pleasure, and devoting himself to study and self- culture. Regarding time as a treasure that was limited, and finding that he was losing many hours by lying abed in the mornings, he determined to break himself 343 344 Buffon s Laziness. of the habit. He struggled hard against it for some time, but failed in being able to rise at the hour he had fixed. He then called his servant Joseph, to his help, and promised him the reward of a crown every time that he succeeded in getting him up before six. At first, when called, Buffon declined to rise — pleaded that he was ill, or pretended anger at being disturbed ; and on the Count at length getting up, Joseph found that he had earned nothing but reproaches for having permitted his master to lie abed contrary to his express orders. At length the valet determined to earn his crown; and again and again he forced Buffon to rise, notwithstand- ing his entreaties, expostulations, and threats of imme- diate discharge from his service. One morning Buffon was unusually obstinate, and Joseph found it necessary to resort to the extreme measure of dashing a basin of ice-cold water under the bed-clothes, the effect of which was instantaneous. By the persistent use of such means, Buffon at length conquered his habit ; and he was accustomed to say, that he owed to Joseph three or four volumes of his Natural History. For forty years of his life, Buffon worked every morn- ing at his desk from nine till two, and again in the even- ing from five to nine. His diligence was so continuous and so regular that it became habitual. His biographer has said of him, " Work was his necessity; his studies were the charm of his life; and towards the last term of his glorious career he frequently said that Jie still hoped to be able to consecrate to them a few more Buffon a Conscientious Worker. 345 years." He was a most conscientious worker, always studying to give the reader his best thoughts, expres- sed in the very best manner. . He was never wearied with touching and retouching his compositions, so that his style may be pronounced almost perfect. He wrote the " Epoques de la Nature" not fewer than eleven times before he was satisfied with it; although he had thought over the Work about fifty years. He was a thorough man of business, most orderly in every thing; and he was accustomed to say that genius without or- der lost three-fourths of its power. His great success as a writer was the result mainly of his pains-taking labor and diligent application. "Buffon," observed Madame Necker, " strongly persuaded that genius is the result of a profound attention directed to a particu- lar subject, said that he was thoroughly wearied out when composing his first writings, but compelled him- self to return to them and go over them carefully again, even when he thought he had already brought them to a certain degree of perfection; and that at length he found pleasure instead of weariness in this long and elaborate correction."' 1 It ought also to be added that Buffon wrote and published all his great works while afflicted by one of the most painful diseases to which the human frame is subject. Literary life affords abundant illustrations of the same power of perseverance; and perhaps no career is more instructive, viewed in this light, than that of Sir Walter Scott. His admirable working qualities were 346 Sir Walter Scott trained in a lawyer's office, where he pursued for many years a sort of drudgery scarcely above that of a copy- ing clerk. His daily dull routine made his evenings, which were his own, all the more sweet ; and he gener- ally devoted them to reading and study. He himself attributed to his prosaic office discipline that habit of steady, sober diligence, in which mere literary men are so often found wanting. As a copying clerk he was allowed 3d. for every page containing a certain number of words; and he sometimes, by extra work, was able to copy as many as 120 pages in twenty-four hours, thus earning some 305.; out of which he would occa- sionally purchase an odd volume, otherwise beyond his means. During his after-life Scott was wont to pride himself upon being a man of business, and he averred, in con- tradiction to what he called the cant of sonnetteers, that there was no necessary connection between genius and an aversion or contempt for the common duties of life. On the contrary, he was of opinion that to spend some fair portion of every day in any matter-of-fact occupation was good for the higher faculties themselves in the upshot. While afterwards acting as clerk to the Court of Sessions in Edinburg, he performed his literary work chiefly before breakfast, attending the court dur- ing the day, where he authenticated registered deeds and writings of various kinds. " On the whole, 17 says Lockhart, " it forms one of the most remarkable features in his history, that throughout the most active period Scott's Punctuality 347 of his literary career, he must have devoted a large proportion of his hours, during half at least of every 3 T ear, to the conscientious discharge of professional du- ties." It was a principle of action which he laid down for himself, that he must earn his living by business, and not by literature. On one occasion he said, " I de- termined that literature should be my staff, not my crutch, and that the profits of my literary labor, how- ever convenient otherwise, should not, if I could help it, become necessary to my ordinary expenses." His punctuality was one of the most carefully culti- vated of his habits, otherwise it had not been possible for him to get through so enormous an amount of liter- ary labor. He made it a rule to answer every letter received by him on the same day, except where inquiry and deliberation were requisite. Nothing else could have enabled him to keep abreast with the flood of communications that poured in upon him and sometimes put his good-nature to the severest test. It was his practice to rise by five o'clock and light his own fire. He shaved and dressed with deliberation, and was seated at his desk by six o'clock, with his papers arranged before him in the most accurate order, his works of ref- erence marshalled round him on the floor, while at least one favorite dog lay watching his eye, outside the line of books. Thus by the time the family assembled for breakfast, between nine and ten, he had done enough — to use his own words — to break the neck of the day's work. But with all his diligent and indefatigable indus- 348 Samuel Drew. try, and his immense knowledge, the result of many years' patient labor, Scott always* spoke with the great- est diffidence of his own powers. On one occasion he said, " Throughout every part of my career I have felt pinched and hampered by my own ignorance. 11 Such is true wisdom and humility; for the more a man really knows, the less conceited he will be. The student at Trinity College who went up to his professor to take leave of him because he had " finished his edu- cation, 11 was wisely rebuked by the professor's reply, "Indeed! I am only beginning mine. 11 The superficial person, who has obtained a smattering of many things but knows nothing well, may pride himself upon his gifts; but the sage humbly confesses that " all he knows is, that he knows nothing, 11 or, like Newton, that he has been only engaged in picking shells by the sea-shore while the great ocean of truth lies all unexplored before him. The career of Samuel Drew is not less remarkable than any of those which we have cited. His father was a hard-working laborer of the parish of St. Austell, in Cornwall. Though poor, he contrived to send his two sons to a penny-a-week school in the neighborhood. Jabez, the elder, took delight in learning, and made great progress in his lessons; but Samuel, the younger, was a dunce, notoriously given to mischief and playing truant. When about eight years old he was put to manual labor, earning three halfpence a day as a bud- dle-boy at a tin-mine. At ten he was apprenticed to a fi el D 349 shoemaker, and while in this employment he endured much hardship — living, as he used to say, '-like a toad under a harrow," He often thought of running away and becoming a pirate, or something of the sort, and he seems :o have grown in recklessness as he grew in years. In robbing orchards, he was usually a leader; and, as he grew older, he delighted to take part in any poach- ing or smugglinc: adventure. When about seventeen, : re his apprenticeship was out, he ran away, intend- ing to enter on board a man-of-war: but, sleeping in a hay-rleld at night cooled him a little, and he returned to his trade. Drew next removed to the neighborhood of Plymouth to work at his shoemaking business, and while at Caw- sand he won a prize for cudgel-playing, in which he seems to have been an adept. While living there, he had nearly lost his life in a smuggling exploit which he had joined, partly induced by the love of adventure, and partly by the love of gain, for his regular wages were not more than eight shillings a week. One night, notice was given throughout Crafthole, that a smuggler was off the coast, ready to land her cargo; on which the male population of the place — nearly all smugglers — made for the shore. One party remained on the rocks to make signals and dispose of the goods as they were landed, and another manned the boats, Drew being of the latter party. The night was intensely dark, and very little of the cargo had been landed, when the wind rose, with a heavv sea. The men in the boats, how- 350 Smuggling Adventure. ever, determined to persevere, and several trips were made between the smuggler, now standing farther out to sea, and the shore. One of the men in the boat in which Drew was, had his hat blown off by the wind, and in attempting to recover it, the boat was upset. Three of the men were immediately drowned; the others clung to the boat for a time, but finding it drift- ing out to sea, they took to swimming. They were two miles from land, and the night was intensely dark. After being about three hours in the water, Drew reached a rock near the shore, with one or two others, where he remained benumbed with cold till morning, when he and his companions were discovered and taken off, more dead than alive. A keg of brandy from the cargo just landed was brought, the head knocked in with a hatchet, and a bowlful of the liquid presented to the survivors; and, shortly after, Drew was able to walk two miles through deep snow, to his lodgings. This was a very unpromising beginning of a life; and yet this same Drew, scapegrace, orchard-robber, shoe- maker, cudgel player, and smuggler, outlived the reck- lessness of his youth, and became distinguished as a minister of the Gospel and a writer of good books. Happily, before it was too late, the energy which char- acterized him was turned into a more healthy direction, and rendered him as eminent in usefulness as he had before been in wickedness. His father again took him back to St. Austell, and found employment for him as a journeyman shoemaker. Perhaps his recent escape Samuel Drew. 351 from death had tended to make the young man serious, as we shortly find him, attracted by the forcible preach* ing of Dr. Adam Clarke, a minister of the Wesleyan Methodists. His brother having died about the same time the impression of seriousness was deepened; and thenceforward he was an altered man He began anew the work of education, for he had almost forgotten how to read and write, and even after several year's prac- tice, a friend compared his writing to the traces of a spider dipped in ink set to crawl upon paper. Speak- ing of himself, about that time, Drew afterwards said, " The more I read, the more I felt my own ignorance; and the more I felt my ignorance, the more invincible became my energy to surmount it. Every leisure moment was now employed in reading one thing or another. Having to support myself by manual labor, my time for reading was but little, and to overcome this disadvantage, my usual method was to place a book before me while at meat, and at every repast I read five or six pages." The perusal of Locke's "Essay on the Understanding " gave the first metaphysical turn to his mind. " It awakened me from my stupor," said he, "and induced me to form a resolution to abandon the groveling views which I had been accustomed to entertain.' 1 Drew began business on his own account with a cap- ital of a few shillings, but his character for steadiness was such that a neighboring miller offered him a loan, which was accepted, and, success attending his indus- 352 Samuel Drew, Student. try, the debt was repaid at the end of a year. He started with a determination to " owe no man any thing," and he held to it in the midst of many priva- tions. Often he went to bed supperless, to avoid rising in debt. His ambition was to achieve independence by industry and economy, and in this he gradually suc- ceeded. In the midst of incessant labor, he sedulously strove to improve his mind, studying astronomy, his- tory, and metaphysics. He was induced to pursue the latter study chiefly because it required fewer books to consult than either of the others. "It appeared to be a thorny path," he said, "but I determined, nevertheless, to enter, and accordingly began to tread it." Added to his labors in shoemaking and metaphysics, Drew became a local preacher and a class-leader. He took an eager interest in politics, and his shop became a favorite resort with the village politicians. And when they did not come to him, he went to them to talk over public affairs. This so encroached upon his time that he found it necessar} T sometimes to work until midnight to make up for the hours lost during the day. His political fervor became the talk of the village. While busy one night hammering away at a shoe-sole, a little boy, seeing a light in the shop, put his mouth to the keyhole of the door, and called out in a shrill pipe, "Shoemaker! shoemaker! work by night and run about by day!" A friend to whom Drew afterwards told the story, asked, " And did not you run after the boy and strap him?" "No, no," was the Samuel Drew, Metaphysician. 353 reply: " had a pistol been fired off at my ear, I could not have been more dismayed or confounded. I dropped my work, and said to myself, ' True, true ! but you shall never have that to say of me again.' To me that cry was as the voice of God, and it has been a word in season throughout my life. I learnt from it not to leave till to-morrow the work of to-day, or to idle when I ought to be working." From that moment Drew dropped politics, and stuck to his work, reading and studying in his spare hours; but he never allowed the latter pursuit to interfere with his business, though it frequently broke in upon his rest. He married, and thought of emigrating to America; but he remained working on. His literary taste first took the direction of political composition; and from some of the fragments which have been preserved, it appears that his speculations as to the immateriality and immortality of the soul had their origin in these poetical musings. His study was the kitchen, where his wife's bellows served him for a desk; and he wrote amidst the cries and cradlings of his children. Paine's " Age of Reason " having appeared about this time and excited much interest, he composed a pamphlet in refu- tation of its arguments, which was published. He used afterwards to say that it was the " Age of Reason " that made him an author. Various pamphlets from his pen shortly appeared in rapid succession, and a few years later, while still working at shoemaking, he wrote and published his admirable " Essay on the Immaterial- 2 3 354 Samuel Drew. ity and Immortality of the Human soul," which he sold for twenty pounds, a great sum in his estimation at the time. The book went through many editions and is still prized. Drew was in no wise puffed up by his success, as many young authors are, but long after he had become celebrated as a writer, used to be seen sweeping the street before his door, or helping his apprentices to carry in the winter's coals. Nor, could he for some time, bring himself to regard literature as a profession to live by. His first care was to secure an honest live- lihood by his business, and to put into the "lottery of literary success," as he termed it, only the surplus of his time. At length, however, he devoted himself wholly to literature, more particularly in connection with the Wesleyan body; editing one of their magazines, and superintending the publication of several of their denominational works. He also wrote in the " Eclectic Review," and compiled and published a valuable history of his native county, Cornwall, with numerous other works. Toward the close of his career, he said to him- self — " Raised from one of the lowest stations in society, I have endeavored through life to bring my family into a state of respectability, by honest industry, frugality, and a high regard for my moral character. Divine providence has smiled on my exertions, and crowned my wishes with success." CHAPTER XXXI. THE GREAT POTTER PALISSY. Ancient Pottery. — Bernard Palissy: Sketch of His Life and Labors.— Inflamed by the Sight of an Italian Cup. — His Experiments During Years of Unproductive Toil. — Indomitable Perseverance; Burns His Furniture to Heat the Furnace, and Success at Last. — Reduced to Desti- tution. — Condemned to Death, and Released. — His Writings. — Dies in the Bastille. "Patience is the finest and worthiest part of fortitude, and the rarest too. . . Patience lies at the root of all pleasures, as well as of all powers. Hope herself ceases to be happiness when Impatience companions her." — John Ruskin. f~T so happens that the history of Pottery furnishes some -*- of the most remarkable instances of patient perse- verance to be found in the whole range of biography. Of these we select three of the most striking, as exhib- ited in the lives of Bernard Palissy, the Frenchman; Johann Friedrich Bottgher, the German; and Josiah Wedgwood, the Englishman. Though the art of making common vessels of clay was known to most of the ancient nations, that of man- ufacturing enamelled earthenware was much less com- mon. It was, however, practiced by the ancient Etrus- cans, specimens of Whose ware are still to be found in antiquarian collections. But it became a lost art, and 355 356 Ancient Pottery. was only recovered at a comparatively recent date. The Etruscan ware was very valuable in ancient times, a vase being worth its weight in gold in the time of Augustus. The Moors seem to have preserved amongst them a knowledge of the art, which they were found practicing in the island of Majorca when it was taken by the Pisans in 1115. Among the spoil carried away were many plates of Moorish earthenware, which in token of triumph, were embedded in the walls of sever- al of the ancient churches of Pisa, where they are to be seen to this day. About two centuries later, the Ital- ians began to make an imitation enamelled ware, which they named Majolica, after the Moorish place of manu- facture The reviver or re-discoverer of the art of enamelling in Italy was Luca della Robbia, a Florentine sculptor. Vasari describes him as a man of indefatigable perse- verance, working with his chisel all day and practicing drawing during the greater part of the night. He pur- sued the latter art with so much assiduity, that when working late, to prevent his feet from freezing with the cold, he was accustomed to provide himself with a bas- ket ot shavings, in which he placed them to keep him- self warm and enable him to proceed with his drawings. " Nor," says Vasari, " am I in the least astonished at this, since no man ever becomes distinguished in any art whatsoever who does not early begin to acquire the power of supporting heat, cold, hunger, thirst, and oth- er discomforts; whereas those persons deceive them- Luca della Robbia. 357 selves altogether who suppose that when taking their ease and surrounded by all the enjoyments of the world they may still attain to honorable distinction — for it is not by sleeping, but by waking, watching, and laboring continually, that proficiency is attained and reputation acquired." But Luca, notwithstanding all his application and industry, did not succeed in earning enough money by sculpture to enable him to live by the art, and the idea occurred to him that he might nevertheless be able to pursue his modelling in some material more facile and less dear than marble. Hence it was that he began to make his models in clay, and to endeavor by experiment to so coat and bake the clay as to render those models durable. After many trials he at length discovered a method of covering the clay with a material, which, when exposed to the intense heat of a furnace, became converted into an almost imperishable enamel. He afterwards made the further discovery of a method of imparting color to the enamel, thus greatly adding to its beauty. The fame of Luca's work extended throughout Eu- rope, and specimens of his art became widely diffused. Many of them were sent into France and Spain, where they were greatly prized. At that time coarse brown jars and pipkins were almost the only articles of earth- enware produced in France; and this continued to be the case, with comparatively small improvement, until the time of Palissy — a man who toiled and fought 358 Bernard Palissy. against stupendous difficulties with a heroism that sheds a glow almost of romance over the events of his chequered life. Bernard Palissy is supposed to have been born in the south of France, in the diocese of Agen, about the year 1 510. His father was probably a worker in glass, to which trade Bernard was brought up. His parents were poor people — too poor to give him the benefit of any school education, "I had no other books, 1 ' said he afterwards, " than heaven and earth, which are open to all." He learnt, however, the art of glass-painting, to which he added that of drawing, and afterwards read- ing and writing. When about eighteen years old, the glass trade be- coming decayed, Palissy left his father's house, with his wallet on his back, and went out into the world to search whether there was any place in it for him. Fie first traveled towards Gascony, working at his trade where he could find employment, and occasionally oc- cupying part of his time in land-measuring. Then he traveled northwards, sojourning for various periods at different places in France, Flanders, and Lower Ger- many. Thus Palissy occupied about ten more years of his life, after which he married, and ceased from his wan- derings, settling down to practice glass-painting and land-measuring at the small town of Saintes, in the Lower Charente. Three children were born to him; and not only his responsibilities but his expenses increas- JSearch for the Enamel. 359 districts. The organization became more secret; an. oath was administered to the members binding them to obedience to the orders issued by the heads of the confederacy; and the betrayal of their designs was decreed to be death. All machines were doomed by them to destruction, whether employed in the manufac- ture of cloth, calico, or lace; and a reign of terror be- gan which lasted for years. In Yorkshire and Lanca- shire mills were boldly attacked by armed rioters, and in many cases they were wrecked or burnt; so that it became necessary to guard them by soldiers and yeo- manry. The masters themselves were doomed to death; many of them were assaulted, and some were murdered. At length the law was vigorously set in motion; numbers of the misguided Luddites' were ap~ prehended; some were executed; and after several years' violent commotion from this cause, the machine- breaking riots were at length quelled. Among the numerous manufacturers whose works were attacked by the Luddites, was the inventor of the bobbin-net machine himself. One bright sunny day, in the summer of 1816, a body of rioters entered his factory at Loughborough with torches, and set fire to it, destroying thirty-seven lace-machines, and above £10,000 worth of property. Ten of the men were ap- prehended for the felon)', and eight of them were exe- cuted. Mr. Heathcoat made a claim upon the country for compensation, and it was resisted; but the Court of Queen's Bench decided in his favor, and decreed 426 Heathcoat at Tiverton. that the county must make good his loss of £10,000. The magistrates sought to couple with the payment of the damage the condition that Mr. Heathcoat should expend the money in the county of Leicester; but to this he would not assent, having already resolved on removing his manufacture elsewhere. At Tiverton, in Devonshire, he found a large building which had been formerly used as a woolen manufactory; but the Tiv- erton cloth trade having fallen into decay, the building remained unoccupied, and the town itself was generally in a very poverty-stricken condition. Mr. Heathcoat bought the old mill, renovated and enlarged it, and there recommenced the manufacture of lace on a larger scale than before; keeping in full work as many as three hundred machines, and employing a large number of artisans at good wages. Not only did he carry on the manufacture of lace, but the various branches of busi- ness connected with it — yarn-doubling, silk-spinning, net-making, and finishing. He also established at Tiver- ton an iron-foundery and works for the manufacture of -agricultural implements, which proved of great con- venience to the district. It was a favorite idea of his that steam power was capable of being applied to per- form all the heavy drudgery of life, and he labored for a long time at the invention of a steam-plough. In 1832 he so far completed his invention as to be enabled to take out a patent for it; and Heathcoat's steam- plough, though it has since been superseded by Fow- ler's, was considered the best machine of the kind that Heathcoat at Tiverton. 427 had up to that time been invented. Mr. Heathcoat was a man of great natural gifts. He possessed a sound understanding, quick perception, and a genius for business of the highest order. With these, he combined uprightness, honesty, and integrity — qual- ities which are the true glory of human character. Himself a diligent self-educator, he gave ready encour- agement to deserving youths in his employment, stimu- lating their talents and fostering their energies. During his own busy life, he contrived to save time to master French and Italian, of which he acquired an accurate and grammatical knowledge. His mind was largely stored with the results of a careful study of the best literature, and there were few subjects on which he had not formed for himself shrewd and accurate views. The two thousand work-people in his employment re- garded him almost as a father, and he carefully provi- ded for their comfort and improvement. Prosperity did not spoil him, as it does so many; nor close his heart against the claims of the poor and struggling, who were always sure of his sympathy and help. To provide for the education of the children of his work-people, he built schools for them at a cost of about £6,000. He was also a man of singularly cheerful and buoyant dis- position, a favorite with men of all classes, and most admired and beloved by those who knew him best. In 1 83 1 the electors of Tiverton, of which town Mr. Heathcoat had proved himself so genuine a benefactor, returned him to represent them in Parliament, and he 428 Jacquard. continued their member for nearly thirty years. Dur- ing a great part of that time he had Lord Palmerston for his colleague, and the noble lord, on more than one public occasion, expressed the high regard which he entertained for his venerable friend. On retiring from the representation in 1859, owing to advancing age and increasing infirmities, thirteen hundred of his workmen presented him with a silver inkstand and gold pen, in token of their esteem. He enjoyed his leisure for only two more years, dying in January, 1861, at the age of seventy-seven, and leaving behind him a character for probity, virtue, manliness, and mechanical genius, of which his descendants may well be proud. We next turn to a career of a very different kind, that of the illustrious but unfortunate Jacquard, whose life also illustrates in a remarable manner the influence which ingenious men, even of the humblest rank, may exercise upon the industry of a nation. Jacquard was the son of a hard-working couple of Lyons, his father being a weaver, and his mother a pattern-reader. They were too poor to give him any but the most meagre education. When he was of age to learn a trade, his father placed him with a book-binder. An old clerk, who made up the master's accounts, gave Jacquard some lessons in mathematics. He very shortly began to display a remarkable turn for mechanics, and some of his contrivances quite astonished the old clerk, who advised Jacquard's father to put him to some other trade, in which his peculiar abilities might have better Jacquard. 429 scope than in book-binding. He was accordingly put apprentice to a cutler; but he was so badly treated by his master that he shortly afterwards left his employ- ment, on which he was placed with a type-founder. His parents dying, Jacquard found himself in a meas- ure compelled to take to his father's two looms, and carry on the trade of a weaver. He immediatel} 7 pro- ceeded to improve the looms, and became so engrossed with his inventions that he forgot his work, and very soon found himself at the end of his means. He then sold the looms to pay his debts, at the same time that he took upon himself the burden of supporting a wife. He became still poorer, and to satisfy his creditors he next sold his cottage. He tried to find employment, but in vain, people believing him to be an idler, occu- pied with mere dreams about his inventions. At length he obtained employment with a line-maker of Bresse, whither he went, his wife remaining at Lyons, earning a precarious living by making straw bonnets. We hear nothing further of Jacquard for some years, but in the interval he seems to have prosecuted his im- provement in the draw- loom for the better manufacture of figured fabrics; for, in 1790, he brought out his con- trivance for selecting the warp threads, which, when added to the loom, superseded the services of a draw- boy. The adoption of this machine was slow but steady, and in ten years after its introduction, 4,000 of them were found at work in Lyons. Jacquard 's pursuits were rudely interrupted by the Revolution, and in 1792, 430 The Draw-Loom,, we find him fighting in the ranks of the Lyonaise Vol- unteers against the Army of the Convention under the command of Dubois Crance. The city was* taken; Jacquard fled and joined the Army of the Rhine, where he rose to the rank of a sergeant. He might have re- mained a soldier, but that, his only son having been shot dead at his side, he deserted and returned to Lyons to recover his wife. He found her in a garret, still em- ployed at her old trade of straw-bonnet making. While living in concealment with her, his mind reverted to the inventions over which he had so long brooded in for- mer years; but he had no means wherewith to prose- cute them. Jacquard found it necessary, however, to emerge from his hiding-place and try to find some em- ployment. He succeeded in obtaining it with an intel- ligent manufacturer, and while working by day he went on inventing by night. It had occurred to him that great improvements might still be introduced in looms for figured goods, and he incidentally mentioned the subject one day. to his master, regretting at the same time that his limited means prevented him from carry- ing out his ideas. Happily the master appreciated the value of the suggestions, and with laudable generosity placed a sum of money at his disposal, that he might prosecute the proposed improvements at his leisure. In three months Jacquard had invented a loom to substitute mechanical action for the irksome and toil- some labor of the workman. The loom was exhibited at the Exposition of National Industry at Paris, in 1801, JacquarcVs other Inventions. 431 and obtained a bronze medal. Jacquard was further honored by a visit at Lyons from the Minister Carnot, who desired to congratulate him in person on the suc- cess of his invention. In* the following year the Society of Arts in London offered a prize for the invention of a machine for manufacturing fishing-nets and boarding- netting for ships. Jacquard heard of this, and while walking one day in the fields, according to his custom, he turned the subject over in his mind, and contrived the plan of a machine for the purpose. His friend, the manufacturer, again furnished him with the means of carrying out his idea, and in three weeks Jacquard had completed his invention. Jacquard's achievement having come to the knowl- edge of the Prefect of the Department, he was summon- ed before that functionary, and, on his explanation of the working of the machine, a report on the subject was forwarded to the Emperor. The inventor was forthwith summoned to Paris with his machine, and brought into the presence of the Emperor, who received him with the consideration due to his genius. The interview lasted two hours, during which Jacquard, placed at his ease by the Emperor's affability t explained to him the improvements which he proposed to make in the looms for weaving figured goods. The result was that he was provided with apartments in the Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers, where he had the use of the workshop during his stay, and was provided with a suitable al- lowance for his maintenance. 432 Jacquard — Vaucanson. Installed in the Conservatoire, Jacquard proceeded to complete the details of his improved loom. He had the advantage of minutely inspecting the various ex- quisite pieces of mechanism contained in that great treasury of human ingenuity. Among the machines which more particularly attracted his attention, and eventually set him upon the track of his discovery, was a loom for weaving flowered silk, made by Vaucanson, the celebrated automaton-maker. Vaucanson was a man of the highest order of con- structive genius. The inventive faculty was so strong in him that it may almost be said to have amounted to a passion, and could not be restrained. The saying that the poet was born, not made, applies with equal force to the inventor, who, though indebted, like the other, to culture and improved opportunities, nevertheless con- trives and construct new combinations of machinery mainly to gratify his own instinct. This was peculiar- ly the case with Vaucanson; for his most elaborate works were not so much distinguished for their utility as for the curious ingenuity which they displayed. While a mere boy, attending Sunday conversations with his mother, he amused himself by watching, through the clinks of a partition wall, part of the movements of a clock in the adjoining apartment. He endeavored to understand them, and, by brooding over the subject, after several months he discovered the principle of the escapement. From that time the subject of mechanical invention Vaucanson's Automata. 433 took complete possession of him. With some rude tools which he contrived, he made a wooden clock that marked the hours with remarkable exactness ; while he made for a miniature chapel the figures of some angels which waved their wings, and some priests that made several ecclesiastical movements. With the view of executing some other automata he had designed, he proceeded to study anatomy, music, and mechanics, which occupied him for several years. The sight of the flute-player in the Gardens of the Tuileries inspired him with the resolution to invent a similar figure that should play; and after several years' study and labor, though struggling with illness, he succeeded in accom- plishing his object. He next produced a flageolet- player, which was succeeded by a duck — the most ingenious of his contrivances — which swam, dabbled, drank, and quacked like a real duck. He next invented an asp, employed in the tragedy of " Cleopatre," which hissed and darted at the bosom of the actress. Vaucanson, however, did not confine himself merely to the making of automata. By reason of his ingenuity, Cardinal de Fleury appointed him inspector of the silk manufactories of France; and he was no sooner in office, than with his usual irrepressible instinct to invent, he proceeded to introduce improvements in silk machinery. One of these was his mill for thrown silk, which so excited the anger of the Lyons operatives, who feared the loss of employment through his means, that they pelted him with stones and had nearly killed 28 434 Jacquard: His Loom, him. He nevertheless went on inventing, and next produced a machine for weaving flowered silks, with a contrivance for giving a dressing to the thread, so as to render that of each bobbin or skein of an equal thickness. When Vaucanson died in 1782, after a long illness, he bequeathed his collection of machines to the Queen y who seems to have set but small value on them, and they were shortly after dispersed. But his machine for weaving flowered silks were happily preserved in the Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers, and there Jacquard found it among the many curious and interesting arti- cles in the collection. It proved to the utmost value to him for it immediately set him on the track of the principal modification which he introduced in his im- proved loom. One of the chief features of Vaucanson 's machine was a pierced cylinder, which, according to the holes it pre- sented when revolved, regulated the movement of cer- tain needles, and caused the threads of the warp to de- viate in such a manner as to produce a given design, though only of a simple character. Jacquard seized upon the suggestion with avidity, and, with the genius of the true inventor, at once proceeded to im- prove upon it. At the end of a month his weaving machine was completed. To the cylinder of Vaucan- son he added an endless piece of pasteboard pierced with a number of holes, through which the threads ol the warp were presented to the weaver; while another piece of mechanism indicated to the workman tne Jacquard: His Loom. 435 color of the shuttle which he ought to throw. Thus the drawboy and the reader of designs were both at once superseded. The first use Jacquard made of his new loom was to weave with it several yards of rich stuff which he presented to the Empress Josephine. Napoleon was highly gratified with the result of the inventor's labors, and ordered a number of the looms to be constructed by the best workmen after Jacquard's model, and presented to him; after which he returned to Lyons. There he experienced the frequent fate of inventors. He was regarded by his townsmen as an enemy, and treated by them as Kay, Hargreaves, and Arkwright had been in Lancashire. The workmen looked upon the new loom as fatal to their trade, and feared lest it should at once take the bread from their mouths. A tumultuous meeting was held on the Place des Ter- reaux, when it was determined to destroy the machines. This was however prevented by the military. But Jacquard was denounced and hanged in effigy. The " Conseil des prud'hommes " in vain endeavored to allay the excitement, and they were themselves de- nounced. At length, carried away by the popular impulse, the prud'hommes, most of whom had been workmen and sympathized with the class, had one of Jacquard's looms carried off and publicly broken in pieces. Riots followed, in one of which Jacquard was dragged along the quay by an infuriated mob intending to drown him, but he was rescued. 436 Value of the Jacquard Loom. The great value of the Jacquard loom, however, could not be denied, and its success was only a question of time. Jacquard was urged by some English silk manufacturers to pass over into England and settle there. But notwithstanding the harsh and cruel treat- ment he had received at the hands of his towns-people, his patriotism was too strong to permit him to accept their offer. The English manufacturers, however, adopted his loom. Then it was, and only then, that Lyons, threatened to be beaten out of the field, adopted it with eagerness ; and before long the Jacquard machine was employed in nearly all kinds of weaving. The result proved that the fears of the work-people had been entirely unfounded. Instead of diminishing employ- ment, the Jacquard loom increased it at least tenfold. The number of persons occupied in the manufacture of figured goods in Lyons, was stated by M. Leon Faucher to have been 60,000 in 1833; and that number has since been considerably increased. As for Jacquard himself, the rest of his life passed peacefully, excepting that the work-people who dragged him along the quay to drown him were shortly after found eager to bear him in triumph along the same route in celebration of his birthday. But his modesty would not permit him to take part in such a demon- stration. The Municipal Council of Lyons proposed to him that he should devote himself to improving his machine for the benefit of the local industry, to which Jacquard agreed in consideration of a moderate pen- JacquarcVs Death 437 sion, the amount of which was fixed by himself. After perfecting his invention accordingly he retired at sixty to end his days at Oullins, his father's native place. It was there that he received, in 1820, the decoration of the Legion of Honor; and it was there that he died and was buried in 1834. A statue was erected to his memory, but his relatives remained in poverty; and twenty years after his death, his two nieces were under the necessity of selling for a few hundred francs the gold medal bestowed upon their uncle by Louis XVIII. u Such," says a French writer, " was the gratitude of the manufacturing interests of Lyons to the man to whom it owes so large a portion of its splendor." At this point we cannot pass without noticing briefly the invention of printing, and its founder, John Guten- berg. Although driven, with his parents, from his boyhood's home and deprived of all resources, save those of character, he furnishes us with a grand illustration of what energy and determination may accomplish. In all the galaxy of great inventors, no star of brighter or more constant ray, shines down through the ages, with increasing brilliancy to enlighten the intellect of mankind. It has been said of him that he invented " the art preservative of all arts;" yet obscurity and poverty well nigh robbed his name of the honor. But while the names of Lawrence Coster, Peter Schoeffer and John Faust are all associated, in history, with the invention of printing, it remains unquestioned 438 Invention of Printing. among the more reliable authorities, that John Guten- burg of Mentz was the inventor of the art of printing by movable types, which has done more to civilize the world than all the armies that have ever been mustered. Carlisle says, in his comparison of the sword and the press, " When Tamerlane had finished building his pyramid of seventy thousand human skulls, and was seen standing at the gate of Damascus, glittering in his steel, with his battle-axe on his shoulder, till his fierce hosts filed out to new victories and carnage, the pale looker-on might have fancied that nature was in her death-throes; for havoc and despair had taken possession of the earth, and the sun of manhood seemed setting in a sea of blood. Yet it might be on that very gala-day of Tamerlane that a little boy was playing nine-pins in the streets of Mentz, whose history was more important than that cf twenty Tamerlanes. The Khan, with his shaggy de- mons of the wilderness, passed away like a whirlwind, to be forgotten forever; and that German artisan wrought a benefit which is yet immeasurably expanding itself, and will continue to expand itself, through all countries and all times. What are the conquests and expeditions of the wnole corporation of captains, from Walter, the Penniless, to Napoleon Bonaparte, compared with those movable types?" John Gutenburg was born at Mentz, about 1400. The name Gutenburg was the mother's maiden name and John Gutenburg. 439 was adopted by John, his father's name being Gans- fleisch. When he was but ten years of age, the family, with many others, were driven from Mentz and took refuge at Strasburg. As early as 1427, he had produced a new process for polishing stone, and later an improved method for man- ufacturing looking-glasses. In 1437 he married, and soon after, his active mind again turned to invention. Printing now engaged his attention and ever struggling with poverty, inter- esting friends and capitalists to secure the small amount of money needed to carry forward the enterprise, living in the most straightened circumstances, but with never failing energy and determination of purpose he applied himself for eight years before being able to show solid and convincing proofs of the success of his art. Returning to his native town he entered into a part- nership with John Faust to secure capital to carry on the work and after twelve years of close application during which time many improvements were made, he brought out the first book ever printed. This was the Latin Bible completed in 1455. It is interesting to notice here the jealousy and oppo- sition with which the new art was received by those accustomed to gain wealth by copying and writing manuscripts, and who did not realize that " of the mak- ing of books there is no end. 1 ' True fortitude and perseverance are never fully 440 Death of Gutenburg. proved till tried by adversity. In 1462 when Guten- burg should have enjoyed the result of his labor Mentz was sacked by Adolphus II. and all his property destroyed. He was now in the evening of life, but with characteristic perseverance he began anew. The art progressed slowly however, embarrassments still attending him until in 1465 he accepted the position of courtier from which he received a small income In 1468 he died without children, almost without friends; but having laid the foundations for an art so soon to dominate the world. A monument was placed over his grave, and twenty years later a memorial tablet was erected at the legal college in Mentz. It would be easy to extend the martyrology of inven- tors, and to cite the names of other equally distinguished men who have, without any corresponding advantage to themselves, contributed to the industrial progress of the age — for it has too often happened that genius has planted the tree, of which patient dullness has gathered the fruit; but we will confine ourselves for the present to a brief account of an inventor of com- paratively recent date, by way of illustration of the difficulties and privations which it is so frequently the lot of mechanical genius to surmount. We allude to Joshua Heilmann, the inventor of the combing-ma- chine. Heilmann was born in 1795, at Muihouse, the principal seat of the Alsace cotton manufacture. His father was engaged in that business, and Joshua entered his office Joshua Heilmann. 441 at fifteen. He remained there for two years, employing his spare time in mechanical drawing. He afterwards spent two years in his uncle's banking-house in Paris,, prosecuting the study of mathematics in the evenings. Some of his relatives having established a small cotton- spinning factory at Mulhouse, young Heilmann was placed with Messrs. Tissot and Rey, at Paris, to learn the practice of that firm. At the same time he became a student at the Conservatoire des A.rts de Metiers, where he attended the lectures, and studied the machines in the museum. He also took practical lessons in turn- ing from a toy-maker. After some time thus diligently occupied, he returned to Alsace, to superintend the con- struction of the machinery for the new factory at Vieux- Thann, which was shortly finished and set to work. The operations of the manufactory were, however, seri- ously affected by a commercial crisis which occurred and it passed into other hands, on which Heilmann returned to his family at Mulhouse. He had in the meantime been accupying much of his leisure with inventions more particularly in connec- tion with the weaving of cotton and the preparation of the staple for spinning. One of his earliest contriv- ances was an embroidering-machine, in which twenty needles were employed, working simultaneously; and he succeeded in accomplishing his object after about six months' labor. For this invention, which he exhibited at the Exposition of 1834, he received a gold medal, and. was decorated with the Legion of Honor. Other inven- 442 Joshua Heilmann. tions quickly followed — an improved loom, a machine for measuring and folding fabrics, an improvement of the " bobbin and fly-frames " of the English spinners, and a weft winding-machine, with various improve- ments in the machinery for preparing, spinning, and weaving silk and cotton. One of his most ingenious contrivances was his loom for weaving simultaneously two pieces of velvet or other piled fabric, united by the pile common to both, with a knife and traversing appa- ratus for separating the two fabrics when woven. But by far the most beautiful and ingenious of his inventions was the combing-machine, the history of which we now proceed shortly to describe. Heilmann had for some years been diligently studying the contrivance of a machine for combing long-stapled cotton, the ordinary carding-machine being found inef- fective in preparing the raw material for spinning, es- pecially the finer sorts of yarn, besides causing consid- erable Waste. To avoid these imperfections, the cotton- spinners of Alsace offered a prize of 5,000 francs for an improved combing-machine, and Heilmann immediately proceeded to compete for the reward. He was not stimulated by the desire of gain, for he was compara- tively rich, having acquired a considerable fortune by his wife. It was a saying of his that " one will never accomplish great things who is constantly asking him- self, how much gain will this bring me?" What main- ly impelled him was the irrepressible instinct of the in- ventor, who no sooner has a mechanical problem set Joshua Heilmann. 443 before him than he feels impelled to undertake its solu- tion. The problem in this case was, however, much more difficult than he had anticipated. The close study of the subject occupied him for several years, and the expenses in which he became involved in connection with it were so great, that his wife's fortune was short- ly swallowed up, and he was reduced, to poverty, with- out being able to bring his machine to perfection. From that time he was under the necessity of relying mainly on the help of his friends to enable him to prosecute the invention. While still struggling with poverty and difficulties, Heilmann's wife died, believing her husband ruined; and shortly after he proceeded to England and settled for a time at Manchester, still laboring at his machine. He had a model made for him by the eminent machine- makers, Sharpe, Roberts and Company; but still he could not make it work satisfactorily, and he was at length brought almost to the verge of despair. He re- turned to France to visit his family, still pursuing his idea, which had obtained complete possession of his mind. While sitting by his hearth one evening, medi- tating upon the hard fate of inventors and the misfor- tunes in which their families so often become involved, he found himself almost unconsciously watching his daughters combing their long hair and drawing it out at full length between their fingers. The thought sud- denly struck him that if he could successfully imitate in a machine the process of combing out the longest hair 444 The Combing- Machine. and forcing back the short by reversing the action of" the comb, it might serve to extricate him from his diffi- culty. It may be remembered that this incident in the life of Heilmann has been made the subject of a beauti- ful picture by Mr. Elmore, R.A., which was exhibited at the Royal Academy Exhibition of 1862. Upon this idea he proceeded, introduced the appar- ently simple but really most intricate process of ma- chine-combing, and after great labor he succeeded in perfecting the invention. The singular beauty of the process can only be appreciated by those who have witnessed the machine at work, when the similarity of its movements to that of combing the hair, which sug- gested the invention, is at once apparent. The ma- chine has been described as " acting with almost the delicacy of touch of the human fingers. 1 ' It combs the lock of cotton at both ends, places the fibres exactly parallel with each other, seperates the long from the short, and unites the long fibres in one sliver and the short ones in another. In fine, the machine not only acts with the delicate accuracy of the human fingers, but apparently with the delicate intelligence of the hu- man hand. The chief commercial value of the invention consist- ed in its rendering the commoner sorts of cotton avail- able for fine spinning. The manufacturers were there- by enabled to select the most suitable fibres for high- priced fabrics, and to produce the finer sorts of yarn in much larger quantities. It became possible by its, Heilmamis Death. 445 means to make thread so fine that a length of 334 miles might be spun from a single pound weight of the prepared cotton, and, worked up into the finer sorts of lace, the original shilling's worth of cotton-wool, before it passed into the hands of the consumer, might thus be increased to the value of between £300 and £400 sterling. The beauty and utility of Heilmann's invention were at once appreciated by the English cotton-spinners. Six Lancashire firms united and purchased the patent for cotton-spinning for England for the sum of £30,000; the wool-spinners paid the same sum for the privilege of applying the process to wool ; and the Messrs. Mar- shall, of Leeds, £20,000 for the privilege of applying it to flax. Thus wealth suddenly flowed in upon poor Heilmann at last. But he did not live to enjoy it. Scarcely had his long labors been crowned by success than he died, and his son, who had shared in his priva- tions, shortly followed him. It is at the price of lives such as these that the won- ders of civilization are achieved. £A9 CHAPTER XXXVI. HELPS AND OPPORTUNITIES SCIENTIFIC PURSUITS. No Great Result Achieved by Accident. — Newton's Discoveries. — Dr. Young. — Habit of Observing with Intelligence. — Galileo. — Inventions of Brown, Watt, and Brunei, accidently Suggested. — Philosophy in Little Things. — Franklin and Galvani. — Discovery of Steam-power. — Opportunities Seized or Made.— Simple and Rude Tools of Great Workers. — Lee and Stone's Opportunities for Learning. — Sir Walter Scott's. — Dr. Priestley. — Sir Humphrey Davy. — Faraday. — Davy and Coleridge. ' ' Opportunity has hair in front, behind she is bald ; if you seize her by the forelock you may hold her, but, if suffered to escape, not Jupiter him- self can catch her again." — From the Latin. C\)CCIDENT does very little toward the production of any great result in life. Though sometimes what is called " a happy hit " may be made by a bold venture, the common highway of steady industry and application is the only safe road to travel. It is said of the landscape painter Wilson, that when he had near- ly finished a picture in a tame, correct manner, he would step back from it, his pencil fixed at the end of a long stick, and after gazing earnestly on the work, he would suddenly walk up and by a few bold touches give a brilliant finish to the painting. But it will not do for every one who would produce an effect, to throw his brush at the canvas in the hope of producing a picture. 446 Discoveries not Accidental. 447 The capability of putting in these last vital touches is acquired only by the labor of a life; and the probability is, that the artist who has not carefully trained himself beforehand, in attempting to produce a brilliant effect at a dash, will only produce a blotch. Sedulous attention and painstaking industry always mark the true worker. The greatest men are not those who " despise the day of small things," but those who> improve them the most carefully. Michael Angelo was one day explaining to a visitor at his studio what he had been doing at a statue since his previous visit. " I have retouched this part — polished that — softened this feature — brought out that muscle — given some ex- pression to this lip, and more energy to that limb." " But these are trifles," remarked the visitor. "It may be so," replied the sculptor, " but recollect that trifles make perfection, and perfection is no trifle." So it was said of Nicolas Poussin, the painter, that the rule of his conduct was, that " whatever was worth doing at all was worth doing well;" and when asked, late in life, by his friend Vigneul de Marville, by what means he had gained so high a reputation among the painters of Italy, Poussin emphatically answered, " Because I have neglected nothing." Although there are discoveries which are said to have been made by accident, if carefully inquired into, it will be found that there has really been very little that was accidental about them. For the most part, these so-called accidents have only been opportunities,, 448 Discoveries not Accidental. carefully improved by genius. The fall of the apple at Newton's feet has often been quoted in proof of the accidental character of some discoveries. But New- ton's whole mind had already been devoted for years to the laborious and patient investigation of the subject of gravitation; and the circumstance of the apple falling before his eyes was suddenly apprehended only as genius could apprehend it, and served to flash upon him the brilliant discovery then opening to his sight. In like manner, the brilliantly-colored soap-bubbles blown from a common tobacco-pipe — though " trifles light as air " in most eyes — suggested to Dr. Young his beautiful theory of "interference," and led to his discovery relating to the diffraction of light. Although great men are popularly supposed only to deal with great things, men such as Newton and Young were ready to detect the significance of the most familiar and simple facts; their greatness consisting mainly in their wise interpretation of them. The difference between men consists, in a great meas- ure, in the intelligence of their observation. The Rus- sian proverb says of the non-observant man, " He goes through the forest and sees no firewood." " The wise man's eyes are in his head," says Solomon, " but the fool walketh in darkness." " Sir," said Johnson, on one occasion, to a fine gentleman just returned from Italy, 11 some men will learn more in the Hampstead stage than others in the tour of Europe." It is the mind that sees as well as the eye. Where unthinking gaz- Intelligent Observation — Galileo- 449 ers observe nothing, men of intelligent vision penetrate into the very fibre of the phenomena presented to them, attentively noting differences, making comparisons, and recognizing their underlying idea. Many before Gali- leo had seen a suspended weight swing before their eyes with measured beat; but he was the first to detect the value of the fact. One of the vergers in the cathedral at Pisa, after replenishing with oil a lamp which hung from the roof, left it swinging to and fro; and Galileo, then a youth of only eighteen, noting it at- tentively, conceived the idea of applying it to the meas- urement of time. Fifty years of study and labor, how- ever, elapsed, before he completed the invention of his Pendulum — the importance of which, in the measure- ment of time and in astronomical calculations, can scarcely be overrated. In like manner, Galileo, having casually heard that one Lippershey, a Dutch spectacle- maker, had presented to Count Maurice of Nassau an instrument by means of which distant objects appeared nearer to the beholder, addressed himself to the cause of such a phenomenon, which led to the invention of the telescope, and proved the beginning of the modern science of astronomy. Discoveries such as these could never have been made by a negligent observer, or by a mere passive listener. While Captain (afterwards Sir Samuel) Brown was occupied in studying the construction of bridges, with the view of contriving one of a cheap description to be thrown across the Tweed near which he lived, he was 45(j Brown — Brunei — Columbus. walking in his garden one dewy autumn morning, when he saw a tiny spider's net suspended across his path. The idea immediately occurred to him, that a bridge of iron ropes or chains might be constructed in like manner, and the result was the invention of his Suspension Bridge. So James Watt, when consulted about the mode of carrying water by pipes under the Clyde, along the unequal bed of the river, turned his attention one day to the shell of a lobster presented at table; and from that model he invented an iron tube, which, when laid down, was found effectually to answer the purpose. Sir Isambert Brunei took his first lessons in forming the Thames Tunnel from the tiny ship- worm: he saw how the little creature perforated the wood with its well-armed head, first in one direction and then in another, till the archway was complete, and then daubed over the roof and sides with a kind of varnish; and by copying this work exactly on a large scale, Brunei was at length enabled to construct his shield and accomplish his great engineering work. It is the intelligent eye of the careful observer which gives these apparently trivial phenomena their value. So trifling a matter as the sight of seaweed floating past his ship, enabled Columbus to quell the mutiny which arose among his sailors at not discovering land, and to assure them that the eagerly sought New World was not far off. There is nothing so small that it should remain .forgotten ; and no fact, however trivial, but may prove useful in some way or other if carefully inter- Might in Little Things. 451 preted. Who could have imagined that the famous u chalk cliffs of Albion " had been built up by tiny insects — detected only by the help of the microscope — of the same order of creatures that have gemmed the sea with islands of coral ! And who that contemplates such extraordinary results, arising from infinitely minute operations, will venture to question the power of little things? x It is the close observation of little things which is the secret of success in business, in art, in science, and in every pursuit in life. Human knowledge is but an accumulation of small facts, made by successive gener- ations of men, the little bits of knowledge and experi- ence carefully treasured up by them growing at length into a mighty pyramid. Though many ot these facts and observations seemed in the first instance to have but slight significance, they are all found to have their eventual uses, and to fit into their proper places. Even many speculations seemingly remote, turn out to be the basis of results the most obviously practical. In the case of the conic sections discovered by Apollonius Pergseus, twenty centuries elapsed before they were made the basis of astronomy— a science which enables the modern navigator to steer his way through un- known seas and traces for him in the heavens an unerr- ing path to his appointed haven. And had not mathematicians toiled for so long, and, to uninstructed observers, apparently so fruitlessly, over the abstract relations of lines and surfaces, it is probably that but 452 Might in Little Things. few of our mechanical inventions would have seen the light. When Franklin made his discovery of the indentity of lightning and electricity, it was sneered at, and peo- ple asked, " Of what use is it?" To which his reply was, " What is the use of a child? It may become a man!" When Galvani discovered that a frog's- leg twitched when placed in contact with different metals, it could scarcely have been imagined that to apparently insignificant a fact could have led so important re- sults. Yet therein lay the germ of the Electric Telegraph, which binds the intelligence of continents together, and, probably before many years have elapsed will " put a girdle round the globe. 1 ' So, too, little bits of stone and fossil, dug out of the earth, intelligently interpreted, have issued in the science of geology and the practical operations of mining, in which large cap- itals are invested and vast numbers of persons profitably employed. The gigantic machinery employed in pumping our mines, working our mills and manufactures, and driving our steamships and locomotives, in like manner depends for its supply of power upon so slight an agency as little drops of water expanded by heat — that familiar agency called steam, which we see issuing from that common tea-kettle spout, but which, when pent up with- in an ingeniously contrived mechanism, displays a force equal to that of millions of horses, and contains a power to rebuke the waves and set even the hurricane at The Art of Seizing Opportunities. 453 defiance. The same power at work within the bowels of the earth has been the cause of those volcanoes and earthquakes which have played so mighty a part in the history of the globe. It is said that the Marquis of Worcester's attention was first accidentally directed to the subject of steam power, by the tight cover of a vessel containing hot water having been blown off before his eyes, when con- fined a prisoner in the Tower. He published the result of his observations in his " Century of Inventions," which formed a sort of text-book for inquirers into the powers of steam for a time, until Savary, Newcomen, and others, applying it to practical purposes, brought the steam-engine to the state in which Watt found it when called upon to repair a model of Newcomen's engine, which belonged to the University of Glasgow. This accidental circumstance was an opportunity for Watt, which he was not slow to improve; and it was the labor of his life to bring the steam-engine to perfection. This art of seizing opportunities and turning even ac- cidents to account, bending them to some purpose, is a great secret of success. Dr. Johnson has defined genius to be " a mind of large general powers accidentally de- termined in some particular direction." Men who are resolved to find a way for themselves, will always find opportunities enough; and if they do not lie ready to their hand, they will make them. It is not those who have enjoyed the advantages of colleges, museums, and public galleries, that have accomplished the most for 454 Rude Scientific Apparatus. science and art; nor have the greatest mechanics and inventors been trained in mechanics' institutes. Neces- sity, oftener than facility, has been the mother of inven- tion; and the most prolific school of all has been the school of difficulty. Some of the very best workmen have had the most indifferent tools to work with. But it is not tools that make the workman, but the trained skill and perseverance of the man himself. Indeed it is proverbial that the bad workman never yet had a good tool. Some one asked Opie by what wonderful process he mixed his colors. " I mix them with my brains, sir," was his reply. It is the same with every workman who would excel. Ferguson made marvellous things — such as his wooden clock, that accurately measured the hours — by means of a common penknife, a tool in every body's hand; but then every body is not a Fer- guson. A pan of water and two thermometers were the tools by which Dr. Black discovered latent heat; and a prism, a lens, and a sheet of pasteboard enabled Newton to unfold the composition of light and the ori- gin of colors. An eminent foreign savant once called upon Dr. Wollaston, and requested to be shown over his laboratories in which science had been enriched by so many important discoveries, when the doctor took him into a little study, and, pointing to an old tea-tray on the table, containing a few watch-glasses, test-papers, a small balance, and a blowpipe, said, " There is all the laboratory that I have!" Stothard learnt the art of combining colors by close- Ferguson — Professor . Lee- 455 ly studying butterflies' wings: he would often say that no one knew what he owed to these tiny insects. A burnt stick and a barn-door served Wilkie in lieu ot pencil and canvas. Bewick first practiced drawing on the cottage walls of his native village, which he covered with his sketches in chalk; and Benjamin West made his first brushes out of the cat's tail. Ferguson laid himself down in the fields at night in a blanket, and made a map of the heavenly bodies by means of a thread with small beads on it stretched between his eye and the stars. Franklin first robbed the thunder-cloud of its lightning by means of a kite made with two cross sticks and a silk handkerchief. Watt made his first model of the condensing steam-engine out of an old anato- mist's syringe, used to inject the arteries previous to dissec- tion. Gifford worked his first problems in mathematics,, when a cobbler's apprentice, upon small scraps of leath- er, which he beat smooth for the purpose; whilst Rit- tenhouse, the astronomer, first calculated eclipses on his plough-handle. The most ordinary occasions will furnish a man with opportunities or suggestions for improvement, if he be but prompt to take advantage of them. Professor Lee was attracted to the study of Hebrew by finding a Bible in that tongue in a synagogue, while working as a common carpenter at the repairs of the benches. He became possessed with a desire to read the book in the original, and, buying a cheap second-hand copy of a Hebrew grammar, he set to work and learnt the Ian- 456 Br. Priestly. guage for himself. As Edmund Stone said to the Duke of Argyle, in answer to his grace's inquiry how he, a poor gardener's boy, had contrived to be able to read Newton's Principia in Latin, " One needs only to know the twenty-four letters of the alphabet in order to learn every thing else that one wishes." Application and perseverance, and the diligent improvement of opportu- nities, will do the rest. Sir Walter Scott found opportunities for self-improve- ment in every pursuit, and turned even accidents to account. Thus it was in the discharge of his functions as a writer's apprentice that he first visited the High- lands, and formed those friendships among the surviv- ing heroes of 1 745 which served to lay the foundation of a large class of his works. Later in life, when em- ployed as quartermaster of the Edinburgh Light Cav- alry, he was accidentally disabled by the kick of a horse, and confined for some time to his house; but Scott was a sworn enemy to idleness, and he forthwith set his mind to work. In three days he had composed the first canto of u The Lay of the Last Minstrel," which he shortly after finished — his first great original work. The attention of Dr. Priestley, the discoverer of so many gases, was accidentally drawn to the subject of chemistry through his living in the neighborhood of a brewery. When visiting the place one day, he noted the peculiar appearances attending the extinction of lighted chips in the gas floating over the fermented Davy — Faraday. 457 liquor. He was forty years old at the time, and knew nothing of chemistry. He consulted books to ascertain the cause, but they told him little, for as yet nothing- was known on the subject. Then he began to experi- ment, with some rude apparatus of his own contrivance. The curious results of his first experiments led to oth- ers, which in his hands shortly became the science of pneumatic chemistry. About the same time, Scheele was obscurely working in the same direction in a re- mote Swedish village; and he discovered several new gases, with no more effective apparatus at his command than a few apothecaries 1 vials and pigs' bladders. Sir Humphry Davy, when an apothecary's apprentice, performed his first experiments with instruments of the rudest description. He extemporized the greater part of them himself, out of the motley materials which chance threw in his way — the pots and pans of the kitch- en, and the vials and vessels of his master's surgery. It happened that a French ship was wrecked off the Land's End, and the surgeon escaped, bearing with him his case of instruments, amongst which was an old- fashioned glyster apparatus ; this article he presented to Davy, with whom he had become acquainted. The apothecary's apprentice received it with great exulta- tion, and forthwith employed it as a part of a pneumatic apparatus which he contrived, afterwards using it to perform the duties of an air-pump in one of his experi- ments on the nature and sources of heat. In like manner Professor Faraday, Sir Humphry 458 Davy — Faraday. Davy's scientific successor, made his first experiments in electricity by means of an old bottle, while he was still a working bookbinder. And it is a curoius fact, that Faraday was first attracted to the study of chem- istry by hearing one of Sir Humphry Davy's lectures on the subject at the Royal Institution, A gentleman, who was a member, calling one day at the shop where Faraday was employed in binding books found him por- ing over the article " Electricity " in an Encyclopae- dia placed in his hands to bind. The gentleman, hav- ing made inquiries, found that the young bookbinder was curious about such subjects, and gave him an or- der of admission to the Royal Institution, where he at- tended a course of four lectures delivered by Sir Hum- phrey. He took notes of them, which he showed to the lecturer, who acknowledged their scientific accuracy, and was surprised when informed of the humble posi- tion of the reporter. Faraday then expressed his de- sire to devote himself to the prosecution of chemical studies, from which Sir Humphry at first endeavored to dissuade him: but the young man persisting, he was at length taken into the Royal Institution as an assist- ant; and eventually the mantle of the brilliant apothe- cary's boy fell upon the worthy shoulders of the equal- ly brilliant bookbinder's apprentice. The words which Davy entered in his note-book, when about twenty-years of age, working in Dr. Bed- does's laboratory at Bristol, were eminently characteris- tic of hirn: " I have neither riches, nor power, nor birth Davy. 459 to recommend me; yet if I live I trust I shall not be of less service to mankind and my friends, than if I had been born with all these advantages." Davy possessed the capability, as Faraday does, of devoting the whole power of his mind to the practical and experimental investigation of a subject in all its bearings; and such a mind will rarely fail, by dint of mere industry and pa- tient thinking, in producing results of the highest order. CHAPTER XXXVII. WORKERS IN ART. Sir Joshua Reynolds on the Power of Industry in Art. — Humble Origin of Eminent Artists. — Acquisition of Wealth not the Ruling Motive with Artists. — Michael Angelo on Riches. — Patient Labors of Michael Angelo and Titian. — West's Early Success a Disadvantage. — Richard Wilson and Zuccarelli. — Sir Joshua Reynolds, Blake, Bird, Gainesborough, and Hogarth, as Boy Artists. — Hogarth a Keen Observer. — Banks and Mul- ready. — Claude, .Lorraine and Turner: their Indefatigable Industry. — Perrier and Jacques Callot, and their Visits to Rome. — Callot and the Gypsies. — Benvenuto Cellini, Goldsmith and Musician: his Ambition to Excel. — Casting of His Statue of Perseus. " If what shone afar so grand, Turn to nothing in thy hand, On again ; the virtue lies In the struggle, not the prize." — R. M. Milnes 3j\XCELLENCE in art, as in everything else, can -^*\ only be achieved by dint of painstaking labor. There is nothing less accidental than the painting of a fine picture or the chiselling of a noble statue. Every skilled touch of the artists brush or chisel, though guided by genius, is the product of unremitting study. Sir Joshua Reynolds was such a believer in the force of industry, that he held that artistic excellence, " how- ever expressed by genius, taste, or the gift of heaven, may be acquired." Writing to Barry he said, " Who- ever is resolved to excel in painting, or indeed any 460 Force of Industry in Art. 461 other art must bring all his mind to bear upon that one object from the moment that he rises till he goes to bed." And on another occasion he said, " Those who are resolved to excel must go to their work willing or unwilling, morning, noon, and night: they will find it no play, but very hard labor." But although diligent application is no doubt absolutely necessary for the achievement of the highest distinction in art, it is equally true that .without the inborn genius, no amount of mere industry, however well applied, will make an artist. The gift comes by nature, but is perfected by self-culture, which is of more avail than all the imparted education of the schools. Some of the greatest artists have had to force their way upward in the face of poverty and manifold ob- structions. Illustrious instances will at once flash upon the reader's mind. Claude Lorraine, the pastry-cook; Tintoretto, the dyer; the two Caravaggios, the one a color-grinder, the other a mortar-carrier at the Vatican ; Salvator Rosa, the associate of bandits; Giotto, the peasant-boy; Zingaro, the gypsy; Cavedone, turned out of doors to beg by his father; Canova, the stone- cutter; these, and many other well-known artists, suc- ceeded in achieving distinction by severe study and labor, under circumstances the most adverse. Nor have the most distinguished artists of our own country been born in a position of life more than ordin- arily favorable to the culture of artistic genius. Gains- borough and Bacon were the sons of cloth-workers; 462 Force of Industry in Art Barry was an Irish sailor-boy, and Maclise a banker's apprentice at Cork; Opie and Romney, like Inigo Jones, were carpenters; West was the son of a small Quaker farmer in Pennsylvania ; Northcote was a watchmaker, Jackson a tailor, and Etty a printer; Reynolds, Wilson, and Wilkie were the sons of clergymen ; Lawrence was the son of a publican, and Turner of a barber. Several of our painters, it is true, originally had some connec- tion with art, though in a very humble way, such as Floxman, whose father sold plaster casts; Bird, who ornamented tea-trays; Martin, who was a coach painter; Wright and Gilpin, who were ship-painters; Chantrey, who was a carver and gilder; and David Cox, Stanfield^ and Roberts, who were scene-painters. It was not by luck or accident that these men achieved distinction, but by sheer industry and hard work. Though some achieved wealth, yet this was rarely, if ever, their ruling motive. Indeed, no mere love of money could sustain the efforts of the artist in his early career of self-denial and application. The pleasure of the pursuit has always been its best reward ; the wealth which followed but an accident. Many noble-minded artists have preferred following the bent of their genius to chaffering with the public for terms. Spagnoletto verified in his life the beautiful fiction of Xenophon, and after he had acquired the means of luxury, preferred withdrawing himself from their influence, and voluntarily returned to poverty and labor. When Michael Angelo was asked his opinion respecting a Michael Angelo. 463 work which a painter had taken great pains to exhibit for profit, he said, " I think that he will be a poor fellow so long as he shows such an extreme eagerness to be- come rich." Like Sir Joshua Reynolds, Michael Angelo was a great believer in the force of labor; and he held that there was nothing which the imagination conceived that could not be embodied in marble, if the hand were made vigorously to obey the mind. He was himself one of the most indefatigable of workers; and he attributed his power of studying for a greater number of hours than most of his contemporaries, to his spare habits of living. A little bread and wine was all he required for the chief part of the day when employed at his work, and very frequently he rose in the middle of the night to resume his labors. On these occasions, it was his practice to fix the candle, by the light of which he chiselled, on the summit of a pasteboard cap which he wore. Sometimes he was too wearied to undress, and he slept in his clothes, ready to spring to his work as soon as refreshed by sleep. He had a favorite de- vise of an old man in a go-cart,'with an hour-glass upon it bearing the inscription, u Ancora irnparo!" — " Still I am learning."" Titian, also, was an indefatigable worker. His cele- brated " Pietro Martire " was eight years in hand, and his " Last Supper v seven: In his letter to Charles V. he said, " I send your Majesty the ' Last Supper,' after working at it almost daily for seven years — dopo sette 464 Titian— Odllcott— West. anni lavorandovi quasi conttnuamente." Few think of the patient labor and long training involved in the greatest works of the artist. They seem easy and quickly accomplished, yet with how great difficulty has this ease been acquired. " You charge me fifty sequins," said the Venetian nobleman to the sculptor, " for a bust that cost you only ten days labor." " You forget," said the artist, " that I have been thirty years learning to make that bust in ten days." Once when Domen- ichino was blamed for his slowness in finishing a picture which was bespoken, he made answer, " I am continu- ally painting it within myself." It was eminently char- acteristic of the industry of the late Sir Augustus Callcott that he made not fewer than forty separate sketches in the composition of his famous picture of u Rochester." This constant repetition is one of the main conditions of success in art, as in life itself. No matter how generous nature has been in bestow- ing the gift of genius, the pursuit of art is nevertheless a long and continuous labor. Many artists have been precocious, but without diligence their precocity would have come to nothing. The anecdote related of West is well known. When only seven years old, struck with the beauty ot the sleeping infant of his oldest sister, whilst watching by its cradle, he ran to seek some paper, and forthwith drew its portrait in red and black ink. The little incident revealed the artist in him, and it was found impossible to draw him from his bent. West might have been a greater painter, had he not Wilson — Reynolds — Hogarth. 46 5 been injured by too early success: his fame, though great, was not purchased by study, trials, and difficul- ties, and it has not been enduring. Richard Wilson, when a mere child, indulged him- self with tracing figures of men and animals on the walls of his father's house with a burnt stick. He first directed his attention to portrait painting; but when in Italy, calling one day at the house v of Zucarelli, and growing weary with waiting, he began painting the scene on which his friend's chamber window looked. When Zucarelli arrived, he was so charmed with the picture that he asked if Wilson had not studied land- scape, to which he replied that he had not. " Then I advise you, 1 ' said the other, "to try; for you are sure of great success." Wilson adopted the advise, studied and worked hard, and became our first great English landscape painter. Sir Joshua Reynolds, when a boy, forgot his lessons, and took pleasure only in drawing, for which his father was accustomed to rebuke him. The boy was destined for the profession of physic, but his strong instinct for art could not be repressed, and he became a painter. Gainsborough went sketching, when a school-boy in the woods of Sudbury, and at twelve he was a confirmed artist: he was a keen observer and a hard worker — no picturesque feature of any scene he had once looked upon escaping his diligent pencil. William Blake, a hosier's son, employed himself in drawing designs on backs of his father's shop-bills, and making sketches on 466 Hogarth's Close Observation. the counter. Edward Bird, when a child only three or four years old, would mount a chair and draw figures on the walls, which he called French and English soldiers. A box of colors was purchased for him, and his father,, desirous of turning his love of art to account, put him apprentice to a maker of tea-trays! Out of this trade he gradually raised himself, by study and labor, to the rank of a Royal Academician. Hogarth, though a very dull boy at his lessons, took pleasure in making drawings of the letters of the al- phabet, and his school exercises were more remarkable for the ornaments with which he embellished them than for the matter of the exercises themselves. In the lat- ter respect he was beaten by all the blockheads of the school, but in his adornments he stood alone. His fa- ther put him apprentice to a silversmith, where he learnt to draw, and also to engrave spoons and forks with crests and ciphers. From silver-chasing he went on to teach himself engraving on copper, principally griffins and monsters of heraldry, in the course of which prac- tice he became ambitious to delineate the varieties of human character. The singular excellence which he reached in this art was mainly the result of careful ob- servation and study. He had the gift, which he sedu- lously cultivated, of committing to memory the precise features of any remarkable face, and afterwards repro- ducing them on paper; but if any singularly fantastic form or outre face came in his way, he would make a sketch of it on the spot upon his thumb-nail, and carry Hogarth's Close Observation. -467 it home to expand at his leisure. Every thing fantasti- cal and original had a powerful attraction for him, and he wandered into many out-of-the-way places for the purpose of meeting with character. By this careful storing of his mind, he was afterwards enabled to crowd an immense amount of thought and treasured observa- tion into his works. Hence it is that Hogarth's pic- tures are so truthful a memorial of the character, the manners, and even the very thoughts of the times in which he lived. True painting, he himself observed, can only be learnt in one school, and that is kept by Nature. But he was not a highly cultivated man, ex- cept in his own walk. His school education had been of the slenderest kind, scarcely even perfecting him in the art of spelling; his self-culture did the rest. For a long time he was in very straightened circumstances, but nevertheless worked on with a cheerful heart. Poor though he was, he contrived to live within his small means, and he boasted, with becoming pride, that he was a "punctual paymaster." When he had become a famous and thriving man, he loved to dwell upon his early labors and privations, and to fight over again the battle which ended so honorably to him as a man and so glori- ously as an artist. " I remember the time," said he on one occasion, k * when I have gone moping into the city with scarce a shilling, but as soon as I have received ten guineas there for a plate, I have returned home, put on my sword, and sallied out with all the confidence of a man who had thousands in his pockets," 468 Banks — Mulready- u Industry and perseverance" was the motto of the sculptor Banks, which he acted on himself, and strongly recommended to others. His well-known kindness in- duced many aspiring youths to call upon him and ask for his advice and assistance; and it is related that one day a boy called at his door to see him with this object, but the servant, angry at the loud knock he had given, scolded him, and was about sending him away, when Banks, overhearing her, himself went out. The little boy stood at the door with some drawings in his hand. "What do you want with me? 1 ' asked the sculptor. " I want, sir, if you please, to be admitted to draw at the Academy." Banks explained that he himself could not procure his admission, but he asked to look at the boy's drawings. Examining them, he said, " Time enough for the Academy, my little man! go home — mind your schooling — try to make a better drawing of the Apollo — and in a month come again and let me see it. The boy went home — -sketched and worked with redoubled diligence — and, at the end of the month, called again on the sculptor. The drawing was better; but again Banks sent him back, with good advice, to work and study. In a week the boy was again at his door, his drawing much improved; and Banks bid him be of good cheer, for if spared he would distinguish himself. The boy was Mulready; and the sculptor's augury was amply fulfilled The fame of Claude Lorraine is partly explained by his indefatigable industry. Born at Champagne, in Lor- Claude Lorraine — Turner. 4(39 raine, of poor parents, he was first apprenticed to a pas- trycook. His brother, who was a wood-carver, after- wards took him into his shop to learn that trade. Hav- ing there shown indications of artistic skill, a traveling dealer persuaded the brother to allow Claude to accom- pany him to Italy. .He assented, and the young man reached Rome, where he was shortly after engaged by Agostino Tassi, the landscape painter, as his house ser- vant. In that capacity Claude first learnt landscape painting, and in course of time he began to produce pictures. We next find him making the tour of Italy, France, and Germany, occasionally resting by the way to paint landscapes, and thereby replenish his purse. On returning to Rome he found an increasing demand for his works, and his reputation at length, became European. He was unwearied in the study of nature in her various aspects. It was his practice to spend a great part of his time in closely copying buildings, bits of ground, trees, leaves, and such like, which he finished in detail, keeping the drawings by him in store for the purpose of introducing them in his studied landscapes. He also gave close attention to the sky, watching it for whole days from morning till night, and noting the va- rious changes occasioned by the passing clouds and the increasing and waning light. By this constant practice he acquired, although, it is said, very slowly, such a mastery of hand and eye as eventually secured tor him the first rank among landscape painters. Turner, who has been styled " the English Claude " 470 Turner* [ pursued a career of like laborious industry. He was destined by his father for his own trade of a barber, which he carried on in London, until one day the sketch which the boy had made of a coat-of-arms on a silver salver having attracted the notice of a customer whom his father was shaving, the latter was urged to allow his son to follow his bias, and he was eventually per- mitted to follow art as a profession. Like all young artists, Turner had many difficulties to encounter, and they were all the greater that his circumstances were so straightened. But he was always willing to work, and to take pains with his work, no matter how hum- ble it might be. He was glad to hire himself out at half-a-crown a night to wash in skies in Indian ink upon other people's drawings, getting his supper into the bar- gain. Thus he earned money and acquired expertness. Then he took to illustrating guide-books, almanacs, and any sort of books that wanted cheap frontispieces. " What could I have done better?" said he afterwards; " it was first-rate pratice." He did every thing care- fully and conscientiously, never slurring over his work because he was ill-remunerated for it. He aimed at learning as well as living; always doing his best, and never leaving a drawing without having made a step in advance upon his previous work. A man who thus labored was sure to do much ; and his growth in power and grasp of thought was, to use Ruskin's words, " as steady as the increasing light of sunrise. ,, But Tur ner's genius needs no panegyric; his best monument Jacques C allot 471 Is the noble gallery of pictures bequeathed by him to the nation, which will ever be the most lasting me- morial of his fame. To reach Rome, the capital of the fine arts, is usually the highest ambition of the art student. But the jour- ney to Rome is costly, and the student is often poor. With a will resolute to overcome difficulties, Rome may however at last be reached. Thus Francois Perrier, an early French painter, in his eager desire to visit the Eternal City, consented to act as guide to a blind vagrant. After long wanderings he reached the Vati- can, studied and became famous. Not less enthusiasm was displayed by Jacques Callot in his determination to visit Rome. Though opposed by his father in his wish to be an artist, the boy would not be baulked, but fled from home to make his way to Italy. Having set out without means, he was soon reduced to great straits ; but falling in with a band of gypsies, he joined their company, and wandered about with them from one fair to another, sharing in their numerous adventures. Dur- ing, this remarkable journey Callot picked up much of that extraordinary knowledge of figure, feature, and character, which he afterwards reproduced, sometimes in such exaggerated forms, in his wonderful engrav- ings. When Callot at length reached Florence, a gentle- man, pleased with his ingenious ardor, placed him with an artist to study; but he was not satisfied to stop short of Rome, and we find him shortly on his way 472 Jacques G allot. thither. At Rome he made the acquaintance of Porigi and Thomassin, who, on seeing his crayon sketches, predicted for him a brilliant career as an artist. But a friend of Callot 's family having accidentally encountered him, took steps to compel the fugitive to return home. By this time he had acquired such a love of wandering that he could not rest; so he ran away a second time ? and a second time he was brought back by his elder brother, who caught him at Turin. At last the father, seeing resistance was in vain, gave his reluctant con- sent to Callot 's prosecuting his studies at Rome. Thither he went accordingly; and this time he re- mained, diligently studying design and engraving for several years under competent masters. On his way back to France, he was encouraged by Cosmo II. to remain at Florence where he studied and worked for several years more. On the death of his patron he re- turned to his family at Nancy, where, by the use of his burin and needle, he shortly acquired both wealth and fame. When Nancy was taken by siege during the civil wars, Callot was requested by Richelieu to make a design and engraving of the event, but the artist would not commemorate the disaster which had befallen his native place, and he refused point-blank. Richelieu could not shake his resolution, and threw him into prison. There Callot met with some of his old friends the gypsies, who had relieved his wants on his first journey to Rome. When Louis XIII. heard of his imprisonment, he not only released him,, but offered to Benvenuto Cellini. 473 grant him any favor he might ask. Callot immediately requested that his old companions the gypsies, might be set free and permitted to beg in Paris without molesta- tion. This odd request was granted on condition that Callot should engrave their portraits, and hence his curious book of engravings entitled u The Beggars." Louis is said to have offered Callot a pension of 3,000 livres provided he would not leave Paris; but the artist was too much of a Bohemian, and prized his liberty too highly to permit him to accept it, and he returned to Nancy, where he worked till his death. His industry may be inferred from the number of his engravings and etchings, of which he left not fewer than 1,600. He was especially fond of grotesque subjects, which he treated with great skill; his free etchings, touched with the graver, being executed with especial delicacy and wonderful minuteness. Still more romantic and adventurous was the career of Benvenuto Cellini, the marvelous gold-worker, painter, sculptor, engraver, engineer, and author. His life as told by himself, is one of the most extraordinary autobiographies ever written. Giovanni Cellini, his father, was one of the Court musicians to Lorenzo de Medici at Florence; and his highest ambition concern- ing his son Benvenuto was that he should become an expert player on the flute. But Giovanni having lost his appointment, found it necessary to send his son to learn some trade, and he was apprenticed to a gold- smith. The boy had already displayed a love of draw- 474 His Indefatigable Activity. ing and of art; and, applying himself to his business, he soon became a dexterous workman. Having got mixed up in a quarrel with some of the towns-people, he was banished for six months, during which period he worked with a goldsmith at Sienna, gaining further ex- perience in jewelry and gold-working. His father still insisting on his becoming a flute- player, Benvenuto continued to practice on the instru- ment, though he detested it. His chief pleasure was in in art, which he pursued with enthusiasm. Returning to Florence, he carefully studied the designs of Leo- nardo da Vinci and Michael Angelo; and, still further to improve himself in gold-working, he went on foot to Rome, where he met with a variety of adventures. He returned to Florence with the reputation of being a most expert worker in the precious metals, and his skill was soon in great request. But being of an irascible temper, he was constantly getting into scrapes, and was frequently under the necessity of flying for his life. Thus he fled from Florence in the disguise of a friar, again taking refuge at Sienna, and afterwards at Rome. During his second residence at Rome, Cellini met with extensive patronage, and he was taken into the Pope's service in the double capacity of goldsmith and musician. He was constantly studying and improving himself by acquaintance with the works of the best masters. He mounted jewels, finished enamels, engraved seals, and designed and executed works in gold, silver, and bronze, in such a style as to excel all other artists. Benvenuto Cellini. 475 Whenever he heard of a goldsmith who was famous in any particular branch, he immediately determined to surpass him. Thus it was that he rivalled the medals of one, the enamels of another, and the jewelry of a third; in fact, there was not a branch of his business that he did not feel impelled to excel in. Working in this spirit, it is not wonderful that Cellini should have been able to accomplish so much. He was a man of indefatigable activity, and was con- stantly on the move. At one time we find him at Florence, at another at Rome; then he is at Mantua, at Rome, at Naples, and back to Florence again; then at Venice, and in Paris, making all his long journeys on horseback. He could not carry much luggage with him; so, wherever he went, he usually began by mak- ing his own tools. He not only designed his works, but executed them himself — hammered and carved, and cast and shaped them with his own hands. Indeed, his works have the impress of genius so clearly stamped upon them, that they could never have been designed by one person and executed by another. The humblest article — a buckel for a lady's girdle, a seal, a locket, a brooch, a ring, or a button — became in his hands a beautiful work of art. Cellini was remarkable for his readiness and dexterity in handicraft. One day a surgeon entered the shop of RafFaelo del Moro, the goldsmith, to perform an opera- tion on his daughter's hand. On looking at the sur- geon's instruments, Cellini, who was present, found them 476 His Statue of Perseus* rude and clumsy, as they usually were in those days r and he asked the surgeon to proceed no further with the operation for a quarter of an hour. He then ran to his shop, and taking a piece of the finest steel, wrought out of it a beautifully finished knife, with which the operation was successfully performed. Among the statues executed by Cellini, the most im- portant are the silver figure of Jupiter, executed at Paris for Francis I., and the Perseus, executed in bronze for the Grand Duke Cosmo of Florence. He also executed statues in marble of Apollo, Hyacinthus, Narcissus, and Neptune. The extraordinary incidents connected with the casting of the Perseus were pe- culiarly illustrative of the remarkable character of the man. The Grand Duke having expressed a decided opinion that the model, when shown to him in wax, could not possibly be cast in bronze, Cellini was immediately stimulated by the predicted impossibility, not only to attempt, but to do it. He first made the clay model, baked it, and covered it with wax, which he shaped into the perfect form of a statue. Then coating the wax with a sort of earth, he baked the second covering, during which the wax dissolved and escaped, leaving the space between the two layers for the reception of the metal. To avoid disturbance, the latter process was conducted in a pit dug immediately under the furnace, from which the liquid metal was to be introduced by pipes and apertures into the mould prepared for it Benvenuto Cellini. ill Cellini had purchased and laid in several loads of pine- wood in anticipation of the process of casting, which now began. The furnace was filled with pieces of brass and bronze, and the fire was lit. The resinous pine-wood was soon in such a furious blaze, that the shop took fire, and part of the roof was burnt ; while at the same time the wind blowing and the rain falling on the furnace, kept down the heat, and prevented the metals from melting. For hours Cellini struggled to keep up the heat, continually throwing in more wood, until at length he became so exhausted and ill, that he feared he should die before the statue could be cast. He was forced to leave to his assistants the pouring in of the metal when melted, and betook himself to his bed. While those about him were condoling with him in his distress, a workman suddenly entered the room, lamenting that a poor Benvenuto's work was irretriev- ably spoiled !" On hearing this, Cellini immediately sprang from his bed and rushed to the workshop, where he found the fire so much gone down that the metal had again become hard. Sending across to a neighbor for a load of young oak which had been more than a year in drying, he soon had the fire blazing again and the metal melting and glittering. The wind was, however, still blowing with fury, and the rain falling heavily ; so, to protect himself, Cellini had some tables with pieces of tapestry and old clothes brought to him behind which he went on hurl- ing the wood into the furnace. A mass of pewter was 478 His Statue of Perseus. thrown in upon the other metal, and by stirring, some- times with iron and sometimes with long poles, the whole soon became completely melted. At this junc- ture, when the trying moment was close at hand, a ter- rible noise as of a thunderbolt was heard, and a glitter- ing of fire flashed before Cellini's eyes. The cover of the furnace had burst, and the metal began to flow! Finding that it did not run with the proper velocity, Cellini rushed into the kitchen, bore away every piece of copper and pewter that it contained — some two hundred porringers, dishes, and kettles of different kinds — and threw them into the furnace. Then at length the metal flowed freely, and thus the splendid statue of Perseus was cast. The divine fury of genius in which Cellini rushed to his kitchen and stripped it of its utensils for the pur- poses of his furnace, will remind the reader of the like act of Palissy in breaking up his furniture for the pur- pose of baking his earthenware. Excepting, however, in their enthusiasm, no two men could be less alike in character. Cellini was an Ishmael against whom, ac- cording to his own account, every man's hand was turn- ed. But about his extraordinary skill as a workman, and his genius as an artist, there can not be two opin- ions. CHAPTER XXXVIII. MEN OF BUSINESS, Hazlitt's Definition of the Man of Business. — The Chief Requisite Qualities. — Men of Genius Men of Business. — Labor and Application Necessary to Success. — The School of Difficulty a Good School. — Conditions of Success in Law.— The Industrious Architect.— The Salutary Influence of Work. — Consequences of Contempt for Arithmetic. — Dr. Johnson on the Alleged Injustice of "the World." — Practical Qualities Necessary in Business. — Importance of Accuracy. — Method. — Value of Time. — Promptitude. — Economy of Time. — Punctuality. " Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings." — Proverbs of Solomon. \\ T AZLITT, in one of his clever essays, represents ■ A ~ L the man of business as a mean sort of person put in a go-cart, yoked to a trade or profession; alleging that all he has to do is, not to go out of the beaten track, but merely to let his affairs take their own course. u The great requisite," he says, " for the pros- perous management of ordinary business is the want of imagination, or of any ideas but those of custom and interest on the narrowest scale. But nothing could be more one-sided, and in effect untrue, than such a defi- nition. Of course, there are narrow-minded men of business, as there are narrow-minded scientific men, literary men, and legislators; but there are also busi- 479 480 Genius and Business. ness men of large and comprehensive minds, capable of action on the very largest scale. As Burke said in his speech on the India Bill, he knew statesmen who were pedlers, and merchants who acted in the spirit of statesmen. If we take into account the qualities necessary for the successful conduct of any important undertaking — -that it requires special aptitude, promptitude of action on emergencies, capacity for organizing the labors often of large numbers of men, great tact and knowledge of human nature, constant self-culture, and growing expe- rience in the practical affairs of life — it must, we think, be obvious that the school of business is by no means so narrow as some writers would have us believe. Mr. Helps has gone much nearer the truth when he said that consummate men of business are as rare almost as great poets — rarer, perhaps, than veritable saints and martyrs. Indeed, of no other pursuits can it so emphatically be said, as of this, that " Business makes men." It has, however, been a favorite fallacy with dunces in all times, that men of genius are unfitted for business, as well as that business occupations unfit men for the pursuits of genius. The unhappy youth who committed suicide a few years since because he had been " born to be a man and condemned to be a grocer, 1 ' proved by the act that his soul was not equal even to the dignity of grocery. For it is not the calling that degrades the man, but the man that degrades the calling. All work that brings honest gain is honorable, whether it be of Genius and Business. 481 hand or mind. The fingers may be soiled, yet the heart remain pure; for it is not material so much as moral dirt that defiles: — greed far more than grime, and vice than verdigris. The greatest have not disdained to labor honestly and usefully for a living, though at the same time aiming after higher things. Thales, the first of the seven sages, Solon, the second founder of Athens, and Hyperates, the mathematician, were all traders. \ Plato, called the Divine by reason of the excellence of his wisdom, de- frayed his traveling expenses in Egypt by the profits derived from the oil which he sold during his journey. Spinoza maintained himself by polishing glasses while he pursued his philosophical investigations. Linneaeus, the great botanist, prosecuted his studies while ham- mering leather and making shoes. Shakspeare was a. successful manager of a theatre — perhaps priding him- self more upon his practical qualities in that capacity than on his writing of plays and poetry. Pope was of opinion that Shakspeare 7 s principal object in cultivat- ing literature was to secure an honest independence. Indeed he seems to have been altogether indifferent to literary reputation. It is not known that he superin- tended the publication of a single play, or even sanc- tioned the printing of one; and the chronology of his writings is still a mystery. It is certain, however, that he prospered in his business, and realized sufficient to enable him to retire on a competency to his native town of Stratford-uoon- Avon. 3i 482 Great Men of Business. Chaucer was in early life a soldier, and afterwards an effective Commissioner of Customs, and Inspector oi Woods and Crown Lands. Spenser was Secretary to the Lord Deputy of Ireland, was afterwards Sheriff of Cork, and is said to have been shrewd and attentive in matters of business. Milton, originally a schoolmaster, was elevated to the post of Secretary to the Council of State during the Commonwealth; and the extant Order- book of the Council, as well as many of Milton's letters which are preserved, give abundant evidence of his ac- tivity and usefulness in that office. Sir Isaac Newton proved himself an efficient Master of the Mint, the new coinage of 1694 having been carried on under his im- mediate personal superintendence. Cowper prided him- self upon his business punctuality, though he confessed that he "never knew a poet, except himself, who was punctual in any thing. 71 But against this we ma}' set the lives of Woodsworth and Scott — the former a dis- tributer of stamps, the latter a clerk to the Court of Session — both of whom, though great poets, were emi- nently punctual and practical men of business. David Ricardo, amidst the occupations of his daily business as a London stock-jobber, in conducting which he ac- quired an ample fortune, was able to concentrate his mind upon his favorite subject — on which he was ena- bled to throw great light — the principles of political economy; for he united in himself the sagacious com- mercial man and the profound philosopher. Baily, the eminent astronomer, was another stock-broker* Success in Business. 483 We have abundant illustrations, in our own day, of the fact that the highest intellectual power is not incompatible with the active and efficient performance of routine duties. Grote, the great historian of Greece, was a London banker. And it is not long since John Stuart Mill, one of our greatest living thinkers, retired from the Examiner's department of the East India Com- pany, carrying with him the admiration and esteem of his fellow-officers, not on account of his high views of philosophy, but because of the high standard of effi- ciencv which he had established in his office, and the thoroughly satisfactory manner in which he had con- ducted the business of his department. The path of success in business is usually the path of common sense. Patient labor and application are as necessary here as in the acquisition of knowledge or the pursuit of science. The old Greeks said, " To become an able man in any profession, three things are neces- sary—nature, stud}', and practice." In business, prac- tice, wisely and diligently improved, is the great secret of success. Some may make what are called " lucky hits," but like money earned by gambling, such "hits" may only serve to lure one to ruin. Bacon was accus- tomed to say that it was in business as in ways — the nearest way was commonly the foulest, and that if a man would go the fairest way he must go somewhat about. The journey may occupy a longer time, but the pleasure of the labor involved by it, and the enjoy- ments of the results produced, will be more genuine 484 Effects of Practiced Industry. and unalloyed. To have a daily appointed task of even common drudgery to do makes the rest of life feel all the sweeter. The fable of the labors of Hercules is the type of all human doing and success. Every youth should be made to feel that his happiness and well-doing in life must necessarily rely mainly on himself and the exer- cise of his own energies, rather than upon the help and patronage of others. The late Lord Melbourne embod- ied a piece of useful advice in a letter which he wrote to Lord John Russell, in reply to an application for a provision for one of Moore the poet's sons: "My dear John,' 1 he said, " I return you Moore's letter. I shall be ready to do what you like about it when we have the means. I think whatever is done should be done for Moore himself. This is more distinct, direct, and intelligible. Making a small provision for young men is hardly justifiable; and it is of all things the most prejudicial to themselves. They think what they have much larger than it really is; and they make no exer- tion. The young should never hear any language but this: 'You have your own way to make, and it depends upon your own exertions whether you starve or not. 1 Believe me, etc., Melbourne." Practical industry, wisely and vigorously applied, always produces its due. effects. It carries a man on- ward, brings out his individual character, and stimulates the action of others. All may not rise equally, yet each, on the whole, very much according to his deserts. Effects of Practical Industry. 485 " Though all can not live on the piazza," as the Tuscan proverb has it, " every one may feel the sun."" On the whole, it is not good that human nature should have the road of life made too easy. Better to be under the necessity of working hard and faring meanly, than to have everything done ready to our hand and a pillow of down to repose upon. Indeed, to start in life with comparatively small means seems so necessary as a stimulus to work, that it may almost be set down as one of the conditions essential to success in life. Hence, an eminent judge, when asked what contributed most to succes at the bar, replied, " Some succeed by great talent, some by high connections, some by miracle, but the majority by commencing without a shilling.' ' We have heard of an architect of considerable ac- complishments — a man who had improved himself by long study, and travel in the classical lands of the East — who came home to commence the practice of his profession. He determined to begin anywhere provided he could be employed, and he accordingly undertook a business connected with dilapidations — one of the low- est and least remunerative departments of the architect's calling. But he had the good sense not to be above his trade, and he had the resolution to work his way upward, so that he only got a fair start, One hot day in July a friend found him sitting astride of a house- roof occupied with his dilapidation business. Drawing his hand across his perspiring countenance, he ex- 486 The Necessity of Labor. claimed, " Here's a pretty business for a man who has been all over Greece! 1 ' However, he did his work, such as it was, thoroughly and well; he persevered until he advanced by degrees to more remunerative branches of employment, and eventually he rose to the highest walks of his profession. The necessity of labor may, indeed, be regarded as the main root and spring of all that we call progress in individuals,* and civilization in nations; and it is doubt- ful that any heavier curse could be imposed on man than the gratification of all his wishes without effort on his part, leaving nothing for his hopes, desires, or struggles. The feeling that life is destitute of any mo- tive or necessity for action, must be of all others the most distressing and insupportable to a rational being. The Marquis de Spinola asking Sir Horace Vere what his brother died of, Sir Horace replied, " He died, sir, of having nothing to do." " Alas!" said Spinola, " that is enough to kill any general of us all." Those who fail in life are however very apt to assume a tone of injured innocence, and conclude too hastily that everybody excepting themselves has had a hand in their personal misfortunes. An eminent writer lately published a book, in which he described his numerous failures in business, naively admitting, at the same time, that he was ignorant of the multiplication-table; and he came to the conclusion that the real cause of his ill-success in life was the money-worshiping spirit of the age. Lamartine also did not hesitate to profess Misfortune and Ill-Luck. 487 his contempt for arithmetic; but, had it been less, probably we should not have witnessed the unseemly spectacle of the admirers of that distinguished personage engaged in collecting subscriptions for his support in his old age. Again some consider themselves born to ill-luck, and make up their minds that the world invariably goes against them without any fault on their own part. We have heard of a person of this sort who went so far as to declare his belief that if he had been a hatter, people would have been born without heads! There is, how- ever, a Russian proverb which says that Misfortune is next door to Stupidity; and it will often be found that men who are constantly lamenting their luck, are in some way or other reaping the consequences of their own neglect, mismanagement, improvidence, or want of application. Dr. Johnson, who came up to London with a single guinea in his pocket, and who once ac- curately described himself in his signature to a letter addressed to a noble lord, as Imftransus, or Dinnerless, has honestly said, " All the complaints which are made of the world are unjust; I never knew a man of merit neglected; it was generally by his own fault that he failed of success.'' 7 Washington Irving, the American author, held like views. " As for the talk," said he, " about modest merit being neglected, it is too often a cant, by which indolent and irresolute men seek to lay their want of success at the door of the public. Modest merit is, 488 Misfortune and Ill-Luck. however, too apt to be inactive, or negligent, or unin- structed merit. Well-matured and well-disciplined tal- ent is always sure of a market, provided it exerts itself; but it must not cower at home and expect to be sought for. There is a good deal of cant, too, about the suc- cess of forward and impudent men, while men of retiring worth are passed over with neglect. But it usually happens that those forward men have that val- uable quality of promptness and activity without which worth is a mere inoperative property. A barking dog is often more useful than a sleeping lion. 7 ' Attention, application, accuracy, method, punctuality, and dispatch are the principal qualities required for the efficient conduct of business of any sort. These, at first sight, may appear to be small matters; and yet they are of essential importance to human happiness, well-being, and usefulness. They are little things, it is true; but human life is made up of comparative trifles. It is the repetition of little acts which constitutes not only the sum of human character, but which determines the character of nations. And where men or nations have broken down, it will almost invariably be found that neglect of little things was the rock on which they split. Every human being has duties to be performed, and,, therefore, has need of cultivating the capacity for doing them; whether the sphere of action be the management of a household, the conduct of a trade or profession or the government of a nation. The examples we have already given of great work- Action in Detail. ±89 ers in various branches of industry, art, and science, render it unnecessary further to enforce the importance of persevering application in any department of life. It is the result of every-day experience, that steady at- tention to matters of detail lies at the root of human progress; and that diligence, above all, is the mother of good luck. Accuracy is also of much importance, and an invariable mark of good training in a man — ac- curacy in observation, accuracy in speech, accuracy in the transaction of affairs. What is done in business must be well done; for it is better to accomplish per- fectly a small amount of work, than to half-do ten times as much. A wise man used to say, " Stay a little, that we may make an end the sooner." Too little attention, however, is paid to this highly important quality of accuracy. As a man eminent in practical science lately observed to us, " it is astonish- ing how few people I have met with in the course of my experience who can define a fact accurately." Yet in business affairs, it is the manner in which even small matters are transacted, that often decides men for or against you. With virtue, capacity, and good conduct in other respects, the person who is habitually inaccu- rate cannot be trusted; his work has to be gone over again; and he thus causes an infinity of annoyance, vexation and trouble. It was one of the characteristic qualities of Charles James Fox, that he was thoroughly pains-taking in all that he did. When appointed Secretary of State, being 490 JSfeecessity of Accuracy in Business. piqued at some observation as to his bad writing, he actually took a writing-master, and wrote copies like a school-boy until he had sufficiently improved himself. Though a corpulent man, he was wonderfully active at picking up cut tennis balls, and when asked how he con- trived to do so, he playfully replied, " Because I am a very pains-taking man." The same accuracy in trifling matters was displayed by him in things of greater im- portance; and he acquired his reputation, like the painter by " neglecting nothing." Method is essential, and enables a larger amount of work to be got through with satisfaction. " Method," said the Rev. Richard Cecil, " is like packing things in a box; a good packer will get in half as much again as a bad one." Cecil's dispatch of business was extraor- dinary, his maxim being, " the shortest way to do many things is to do only one thing at once;" and he never left a thing undone with a view of recurring to it at a period of more leisure. When business pressed, he rather chose to encroach on his hours of meals and rest than omit any part of his work. De Witt's maxim was like Cecil's: " One thing at a time." " If," said he, " I have any necessary dispatches to make, I think of nothing else till they are finished; if any domestic affairs require my attention, I give myself wholly up to them till they are set in order c " A French minister, who .was alike remarkable for his dispatch of business and his constant attendance at places of amusement, being asked how he contrived to Necessity of Accuracy in Business. 491 combine both objects, replied, u Simply by never post- poning till to-morrow what should be done to-day. " JLord Brougham has said that a certain English states- man reversed the process, and that his maxim was, never to transact to-day what could be postponed till to-morrow. Unhappily, such is the practice of many beside that minister, already almost forgotten; the practice is that of the indolent and the unsuccessful. Such men, too, are apt to rely upon agents, who are not always to be relied upon. " If you want your business done, 1 ' says the proverb, " go and do it; if you don't want it done, send some one else." An indolent country gentleman had a freehold estate producing about five hundred a year. Becoming in- volved in debt, he sold half the estate, and let the re- mainder to an industrious farmer for twenty years. About the end of the term the farmer called to pay his rent, and asked the owner whether he would sell the farm. " Will you buy it?" asked the owner sur- prised. " Yes, if we can agree about the price." " That is exceedingly strange," observed the gentleman;. pray, tell me how it happens that, while I could not live upon twice as much land for which I paid no rent, you are regularly paying me two hundred a year for your farm, and are able, in a few years, to purchase it." " The reason is plain," was the reply; " you sat still and said Go, I got up and said Come; you lay in bed and enjoyed your estate, I rose in the morning and minded my business." 492 Promptitude in Action. Sir Walter Scott, writing to a youth who had ob- tained a situation and asked for his advice, gave him in reply this sound counsel: " Beware of stumbling over a propensity which easily besets you from not having your time fully employed — J -mean what the women call dawdling. Your motto must be, Hoc age. Do instantly whatever is to be done, and take the hours of recreation after business, never before it. When a reg- iment is under march, the rear is often thrown into con- fusion because the front does not move steadily and without interruption. It is the same with business. If that which is first in hand is not instantly, steadily, and regularly dispatched, other things accumulate behind, till affairs begin to press all at once, and no human brain can stand the confusion." Promptitude in action may be stimulated by a due consideration of the value of time. An Italian philoso- pher was accustomed to call time his estate: an estate which produces nothing of value without cultivation, but, duly improved, never fails to recompense the la- bors of the diligent worker. Allowed to lie waste, the product will be only noxious weeds and vicious growths of all kinds. One of the minor uses of steady employ- ment is, that it keeps one out of mischief, for truly an idle brain is the devil's workshop, and a lazy man the devil's bolster. To be occupied is to be possessed as by a tenant, whereas to be idle is to be empty; and when the doors of the imagination are opened, temptation finds a ready access, and evil thoughts come trooping Promptitude. 493 in. It is observed at sea, that men are never so much disposed to grumble and mutiny as when least employ- ed. Hence an old captain, when there was nothing else to do, would issue the order to " scour the anchor!" Men of business are accustomed to quote the maxim that Time is money; but it is more; the proper im- provement of it is self-culture, self-improvement, and growth of character. An hour wasted daily on trifles or in indolence, would, if devoted to ^self-improvement, make an ignorant man wise in a few years, and, em- ployed in good works, would make his life fruitful, and death a harvest of worthy deeds. Fifteen minutes a day devoted to self-improvement, will be felt at the end of the year. Good thoughts and carefully gathered experience take up no room, and may be carried about as our companions everywhere, without cost or incum- brance. An economical use of time is the true mode of securing leisure: it enables us to get through busi- ness and carry it forward, instead of being driven by it. On the other hand, the miscalculation of time in- volves us in perpetual hurry, confusion, and difficulties; and life becomes a mere shuffle of expedients, usually followed by disaster. Nelson once said, u I owe all my success in life to having been always a quarter of an hour before my time." Some take no thought of the value of money until they have come to an end of it, and many do the same with their time. The hours are allowed to flow by un- employed, and then, when life is fast waning, they be- 494 The Value of Time. think themselves of the duty of making a wiser use of it. But the habit of listlessness and idleness may al- ready have become confirmed, and they are unable to break the bonds with which they have permitted them- selves to become bound. Lost wealth may be replaced by industry, lost knowledge by study, lost health by temperance or medicine, but lost time is gone forever. A proper consideration of the value of time will also inspire habits of punctuality. "Punctuality," said Louis XIV., " is the politeness of kings." It is also the duty of gentlemen, and the necessity of men of business. Nothing begets confidence in a man sooner than the practice of this virtue, and nothing shakes confidence sooner than the want of it. He who holds to his ap- pointment and does not keep you waiting for him, shows that he has regard for your time as well as for his own. Thus punctuality is one of the modes by which we tes- tify our personal respect for those whom we are called upon to meet in the business of life. It is also conscien- tiousness, in a measure; for an appointment is a con- tract, express or implied, and he who does not keep it breaks faith, as well as dishonestly uses other people's time, and thus inevitably loses character. We nat- urally come to the conclusion that the person who is careless about time is careless about business, and that he is not the one to be trusted with the transaction of matters of importance. When Washington's secretary excused himself for the lateness of his attendance and laid the blame upon his watch, his master quietly said, Punctuality' 495 c 'Then you must get another watch, or I another secre- tary." The person who is negligent of time and its employ- ment is usually found to be a general disturber of oth- ers' peace and serenity. It was wittily said by Lord Chesterfield of the old Duke of Newcastle — " His. Grace loses an hour in the morning, and is looking for it all the rest of the day." Every body with whom the unpunctual man has to do is thrown ffom time to time into a state of fever: he is systematically late; regular only in his irregularity. He conducts his dawdling as if upon system; arrives at his appointment after time; gets to the railway station after the train has started; posts his letter when the box has closed. Thus bu- siness is thrown into confusion, and every body con- cerned is put out of temper. It will generally be found that the men who are thus habitually behind time are as habitually behind success; and the world generally casts them aside to swell the ranks of the grumblers and the railers against fortune. CHAPTER XXXIX. MEN OF BUSINESS EXAMPLES. Firmness. — Tact. — Napoleon and Wellington, as Men of Business. — Napo- leon's Attention to Details. — The "Napoleon Correspondence." — Welling- ton's Business Faculty. — Wellington in the Peninsula. — " Honesty the best Policy." — Trade Tries Character. — Dishonest Grains. "That man is but of the lower part of the world that is not brought up to business and affairs."— Owen Feltham. TN addition to the ordinary working qualities, the -*" business man of the highest class requires quick per- ception and firmness in the execution of his plans. Tact is also important; and though this is partly the gift of nature, it is yet capable of being cultivated and de- veloped by observation and experience. Men of this quality are quick to see the right mode of action, and if they have decision of purpose, are prompt to carry out their undertakings to a successful issue. These qualities are especially valuable, and indeed indispens- able, in those who direct the action of other men on a large scale, as for instance, in the case of the command- er of an army in the field. It is not merely necessary that the general should be great as a warrior but also as a man of business. He must possess great tact, 496 Great Generals Men of Business. 497 much knowledge of character, and ability to organize the movements of a large mass of men, whom he has to feed, clothe, and furnish with whatever may be necessary in order that they may keep the field and win battles. In these respects Napoleon and Wellington were both first-rate men of business. Though Napoleon had an immense love for details, he had also a vivid power of imagination, which enabled him to look along extended lines of \ action, and deal with those details on a large scale, with judgment and rapidity. He possessed such knowledge of character as enabled him to select, almost unerringly, the best agents for the execution of his designs. But he trusted as little as possible to agents in matters of great moment, on which important results depended. This feature in his character is illustrated in a remarkable de- gree by the " Napoleon Correspondence," now in course of publication, and particularly by the contents of the fifteenth volume, which include the letters, orders, and dispatches written by the Emperor at Finkenstein, a little chateau on the frontier of Poland in the year 1807, shortly after the victory of Eylau. The French army^was then lying encamped along the river Passarge, with the Russians before them, the Austrians on the right flank, and the conquered Prus- sians in their rear. A long line of communications had to be maintained with France, through a hostile coun- try; but so carefully, and with such forsight was this provided for, that it is said Napoleon never missed a 32 498 JVapoleon Bonaparte. post. The movements ot armies, the bringing up of re. inforcements from remote points in France, Spain, Italy, and Germany, the openings of canals and the levelling of roads to enable the produce of Poland and Prussia to be readily transported to his encampments, had his unceasing attention, down to the minutest details. We find him directing where horses were to be obtained, making arrangements for an adequate supply of saddles, ordering shoes for the soldiers, and specifying the number of rations of bread, biscuit, and spirits that were to be brought to camp, or stored in magazines for the use of the troops. At the same time we find him writing to Paris, giving directions for the reorganiza- tion of the French College, devising a scheme of public education, dictating bulletins and articles for the " Mon- iteur," revising the details of the budgets, giving in- structions to archetects as to alterations to be made at the Tuileries and the Church of the Madelaine, throw- ing an occasional sarcasm at Madame de Stael and the Parisian journals, interfering to put down a squabble at the Grand Opera, carrying on a correspondence with the Sultan of Turkey and the Shah of Persia, so that while his body was at Finkenstein his mind seemed to be working at a hundred different places in Paris, in Europe, and throughout the world. We find him in one letter asking Ney if he has duly received the muskets which have been sent him; in an- other he gives directions to Prince Jerome as to the shirts, great-coats, clothes, shoes, shakos, and arms, to The Napoleon Correspondence. 499 be served out to the Wurtemburg regiments; again he presses Cambaceres to forward to the army a double stock of corn — " The ifs and the buts" said he, " are at present out of season, and above all it must be done with speed." Then he informs Daru that the army wants shirts, and that they don't come to hand. To Massena he writes, " Let me know if your buiscuit and bread arrangements are yet completed." To the Grand Due de Berg, he gives directions as to the accoutre- ments of the cuirassiers — "They complain that the men want sabres; send an officer to obtain them at Posen. It is also said they want helmets; order that they be made at Ebling It is not by sleeping that one can accomplish any thing.'" Thus no point ot detail was neglected, and the energies of all were stim- ulated into action with extraordinary power. Though many of the Emperor's days were occupied by inspec- tions of his troops — in the course of which he sometimes rode from thirty to forty leagues a day — and by reviews, receptions, and affairs of state, leaving but little time for business matters, he neglected nothing on that account ; but devoted the greater part of his nights, when neces- sary, to examining budgets, dictating dispatches, and attending to the thousand matters of detail in the or- ganization and working of the Imperial Government; the machinery of which was for the most part concen- trated in his own head. Like Napoleon, the Duke of Wellington was a first- rate man of business; and it is not perhaps saying too 500 Wellington. much to aver that it was in no small degree because of his possession of a busines faculty amounting to genius, that the Duke never lost a battle. While a subaltern, he became dissatisfied with the slowness of his promotion, and having passed from the infantry to the cavalry twice, and back again, without advancement, he applied to Lord Camden, then Vice- roy of Ireland, for employment in the Revenue or Treasury Board. Had he succeeded, no doubt he would have made a first-rate head of a department, as he would have made a first-rate merchant or manufacturer. But his application failed, and he remained with the army to become the greatest of British generals. The Duke began his active military career under the Duke of York and General Walmoden, in Flanders and Holland, where he learnt, amidst misfortunes and de- feats, how bad business arrangements and bad general- ship serve to ruin the morale of an army. Ten years after entering the army we find him a colonel in India, reported by his superiors as an officer of indefatigable energy and application. He entered into the minutest details of the service, and sought to raise the discipline of his men of the highest standard. " The regiment of Colonel Wellesley," wrote General Harris in 1799, "is a model regiment; on the score of soldierly bearing, discipline, instruction, and orderly behavior it is above all praise." Thus qualifying himself for posts of great- er confidence, he was shortly after nominated governor of the capital of Mysore. In the war with the Mahrat- Wellington in India. 501 tas he was first called upon to try his hand at general- ship; and at thirty-four he won the memorable battle of Assaye, with an army composed of 1,500 British and 5,000 Sepoys, over 20,000 Mahratta infantry and 30,000 cavalry. But so brilliant a victory did not in the least disturb his equanimity, or affect the perfect honesty of his character. Shortly after this event the opportunity occurred for exhibiting his admirable practical qualities as an administrator. Placed in command of an import- ant district immediately after the capture of Seringapa- tam, his first object was to establish rigid order and discipline among his own men. Flushed with victory, the troops were found riotous and disorderly. " Send me the provost-marshal," said he, " and put him under my orders: till some of the marauders are hung, it is impossible to expect order or safety." This rigid severity of Wellington in the field, though it was the dread, proved the salvation of his troops in many cam- paigns. His next step was to re-establish the markets and re-open the sources of supply. General Harris wrote to the Governor-general, strongly commending Colonel Wellesley for the perfect discipline he had es- tablished, and for his "judicious and masterly arrange- ments in respect to supplies, which opened an abundant free market, and inspired confidence into dealers of every description." The same close attention to, and mastery of details, characterized him throughout his Indian career; and it is remarkable that one of his ablest dispatches to Lord Clive, full of practical infor- 502 Wellington in the Peninsula. mation as to the conduct of the campaign, was written whilst the column he commanded was crossing the Toombuddra, in the face of the vastly superior army of Dhoondiah, posted on the opposite bank, and while a thousand matters of the deepest interest were pressing upon the commander's mind. But it was one of his most remarkable characteristics, thus to be able to withdraw himself temporarily from the business im- mediately in hand, and to bend his full powers upon the consideration of matters totally distinct; even the most difficult circumstances on such occasions failing to embarrass or intimidate him. Returned to England with a reputation for general- ship, Sir Arthur Wellesley met with immediate em- ployment. In 1808 a corps of 10,000 men destined to liberate Portugal was placed under his charge. He landed, fought and won two battles, and signed the Convention of Cintra. After the death of Sir John Moore he was intrusted with the command of a new expedition in Portugal. But Wellington was fearfully overmatched throughout his Peninsular campaigns. From 1809 to 181 3 he never had more than 30,000 British troops under his command, at a time when there stood opposed to him in the Peninsula some 350,000 French, mostly veterans, led by some of Na- poleon's ablest generals. How was he to contend against such immense force with any fair prospect of success? His clear discernment and strong common sense soon taught him that he must adopt a different Wellington 's Business Genius. 503 policy from that of the Spanish generals, who were in- variably beaten and dispersed whenever they ventured to offer battle in the open plains. He perceived he had yet to create the army that was to contend against the French with any reasonable chance of success. Accordingly, after the battle of Talavera in 1809, when he found himself encompassed on all sides by superior forces of French, he retired into Portugal, there to carry out the settled policy on which he had by this time determined. It was, to organize a Portuguese army under British officers, and teach them to act in combi- nation with his own troops, in the mean time avoiding the peril of a defeat by declining all engagements. He would thus, he conceived, destroy the morale of the French, who could not exist without victories; and when his army was ripe for action, and the enemy demoralized, he would then fall upon them with all his might. The extraordinary qualities displayed. by Lord Wel- lington throughout these immortal campaigns, can only be appreciated after a perusal of his dispatches, which contain the unvarnished tale of the manifold ways and means by which he laid the foundations of his success. Never was man more tried by difficulty and opposi- tion, arising not less from the imbecility, falsehoods, and intrigues of the British Government of the day, than from the selfishness, cowardice, and vanity of the peoople he went to save. It may, indeed, be said of him, that he sustained, the war in Spain b} T his indi- 504 Wellington 's Honesty* vidual firmness and self reliance, which never failed him, even in the midst of his greatest discouragements. He had not only to fight Napoleon's veterans, but also to hold in check the Spanish juntas and the Portuguese regency. He had the utmost difficulty in obtaining pro- visions and clothing for his troops; and it will scarcely be credited that, while engaged with the enemy in the battle of Talavera, the Spaniards, who ran away, fell upon the baggage of the British army, and the ruffians actually plundered it ! These and other vexations the Duke bore with a sublime patience and self-control, and held on his course, in the face of ingratitude, treachery, and opposition, with indomitable firmness. He - neg- lected nothing, and attended to every important detail of business himself. When he found that food for his troops was not to be obtained from England, and that he must rely upon his own resources for feeding them, he forthwith commenced business as a corn-merchant on a large scale, in copartnery with the British Minis- ter at Lisbon. Commissariat bills were created, with which grain was bought in the ports of the Meditera- nean and in South America. When he had thus filled his magazines, the overplus was sold to the Portuguese, who were greatly in want of provisions. He left noth- ing whatever to chance, but provided for every contin- gency. He gave his attention to the minutest details of the service; and was accustomed to concentrate his whole energies, from time to time, on such apparently ignominious matters as soldiers' shoes, camp-kettles : , Honesty the Best Policy. 505 biscuits, and horse-fodder. His magnificent business qualities were everywhere felt; and there can be no doubt that, by the care with which he provided for every contingency, and the personal attention which he gave to every detail, he laid the foundations of his great success. By such means he transformed an army of raw levies into the best soldiers in Europe, with whom he declared it to be possible to go anywhere and do any thing. x We have already referred to his remarkable power of abstracting himself from the work, no matter how engrossing, immediately in hand, and concentrating his energies upon the details of some entirely different bus- iness. Thus Napier relates that it was while he was preparing to fight the battle of Salamanca that he had to expose to the Ministers at home the futility of rely- ing upon a loan; it was on the heights of San Christo- val, on the field of battle itself, that he demonstrated the absurdity of attempting to establish a Portuguese bank; it was in the trenches of Burgos that he dissect- ed Funchal's scheme of finance, and exposed the folly of attempting the sale of church property ; and on each occasion he showed himself as well acquainted with these subjects as with the minutest detail in the mech- anism of armies. Another feature in his character, showing the upright man of business, was his thorough honesty. Whilst Soult ransacked and carried away with him from Spain numerous pictures of great value, Wellington did not 506 Honesty the Best Policy. appropriate to himself a single farthing's worth of prop- erty. Everywhere he paid his way, even when in the enemy's country. When he had crossed the French frontier, followed by 40,000 Spaniards, who sought to " make fortunes" by pillage and plunder, he first rebuked their officers, and then, finding his efforts to restrain them unavailing, he sent them back into their own country. It is a remarkable fact, that, even in France, the peasantry fled from their own countrymen, and carried their valuables within the protection of the British lines! At the very same time. Wellington was writing home to the British Ministry, ' We are over- whelmed with debts, and I can scarcely stir out of my house on account of public creditors waiting to demand payment of what is due to them.'" Jules Maurel, in his estimate of the Duke's character, says, " Nothing can be grander or more nobly original than this admis- sion. This old soldier, after thirty } T ears' service, this iron man and victorious general, established in an ene- my's country at the head of an immense army, is afraid of his creditors ! This is a kind of fear that has seldom troubled the mind of conquerors and invaders; and I doubt if the annals of war could present any thing com- parable to this sublime simplicity." But the Duke him- self, had the matter been put to him, would most pro- bably have disclaimed any attention of acting even grandly or nobly in the matter; merely regarding the punctual payment of his debts as the best and most hon- orable mode of conducting his business. Uprightness in Business. 507 The truth of the good old maxim, that " Honesty is the best policy," is upheld by the daily experience of life, uprightness and integrity being found as successful in business as in every thing else. As Hugh Miller's worthy uncle used to advise him, " In all your dealings give your neighbor the cast of the bauk — ' good meas- ure, heaped up, and running over' — and }-ou will not lose by it in the end." A well-known brewer of beer attributed his success to the liberality with which he used his malt. Going up to the vat and tasting it, he would say, " Still rather poor, my lads; give it another cast of the malt." The brewer put his character into his beer, and it proved generous accordingly, obtaining a reputation in England, India, and the colonies, which laid the foundation of a large fortune. Integrity of word and deed ought to be the very corner-stone of all business transactions. To the tradesman, the merchant, and manufacturer, it should be what honor is to the soldier, and charity to the Christian. In the humblest calling there will always be found scope, for the exer- cise of this uprightness of character. Hugh Miller speaks of the mason with whom he served his appren- ticeship, as one who u put his conscience into every stone that he laid," So the true mechanic will pride himself upon the thoroughness and solidity of his work, and the high-minded contractor upon the honesty of performance of his contract in every particular. The upright manufacturer will find not only honor and reputation, but substantial success, in the genuineness 508 Uprightness in Business. of the article which he produces, and the merchant in the honesty of what he sells, and that it really is what it seems to be. Baron Dupin, speaking of the general probity of Englishmen, which he held to be a principal cause of their success, observed, "We may succeed for a time by fraud, by surprise, by violence; but we can succeed permanently only by means directly opposite. It is not alone the courage, the intelligence, the activity, of the merchant and manufacturer which maintain the superiority of their productions and the character of their country; it is far more their wisdom, their econo- my, and, above all, their probity. If ever in the British Islands the useful citizen should lose these virtues, we may be sure that, for England, as for ever)' other country, the vessels of a degenerate commerce, repulsed from every shore, would speedily disappear from those seas whose surface they now cover with the treasures of the universe, bartered for the treasures of the industry of the three kingdoms. 11 It must be admitted, that trade tries character per- haps more severely than any other pursuit in life. It puts to the severest tests honesty, self-denial, justice, and truthfulness; and men of business who pass through such trials unsustained are perhaps worthy of as great honor as soldiers who prove their courage amidst the fire and perils of battle. And, to the credit of the mul- titudes of men engaged in the various departments of trade, we think it must be admitted that on the whole they pass through their trials nobly. If we reflect but Business Confidence. 509 for a moment on the vast amount of wealth daily in- trusted even to the subordinate persons, who them- selves probably earn but a bare competency — the loose cash which is constantly passing through the hands of shopmen, agents, brokers, and clerks in banking-houses — and note how comparatively few are the breaches of trust which occur amidst all this temptation, it will probably be admitted that this steady daily honesty of conduct is most honorable to human nature, if it do not even tempt us to be proud of it. The same trust and confidence reposed by men of business in each other, as implied by the system of credit, which is mainly based upon the principal of honor, would be surprising if it were not so much a matter of ordinary practice in business transactions. Dr. Chalmers has well said that the implicit trust with which merchants are accustomed to confide in distant agents, separated from them perhaps by half the globe — often consigning vast wealth to persons recommended only by their character, whom perhaps they have never seen — is probably the finest act of homage which men can render to one another. Although common honesty is still happily in the as- cendant among common people, and the general business community of England is still sound at heart, putting their honest character into their respective callings, there are unhappily, as there have been in all times, but too many instances of flagrant dishonesty and fraud, exhibited by the unscrupulous, the over speculative, 510 Dishonest Gains. and the intensely selfish, in their haste to be rich. There are tradesmen who adulterate, contractors who " scamp," manufacturers who give us shoddy instead of wool, " dressing " instead of cotton, cast-iron tools instead of steel, needles without eyes, razors made only " to sell," and swindled fabrics in many shapes. But these we must hold to be the exceptional cases of low- minded and grasping men, who, though they may gain wealth, which they probably can not enjoy, will never gain an honest character, nor secure that without which wealth is nothing — a heart at peace. The rogue cozened not me, but his own conscience, said Bishop Latimer of a cutler who made him pay twopence for a knife not worth a penny. Money earned by screwing, cheating, and overreaching, may for a time dazzle the eyes of the unthinking; but the bubbles blown by un- scrupulous rogues, when full-blown, usually glitter only to burst. The Sadliers, Dean Pauls, and Redpaths, for the most part, come to a sad end even in this world; and though the successful swindles of others may not be "found out," and the gains of their roguery may remain with them, it will be as a curse and not as a blessing. It is possible that the scrupulously honest man may not grow rich so fast as the unscrupulous and dishonest one; but the success will be of a truer kind, earned without fraud or injustice. And even though a man should for a time be unsuccessful, still he must be hon- est; better lose all and save character. For character Dishonest Gains. 511 is itself a fortune; and if the high-principled man will but hold on his way courageously, success will surely come, nor will the highest reward of all be withheld from him. Wordsworth well described the " Happy Warrior," as he ' Who comprehends his trust, and to the same Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim ; And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait For wealth, or honor, or for worldly state ; Whom they must follow, on whose head must fall, Like showers of manna, if they come at all." WWwv CHAPTER XL. MONEY ITS USE AND ABUSE. The Right Use of Money a Test of Wisdom.— The Virtue of Self-denial.— Self-imposed Taxes. — Economy Necessary to Independence. — Helplessness of the Improvident. — Frugality an Important Public Question. — The Bondage of the Improvident. — Independence Attainable by Working Men. — Living within the Means. — Bacon's Maxim. — Running into Debt. — Haydon's Debts. — Dr. Johnson on Debt. — The Duke of Wellington on Debt. — Washington. " Not for to hide it in a hedge. Nor for a train attendant, But for the glorious privilege Of being independent." — Burns. Ki TOW a man uses money — makes it, saves it, and spends it — is perhaps one of the best tests of prac- tical wisdom. Although money ought by no means to be regarded as a chief end of man's life, neither is it a trifling matter, to be held in philosophic contempt, rep- senting, as it does to so large an extent, the means of physical comfort and social well-being. Indeed, some of the finest qualities of human nature are intimately related to the right use of money; such as generosity, honesty, justice, and self-sacrifice; as well as the prac- tical virtues of economy and providence. On the other hand, there are their counterparts of avarice, fraud, injustice, and selfishness, as displayed by the inordinate Si 2 Self-Denial 513 lovers of gain; and the vices of thriftlessness, extrava- gance, and improvidence, on the part of those who mis- use and abuse the means intrusted to them. " So that," as is wisely observed by Henry Taylor in his thought- ful i Notes from Life,' " a right measure and manner in getting, saving, spending, giving, taking, lending, bor- rowing, and bequeathing, would almost argue a perfect man." Comfort in worldly circumstances is a condition which every man is justified in striving to attain by all worthy means. It secures that physical satisfaction, which is necessary for the culture of the better part of his nature; and enables him to provide for those of his own household, without which, says the apostle, a man is " worse than an infidel." Nor ought the duty to be any the less pleasing to us, that the respect which our fellow-men entertain for us in no slight degree depends upon the manner in which we exercise the opportuni- ties which present themselves for our honorable ad- vancement in life. The very effort required to be made to succeed in life with this object, is of itself an educa- tion; stimulating a man's sense of self-respect, bringing out his practical qualities, and disciplining him in the exercise of patience, perseverance, and such like virtues. The provident and careful man must necessarily be a thoughtful man, for he lives not merely for the present, but with provident forecast makes arrangements for the future. He must also be a temperate man, and exercise the virtue of self-denial, than which nothing is so much 33 514 Self- Denial, calculated to give strength to the character. John Sterling says truly, that " the worst education which teaches self-denial, is better than the best which teaches every thing else, and not that. 1 ' The Romans rightly employed the same word (virtus) to designate courage^ which is in a physical sense what the other is in a mor- al; the highest virtue of all being victory over our* selves. Hence the lesson of self-denial — the sacrificing of a present gratification for a future good — is one of the last that is learnt. Those classes which work the hard- est might naturally be expected to value the most the money which they earn. Yet the readiness with which so many are accustomed to eat up and drink up their earnings as they go, renders them to a great extent helpless and dependent upon the frugal. There are large numbers of persons among us who, though enjoy- ing sufficient means of comfort and independence, are often found to be barely a day's march ahead of actual want when a time of pressure occurs ; and hence a great cause of social helplessness and suffering. On one oc- casion a deputation waited on Lord John Russell, re- specting the taxation levied on the working classes of the country, when the noble lord took the opportunity of remarking, " You may rely upon it that the Govern- ment of this country durst not tax the working classes to any thing like the extent to which they tax them- selves in their expenditure upon intoxicating drinks alone!" Of all great public questions, there is perhaps Prudence. 515 none more important than this — no great work of re- form calling more loudly for laborers. But it must be admitted that " self-denial and self-help" would make a poor rallying-cry for the hustings; and it is to be fear- ed that the patriotism of this day has but little regard for such common things as individual economy and providence, although it is by the practice of such vir- tues only that the genuine independence of the indus- trial classes is to be secured. " Prudence, frugality, and good management," said Samuel Drew, the philo- sophical shoemaker, " are excellent artists for mending bad times : they occupy but little room in any dwelling, but would furnish a more effectual remedy for the evils of life than any Reform Bill that ever passed the Houses of Parliament " Socrates said, " Let him that would move the world move first himself." Or as the old rhyme runs — " If every one would see To his own reformation, How very easily You might reform a nation." It is, however, generally felt to be a far easier thing to reform the Church and the State than to reform the least of our own bad habits; and in such matters it is usually found more agreeable to our tastes, as it cer- tainly is the common practice, to begin with our neigh- bors rather than with ourselves. Any class of men that lives from hand to mouth will ever be an inferior class. They will necessarily remain 516 The Use of Money. impotent and helpless, hanging on to the skirts of socie- ty, the sport of times and seasons. Having no respect for themselves, they will fail in securing the respect of others. In commercial crises, such men must inevita- bly go to the wall. Wanting that husbanded power which a store of savings, no matter how small, invaria- bly gives them, they will be at every man's mercy, and, if possessed of right feelings, they can not but regard with fear and trembling the future possible fate of their wives and children. " The world," once said Mr. Cob- den to the working men of Huddersfield, " has always been divided into two classes — those who have saved, and those who have spent — the thrifty and the extrava- gant. The building of all the houses, the mills, the bridges, and the ships, and the accomplishment of all other great works which have rendered man civilized and happy, has been done by the savers, the thrifty; and those who have wasted their resources have always been their slaves. It has been the law of nature and of Providence that this should be so; and I were an impostor if I promised any class that they would ad- vance themselves if they were improvident, thoughtless, and idle." Equally sound was the advice given by Mr. Bright to an assembly of working men at Rochdale, in 1847, when, after expressing his belief that, " so far as hon- esty was concerned, it was to be found in pretty equal- amount among all classes," he used the following words : " There is only one way that is safe for any man, or Money — Its Use and Abuse. 517 any number of men, by which they can maintain their present position if it be a good one, or raise themselves above it if it be a bad one — that is, by the practice of the virtues of industry, frugality, temperance, and hon- esty. There is no ro} T al road by which men can raise themselves from a position which they feel to be un- comfortable and unsatisfactory, as regards their men- tal or physical condition, except by the practice of those virtues by which they find numbers amongst them are continually advancing and bettering them- selves." There is no reason why the condition of the average workman should not be a useful, honorable, respectable, and happ) r one. The whole body of the working classes might (with few exceptfons) be as frugal, virtu- ous, well-informed, and well-conditioned as many in- dividuals of the same class have already made them- selves. What some men are, all without difficulty might be. Employ the same means, and the same results will follow. That there should be a class of men who live by their daily labor in every state is the ordi- nance of God, and doubtless is a wise and righteous one ; but that this class should be otherwise than frugal, contented, intelligent, and happy, is not the design of Providence, but springs solely from the weakness, self indulgent, and perverseness of man himself. The healthy spirit of self-help created amongst working peo- ple would more than any other measure serve to raise them as a class, and this, not by pulling down others, 518 Money — Its Use and Abuse. but by levelling them up to a higher and still advanc- ing standard of religion, intelligence, and virtue. " All moral philosophy," says Montaigue, " is as applicable to a common and private life as to the most splendid. Every man carries the entire form of the human condi- tion with him." When a man casts his glance forward, he will find that the three chief temporal contingencies tor which he has to provide are want of employment, sickness, and death. The two first he may escape, but the last is inevitable. It is, however, the duty of the prudent man so to live, and so to arrange, that the pressure of suffering, in event of either contingency occurring, shall be mitigated to as great an extent as possible, not only to himself, but also to those who are dependent upon him for their comfort and subsistence. Viewed in this light, the honest earning and the frugal use of money are of the greatest importance. Rightly earned, it is the representative of patient industry and untiring effort, of temptation resisted and hope rewarded; and rightly used, it affords indications of prudence, fore- thought and self-denial — the true basis of manly char- acter. Though money represents a crowd of objects without any real worth or utility, it also represents many things of great value; not only food, clothing and household satisfaction, but personal self-respect and independence. Thus a store of savings is to the working man as a barricade against want, it secures him a footing, and enables him to wait, it may be in Necessity of Economy. 519 cheerfulness and hope, until better days come round. The very endeavor to gain a firmer position in the world has a certain dignity in it, and tends to make a man stronger and better. At all events, it gives him greater freedom of action, and enables him to husband his strength for future effort. But the man who is always hovering on the verge of want is in a state not far removed from that of slavery. He is in no sense his own master, bu^t is in constant peril of falling under the bondage of others, and accepting the terms which they dictate to him. He can not help being in a measure servile, for he dares not look the world boldly in the face; and in adverse times he must look either to alms or the poor's rates. If work fails him altogether, he has not the means of moving to another field of employment; he is fixed to his parish like a limpet to its rock, and can neither migrate nor emigrate. To secure independence, the practice of simple econ- omy is all that is necessary. Economy requires neither superior courage nor eminent virtue; it is satisfied with ordinary energy, and the capacit} 7 of average minds. -Economy, at bottom, is but the spirit of order applied in the administration of domestic affairs : it means man- agement, regularity, prudence, and the avoidance of waste. The spirit of economy was expressed by our Divine Master in the words, " Gather up the fragments that remain, so that nothing may be lost." His omnipo- tence did not disdain the small things of life; and even 520 Necessity of Economy. while revealing His infinite power to the multitude, he taught the pregnant lesson of carefulness, of which all stand so much in need. Economy also means the power of resisting present gratification for the purpose of securing a future good, and in this light it represents the ascendency of reason over the animal instincts. It is altogether different from penuriousness : for it is economy that can always best afford to be generous. It does not make money an idol but regards it as a useful agent. As Dean Swift observes, " we must carry money in the head, not in the heart.'" Economy may be styled the daughter of Prudence, the sister of Temperance, and the mother of Liberty. It is evidently conservative — conservative of character, of domestic happiness, and social well- being. It is, in short, the exhibition of self-help in one of its best forms. Francis Horner's father gave him this advice on en- tering life: — "Whilst I wish you to be comfortable in every respect, I can not too strongl} 7 inculcate economy. It is a necessary virtue to all; and however the shallow part of mankind may dispise it, it certainly leads to in- dependence, which is a grand object to every man of a high spirit." Burn's lines, quoted at the head of this chapter, contain the right idea; but unhappily his strain of song was higher than his practice; his ideal better than his habit. When laid on his death-bed he wrote to a friend, u Alas! Clarke, I begin to feel the worst. Burns's poor widow, and a half a dozen of AN EXAMPLE DF THRIFT, EXO RATED FOR HOMES. Gettings and Savings. 521 his dear little ones helpless orphans; — there I am weak as a woman's tear. Enough of this; — 'tis half my disease. Every man ought so to contrive as to live within his. means. This practice is of the very essence of honesty. For if a man do not manage honestly to live within his own means, he must necessarily be living dishonest- ly upon the means of somebody else. Those who are careless about personal expenditure, and consider mere- ly their own gratification, without regard for the com- fort of others, generally find out the real uses of money when it is too late. Though by nature generous, these thriftless persons are often driven in the end to do very shabby things. They waste their money as they do their time; draw bills upon the future; anticipate their earn- ings; and are thus under the necessity of dragging after them a load of debts and obligations which seriously affect their action as free and independent men. It was a maxim of Lord Bacon, that when it was. necessary to economize, it was better to look after petty savings than to descend to petty gettings. The loose cash which many persons throw away uselessly, and worse, would often form a basis of fortune and inde- pendence for life. These wasters are their own worst enemies, though generally found amongst the ranks of those who rail at the injustice of " the world. 1 ' But if a man will not be his own friend, how can he expect that others will? Orderly men of moderate means have always something left in their pockets to help £22 Danger of Borrowing. others; whereas your prodigal and careless fellows who spend all never find an opportunity for helping any body. It is poor economy, however, to be a scrub. Narrow-mindedness in living and in dealing is generally short-sighted, and leads to failure. The penny soul, it is said, never came to twopence. Generosity and liberality, like honesty, prove the best policy after all. Though Jenkinson, in the " Vicar of Wakefield," cheated his kind-hearted neighbor Flamborough in one way or another every year, u Flamborough," said he, "has been regularly growing in riches, while I have come to poverty and a jail." And practical life abounds in cases of brilliant results from a course of generous and honest policy. The proverb says that " an empty bag can not stand upright;" neither can a man who is in debt. It is also difficult for a man who is in debt to be truthful; hence it is said that lying rides on debt's back. The debtor has to frame excuses to his creditor for postponing pay- ment of the money he owes him, and probably also to contrive falsehoods. It is easy enough for a man who will exercise a healthy resolution, to avoid incurring the first obligation; but the facility with which that has been incurred often becomes a temptation co a sec- ond ; and very soon the unfortunate borrower becomes so entangled that no late exertion of industry can set him free. The first step in debt is like the first step in falsehood; almost involving the necessity of proceed- ing in the same course, debt following debt as lie Danger of Borrowing. 523 follows lie. Haydon, the painter, dated his decline from the day on which he first borrowed money. He real- ized the truth of the proverb, " Who goes a-borrowing, goes a-sorrowing." The significant entry in his diary is: " Here began debt and obligation out of which I have never been and never shall be extricated as long as I live." His autobiography shows but too painfully how embarrassment in money matters produces poig- nant distress of mind, utter incapacity for work, and constantly recurring humilitations. The written advice which he gave to a youth when entering the navy was as follows: "Never purchase any enjoyment if it can not be procured without borrowing of others. Never borrow money; it is degrading. I do not say never lend, but never lend if by lending you render yourself unable to pay what you owe; but under any cir- cumstances never borrow." Fichte, the poor student, refused to accept even presents from his still poorer parents. Dr. Johnson held that early debt is ruin. His words on the subject are weighty," and worthy of being held in remembrance. " Do not," said he, " accustom your- self to consider debt only as an inconvenience; you will find it a calamity. Poverty takes away so many means of doing good, and produces so much inability to resist evil, both natural and moral, that it is by all virtuous means to be avoided. . . Let it be your first care ; then, not to be in any man's debt. Resolve not to he poor; whatever you have, spend less* Poverty is a 524 Avoid Debt. great enemy to human happiness; it certainly destroys liberty, and it makes some virtues impracticable and others extremely difficult. Frugality is not only the basis of quiet, but of benificence. No man can help others that wants help himself; we must have enough before we have to spare." It is the bounden duty of every man to look his af- fairs in the face, and to keep an account of his incom- ings and outgoings in money matters. The exercise of a little simple arithmetic in this wa}^ will be found of great value. Prudence requires that we shall pitch our scale of living a degree below our means, rather than up to them. But this can only be done by carry- ing out faithfully a plan of living by which both ends may be made to meet. John Locke strongly advised this course: " Nothing," said he, " likelier to keep a man within compass than having constantly before his eyes the state of his affairs in a regular course of ac- count." The Duke of Wellington kept an accurate detailed account of all the moneys received and expend- ed by him. " I make a point," said he to Mr. Gleig, " of paying my own bills, and I advise every one to do the same; formerly I used to trust a confidential ser- vant to pay them, but I was cured of that folly by re- ceiving one morning; to my great surprise, duns of a year or two's standing. The fellow had speculated with my money, and left my bills unpaid." Talking of debt, his remark was, " It makes a slave of a man. I have often known what it was to be in want of Avoid Debt. 525 money, but I never got into debt." Washington was as particular as Wellington was, in matters of business detail; and it is a remarkable fact, that he did not dis- dain to scrutinize the smallest outgoings of his house- hold — determined as he was to live honestly within his means — even when holding the high office of President of the American Union. CHAPTER XLI. MONEY — ITS USE AND ABUSE EXAMPLES. Earl St. Vincent: his protested Bill. — Joseph Hume on living too high.— Ambition after Gentility. — Resistance to Temptation. — Hugh Miller's Case. — High Standard of Life necessary. — Proverbs on Money-making- and Thrift. " Neither a borrower nor a lender be: For loan oft loses both itself and friend; And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry."— Shakespeare. C\)dMIRAL Jervis, Earl St. Vincent, has told the ^ story of his early struggles, and, amongst other things, of his determination to keep out of debt. "My father had a very large family," said he, " with limited means. He gave me twenty pounds at starting, and that was all he ever gave me. After I had been a con- siderable time at the station [at sea,] I drew for twenty more, but the bill came back protested. I was morti- fied at this rebuke, and made a promise, which I have ever kept, that I would never draw another bill without a certainty of its being paid. I immediately changed my mode of living, quitted my mess, lived alone, and took up the ship's allowance, which I found quite suf- ficient; washed and mended my own clothes; made a pair of trowsers out of the ticking of my bed; and hav- 526 Early Struggles of Jolin Jervis. 527 ing by these means saved as much money as would re- deem my honor, I took up my bill, and from that time to this I have taken care to keep within my means."' Jervis for six years endured pinching privation, but pre- served his integrity, studied his profession with success, and gradually and steadily rose by merit and bravery to the highest rank. Mr. Hume hit the mark when he once stated in the House of Commons — though his worlds were followed by " laughter" — that the tone of living in England is altogether too high. Middle-class people are too apt to live up to their incomes, if not beyond them : affect- ing a degree of " style" which is most unhealthy in its effects upon society at large. There is an ambition to bring up boys as gentlemen, or rather " genteel " men, though the result frequently is only to make them gents, They acquire a taste for dress, style, luxuries,, and amusements, which can never form any solid foun- dation for manly or gentlemanly character; and the re- sult is, that we have a vast number of gingerbread young gentry thrown upon the world, who remind one of the abandoned hulls sometimes picked up at sea, with only a monkey on board. There is a dreadful ambition abroad for being " gen- teel." We keep up appearances, too often at the ex- pense of honesty; and, though we may not be rich, yet we must seem to be so. We must be "respectable," though only in the meanest sense — in mere vulgar out- ward show. We have not the courage to go patiently 528 Living too High. onward in the condition of life in which it has pleased God to call us ; but must needs live in some fashionable state to which we ridiculously please to call ourselves, and to gratify the vanity of that unsubstantial genteel world of w r hich we form a part. There is a constant struggle and pressure for front seats in the social am- phitheatre; in the midst of which all noble self-denying resolve is trodden down, and many fine natures are in- evitably crushed to death. What waste, what misery, what bankruptcy, come from all this ambition to dazzle others with the glare of apparent worldly success, we need not describe. The mischievous results show them- selves in a thousand ways — in the rank frauds commit- ted by men who dare to be dishonest, but do not dare to seem poor; and in the desperate dashes at fortune, in which the pity is not so much for those who fail, as for the hundreds of innocent families who are so often in- volved in their ruin. The young man, as he passes through life, advances through a long line of tempters ranged on either side of him; and the inevitable effect of yielding to degra- dation in a greater or less degree. Contact with them tends insensibly to draw away from him some portion of the divine electric element with which his nature is charged ; and his only mode of resisting them is to utter and to act out his " No" manfully and resolutely. He must decide at once, not waiting to deliberate, and bal- ance reasons: for the youth, like " the woman who de- liberates, is lost." Many deliberate, without deciding; Living too High. 529 but " not to resolve, is to resolve.' ' A perfect knowl- edge of the man is in the prayer, : ' Lead us not into temptation. 17 But temptation will come to try the young man's strength; and once yielded to, the power to resist grows weaker and weaker. Yield once, and a portion of virtue has gone. Resist manfully, and the first decision will give strength for life; repeated, it will become a habit. It is in the outworks of the habits formed in early life that the real strength of the de- fense must lie ; for it has been wisely ordained that the machinery of moral existence should be carried on prin- cipally through the medium of the habits, so as to save the wear and tear of the great principles within. It is good habits, which insinuate themselves into the thou- sand inconsiderable acts of life, that really constitute by far the greater part of man's moral conduct. Hugh Miller has told how, by an act of youthful de- cision, he saved himself from one of the strong tempta- tions so peculiar to a life of toil. When employed as a mason, it was usual for his fellow workmen to have an occasional treat of drink, and one day two glasses of whiskey fell to his share, which he swallowed. When he reached home, he found, on opening his favorite book — " Bacon's Essays " — that the letters danced be- fore his eyes, and that he could no longer master the sense. " The condition," he says, " into which I had brought myself was, I felt, one of degradation. I had sunk, by my own act, for the time, to a lower level of intelligence than that on which it was my privilege to 34 530 llesistance to Temptation. be placed; and though the state could have been no very favorable one lor forming a resolution, I in that hour determined that I should never again sacrifice my capacity of intellectual enjoyment to a drinking usage;, and, with God's help, I was enabled to hold by the de- termination." It is such decisions as this that often form the turning points in a man's life, and furnish the foundation of his future character. And this rock, on which Hugh Miller might have been wrecked, if he had not at the right moment put forth his moral strength to strike away from it, is one that youth and manhood alike need to be constantly on their guard against. It is about one of the worst and most deadly, as well as extravagant, temptations which lie in the way of youth. Sir Walter Scott used to say that u of all vices, drink- ing is the most incompatible with greatness." Not only so, but it is incompatible with economy, decency, health, and honest living. When a youth can not re- strain he must abstain. Dr. Johnson's case is the case of many. He said, referring to his own habits, " Sir, I can abstain; but I can't be moderate." But to wrestle vigorously and successfully with any vicious habit, we must not merely be satisfied with contending on the low ground of worldly prudence, though that is of use, but take stand upon a higher moral elevation. Mechanical aids, such as pledges, may be of service to some, but the great thing is to set up a high standard of thinking and acting, and endeavor to strengthen and purify the principles as well as to re- A High Standard. 531 form the habits. For this purpose a youth must study himself, watch his steps, and compare his thoughts and acts with his rule. The more knowledge of himself he gains, the more humble will he be, and perhaps the less confident in his own strength. But the discipline will be always found most valuable which is required by resisting small present gratifications to secure a prospective greater and higher one. It is the noblest work in self-education — for " Real glory- Springs from the silent conquest of ourselves, And without that the conqueror is nought But the first slave." Many popular books have been written for the pur- pose of communicating to the public the grand secret of making money. But there is no secret whatever about it, as the proverbs of every nation abundantly testify. u Take care of the pennies and the pounds will take care of themselves." "Diligence is the mother of good luck." " No pains no gains." a No sweat no sweet." " Work and thou shalt have." " The world is his who has patience and industry." " Better go to bed supperless than rise in debt." Such are specimens of the proverbial philosophy, embodying the hoarded experience of many generations, as to the best means of thriving in the world. They were current in peo- ple's mouths long before books were invented; and like other popular proverbs they were the first codes of popular morals. Moreover they have stood the test 532 Proverbs of Money -Making. of time, and the experience of ever}' day still bears wit- ness to their accuracy, force, and soundness. The Prov- erbs of Solomon are full of wisdom as to the force of industry, and the use and abuse of money: — " He that is slothful in work is brother to him that is a great waster." " Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise." Poverty, says the preacher, shall come upon the idler, " as one that traveleth, and want as an armed man;" but of the industrious and upright, "the hand of the diligent maketh rich." "The drunk- ard and the glutton shall come to poverty; and drowsi- ness shall clothe a man with rags." " Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings." But above all, "It is better to get wisdom than gold; for wisdom is better than rubies, and all the things that may be desired are not to be compared to it." Simple industry and thrift will go far towards mak- ing any person of ordinary working faculty compara- tively independent in his means. Even a working man may be so, provided he will carefully husband his re- sources, and watch the little outlets of useless expendi- ture. A penny is a very small matter, yet the comfort of thousands of families depends upon the proper spend- ing and saving of pennies. If a man allows the little pennies, the results of his hard work, to slip out of his fingers — some to the beer-shop, some this way and some that — he will find that his life is little raised above one of mere animal drudgery. On the other hand, if he take care of the pennies — putting some weekly into a Industry Honorable. 533 benefit society or an insurance fund, others into a sav- ing's bank, and confiding the rest to his wife to be care- fully laid out, with a view to the comfortable mainten- ance and education of his family — he will soon find that this attention to small matters will abundantly repay him, in increasing means, growing comfort at home, and a mind comparatively free from fears as to the future. And if a working man have high ambition and possess richness in spirit — a kind of wealth which far tran- scends all mere worldly possessions — he may not only help himself, but be a profitable helper of others in his path through life. CHAPTER XLII. ENERGY AND COURAGE. Energy Characteristic of the Teutonic Race. — The Foundations of Strength of Character. — Force of Purpose. — Concentration. — Courageous Work- ing. — Words of Hugh Miller and Fowell Buxton. — Power and Freedom of Will. — Words of Lamennais. — Suwarrow. — Napoleon and "Glory." — Wellington and "Duty." "In every, work that he began .... he did it with all his heart, and prospered."— 2 Chron. xxxi. 21. /TvHERE is a famous speech recorded of an old Norseman, thoroughly characteristic of the Teu- ton. u I believe neither in idols or demons," said he, " I put my sole trust in my own strength of body and soul." The ancient crest of a pickaxe with the motto of " Either I will find a way or make one," was an ex- pression of the same sturdy independence which to this day distinguishes the descendants of the Northmen. Indeed nothing could be more characteristic of the Scan- dinavian mythology, than that it had a god with a ham- mer. A man's character is seen in small matters; and from even so slight a test as the mode in which a man wields a hammer, his energy may in some measure be inferred. Thus an eminent Frenchman hit off in a sin- gle phrase the characteristic quality of the inhabitants 534 Force of Purpose. 535 of a particular district, in which a friend of his proposed to settle and buy land. " Beware," said he, " of mak- ing a purchase there; I know the men of that depart- ment; the pupils who come from it to our veterinary school at Paris do not strike hard upon the anvil; they want energy ; and you will not get a satisfactory return on any capital you may invest there.' 1 A fine and just appreciation of character, indicating the thoughtful ob- server; and strikingly illustrative of the fact that it is the energy of the individual men that gives strength to a state, and confers a value even upon the very soil which they cultivate. As the French proverb has it: " Tant vaut Phomme, tant vaut sa terre." The cultivation of this quality is of the greatest im- portance; resolute determination in the pursuit of wor- th)' objects being the foundation of all true greatness of character. Energy enables a man to force his way through irksome drudgery and dry details, and carries him onward and upward in every station in life. It ac- complishes more than genius, with not one-half the dis- appointment and peril. It is not eminent talent that is required to insure success in any pursuit, so much as purpose — not merely the power to achieve, but the will to labor energetically and perseveringly. Hence ener- gy of will may be defined to be the very central power of character in a man — in a word, it is the Man himself. It gives impulse to his every action, and soul to every effort. True hope is based on it — and it is hope that gives the real perfume to life. There is a fine heraldic 536 Force of Purpose. motto on a broken helmet in Battle Abbey, " L'espoir est ma force, 1 ' which might be the motto of every man's life. " Woe unto him that is faint-hearted, " says the son of Sirach. There is, indeed, no blessing equal to the possession of a stout heart. Even if a man fail in his efforts, it will be a satisfaction to him to enjoy the consciousness of having done his best. In humble life nothing can be more cheering and beautiful than to see a man combating suffering by patience, triumphing in his integrity, and who, when his feet are bleeding and his limbs failing him, still walks upon his courage. Mere wishes and desires but engender a sort of green sickness in young minds, unless they are promptly em- bodied in act and deed. It will not avail merely to wait, as so many do, " until Blucher comes up," but they must struggle on and persevere in the mean time,, as Wellington did. The good purpose once formed must be carried out with alacrity and without swerv- ing. In most conditions of life, drudgery and toil are to be cheerfully endured as the best and most whole- some discipline. " In life, " said Ary Scheffer, " noth- ing bears fruit except by labor of mind or body. To. strive and still strive — such is life; and in this respect mine is fulfilled; but I dare to say, with just pride, that nothing has ever shaken my courage. With a strong soul, and a noble aim, one can do what one wills, mor- ally speaking." Hugh Miller said the only school in which he was properly taught was " that world-wide school in which Courageous Working. 537 toil and hardship are the severe but noble teacher." He who allows his application to falter, or shirks his. work on frivolous pretexts, is on the sure road to ulti mate failure. Let any task be undertaken as a thing not possible to be evaded, and it will soon come to be performed with alacrity and cheerfulness, Charles IX. of Sweden was a firm believer in the power of will,, even in youth. Laying his hand on the head of his youngest son when engaged on a difficult task, he ex- claimed, " He shall do it! he shall do it!" The habit of application becomes easy in time, like every other habit. Thus persons with comparatively moderate powers will accomplish much, if they apply themselves wholly and indefatigably to one thing at a time. Fow- ell Buxton placed his confidence in ordinary means and extraordinary application, realizing the scriptural injunction, " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might; 1 ' and he attributed his own success in life to his practice of " being a whole man to one thing at a time." Nothing that is of real worth can be achieved with- out courageous working. Man owes his growth chiefly to that active striving of the will, that encounter with difficulty which we call effort; and it is astonishing to find how often results apparently impracticable are thus made possible. An intense anticipation itself transforms possibility into reality; our desires being often but the precursors of the things which we are capable of performing. On the contrary, the timid and .538 Determined Effort. hesitating find every thing impossible, chiefly because it seems so. It is related of a young French officer, that he used to walk about his apartment exclaiming, " I will be Marshal of France and a great general." His ardent desire was the presentiment of his success; for the young officer did become a distinguished commander, and he died a Marshal of France. Mr. Walker, author of the " Original," had so great a faith in the power of will, that he says on one occasion he determined to be well, and he was so. This may answer once; but, though safer to follow than many prescriptions, it will not always succeed. The power of mind over body is no doubt great, but it may be strained until the physical power breaks down altogether. It is related of Muley Moluc, the Moorish leader, that, when lying ill, almost worn out by an incurable disease, a battle took place between his troops and the Portuguese; when starting from his litter at the great crisis of the fight, he rallied his army, led them to victory, and in- stantly afterwards sank exhausted and expired. It is will — force of purpose — that enables a man to do or be whatever he sets his mind on being or doing. A holy man was accustomed to say, " Whatever you wish, that you are: for such is the force of our will, joined to the Divine, that whatever we wish to be, seriously, and with a true intention, that we become. No one ardently wishes to be submissive, patient, mod- ) ours than that which we acquire by our own diligent and persevering effort. Knowledge conquered by labor becomes a possession — a property entirely our own. A greater vividness and permanency of impression is secured; and facts thus acquired become registered in the mind in a way that mere imparted information can never effect. This kind of self-culture also calls forth power and cultivates strength. The solution of one problem helps the mastery of another; and thus knowl- edge is carried into faculty. Our own active effort is the essential thing; and no facilities, no books, no teach- ers, no amount of lessons learnt by rote will enable us to dispense with it. The best teachers have been the readiest to recognize the importance of self-culture, and of stimulating the student to acquire knowledge by the active exercise of his own faculties. They have relied more upon train- ing than upon telling, and sought to make their pupils themselves active parties to the work in which they were engaged; thus making teaching something far higher than the mere passive reception of the scraps and details of knowledge. From the numerous instances already cited of men of humble station who have risen to distinction in sci- ence and literature, it will be obvious that labor is by no means incompatible with the highest intellectual cul- ture. Work in moderation is healthy as well as agree- able to the human constitution. Work educates the body, as study educates the mind; and that is the best 35 546 The Use of Active Employment. state of society in which there is some work for every man's leisure, and some leisure for every man's work. The use of early labor in self-imposed mechanical' employments may be illustrated by the boyhood of Sir Isaac Newton. Though comparatively a dull scholar, he was very assiduous in the use of his saw, hammer, and hatchet — " knocking and hammering in his lodging room" — making models of windmills, carriages, and machines of all sorts; and as he grew older, he took delight in making little tables and cupboards for his friends. Smeaton, Watt, and Stephenson, were equally handy with tools when mere boys; and but for such kind of self-culture in their youth, it is doubtful whether they would have accomplished so much in their man- hood. Such was also the early training of the great inventors and mechanics described in the preceding pa- ges, whose contrivance and intelligence were practical- ly trained by the constant use of their hands in early life. Even where men belonging to the manual labor class have risen above it, and become more purely in- tellectual laborers, they have found the advantages of their early training in, their latter pursuits. Elihu Bur- ritt says he found hard labor necessary to enable him to study with effect; and more than once he gave up school-teaching and study, and, taking to his leather apron again, went back .to his blacksmith's forge and anvil for his health of body and mind's sake. The training of young men in the use of tools would, at the same time that it educated them in " common Education in Mechanics, 547 things," teach them the use of their hands and arms, familiarize them with healthy work, exercise their fac- ulties upon things tangible and actual, give them some practical acquaintance with mechanics, impart to them the ability of being useful, and implant in them the habit of persevering physical effort. This is an advan- tage which the working classes, strictly so called, cer- tainly possess over the leisure classes — that they are in early life under the necessity of applying themselves laboriously to some mechanical pursuit or other — thus acquiring manual dexterity and the use of their physi- cal powers. The chief disadvantage attached to the calling of the laborious classes is, not that they are em- ployed in physical work, but that they are too exclu- sively so employed, often to the neglect of their moral and intellectual faculties. While the youths of the leis- ure classes, having been taught to associate labor with servility, have shunned it, and been allowed to grow up practically ignorant, the poorer classes, confining them- selves within the circle of their laborious callings, have been allowed to grow up, in a large proportion of cases, absolutely illiterate. It seems .possible however, to avoid both these evils by combining physical training or physical work with intellectual culture; and there are various signs abroad which seem to mark the gradual adoption of this healthier system of education. The success of even professional men depends in no slight degree on their physical health; and a public writer has gone so far as to say that the greatness of 548 Healthiness of Great Men. our great men is quite as much a bodily affair as a mental one." A healthy breathing apparatus is as indispensable to the successful lawyer or politician as a well-cultured intellect. The thorough aeration of the blood by free exposure to a large breathing surface in the lungs, is necessary to maintain that full vital power on which the vigorous working of the brain in so large a measure depends. The lawyer has to climb the heights of his profession through close and heated courts, and the political leader has to bear the fatigue and excitement of long and anxious debates in a crowd- ed House. Hence the lawyer in full practice and the parliamentary leader in full work are called upon to display powers of physical endurance and activity even more extraordinary than those of the intellect — such powers as have been exhibited in so remarkable a de- gree by Brougham, Lyndhurst, and Campbell; by Peel, Graham, and Palmerston — all full-chested men While it is necessary, then, in the first place to se- cure this solid foundation of physical health, it must also be observed that the cultivation of the habit of mental application is quite indispensable for the education of the student. The maxim that " Labor conquers all things " holds especially true in the case of the con- quest of knowledge. The road into learning is alike free to all who will give the labor and the study requi- site to gather it; nor are there any difficulties so great that the student of resolute purpose may not surmount and overcome them. It was one of the characteristic Sustained Application. 549 expressions of Chatterton, that God had sent his crea- tures into the world with arras long enough to reach any thing if they chose to be at the trouble. In study, as in business, energy is the great thing. There must be the " fervet opus:" we must not only strike the iron while it is hot, but strike it till it is made hot. It is astonishing how much may be accomplished in self- culture by the energetic and the persevering, who are careful to avail themselves of opportunities, and use up the fragments of spare time which the idle permit to run to waste. Thus Ferguson learnt astronomy from the heavens while wrapt in a sheep-skin on the high land hills. Thus Stone learnt mathematics while work- ing as a journeyman gardener; thus Drew studied the highest philosophy in the intervals of cobbling shoes; and thus Miller taught himself geology while working as a day-laborer in a quarry. Sir Joshua Reynolds, as we have already observed, was so earnest a believer in the force of industry, that he held that all men might achieve excellence if they would not exercise the power of assiduous and patient working. He held that drudgery lay on the road to genius, and that there was no limit to the proficiency of an artist except the limit of his own painstaking. He would not believe in what is called inspiration, but only in study and labor. " Excellence," he said, " is never granted to man but as the reward of labor." " If you have great talents, industry will improve them ; if you have but moderate abilities, industry will supply their 550 Well-Directed Labor. deficiency. Nothing is denied to well-directed labor; nothing is to be obtained without *it." Sir Fowell Bux- ton was an equal believer in the power of study; and he entertained the modest idea that he could do as well as other men if he devoted to the pursuit double the time and labor that they did. He placed his great confidence in ordinary means and extraordinary application. " I have known several men in my life," says Dr. Ross, " who may be recognized in days to come as men of genius, and they were all plodders, hard-working, intent men. Genius is known by its works; genius without works is a blind faith, a dumb oracle. But meritorious works are the result of time and labor, and can not be accomplished by intention or by a wish. . . . Every great work is the result of vast preparatory train- ing. Facility comes by labor. Nothing seems easy, not even walking, that was not difficult at first. The orator whose eye flashes instantaneous fire, and whose lips pour out a flood of noble thoughts, startling by their unexpectedness and elevating by their wisdom and truth, has learned his secret by patient repetition, and after many bitter disappointments." Thoroughness and accuracy are two principal points to be aimed at in study. Francis Horner, in laying down rules for the cultivation of his mind, placed great stress upon the habit of continuous application to one subject for the sake of mastering it thoroughly; he confined himself with this object to only a few books, and resisted with the greatest firmness " every approach Decision and Promptitude. 551 to a habit of desultory reading." The value of knowl- edge to any man consists not in its quantity, but mainly In the good uses to which he can apply it. Hence a little knowledge of an exact and perfect character, is always found more valuable for practical purposes than any extent of superficial learning. The most profitable study is that which is conducted with a definite aim and object. By thoroughly mas- tering any given branch of knowledge we render it more available for use at any moment. Hence it is not enough merely to have books, or to know where to read for information as we want it. Practical wisdom, for the purposes of life, must be carried about with us, and be ready for use at call. It is not sufficient that we have a fund laid up at home, but not a farthing in the pocket : we must carry about with us a store of the cur- rent coin of knowledge read}" for exchange on all oc- casions, else we are comparitively helpless when the opportunity for using it occurs. Decision and promptitude are as requisite in self- culture as in business. The growth of these qualities may be encouraged by accustoming young people to rely upon their own resources, leaving them to enjoy as much freedom of action in early life as is practicable. Too much guidance and restraint hinder the formation of habits of self-help. They are like bladders tied un- der the arms of one who has not taught himself to swim. Want of confidence is perhaps a greater obstacle to im- provement than is generally imagined. It has been said 552 Confidence. that half the failures in life arise from pulling in one's horse while he is leaping. Dr. Johnson was accus- tomed to attribute his success to confidence in his own powers. True modesty is quite compatible with a due estimate of one's own merits, and does not de- mand the abnegation of all merit. Though there are those who deceive themselves by putting a false figure before their ciphers, the want of confidence, the want of faith in one's self, and consequently the want of promptitude in action, is a defect of character which is found to stand very much in the way of individual progress; and the reason why so little is done, is gen- erally because so little is attempted. It is the use we make of the powers intrusted to us,, which constitutes our only just claim to respect. He who employs his one talent aright is as much to be hon- ored as he to whom ten talents have been given. There is really no more personal merit attaching to the posses- sion of superior intellectual powers than there is in the succession to a large estate. How are those powers, used — how is that estate employed? The mind may accumulate large stores of knowledge without any use- ful purpose; but the knowledge must be allied to good- ness and wisdom, and embodied in upright character,, else it is naught. It is possible that at this day we may even exagger- ate the importance of literary culture. We are apt to imagine that because we possess many libraries, insti- tutes, and museums, we are making great progress. Learning and Wisdom. ooS But such facilities may as often be a hindrance as a help to individual self-culture o( the highest kind. The possession of a library, or the free use of it, no more constitutes learning, than the possession of wealth con- stitutes generosity. Though we undoubtedly possess great facilities, it is nevertheless true, as of old, that wisdom and understanding can only become the pos- session of individual men by traveling the old road of observation, attention, persverance, and industry. The possession of the mere materials of knowledge is something very different from wisdom and understand- ing, which are reached through a higher kind of disci- pline than that of reading — which is often but a mere passive reception of other men's thoughts; there being little or no active effort of mind in the transaction. It is also to be borne in mind that the experience gathered from books, though often valuable, is but of the nature of learning/ whereas the experience gained from actual life is of the nature of wisdom / and a small store of the latter is worth vastly more than any stock of the former. Lord Bolingbroke truly said that " Whatever study tends neither directly nor indirectly to make us better men and citizens, is at best but a. specious and ingenious sort of idleness, and the knowl- edge we accquire by it only a creditable kind of igno- rance — nothing more." Useful and instructive though good reading may be v it is yet only one mode of cultivating the mind; and is much less influential than practical experience and •554 Learning and Character. good example in the formation of character. There were wise, valiant, and true-hearted men bred In Eng- land, long before the existence of a reading public. Magna Charta was secured by men who signed the deed with their marks. Though altogether unskilled in the art of deciphering the literary signs by which principles were denominated upon paper, they yet un derstood and appreciated, and boldly contended for the things themselves. Thus the foundations of Eng lish liberty were laid by men who, though illiterate were nevertheless of the very highest stamp of charac ter. And it must be admitted that the chief object of culture is, not merely to fill the mind with other men's thoughts, and to be the passive recipient of their im- pressions of things, but to enlarge our individual intel- ligence, and render us more useful and efficient workers in the sphere of life to which we may be called. Many of our most energetic and useful workers have been but .sparing readers. Brindley and Stephenson did not learn to read and write until they reached manhood, and yet they did great works and lived manly lives; John Hunter could barely read or write when he was twenty years old, though he could make tables and chairs with any carpenter in the trade. " I never read," said the great physiologist when lecturing be- fore his class; u this " — pointing to some part of the subject before him — " this is the work that you must study if you wish to become eminent in your profes- sion." When told that one of his contemporaries had Self-respect. 5oo charged him with being ignorant of the dead languages, he said, " I would undertake to teach him that on the dead body which he never knew in any language, dead or living." It is not then how much a man may know, that is of importance, but the end and purpose for which he knows it. The object of knowledge should be to ma- ture wisdom and improve character, to render us bet- ter, happier, and more useful ; the more benevolent, more energetic, and more efficient in the pursuit of every high purpose in life. " When people once fall into the habit of admiring and encouraging ability as such, with- out reference to moral character- — and religious and po- litical opinions are the concrete form of moral character — they are on the highway to all sorts of degradation." We must ourselves be and do, and not rest satisfied merely with reading and meditating over what other men have been and done. Our best light must be made life, and our best thought action. At least we ought to be able to say, as Richter did, " I have made as much out of myself as could be made of the stuff, and no man should require more;' 1 for it is every man's duty to dis- cipline and guide himself, with God's help, according to his responsibilities and the faculties with which he has been endowed. -Self-discipline and self-control are the beginnings of practical wisdom; and these must have their root in self-respect. Hope springs from it—hope, which is the companion of power, and the mother of success; for 556 ''Getting on" whoso hopes strongly has within him the gift of mira- cles. The humblest may say, " To respect myself, to develop myself — this is my true duty in life. An inte- gral and responsible part of the great system of society, I owe it to society and to its Author not to degrade or destroy either my body, mind, or instincts. On the contrary, I am bound to the best of my power to give to those parts of my constitution the highest degree of perfection possible. I am not only to suppress the evil, but to evoke the good elements in my nature. And as I respect myself, so am I equally bound to respect oth- ers, as they on their part are bound to respect me." Hence mutual respect, justice, and order, of which law becomes the written record and guarantee. Self-respect is the noblest garment with which a man may clothe himself — the most elevating feeling with which the mind can be inspired. One of Pythagora's wisest maxims, in his " Golden Verses," is that with which he enjoins the pupil to "reverence himself." Borne up by this high idea, he will not defile his body by sensuality, nor his mind by servile thoughts. This sentiment, carried into daily life, will be found at the root of all the virtues — cleanliness, sobriety, chastity, morality, and religion. u The pious and just honoring of ourselves," said Milton, " may be thought the radical moisture and fountain-head from whence every laudable and worthy enterprise issues forth." To think meanly of one's self, is to sink in one's own estimation as well as in the estimation of others. And as the thoughts are. Wisdom Learnt from Failure. bo~ so will the acts be. Man can not aspire if he look down ; if he will rise, he must look up. The very humblest may be sustained by the proper indulgence of this feel- ing. Poverty itself may be lifted and lighted up by self-respect; and it is truly a noble sight to see a poor man hold himself upright amidst his temptations, and refuse to demean himself by low actions. It is not ease, but effort — not facility, but difficulty, that makes men. There is, perhaps, no station in life, in which difficulties have not to be encountered and overcome before any decided measure of success can be achieved. Those difficulties are, however, our best instructors, as our mistakes often form our best experi- ence. Charles James Fox was accustomed to say that he hoped more from a man who failed, and yet went on in spite of his failure, than from the buoyant career of the successful. " It is all very well," said he, " to tell me that a young man has distinguished himself by a brilliant first speech. He may go on, or he may be sat- isfied with his first triumph; but show me a young man who has not succeeded at first, and nevertheless has gone on, and I will back that young man to do better than most of those who have succeeded at the first trial." We learn wisdom from failure much more than from success. We often discover what will do, by finding out what will not do; and probably he who never made a mistake never made a discovery. It was the failure in the attempt to make a sucking-pump act, when the working-bucket was more than thirty-three feet above 558 Adversity and Prosperity. the surface of the water to be raised, that led observant men to study the law of atmospheric pressure, and opened a new field of research to the genius of Galileo, Torrecelli, and Boyle. John Hunter used to remark that the art of surgery would not advance until pro- fessional men had the courage to publish their failures as well as their successes. Watt the engineer said, of all things most wanted in mechanical engineering was a history of failures: " We want," he said, " a book of blots." Necessity may be a hard schoolmistress, but she is generally found the best. Though the ordeal of adver- sity^ is one from which we naturally shrink, yet, when it comes, we must bravely and manfully encounter it. Burns says truly, "Though losses and crosses Be lessons right severe, There's wit there, you'll get there, You'll find no other where." " Sweet indeed are the uses of adversity." They re- veal to us our powers, and call forth our energies. If there be real worth in the character, like sweet herbs, it will give forth its finest fragrance when pressed. " Crosses," says the old proverb, " are the ladders that lead to heaven." " What is even poverty itself," asks Richter, "that a man should murmur under it? It is but as the pain of piercing a maiden's ear, and you hang precious jewels in the wound." In the experi- ence of life it is found that the wholesome discipline of adversity in strong natures usually carries with it a The School of Difficulty the Best School, 559* self-preserving influence. Many are found capable of bravely bearing up under privations, and cheerfully encountering obstructions, who are afterwards found unable to withstand the more dangerous influences of prosperity. It is only a weak man whom the wind deprives of his cloak; a man of average strength is. more in danger of losing it when assailed by the beams of a too genial sun. Thus it often needs a higher dis- cipline and a stronger character to bear up under good fortune than under adverse. Some generous natures kindle and warm with prosperity, but there are many on whom wealth has no such influence. Base hearts it only hardens, making those who were mean and ser* vile, mean and proud. But while prosperity is apt to harden the heart to pride, adversity in a man of reso- lution will serve to ripen it into fortitude. To use the words of Burke, u Difficulty is a severe instructor, set over us by the supreme ordinance of a parental guardian and instructor, who knows us better than we know our- selves, as He loves us better too. He that wrestles with us strengthens our nerves, and sharpens our skill; our antagonist is thus our helper. Without the neces- sity of encountering difficulty, life might be easier, but men would be worth less. For trials, wisely improved,, train the character, and teach self-help; thus hardship itself may often prove the wholesomest discipline for us,, though we recognize it not. The battle of life is, in most cases fought up-hill; and to win it without a struggle were perhaps to win 560 The School of Difficulty the Best School it without honor. If there were no difficulties there would be no success ; if there were nothing to struggle for, there would be nothing to be achieved. Difficul- ties may intimidate the weak, but they act only as a wholesome stimulus to men of resolution and valor. All experience of life, indeed, serves to prove that the impediments thrown in the way of human advancement may. for the most part, be overcome by steady good conduct, honest zeal, activity, perseverance, and above all, by a determined resolution to surmount difficulties, and stand up manfully against misfortune. The School of Difficulty is the best school of moral discipline, for nations as for individuals.. Indeed, the history of difficulty would be but a histor}' of all the great and good things that have } r et been accomplished by men. It is hard to say how much northern nations owe to their encounter with a comparatively rude and changeable climate, and an originally sterile soil, which is one of the necessities of their condition — involving a perennial struggle with difficulties such as the natives of sunnier climes know nothing of. And thus it may be, that though our finest products are exotic, the skill and industry which have been necessary to rear them, have issued in the production of a native growth of men not surpassed on the globe. Wherever there is difficulty, the individual man must come out better for worse. Encounter with it will train his strength, and discipline his skill; heartening him for future effort, as the racer, by being trained to Difficulty and Success. 561 run against the hill, at length courses with facility. The road to success may be steep to climb, and it puts to the proof the energies of him who would reach the summit. But by experience a man soon learns that obstacles are to be overcome by grappling with them; that the nettle feels as soft as silk when it is boldly grasped; and that the most effective help towards realizing the object proposed is the moral conviction that we can and will accomplish it. Thus difficulties often fall away of themselves before . the determination to overcome them. Much will be done if we do but try. Nobody knows what he can do till he has tried; and few try their best till they have been forced to do it. " If I could do such and such a thing," sighs the desponding youth. But nothing will be done if he only wishes. The desire must ripen into purpose and effort; and one energetic attempt is worth a thousand aspirations. It is these thorny " ifs " — the mutterings of impotence and despair — which so often hedge round the field of possibility, and prevent any thing being done or even attempted. " A difficulty," said Lord Lyndhurst, " is a thing to be overcome;" grapple with it at once; facility will -come with practice, and strength and fortitude with repeated effort. Thus the mind and character may be trained to an almost, perfect discipline, and enabled to act with a grace, spirit, and liberty, almost incomprehensible to those who have not passed through a similar experience. Every thing that we learn is the mastery of a diffi- .36 562 Difficulty and Success. culty; and the mastery of one helps to the mastery of others. Things which may at first sight appear com- paratively valueless in education — such as the study of the dead languages, and the relation of lines and surfaces which we call mathematics — are really of the greatest practical value, not so much because of the in- formation which they yield, as because of the develop- ment which they compel. The mastery of these stud- ies evokes effort, and cultivates powers of application, which otherwise might have lain dormant. Thus one thing leads to another, and so the work goes on through life — encounter with difficulty ending only when life and culture end. But indulging in the feeling of dis- couragement never helped any one or a difficulty, and never will. D'Alembert's advice to the student who complained to him about his want of success in master- ing the first elements of mathematics was the right one r u Go on, sir, and faith and strength will come to you. n The tortoise in the right road will beat a racer in the wrong. It matters not, though a youth be slow, if he be but diligent. Quickness of parts may even prove a defect, inasmuch as the boy who learns readily will often forget as readily; and also because he finds no need of cultivating that quality of application and per- severance which the slower youth is compelled to ex- ercise, and which proves so valuable an element in the formation of every character. Davy said, " What I am I have made myself;" and the same holds true univers- ally. Success Depends on Perseverance- 563 To conclude: the best culture is not obtained from teachers when at school or college, so much as by our own diligent self-education when we have become men. Hence parents need not be in too great haste to see their children's talents forced into bloom. Let them watch and wait patiently, letting good example and quiet training do their work, and leave the rest to Providence. Let them see to it that the youth is pro- vided, by free exercise of his bodily powers, with a full stock of physical health; set him fairly on the road of self-culture; carefully train his habits of application and perseverance; and as he grows older, if the right stuff be in him, he will be enabled vigorously and effect- ively to cultivate himself. CHAPTER XLIV. THRIFT INDUSTRY. Private Economy. — Useful Labors. — Our Birthright. — Results of Labor. — Necessity for Labor. — Industry and Intellect. — Thrift and Civiliz?*-' m. —Thrifty Industry.— Thrifty Economy. ' * For the structure that we raise Time is with materials filled ; Our to-days and yesterdays Are the blocks with which we build. " — Longfellow. 'TXHRIFT began with civilization. It began when "**- men found it necessary to provide for to-morrow as well as for to-day. It began long before money was invented. Thrift means private economy. It includes domes- tic economy, as well as the order and management of a family. While it is the object of Private Economy to create and promote the well-being of individuals, it is the ob- ject of Political Economy to create and increase the wealth of nations. Private and public wealth have the same origin. Wealth is obtained by labor; it is preserved by sav- ings and accumulations; and it is increased by dili- gence and perseverance. 5^4 Private Economy. 565 It is the savings of individuals which compose the wealth — in other words, the well-being — of every na- tion. On the other hand, it is the wastefulness of individuals which occasions the impoverishment of states. So that every thrifty person may be regarded as a public benefactor, and every thriftless person as a public enemy. There is no dispute as to the necessity for Private Economy. Every body admits it, and recommends it. But with respect to Political Econorrry there are nu- merous discussions — for instance, as to the distribution, of capital, the accumulations of property, the incidence of taxation, the poor-laws, and other subjects — into which we do not propose to enter. The subject of Private Economy, of Thrift, is quite sufficient by itself to occupy the pages of this book. Economy is not a natural instinct, but the growth of experience, example, and forethought. It is also the result of education and intelligence. It is only when men become wise and thoughtful that they be- come frugal. Hence the best means of making men and women provident is to make them wise. Prodigality is much more natural to man than thrift. The savage is the greatest of spendthrifts, for he has no forethought, no to-morrow. The prehistoric man saved nothing. He lived in caves, or in hollows of the ground covered with branches. He subsisted on shell- fish which he picked up on the sea-shore, or upon hips and haws which he gathered in the woods. He killed 566 . Useful Labors. animals with stones. He lay in wait for them, or ran them down on foot. Then he learned to use stones as tools; making stone arrow-heads and spear-points, thereby utilizing his labor, and killing birds and ani- mals more quickly, The original savage knew nothing of agriculture. It was only in comparatively recent times that men gathered seeds for food, and saved a portion of them for next year's crop. When minerals were discovered, and fire was applied to them, and the minerals became smelted into metal, man made an immense stride. He could, then fabricate hard tools, chisel stone, build houses, and proceed by unwearying industry to devise the man- ifold means and agencies of civilization. The dweller by the ocean burned a hollow in a felled tree, launched it, went to sea in it, and fished for food. The hollowed tree became a boat held together with iron nails. The boat became a galley, a ship, a paddle- boat, a screw steamer, and the world was opened up for colonization and civilization. Man would have continued a savage, but for the results of the useful labors of those who preceded him. The soil was reclaimed by them, and made to grow food for human uses. They invented tools and fabrics, and we reap the useful results. They discovered art and science, and we succeed to the useful effects of their labors. All nature teaches that no good thing which has once been done passes utterly away. The living are Our Birthright. 567 ever reminded of the buried millions who have worked and won before them. The handicraft and skill dis- played in the buildings and sculptures of the long-lost cities of Nineveh, Babylon, and Troy, have descended to the present time. In natures economy no human labor is altogether lost. Some remnant of useful effect continues to reward the race, if not the individual. The mere material wealth bequeathed to us by our forefathers forms but an insignificant item in the sum of our inheritance. Our birthright is made up of some- thing far more imperishable. It consists of the sum of the usual effects of human skill and labor. These effects were not transmitted by learning, but by teaching and example. One generation taught another, and thus art and handicraft, the knowledge of mechanical appliances and materials, continues to be preserved. The labors and efforts of former generations were thus transmitted by father to son ; and they continue to form the natural heritage of the human race — one of the most important instruments of civilization. Our birthright, therefore, consists in the usual effects of the labors of our forefathers; but we can not enjoy them unless we ourselves take part in the work. All must labor, either with hand or head. Without work, life is worthless ; it becomes a mere state of moral coma. We do not mean merely physical work. There is a great deal of higher work — the work of action and en- durance, of trial and patience, of enterprise and philan- thropy, of spreading truth and civilization, of diminish- 568 Hesults of Labor, ing suffering and relieving the poor, of helping the weak r and enabling them to help themselves. u A noble heart," says Barrow, " will disdain to sub- sist, like a drone, upon others' labors; like a vermin, to filch its food out of the public granary; or, like a shark, to prey upon the lesser fry; but it will rather outdo his private obligations to other men's care and toil, by considerable service and beneficence to the public; for there is no calling of any sort, from the sceptre to the spade, the management whereof, with any good success, any credit, any satisfaction, doth not demand much work of the head, or of the hands, or of both." Labor is not only a necessity, but it is also a pleas- ure. What would otherwise be a curse, by the consti- tution of our physical system becomes a blessing. Our life is a conflict with nature in some respects, but it is also a co-operation with nature in others. The sun, the air, and the earth are constantly abstracting from us our vital forces. Hence we eat and drink for nour- ishment, and clothe ourselves for warmth. Nature works with us. She provides the earth which we furrow; she grows and ripens the seeds that we sow and gather. She furnishes, with the help of human labor, the wool that we spin and the food that we eat. And it ought never to be forgotten that, how- ever rich or poor we may be, all that we eat, all that we are clothed with, all that shelters us, from the palace to the cottage, is the result of labor. Necessity of Labor, 569 Men co-operate with each other for the mutual sus- tenance of all. The husbandman tills the ground and provides food; the manufacturer weaves tissues, which the tailor and the seamstress make into clothes; the mason and the bricklayer build the houses in which we enjoy household life. Numbers of workmen thus con- tribute and help to create the general result Labor and skill applied to the vulgarest things in- vest them at once with precious value. Labor is indeed the life of humanity; take it away, banish it, and the race of Adam were at once stricken with death. " He that will not work," said St. Paul, " neither shall he eat;" and the apostle glorified himself in that he had labored with his own hands, and had not been charge- able to any man. There is a well-known story of an old farmer calling his three idle sons around him when on his death bed, to impart to them an important secret. " My sons," said he, " a great treasure lies hid in the estate which I am about to leave to you." The old man gasped. "Where is it hid?" exclaimed the sons in a breath. " I am about to tell you," said the old man; " you will have to dig for it — " But his breath failed him before he could impart the weighty secret, and he died. Forth- with the sons set to work with spade and mattock upon the long-neglected fields, and they turned up every sod and clod upon the estate. They discovered no treas- ure, but they learned to work; and when the fields were sown, and the harvest came, lo! the yield was prodigious, .'570 Necessity of Labor. In consequence of the thorough tillage which they had undergone. Then it was that they discovered the treas- ure concealed in the estate, of which their wise old fa- ther had advised them. Labor is at once a burden, a chastisement, an honor, and a pleasure. It may be identified with poverty, but there is also glory in it. It bears witness, at the same time, to our natural wants and to our manifold needs. What were man, what were life, what were civiliza- tion, without labor? All that is great in man comes of labor — greatness in art, in literature, in science. Knowledge — " the wing wherewith we fly to heaven 17 — is only acquired through labor. Genius is but a ca- pability of laboring intensely: it is the power of making great and sustained efforts. Labor may be a chastise- ment, but it is indeed a glorious one. It is worship, duty, praise, and immortality — for those who labor with the highest aims and for the purest purposes. There are many who murmur and complain at the law of labor under which we live, without reflecting that obedience to it is not only in conformity with the Divine will, but also necessary for the development of intelligence, and for the thorough enjoyment of our common nature. Of all wretched men, surely the idle .are the most so — those whose life is barren of utility, who have nothing to do except to gratify their senses. Are not such men the most querulous, miserable, and dissatisfied of all, constantly in a state of ennui, alike useless to themselves and to others — mere cumberers of Industry and Intellect 571 the earth, who, when removed, are missed by none, and whom none regret? Most wretched and ignoble lot, indeed, is the lot of the idlers. Who have helped phe world onward so much as the workers ; men who have had to work from necessity or from choice? All that we call progress — civilization, well-being, and prosperity — depends upon industry, diligently applied — from the culture of a barley-stalk to the construction of a steamship; from the stitching of a collar to the sculpturing of " the statue that enchants the world. All useful and beautiful thoughts, in like manner, are the issue of labor, of stud}', of observation, of research, of diligent elaboration. The noblest poem can not be elaborated, and send down its undying strains into the future, without steady and painstaking labor. No great work has ever been done "at a heat." It is the result of repeated efforts, and often of many failures. One generation begins, and another continues — the present co-operating with the past. Thus, the Parthenon be- gan with a mud-hut; the " Last Judgment" with a few scratches on the sand. It is the same with individuals of the race: they begin with abortive efforts, which, by means of perseverance, lead to successful issues. The history of industry is uniform in the character of its illustrations. Industry enables the poorest man to achieve honor, if not distinction. The greatest names in the history of art, literature, and science are those of laboring men. A working instrument-maker gave 572 Thrift and Civilization. us the steam-engine; a barber, the spinning-machine; a weaver, the mule; a pitman perfected the locomotive; and working men of all grades have, one after another, added to the triumphs of mechanical skill. By the working-man we do not mean merely the man who labors with his muscles and sinews. A horse can do this. But he is pre-eminently the working-man who works with his brain also, and whose whole phys- ical system is under the influence of his higher faculties. The man who paints a picture, who writes a book, who makes a law, who creates a poem, is a working-man of the highest order; not so necessary to the physical sus- tainment of the community as the plowman or the shep- herd, but not less important as providing for society its highest intellectual nourishment. Having said so much of the importance ana necessity of industry, let us see what uses are made of the advan- tages derivable from it. It is clear that man would have continued a savage but for the accumulations of savings made by our forefathers — the savings of skill, of art, of invention, and of intellectual culture. It is the savings of the world that have made the civilization of the world. Savings are the result of labor; and it is only when laborers begin to save that the results of civilization accumulate. We have said that thrift began with civilization; we might almost have said that thrift produced civilization. Thrift pro- duces capital, and capital is the conserved result of labor. The capitalist does not spend all that is earned by work. Thrifty Industry. 573 But thrift is not a natural instinct. It is an acquired principle of conduct. It involves self-denial — the denial of present enjoyment for future good — the subordina- tion of animal appetite to reason, forethought, and prudence. It works for to-day, but also provides for to-morrow. It invests the capital it has saved, and makes provision for the future. " Man's right of seeing the future," says Mr. Edward Denison, " which is conferred on him by reason, has at- tached to it the duty of providing for^ that future ; and our language bears witness to this truth by using, as expressive of active precaution against future want, a word which in its radical meaning implies only a pas- sive foreknowledge of the same. Whenever we speak of the virtue of providence , we assume that forewarned is fore-armed. To know the future is no virtue, but it is the greatest of virtues to prepare for it." But a large proportion of men do not provide for the future. They do not remember the past. They think only of the present. They preserve nothing. They spend all that they earn. They do not provide for themselves; they do not provide for their families. They may make high wages, but eat and drink the whole of what they earn. , Such people are constantly poor, and hanging on the verge of destitution. It is the same with nations. The nations which consume all that 'they produce, without leaving a store for future production, have no capital. Like thriftless individuals, they live from hand to mouth, and are al- 574 Thrifty Economy. ways poor and miserable. Nations that have no capi- tal have no commerce. They have no accumulations to dispose of; hence they have no ships, no sailors, no docks, no harbors, no canals, and no railways. Thrifty industry lies at the root of the civilization of the world. Look at Spain. There, the richest soil is the least productive. Along the banks of the Guadalquivir, where once twelve thousand villages existed, there are now not eight hundred; and they are full of beg- gars. A Spanish proverb says, " El cielo y suelo es bueno, el entresuelo malo" — " The sky is good, the earth is good; that only is bad which lies between the sky and the earth. 1 ' Continuous effort, or patient labor, is for the Spaniard an insupportable thing. Half through indolence, half through pride, he can not bend to work. A Spaniard will blush to work; he will not blush to beg! It is in this way that society mainly consists of two classes" — the savers and the wasters, the provident and the improvident, the thrifty and the thriftless, the Haves and Have-nots. The men who economize by means of labor become the owners of capital which sets other labor in motion. Capital accumulates in their hands, and they employ other laborers to work for them. Thus trade and commerce begin. The thrifty build houses, warehouses, and mills. They fit manufactories with tools and machines. They build ships, and send them to various parts of the Thrifty Economy, 575 world. They put their capital together, and build railroads, harbors, and docks. They open up mines of coal, iron, and copper; and erect pumping-engines to keep them clear of water. They employ laborers to work the mines, and thus give rise to an immense amount of employment. All this is the result of thrift. It is the result ot economizing money, and employing it for beneficial purposes. The thriftless man has no share in the prog- ress of the world. He spends all that he gets, and cau give no help to any body. No matter how much money he makes, his position is not in any respect raised. He husbands none of his resources. He is al- ways calling for help. He is, in fact, the born thrall and slave of the thrifty. CHAPTER XLV. HABITS OF THRIFT. Workmen and Capital. —"Habits of Economy. — Self-indulgence. — Results of Thriftlessness. — Uses 01 Saved Money. — Extravagant Living. — Bargain- buying.— Thrift and Unthrift.— Mortality— Will Nobody Help Us?— Prosperous Times the Least Prosperous. — National Prosperity. — Moral Independence. " Most men work for the present, a few for the future. The wise work for both — for the future in the present, and for the present, in the future." — Guesses at Truth /COMPETENCE and comfort lie within the reach ^^ of most people, were they to take the adequate means to secure and enjoy them. Men who are paid good wages might also become capitalists, and take their fair share in the improvement and well-being of the world. But it is only by the exercise of labor, en- ergy, honesty, and thrift, that they can advance their own position or that of their class. Society at present surfers far more from waste of money than from want of money. It is easier to make monq§ 7 than to know how to spend it. It is not what a man gets thats constitutes his wealth, but his manner of spending and economizing. And when a man ob- tains by his labor more than enough for his personal 576 Workmen and Capital* 577 and family wants, and can lay by a little store ot sav- ings besides, he unquestionably possesses the elements of social well-being. The savings may amount to lit- tle, but they may be sufficient to make him independent. There is no reason why the highly paid workman of to-day may not save a store of capital. It is merely a matter of self-denial and private economy. Indeed, the principal industrial leaders of to-day consist, for the most part, of men who have sprung directly from the ranks. It is the accumulation of experience and skill that makes the difference between the workman and the /ztf-workman; and it depends upon the work- man himself whether he will save his capital or waste it. If he save it, he will always find that he has suffi- cient opportunities for employing it profitably and usefully. Thrift of time is equal- to thrift of money. Franklin said, " Time is gold." If one wishes to earn money, it may be done by the proper use of time. But time may also be spent in doing many good 'and noble actions. It may be spent in learning, in study, in art, in science, in literature. Time can be economized by system. System is an arrangement to secure certain ends, so that no time may be lost in accomplishing them. Every business man must be systematic and orderly; so must every housewife. There must g be a place for every thing, and every thing in its place. There must also be a time for every thing, and # every thing must be done in time. 37 578 Habits of Economy* It is not necessary to show that economy is useful- Nobody denies that thrift may be practiced. We see numerous examples of it. What many men have al- ready done, all other men may do. Nor is thrift a painful virtue. On the contrary, it enables us to avoid much contempt and many indignities. It requires us to deny ourselves, but not to abstain from any proper injoyment. It provides many honest pleasures, of which thriftlessness and extravagance deprives us. Let no man say that he can not economize. There are few persons who could not contrive to save a few shillings weekly. In twenty years, three shillings saved weekly would amount to two hundred and forty pounds; and in ten years more, by addition of interest, to four hundred and twenty pounds. Some may say that they can not save nearly so much. Well! begin with two shillings, one shilling, or even sixpence. Be- gin somewhere; but, at all events, make a beginning. Sixpence a week deposited in the savings-bank, will amount to forty pounds in twenty years, and seventy pounds in thirty years. It is the habit of economizing and denying one 1 s self that needs to be formed. Thrift does, not require superior courage, nor superior intellect, nor any superhuman virtue. It merely re- quires common sense, and the power of resisting selfish enjoyments. In fact, thrift is merely common sense in every-day working action. It needs no fervent resolu- tion, but only a little patient self-denial. Begin is its device! The more the habit of thrift is practiced Self-indulgence. 579 the easier it becomes, and the sooner it compensates the self-denier for the sacrifices which it has imposed. The question may be asked. Is it possible for a man working for small wages to save any thing, and lay it by in a savings-bank, when he requires every penny for the maintenance of his family? But the fact re- mains, that it is done b}^ many industrious and sober men; that they do deny themselves, and put their spare earnings into savings-banks, and the other recep- tacles provided for poor men's savings. And if some can do this, all may do it under similar circumstances, without depriving themselves of any genuine pleasure or any real enjoyment. How intensely selfish is it for any one in the receipt of good pay to spend every thing upon himself; or, if he has a family, to spend his whole earnings from week to week, and lay nothing by. When we hear that a man who has been in the receipt of a good salary has died and left nothing behind him — that he has left his wife and family destitute— left them to chance — to live or perish anywhere — we can not but regard it as the most selfish thriftlessness. And yet comparatively lit- tle is thought of such cases. Perhaps the hat goes round. Subscriptions may produce something — perhaps nothing; and the ruined remnant of the unhappy family sink into poverty and destitution. Yet the merest prudence would, to a great extent, have obviated this result. The curtailment of any sensual and selfish enjoyment — of a glass of beer or a 580 Results of Thriftlessness. screw of tobacco — would enable a man, in the course of years, to save at least something for others, instead of wasting it on himself. It is, in fact, the absolute duty of the poorest man to provide, in however slight a degree, for the support of himself and his family in the season of sickness and helplessness, which often comes upon men when they least expect such a visi- tation. Comparatively few people can be rich; but most have it in their power to acquire, by industry and economy, sufficient to meet their personal wants. They may even become the possessors of saving sufficient to se- cure them against penury and poverty in their old age. It is not, however, the want of opportunity, but the want of will, that stands in the way of economy. Men may labor unceasingly with hand or head; but they can not abstain from spending too freely, and living too highly. The majority prefer the enjoyment of pleasure to the practice of self-denial. With the mass of men the ani- mal is paramount. They often spend all that they earn. But it is not merely the working people who are spend- thrifts. We hear of men who for years have been earning and spending hundreds a year, who suddenly die, leaving their children penniless. Every body knows of such cases. At their death the ver}* furniture of the house they have lived in belongs to others. It is sold to pay their funeral expenses, and the debts which they have incurred during their thriftless life-time. Uses of /Saved Money. 581 Money represents a multitude of objects without value, or without real utility; but it also represents something much more precious, and that is independ- ence. In this light it is of great moral importance. As a guarantee of independence, the modest and ple- bian quality of economy is at once ennobled and raised to the rank of one of the most meritorious of virtues. " Never treat money affairs with levity," said Bulwer; " money is character.'' 1 Some of man's best qualities depend upon the right use of money — such as his gen- erosity, benevolence, justice, honesty, and forethought. Many of his worse qualities also originate in the bad use of money — such as greed, miserliness, injustice, ex- travagance, and improvidence. No class ever accomplished any thing that lived from hand to mouth. People who spend all that they earn are ever hanging on the brink of destitution. They must necessarily be weak and impotent — the slaves of time and circumstance. They keep themselves poor. They lose self-respect, as well as the respect of others. It is impossible that they can be free and independent. To be thriftless is enough to deprive one of all manly spirit and virtue. But a man with something saved, no matter how lit- tle, is in a different position. The little capital he has stored up is always a source of power. He is no long- er the sport of time and fate. He can boldly look the world in the face. He is, in a manner, his own master. He can dictate his own terms. He can neither be bought 582 Extravagant Living, nor sold. He can look forward with cheerfulness to an old age of comfort and happiness. As men become wise and thoughtful, they generally become provident and frugal. A thoughtless man, like a savage, spends as he gets, thinking nothing of to- morrow, of the time of adversity, or of the claims of these whom he has made dependent on him. But a wise man thinks of the future ; he prepares in good time for the evil day that may come upon him and his fami- ly; and he provides carefully for those who are near and dear to him. What a serious responsibility does the man incur who marries! Not many seriously think of this responsibil- ity. Perhaps this is wisely ordered. For much serious thinking might end in the avoidance of married life and its responsibilities. But, once married, a man ought forthwith to determine that, so far as his own efforts are concerned, want shall never enter his household; and that his children shall not, in the event of his being removed from the scene of life and labor, be left a bur- den upon society. Economy with this object is an important duty. Without economy, no man can be just — no man can be honest. Improvidence is cruelty to women and chil- dren, though the cruelty is born of ignorance. A father spends his surplus means in drink, providing little and saving nothing; and then he dies, leaving his destitute family his life-long victims. Can any form of cruelty surpass this? Yet this reckless course is pursued to Bargain-Buying. 583 a large extent among every class. The middle and upper classes are equally guilty with the lower class. They live beyond their means. They live extrava- gantly. They are ambitious of glare and glitter, fri- volity and pleasure. They struggle to be rich, that they may have the means of spending — of drinking rich wines and giving good dinners. Man)' persons are diligent enough in making money, but do not know how to economize it, or how to spend it. They have sufficient skill and industry to do the one, but they want the necessary wisdom to do the other. The temporary passion for enjoyment seizes us, and we give way to it without regard to consequences. And }-et it may be merely the result of forgetfulness, and may be easily controlled by firmness of will, and by energetic resolution to avoid the occasional causes of expenditure for the future. The habit of saving arises, for the most part, in the desire to ameliorate our social condition, as well as to ameliorate the condition of those who are dependent upon us. It dispenses with every thing which is not essential, and avoids all methods of living that are wasteful and extravagant. A purchase made at the lowest price will be dear, if it be a superfluity. Little expenses lead to great. Buying things that are not wanted soon accustoms us to prodigality in other re- spects. Cicero said, " Not to have a mania for buying, is to possess a revenue.' 1 Many are carried away by the 584 Bargain-Buying, habit of bargain-buying. " Here is something wonder- fully cheap; let us buy it. " "Have you any use for it?" " No, not at present; but it is sure to come in useful, some time." Fashion runs in this habit of buy- ing. Some buy old china — as much as will furnish a china-shop. Others buy old pictures — old furniture — old wines — all great bargains! There would be little harm in buying these old things, if they were not so often bought at the expense of the connoisseur's credi- tors. Horace Walpole once said, " I hope that there will not be another sale, for I have not an inch of room nor a farthing left." Men must prepare in youth and in middle age the means for enjoying old age pleasantly and happily. There can be nothing more distressing than to see an old man who has spent the greater part of his life in well-paid-for labor, reduced to the necessity of begging for bread, and relying entirely upon the commiseration of his neighbors or upon the bounty of strangers. Such a consideration as this should inspire men in early life with a determination to work and to save, for the bene- fit of themselves and their families in later years. It is, in fact, in youth that economy should be prac- ticed, and in old age that men should dispense liberally, provided they do not exceed their income. The young man has a long future before him, during which he may exercise the principles of economy; while the other is reaching the end of his career, and can carry nothing out of the world with him. Thrift and Unihrift. 5S5 This, however, is not the usual practice. The young man now spends, or desires to spend, quite as liberally,, and often much more liberally, than his father, who is about to end his career. He begins life where his father left off. He spends more than his father did at his age, and soon finds himself up to his ears in debt. To satisfy his incessant wants, he resorts to unscrupulous means and to illicit gains. He tries to make money rapidly; he speculates, overtrades, and is speedily wound up. Thus he obtains experience; but it is the result, not of well-doing, but of ill-doing. Socrates recommends fathers of families to observe the practice of their thrifty neighbors — of those who spend their means to the best advantage — and to profit by their example. Thrift is essentially practical, and can best be taught by facts. Two men earn, say, five shillings a day. They are in precisely the same condi- tion as respects family living and expenditure. Yet the one says he can not save, and does not; while the other says he can save, and regularly deposits part of his savings in a savings-bank, and eventually becomes a capitalist. Samuel Johnson fully knew the straits of poverty. He once signed his name Impransiis, or Dinnerless. He had walked the streets with Savage, not knowing- where to lay his head at night. Johnson never forgot the poverty through which he passed in his early life, and he was always counseling his friends and readers to avoid it. Like Cicero, he averred that the best dSQ Johnson on Economy. source of wealth or well-being was economy. He called it the daughter of Prudence, the sister of Temperance, and the mother of Liberty. " Poverty," he said, " takes away so many means of doing good, and produces so much inability to resist • evil, both natural and moral, that it is by all virtuous means to be avoided. Resolve, then, not to be poor; whatever you have, spend less. Frugality is not only the basis of quiet, but of beneficence. No man can help others who wants help himself; we must have enough before we have to spare." And again he said, " Poverty is a great enemy to human happiness. It certainly destroys liberty, and it makes some virtues impracticable, and others ex- tremely difficult. . . . All to whom want is terrible, upon whatever principle, ought to think themselves obliged to learn the sage maxims of our parsimonious ancestors, and attain the salutary arts of contracting expense; for without economy none can be rich, and with it few can be pure." When economy is looked upon as a thing that must be practiced, it will never be felt as a burden; and those who have not before observed it, will be astonished to find what a few pence or shillings laid aside weekly will do toward securing moral elevation, mental culture, and personal independence. There is a dignity in every attempt to economize. Its very practice is improving. It indicates self-denial, and imparts strength to the character. It produces Self-respect. 587 a well-regulated mind. It fosters temperance. It is based on forethought. It makes prudence the dominat- ing characteristic. It gives virtue the master) 7 over self-indulgence. Above all, it secures comfort, drives away care, and dispels many vexations and anxieties which might otherwise prey upon us. Some will say, " It can't be done." But every body can do something. " It can't '■' is the ruin of men and of nations. In fact, there is no greater cant than canH. Take an instance: A glass of beer \a day is equal to forty-five shillings a year. This sum will insure a man's life for a hundred and thirty pounds payable at death. Or, placed in a savings-bank, it would amount to a hundred pounds in twenty years. But many drink half a dozen glasses of beer a day. This amount of beer, not drunk, would amount, during that time, to six hundred pounds. The man who spends ninepence a day in liquor squanders in fifty years nearly two thousand pounds. A master recommended one of his workmen to " lay by something for a rainy day." Shortly after, the master asked the man how much he had added to his store. " Faith, nothing at all," said he; u I did as you bid me; but it rained very hard yesterday, and it all went — in drink!" That a man should maintain himself and his family without the help of others is due to his sense of self- respect. Every genuine, self-helping man ought to re- spect himself. He is the center of his own little world. 588 Self-respect. His personal loves, likings, experiences, hopes, and fears —how important they are to him, although of little consequence to others! They affect his happiness, his daily life, and his whole being as a man. He can not, therefore, but feel interested, deeply interested, in all that concerns himself. To do justice, a man must think well not only of himself, but of the duties which he owes to others. He must not aim too low, but regard man as created " a little lower than the angels. " Let him think of his high destiny — of the eternal interests in which he has a part — of the great scheme of nature and providence — of the intellect with* which he has been endowed — of the power of loving conferred upon him — of the home on earth provided for him; and he will cease to think meanly of himself The poorest human being is the centre of two eternities, the Creator overshadowing all. Hence, let every man respect himself — his body, his mind, his character. Self-respect, originating in self- love, instigates the first step of improvement. It stim- ulates a man to rise, to look upward to develop his intelligence to improve his condition. Self-respect is the root of most of the virtues — of cleanliness, chastity, reverence, honesty, sobriety. To think meanly of one's self is to sink — -sometimes to descend a precipice at the bottom of which is infamy. Every man can help himself to some extent. We are not mere straws thrown upon the current to mark its • Self-help. 589 course; but possessed of freedom of action, endowed with power to stem the waves and rise above them, each marking out a course for himself. We can each elevate ourselves in" the scale of moral being. We can cherish pure thoughts. We can perform good actions. We can live soberly and frugally. We can provide against the evil day. We can read good books, listen to wise teachers, and place ourselves under the divinest influences on earth. We can live for the highest pur- poses, and with the highest aims in view. " Self-love and social are the same," says one of our poets. The man who improves himself, improves the world. He adds one more true man to the mass. And the mass being made up of individuals, it is clear that were each to improve himself, the result would be the improvement of the whole. Social advancement is the consequence of individual advancement. The whole can not be pure, unless the individuals compos- ing it are pure. Society at large is but the reflex of individual conditions. All this is but the repetition of a truism, but truisms have often to be repeated to make their full impression. Then, again, a man, when he has improved himself, is better able to improve those who are brought into contact with him. He has more power. His sphere of vision is enlarged. He sees more clearly the defects in the condition of others that might be remedied. He can lend a more active helping hand to raise them. He has done his duty by himself, and can with more 590 Uncertainty of Life. authority urge upon others the necessity of doing the like duty to themselves. How can a man be a social elevator, who is himself walking in the mire of self-in- dulgence? How can he teach sobriety or cleanliness, if he be himself drunken or foul? "Physician, heal thyself," is the answer of his neighbors. The sum and substance of our remarks is this: In all the individual reforms or improvements that we desire, we must begin with ourselves. We must exhibit our gospel in our own life. We must teach by our own example. If we would have others elevated, we must elevate ourselves. Each man can exhibit the results in his own person. He can begin with self-respect. The uncertainty of life is a strong inducement to provide against the evil day. To do this is a moral and social as well as a religious duty. " But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." The uncertainty of life is proverbially true. The strongest and healthiest man may be stricken down in a moment, by accident or disease. If we take human life in a mass, we can not fail to recognize the uncer- tainty of life as much as we do the certainty of death. There is a striking passage in Addison's " Vision of Mirza," in which life is pictured as a passage over a bridge of about a hundred arches. A black cloud hangs over each end of the bridge. At the entrance to it there are hidden pitfalls very thickly set, through which Laws of Mortality. 591 throngs disappear, so soon as they have placed their feet upon the bridge. They grow thinner toward the centre; they gradually disappear; until at length only a few persons reach the farther side, and these also hav- ing dropped through the pitfalls, the bridge at its far- ther extremity becomes entirely clear. The descrip- tion of Addison corresponds with the results of the ob- servations made as to the duration of human life. Thus, of a hundred thousand persons born in this country, it has been ascertained that a fourth of them die before they have reached their fifth year, and one- half before they have reached their fiftieth year. One thousand one hundred will reach their ninetieth }^ear. Sixteen will live to a hundred. And only two persons out of the hundred thousand — like the last barks of an innumerable convoy — will reach the advanced and help- less age of a hundred and five years. Two things are very obvious — the uncertainty as to the hour of death in individuals, but the regularity and constancy of the circumstances which influence the du- ration of human life in the aggregate. It is a matter of certainty that the average life of all persons born in this country extends to about forty-five years. This has been proved by a very large number of observations of human life and its duration. Equally extensive observations have been made as to the average number of persons of various ages who die yearly. It is always the number of the experiments which gives the law of the probability. It is on such 592 Laws of Mortality. observations that the actuary founds his estimates of the mortality that exists at any given period of life. The actuar}' tells you that he has been guided by the laws of mortalit} 7 . Now, the results must be very reg- ular to justify the actuary in speaking of mortality as governed by laws. And yet it is so. Indeed, there would seem to be no such thing as chance in the world. Man lives and dies in conformity to a law. A sparrow falls to the ground in obedience to a law. Nay, there are matters in the ordinary trans- actions of life, such as one might suppose were the mere result of chance, which are ascertained to be of remark- able accuracy when taken in the mass. For instance, the number of letters put in the post-office without an address, the number of letters wrongly directed, the number containing money, the number unstamped, con- tinue nearly the same, in relation to the number of let- ters posted, from one year to another. Now, it is the business of man to understand the laws of health, and to provide against their consequences; as, for instance, in the matter of sickness, accident, and premature death. We can not escape the consequences of transgression of the natural laws, though we may have meant well. We must have done well. The Creator does not alter his laws to accommodate them to our ignorance. He has furnished us with intelli- gence, so that we may understand them and act upon them: otherwise we must suffer the consequences in inevitable pain and sorrow. Will Nobody Help Us ? 593 We often hear the cry raised, " Will nobody help us?" It is a spiritless, hopeless cry. It is sometimes a cry of revolting meanness, especially when it issues from those who, with a little self-denial, sobriety, and thrift, might easily help themselves. Many people have yet to learn that virtue, knowl- edge, freedom, and prosperity must spring from them- selves. Legislation can do very little for them: it can not make them sober, intelligent, and well-doing. The prime miseries of most men have their origin in causes far removed from Acts of Parliament. The spendthrift laughs at legislation. The drunkard defies it, and arrogates the right of dispensing with fore- thought and self-denial, throwing upon others the blame of his ultimate wretchedness. The mob orators, who gather " the millions" about them, are very wide of the mark, when, instead of seeking to train their crowds of hearers to habits of frugality, temperance, and self- culture, they encourage them to keep up the cry, " Will nobody help us?" The cry sickens the soul. It shows gross ignorance of the first elements of personal welfare. Help is in men themselves. They were born to help and ele- vate themselves. They must work out their own sal- vation. The poorest men have done it; why should not every man do it? The brave, upward spirit, ever conquers. The number of well-paid workmen in this country has become very large, who might easily save and 594 Prosperous Times. economize to the improvement of their moral well-being-^ of their respectability and independence, and of their status in society as men and citizens. They are im- provident and thriftless to an extent which proves not less hurtful to their personal happiness and domestic comfort, than it is injurious to the society of which they form so important a part. In " prosperous times " they spend their gains reck- lessly; and when adverse times come they are at once plunged into misery. Money is not used, but abused; and when wage-earning people should be providing against old age, or for the wants of a growing family, they are, in too many cases, feeding folly, dissipation and vice. Let no one say that this is an exaggerated picture. It is enough to look round in any neighbor- hood, and see how much is spent and how little is saved; what a large proportion of earnings goes to the beer-shop, and how little to the savings-bank or the benefit society. " Prosperous times " are very often the least prosper- ous of all times. In prosperous times, mills are work- ing full time; men, women, and children are paid high wages; warehouses are emptied and filled; goods are manufactured and exported; wherries full of produce pass along the streets; immense luggage trains run along the railways, and heavily laden ships leave our shores daily for foreign ports, full of the products of our industry. Every body seems to be becoming richer and more prosperous. But we do not think of whether The Least Prosperous. 595 men and women are becoming wiser, better trained, less self-indulgent, more religiously disposed, or living for any higher purpose than the satisfaction of the animal appetite. If this apparent prosperity be closely examined, it will be found that expenditure is increasing in all di- rections. There are demands for higher wages ; and the higher wages, when obtained, are spent as soon as earned. Intemperate habits are formed, and, once formed, the habit of intemperance continues. Increased wages, in- stead of being saved, are, for the most part spent in drink. Thus, when a population are thoughtless and improv- ident, no kind of material prosperity will benefit them. Unless they exercise forethought and economy, they will alternately be in a state of " hunger and burst.'" When trade falls off, as it usually does after exceptional prosperity, they will not be comforted by the thought of what they might have saved, had it ever occurred to them that the " prosperous times " might not have proved permanent. During prosperous times, Saint Mono\ay is regularly observed. The bank holiday is repeated weekly. "Where are all the workmen?' 1 said a master to his foreman, on going the rounds among his builders; "this work must be pushed on, and covered in while the fine weather lasts." " Why, sir," said the foreman, " this is Monday ; and they have not spent all their money yet." Dean Boyd, preaching at Exeter on be- 596 National Prosperity. half of the Devonshire hospitals, expressed his belief that the annual loss to the work-people engaged in the woolen manufacture, the cotton trade, the brick-laying and building trade, by Idle Monday, amounted to over seven million sterling. If man's chief end were to manufacture cloth, silk, cotton, hardware, toys and china; to buy in the cheap- est market and to sell in the dearest; to cultivate land, grow corn, and graze cattle; to live for mere money profit, and hoard or spend as the case might be, we might then congratulate ourselves upon our national prosperity. But is this the chief end of man? Has he not faculties, affections, and sympathies, besides muscular organs? Has not his mind and heart certain claims, as well as his mouth and his back? Has he not a soul as well as a stomach? And ought not " prosperity " to include the improvement and well-being of his morals and intellect as well as of his bones and muscles ? Mere money is no indication of prosperit}^. A man's nature may remain the same. It may even grow more stunted and deformed, while he is doubling his expendi- ture, or adding cent, per cent, to his hoards yearly. It is the same with the mass. The increase of their gains may merely furnish them with increased means for gratifying animal indulgences, unless their moral character keeps pace with their physical advancement, Double the gains of an uneducated, overworked man, in a time of prosperity, and what is the result? Sim- Moral Independence* 597 ply that you have furnished him with the means of eating and drinking more! Thus, not even the mate- rial well-being of the population is secured by that condition of things which is defined by political econo- mists as u national prosperity." And so long as the moral elements of the question are ignored, this kind of " prosperity " is, we believe, calculated to produce far more mischievious results than good. It is knowledge and virtue alone that can confer dignity on a man's life; and the growth of such qualities in a nation is the only true mark of its real prosperity; not the infinite manufacture and sale of cotton prints, toys, hardware, and crockery. The Bishop of Manchester, when preaching at a har- vest thanksgiving near Preston, referred to a letter which he had received from a clergyman in the South of England, who, after expressing his pleasure at the fact that the agricultural laborers were receiving higher wages, lamented " that at present the only result he could discover from their higher wages was that a great deal more beer was consumed. If this was the use we were making of this prosperity, we could hardly call it a blessing for which we had a right or ground to thank God. The true prosperity in the nation con- sisted not so much in the fact that the nation was grow- ing in wealth — though wealth was a necessary attribute of prosperity — but that it was growing in virtue; and that there was a more equable distribution of comfort, contentment, and the things of this lower world." 598 What Thrift Requires. In making the preceding observations, we do not in the least advocate the formation of miserly, penurious habits; for we hate the scrub, the screw, the miser. All that we contend for is, that men should provide for the future; that they should provide during good times for the bad times which almost invariably follow them; that they should lay by a store of savings as a break- water against want, and make sure of a little fund which may maintain them in old age, secure their self-respect, and add to their personal comfort and social well-being. Thrift is not in any way connected with avarice, usury, greed, or selfishness. It is, in fact, the very reverse of these disgusting dispositions. It means economy for the purpose of securing independence. Thrift requires that money should be used, and not abused — that it should be honestly earned and economically employed — " Not for to put it in a hedge, Not for a train attendant — But for the glorious privilege Of being Independent." CHAPTER XLVI. LITTLE THINGS. Luck and Labor.— Neglect of Little Things.— "It will Do!"— Spending of Pennies.— The Thrifty Woman.— A Helpful Wife.^A Man's Daily Life. — The Two Workmen. — Rights and Habits.— Influence of the Wife. — A Penny a Day. — The Power of a Penny.— Roads and Railways.— Business Maxims. " Know when to spend and when to spare, And when to buy, and thou shalt ne'er be bare." "He that despiseth little things, shall perish by little and little." — Pro- verbs of Solomon. /* "V EGLECT of small things is the rock on which J ^ the great majority of the human race have split. Human life consists of a succession of small events, each of which is comparatively unimportant, and yet the happiness and success of every man depend upon the manner in which these small events are dealt with. Character is built up on little things — little things well and honorably transacted. The success of a man in business depends on his attention to little things. The comfort of a household is the result of small things well arranged and duly provided for. Good government can only be accomplished in the same way — by well- regulated provisions for the doing of little things. Accumulations of knowledge and experience of the 599 600 Luck and Labor. most valuable kind are the result of little bits of knowl- edge and experience carefully treasured up. Those who learn nothing, or accumulate nothing in life, are set down as failures, because they have neglected little things. They may themselves consider that the world has gone against them; but in fact, they have been their own enemies. There has long been a popular belief in "good luck;" but, like many other popular notions, it is gradually giving way. The conviction is extending that diligence is the mother of good luck; in other words, that a man's success in life will be proportionate to his efforts, to his industry, to his attention to small things. Your negligent, shiftless, loose fellows never meet with luck ; because the results of industry are de- nied to those who will not use the proper efforts to se- cure them. It is not luck, but labor, that makes men. Luck, says an American writer, is ever waiting for something to turn up; Labor, with keen eye and strong will, always turns up something. Luck lies in bed, and wishes the postman would bring him news of a legacy; Labor turns out at six, and with busy pen or ringing hammer lays the foundation of a competence. Luck whines; Labor whistles. Luck relies on chance; Labor, on character. Luck slips downward to self-indulgence; Labor strides upward, and aspires to independence. There are many little things in the household, atten- tion to which is indispensable to health and happiness. Cleanliness consists in attention to a number of appa- JSfi > gleet of Little Things. (501 rent trifles — the scrubbing of a floor, the dusting of a chair, the cleansing of a tea- cup; but the general result of the whole is an atmosphere of moral and physical well-being — a condition favorable to the highest growth of human character. The kind of air which circulates in a house may seem a small matter, for we can not see the air, and few people know any thing about it; yet if we do not provide a regular supply of pure air within our houses, we shall inevitably suffer for our neglect. A few specks of dirt may seem neither here nor there, and a closed door or window would appear to make little difference; but it may make the differ- ence of a life destroyed by fever; and therefore the lit- tle dirt and the little bad air are really very serious matters. The whole of the household regulations are, taken by themselves, trifles, but trifles tending to an important result. A pin is a very little thing in an article of dress, but the way in which it is put into the dress often reveals to you the character of the wearer. A shrewd fellow was once looking out for a wife, and was on a visit to a family of daughters with this object. The fair one, of whom he was partially enamored, one day entered the room in which he was seated, with her dress par- tially unpinned and her hair untidy: he never went back. You may say, such a fellow was "not worth a pin;" but he was really a shrewd fellow, and afterward made a good husband. He judged of women as of men by little things; and he was right. 602 Neglect of Little Things. A druggist advertised for an assistant, and he had applications from a score of young men. He invited them all to come to his shop at the same time, and set them each to make up a pennyworth of salts into a packet. He selected the one that did this little thing in the neatest and most expert manner. He inferred their general practical ability from their performance of this smallest bit of business. Neglect of little things has ruined many fortunes and marred the best of enterprises. The ship which bore home the merchant's treasure was lost because it was allowed to leave the port from which it sailed with a very little hole in the bottom. For want of a nail, the shoe of the aid-de-camp's horse was lost; for want of the shoe, the horse was lost; for want of the horse, the aid-de-camp himself was lost, for the enemy took him and killed him; and for want of the aid-de-camp's in- telligence, the arm) 7 of his general was lost. And all because a little nail had not been properly fixed in a horse's shoe! u It will do!" is the common phrase of those who neg- lect little things. " It will do!" has blighted many a character, blasted many a fortune, sunk many a ship, burned down many a house, and irretrieveably ruined thousands of hopeful projects of human good. It alwa}'s means stopping short of the right thing. It is a make- shift. It is a failure and defeat. Not what " will do," but what is the best possible thing to do, is the point to be aimed at! Let a man once adopt the maxim of «M will do!" 603 *' It will do," and he is given over to the enemy; he is on the side of incompetency and defeat; and we give him up as a hopeless subject ! M. Say, the French political economist, has related the following illustration of the neglect of little things : Once, at a farm in the country, there was a gate inclos- ing the cattle and poultry, which was constantly swing- ing open for want of a proper latch. The expenditure of a penny or two, and a few minutes time, would have made all right. It was on the swing every time a per- son went out, and not being in a state to shut readily, many of the poultry were from time to time lost. One day a fine young porker made his escape, and the whole family, with the gardener, cook, and milkmaid, turned out in quest of the fugitive. The gardener was the first to discover the pig, and, in leaping a ditch to cut off his escape, got a sprain that kept him to his bed for a fortnight. The cook, on her return to the farm-house, found the linen burned that she had hung up before the fire to dry; and the milkmaid having forgotten, in her haste, to tie up the cattle in the cow-house, one of the loose cows had broken the leg of a colt that happened to be kept in the same shed. The linen burned and the gardener's work lost were worth full five pounds, and the colt worth nearly double that money: so that here was a loss in a few minutes of a large sum, purely for want of a little latch which might have been supplied for a few half-pence. Life is full of illustrations of a similar kind. When 604 Spending of Pennies. small things are habitually neglected, ruin is not far off. It is the hand of the diligent that maketh rich; and the diligent man or woman is attentive to small things as well as great. The things may appear very little and insignificant, yet attention to them is as nee- sary as to matters of greater moment. Take, for instance, the humblest of coins — a penny. What is the use of that little piece of copper — a solitary penny? What can it buy? Of what use is it? It is half the price of a glass of beer. It is the price of a box of matches. It is only fit for giving to a beggar. And yet how much of human happiness depends upon the spending of the penny well ! A man may work hard, and earn high wages; but if he allow the pennies, which are the result of hard work, to slip out of his fingers — some going to the beer- shop, some this way, and some that — he will find that his life of hard work is little raised above a life of animal drudgery. On the other hand, if he take care of the pennies, putting some weekly into a benefit society or an insurance fund, others into a savings bank, and con- fide the rest to his wife to be carefully laid out, with a view to the comfortable maintenance and culture of his family, he will soon find that his attention to small matters will abundantly repay him, in increasing means, in comfort at home, and in a mind comparatively free from fears as to the future. All savings are made up of little things. " Many a little makes a mickle." Many a penny makes a pound.. The Thrifty Woman. 605 A penny saved is the seed of pounds saved. And pounds saved means comfort, plenty, wealth, and inde- pendence. But the penny must be earned honestly. It is said that a penny earned honestly is better than a shilling given. A Scotch proverb says, " The gear that is gifted is never sae sweet as the gear that is won. 1 ' What though the penny be black? u The smith and his penny are both black.'" But the penny earned by the smith is an honest one. If a man does not know how to save his pennies or his pounds, his nose will always be kept to the grind- stone. Want may come upon him any day, " like an armed man." Careful saving acts like magic: once begun it grows into a habit. It gives a man a feeling of satisfaction, of strength, of security. The pennies he has put aside in his savings-box, or in the savings- bank, give him an assurance of comfort in sickness, or of rest in old age. The man who saves has something to weather-fend him against want ; while the man who saves not has nothing between him and bitter, biting poverty. A man may be disposed to save money, and lay it by for sickness or for other purposes; but he can not do this unless his wife lets him, or helps him. A pru- dent, frugal, thrifty woman is a crown of glory to her husband. She helps him in all his good resolutions; she may by quiet and gentle encouragement, bring out his better qualities; and by her example she many im- plant in him noble principles, which are the seeds of the highest practical virtues. 606 A Helpful Wife. The Rev. Mr. Owen, formerly of Bilston — a good friend and adviser of working-people — used to tell a story of a man who was not an economist, but was en- abled to become so by the example of his wife. The man was a calico-printer at Manchester, and he was persuaded by his wife, on their wedding-day, to allow her two half-pints of ale a day, as her share. He rather winced at the bargain, for, though a drinker himself he would have preferred a perfectly sober wife. They both worked hard ; and he, poor man, was seldom out of the public-house as soon as the factory work was closed. She had her daily pint, and he, perhaps, had his two or three quarts, and neither interfered with the other; except that, at odd times, she succeeded by dint, of one little gentle artifice or another, to win him home an hour or two earlier at night; and now and then, to spend an entire evening in his own house. They had been married a year, and on the morning of their wed- ding anniversary, the husband looked askance at her neat and comely person with some shade of remorse, as he said, " Mary, we've had no holiday since we were wed; and, only that I have not a penny in the world, we'd take a jaunt down to the village to see the mother." " Wouldst like to go, John?" said she, softly, between a smile and a tear, so glad to hear him speak so kindly — so like old times. " If thee'd like to go, John, I'll stand treat." " Thou stand treat!" said he, with half a sneer: " hast got a for tun, wench?" A Helpful Wife, 607 " Nay," said she, " but I've gotten the pint o' ale." " Gotten what?" said he. " The pint o' ale!" said she. John still didn't understand her, till the faithful creature reached down an old stocking from under a loose brick up the chimney, and counted out her daily pint of ale in the shape of three hundred and sixty-five threepence, i. e., four pounds four shillings and six-pence r and put them into his hand, exclaiming, " Thou shalt have thee holiday, John!" John was ashamed, astonished, conscience-stricken, charmed, and wouldn't touch it. " Hasn't thee had thy share? Then I'll ha' no more!" he said. He kept his word. They kept their wedding-day with mother; and the wife's little capital was the nucleus of a series of frugal investments, that ultimately swelled out into a shop, a factory, warehouses, a country-seat, carriage, and, perhaps, a Liverpool mayor. In the same way, a workman of even the humblest sort, whose prosperity and regularity of conduct show to his fellow-workmen what industry, temperance, man- ly tenderness, and superiority to low and sensual temp- tation can effect, in endearing a home which is bright even amidst the gloom of poverty — such a man does good as well as the most eloquent writer that ever wrote. If there were a few patriarchs of the people such as this, their beneficial influence would soon be sensibly felt by society at large. A life well spent is worth any number of speeches; for example is a lan~ 608 A Man's Daily Life. guage far more eloquent than words: it is instruction in action — wisdom at work. A man's daily life is the best test of his moral and social state. Take two men, for instance, both working at the same trade and earning the same money; yet how different they may be as respects their actual con- dition! The one looks a free man; the other a slave. The one lives in a snug cottage; the other in a mnd hovel. The one has always a decent coat to his back ; the other is in rags. The children of the one are clean, well-dressed, and at school; the children of the other are dirty, filthy, and often in the gutter. The one pos- sesses the ordinary comforts of life, as well as many of its pleasures and conveniences — perhaps a well-chosen library; the other has few of the comforts of life, cer- tainly no pleasures, enjoyments, nor books. And yet these two men earn the same wages. What is the cause of the difference between them? It is in this: The one man is intelligent and prudent; the other is the reverse. The one denies himself for the benefit of his wife, his family, and his home; the other denies himself nothing, but lives under the tyran- ny of evil habits. The one is a sober man, and takes pleasure in making his home attractive and his family comfortable; the other cares nothing for his home and family, but spends the greater part of his earnings in the gin-shop or the public-house. The one man looks up; the other looks down. The standard of enjoy- ment of the one is high, and of the other low. The The Influence of the Wife. 609 one man likes books, which instruct and elevate his mind; the other likes drink, which tends to lower and brutalize him. The one saves his money; the other wastes it. The root of all domestic prosperity, the main-stay of all domestic comfort, is the wife. There can be no thrift, nor economy, nor comfort at home, unless the wife helps; and a working-man's wife, more than any other man's, for she is wife, housekeeper, nurse, and servant, all in one. If she be thriftless, putting money into her hands is like pouring water through a sieve. Let her be frugal, arid she will make her home a place of comTort, and she will also make her husband's life happy, if she do not lay the foundation of his prosperity and fortune. Method is the hinge of business; and there is no method without punctuality. Punctuality is important, because it subserves the peace and good temper of a family. The want of it not only infringes on necessary duty, but sometimes excludes this duty. The calmness of mind which it produces is another advantage of punctuality. A disorderly man is always in a hurry. He has no time to speak to you because he is 'going elsewhere ; and when he gets there, he is too late for his business, or he must hurry away to another before he can finish it. Punctuality gives weight to character. 39 CHAPTER XLVII. COMPANIONSHIP IN MARRIAGE. Character Influenced by Marriage.— Mutual Relations of Man and Woman c . — Views of Woman's Character. — Early Education of the Sexes. — Womans Affectionateness. — The Sentiment of Love. — Love an Inspirer and Purifier. — Man in the Home. — The Golden Rule in Marriage. " Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, Shall win my love." — Shakspeare. "In. the husband Wisdom, in the wife Gentleness." George Herbert. " Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. . . . Her husband is known in the gates, and he sitteth among the elders of the land." M\HE character of men, as of women, is powerfully ^ influenced by their companionship in all the stages of life. We have already spoken of the influence of the mother in forming the character of her children. She makes the moral atmosphere in which they live, and by which their minds and souls are nourished, as their bodies are by the physical atmosphere they breathe. And while woman is the natural cherisher of infancy and the instructor of childhood, she is also the guide and counsellor of youth, and the confidant and compan- ion of manhood, in her various relations of mother, sis- ter, lover, and wife. In short, the influence of woman 610 The Mission of Man and Woman. 611 more or less affects, for good or for evil, the - entire destinies of man. The respective social functions and duties of men and woman are clearly defined by nature. God created man and woman, each to do their proper work, each to fill their proper sphere. Neither can occupy the position, nor perform the functions, of the other. Their several vocations are perfectly distinct. Woman exists on her own account, as man does on his, at the same time that each has intimate relations with the other. Humanity needs both for the purposes of the race, and in every consideration of social progress both must necessarily be included. Though companions and equals, yet, as regards the measure of their powers, they are unequal. Man is stronger, more muscular, and of rougher fibre; woman is more delicate, sensitive and nervous. The one excels in power of brain, the other in qualities of heart ; and though the head may rule, it is the heart that influences. Both are alike adapted for the respective functions they have to perform in life; and to attempt to impose woman's work upon man would be quite as absurd as to attempt to impose man's work upon woman. Men are sometimes woman-like, and women are sometimes man-like; but these are only exceptions which prove the rule. Although man's qualities belong more to the head, and woman's more to the heart, yet it is not less neces- sary that man's heart should be cultivated as well as 612 The Mission of Man and Woman* his head, and woman's head cultivated as well as her heart. A heartless man is as much out of keeping in civilized society as a stupid and unintelligent woman. The cultivation of all parts of the moral and intellectual nature is requisite to form the man or woman of healthy and well-balanced character. Without sympathy or consideration for others, man were a poor, stunted, sor- did, selfish being; and without cultivated intelligence, the most beautiful woman weie little better than a well- dressed doll. It used to be a favorite notion about woman that her weakness and dependency upon others constituted her principal claim to admiration. If we were to form an image of dignity in a man,' 1 said Sir. Richard Steele, " we should give him wisdom and valor, as being essen- tial to the character of manhood. In like manner, if you describe a right woman in a laudable sense, she should have gentle softness, tender fear, and all those parts of life which distinguish her from the other sex, with some subordination to it, but an inferiority which makes her lovely." Thus, her weakness was to be cul- tivated, rather than her strength; her folly, rather than her wisdom. She was to be a weak, fearful, tearful, characterless, inferior creature, with just sense enough to understand the soft nothings addressed to her by the " superior " sex. She was to be educated as an orna- mental appanage of man, rather as an independent intelligence — or as a wife, mother, companion, or friend. Pope, in one of his "Moral Essays," asserts that ♦ Views of Woman's Character. 613 " most women have no characters at all;" and again he says : " Ladies, like variegated tulips, show, Tis to their changes half their charms we owe, Fine by defect and delicately weak." This satire characteristically occurs in the poet's " Epistle to Martha Blount," the housekeeper who so tyrannically ruled him; and in the same verses he spitefully girds at Lady Mary Wortly Montague, at whose feet he had thrown himself as a lover, and been contemptuously rejected. But Pope was no judge of women, nor was he even a very wise or tolerant judge of men. It is still too much the practice to cultivate the weak- ness of woman rather than her strength, and to render her attractive rather than self-reliant. Her sensibilities are developed at the expense of her health of body as well as mind. She lives, moves, and has her being, in the sympathy of others. She dresses that she may attract, and is burdened with accomplishments that she may be chosen. Weak, trembling, and dependent, she incurs the risk of becoming a living embodiment of the Italian proverb — " so good that she is good for nothing." On the other hand, the education of } ; oung men too often errs on the side of selfishness. While the boy is encouraged to trust mainly to his own efforts in push- ing his way in the world, the girl is encouraged to rely almost entirely upon others. He is educated with too 614 Early Education of Both Sexes. exclusive reference to himself, and she is educated with too exclusive reference to him. He is taught to be self-reliant and self-dependent, while she is taught to be distrustful of herself, dependent, and self-sacrificing in all things. Thus the intellect of the one is cultivated at the expense of the affections, and the affections of the other at the expense of the intellect. It is unquestionable that the highest qualities of wo- man are displayed in her relationship to others, through the medium of her affections. She is the nurse whom nature has given to all humankind. She takes charge of the helpless, and nourishes and cherishes those we love. She is the presiding genius of the fireside, where she creates an atmosphere of serenity and contentment suitable for the nurture and growth of character in its best forms. She is by her very constitution compassion- ate, gentle, patient, and self-denying. Loving, hopeful, trustful, her eye sheds brightness everywhere. It shines upon coldness and warms it, upon suffering and relieves it, upon sorrow and cheers it: "Her silver flow Of subtle-paced counsel in distress, Right to the heart and brain, though undeseried, Winning its way with extreme gentleness Through all the outworks of suspicion's pride." Woman has been styled the angel of the unfortunate. She is ready to help the weak, to raise the fallen, to comfort the suffering. It was characteristic of woman that she should have been the first to build and endow Woman's Affectionateness. . 615 i a hospital. It has been said that wherever a human being is in suffering his sighs call a woman to his side. When Mungo Park, lonely, friendless, and famished, after being driven forth from an African village by the men, was preparing to spend the night under a tree, exposed to the rain and the wild beasts which there abounded, a poor negro woman, returning from the la- bors of the field, took compassion upon him, conducted him into her hut, and there gave him food, and succor, and shelter. But while the most characteristic qualities of woman are displayed through her sympathies and affections, it is also necessary for her own happiness, as a self-de- pendent being, to develop and strengthen her charac- ter, by due self-culture, self-reliance, and self-control. It is not desirable, even were it possible, to close the beautiful avenues of the heart. Self-reliance of the best kind does not involve any limitation in the range jof human sympathy. But the happiness of woman, as of man, depends in a great measure upon her individual completeness of character. And that self-dependence which springs from the due cultivation of the intellec- tual powers, conjoined with a proper discipline of the heart and conscience, will enable her to be more useful in life as well as happy; to dispense blessings intelligent- ly as well as to enjoy them ; and most of all those which spring from mutual dependence and social sympathy. And here we would venture to touch upon a delicate topic. Though it is one of universal and engrossing 616 The Sentiment of Love* human interest, the moralist avoids it, the educator shuns it, and parents taboo it. It is almost considered indelicate to refer to Love as between the sexes; and young readers are left to gather their only notions of it from the impossible love-stories that fill the shelves of circulating libraries. " Love," it has been said, in the common accepta- tion of the term, is folly; but love, in its purity, its lof- tiness, its unselfishness, is not only ajconsequence, but a proof, of our moral excellence. The sensibility to moral beauty, the forgetfulness of self in the admiration engendered by it, all prove its claim to a high moral influence. It is the triumph of the unselfish over' the selfish part of our nature." It is by means of this divine passion that the world is kept ever fresh and young. It is the perpetual mel- ody of humanity. It sheds an effulgence upon youth, and throws a halo round age. It glorifies the present by the light it casts backward, and it lightens the fu- ture by the beams it casts forward. " No true and enduring love," says Fichte, " can exist without esteem; every other draws regret after it, and is unworthy of any noble human soul." But there is something far more than mere respect and esteem in the union between man and wife. " In matters of affection," says Nathaniel Hawthorne, " there is always an impassible gulf between man and man. They can never quite grasp each other's hands, and therefore man never derives any intimate help, any Man in the Home- 617 heart-sustenance, from his brother man, but from wo- man — his mother, his sister, or his wife." A man's real character will always be more visible in his household than anywhere else; and his practical wisdom will be better exhibited by the manner, in which he bears rule there than even in the larger affairs of business or public life. His whole mind may be in his business; but, if he would be happy, his whole heart must be in his home. What a happy man must Edmund Burke have been, when he could say of his home, " Every care vanishes the moment I enter under my own roof!" And Luther, a man full of human affection, speaking of his wife, said, " I would not exchange my poverty with her for all the riches of Crcesus without her." The golden rule of married life is, u Bear and for- bear." Marriage, like government, is a series of com- promises. One must give and take, refrain and re- strain, endure and be patient. One may not be blind to another's failings, but they may at least be borne with good-natured forbearance. Of all qualities, good temper is the one that wears and works the best in married life. Conjoined with self-control, it gives pa- tience — the patience to bear and forbear, to listen with- out retort, to refrain until the angry flash has passed. How true it is in marriage that " the soft answer turn- eth away wrath!" CHAPTER XLVIII. MANNER. Manner the Grace of Character. — Influence of Manner. — Politeness. — "Eti- quette." — True Courtesy. — Practical Unpoliteness. — Indications of Self- respect. "We must be gentle, now we are gentlemen." — Shakspeare. "Manners are often too much neglected; they are most important to men, no less than to women. . . . Life is too short to get over a bad man- ner ; besides, manners are the shadows of virtues." Rev. Sydney Smith. MANNER is one of the principal external graces of character. It is the ornament of action, and often makes the commonest offices beautiful by the way in which it performs them. It is a happy way of doing things, adorning even the smallest details of life, and contributing to render it, as a whole, agreeable and pleasant. Manner is not so frivolous or unimportant as some may think it to be; for it tends greatly to facilitate the business of life, as well as to sweeten and soften social intercourse. " Virtue itself," says Bishop Middleton, " offends, when coupled with a forbidding manner." Manner has a good deal to do with the estimation in which men are held by the world; and it has often 618 Power of Manner, 619 more influence in the government of others than quali- ties of much greater depth and substance. A manner at once gracious and cordial is among the greatest aids to success, and many there are who fail for want of it; for a great deal depends upon first impressions; and these are usually favorable or otherwise according to a man's courteousness and civility. While rudeness and gruffness bar doors and shut hearts, kindness and propriety of behavior, in which good manners consist, act as an "open sesame" every- where. Doors unbar before them, and they are a pass- port to the hearts of every body, young and old. There is a common saying that " Manners make the man;" but this is not so true as that " Man makes the manners." A man may be gruff, and even rude, and yet be good at heart and of sterling character; yet he would doubtless be a much more agreeable, and proba* bly a much more useful man, were he to exhibit that suavity of disposition and courtesy of manner which al- ways gives a finish to the true gentleman. A man's manner, to a certain extent, indicates his character. It is the external exponent of his inner na- ture. It indicates his taste, his feelings, and his tem- per, as well as the society to which he has been accus- tomed. There is a conventional manner, which is of comparatively little importance; but the natural man- ner, the outcome of natural gifts, improved by careful self-culture, signifies a great deal. Artificial rules of politeness are of very little use. 620 Politeness — "Etiquette" What passes by the name of " Etiquette" is often of the essence of impoliteness and untruthfulness. It consists in a great measure of posture-making, and is easily seen through. Even at best, etiquette is but a substitute for good manners, though it is often but their mere counterfeit. Good manners consist, for the most part in courteous- ness and kinkness. Politeness has been described as the art of showing, by external signs, the internal regard we have for others. But one may be perfectly polite to another without necessarily having a special regard for him. Good manners are neither more nor less than beautiful behavior. It has been well said that " a beautiful form is better than a beautiful face, and a beautiful behavior is better than a beautiful form; it gives a higher pleasure than statues or pictures — it is the finest of the fine arts." The truest politeness comes of sincerity. It must be the outcome of the heart, or it will make no lasting impression; for no amount of polish can dispense with truthfulness. The natural character must be allowed to appear, freed of its angularities and asperities. Though politeness, in its best form, should (as St. Francis de Sales says) resemble water — " best when clearest, most simple, and without taste " — yet genius in a man will always cover many defects of manner, and much will be excused to the strong and the original. Without genuineness and individuality, human life would lose much of its interest and variety, as well as its manliness and robustness of character. True Courtesy. 621 True courtesy is kind. It exhibits itself in the dispo- sition to contribute to the happiness of others, and in refraining from all that may annoy them. It is grate- ful as well as kind, and readily acknowledges kind actions. True politeness especially exhibits itself in regard for the personality of others. A man will respect the individuality of another if he wishes to be respected himself. He will have due regard for his views and opinions, even though they differ from his own. The well-mannered man pays a compliment to another, and sometimes even secures his respect, by patiently listen- ing to him. He is simply tolerant and forbearant, and refrains from judging harshly; and harsh judgments of others will almost invariably provoke harsh judgments of ourselves. It has been said that men succeed in life quite as much by their temper as by their talents. However this may be it is certain that their happiness depends mainly on their temperament, especially upon their dis- position to be cheerful; upon their complaisance, kind- liness of manner, and willingness to oblige others — de- tails of conduct which are like the small change in the intercourse of life, and are always in request. Men may show their disregard of others in various unpolite ways — as, for instance, by neglect of propriety in dress, by the absence of cleanliness, or by indulging in repulsive habits. The slovenly, dirty person, byren- ' dering himself physically disagreeable, sets the tastes 622 Practical Unpoliteness. and feelings of others at defiance, and is rude and uncivil., only under another form. The perfection of manner is ease — that it attracts no man's notice as such, but is natural and unaffected. Artifice is incompatible with courteous frankness of manner. Rochefoucauld has said that " nothing so much prevents our being natural as the desire of ap- pearing so." Thus we come round again to sincerity and truthfulness which find their outward expression in graciousness, urbanity, kindliness, and consideration for the feelings of others. The frank and cordial man sets those about him at their ease. He warms and ele- vates them by his presence, and wins all hearts. Thus manner, in its highest form, like character, becomes a genuine motive power. Good manners are usually supposed to be the peculiar characteristic of persons gently born and bred, and of persons moving in the higher rather than in the lower spheres of society. And this is no doubt to a great extent true, because of the more favorable surroundings of the former in early life. But there is no reason why the poorest classes should not practice good manners towards each other as well as the richest. C^W CM w CHAPTER XLIX. COMPANIONSHIP OF BOOKS. Men are Known by the Books They Read. — G-ood Books the Best Society. — Interest of Biography. — The Great Lesson of Biography. — The Book of Books. — History and Biography. — Books the Inspirers of Youth. "Books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good, Round which, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness can grow." — Wordsworth. "G-ood books are pearl and gold." — Coburn. "Not only in the common speech of men, but in all art too — which is or should be the concentrated and conserved essence of what men can speak and show — Biography is almost the one thing needful." — Carlyle. MAN may usually be known by the books he reads, as well as by the company he keeps; for there is a companionship of books as well as of men; and one should always live in the best company, whether it be of books or of men. A good book may be among the best of friends. It is the same to-day that it always was, and it will never change. It is the most patient and cheerful of* com- panions. It does not turn its back upon us in times of adversity or distress. It always receives us with the same kindness; amusing and instructing us in youth, and comforting and consoling us in age. 623 624 Companionship of Books. Men often discover their affinity to each other by the mutual love they have for a book — just as two persons sometimes discover a friend by the admiration which both entertain for a third. There is an old proverb, " Love me, love my dog." But there is more wisdom in this: " Love me, love my book." The book is a truer and higher bond of union. Men can think, feel, and sympathize with each other through their favorite author. They live in him together, and he in them. Books introduce us into the best society; they bring us into the presence of the greatest minds that have ever lived. We hear what they said and did; we see them as if they were really alive; we are participators in their thoughts ; we sympathize with them, enjoy with them, grieve with them ; their experience becomes ours, and we feel as if we were in a measure actors with them in the scenes which they describe. The great and good do not die, even in this world. Embalmed in books, their spirits walk abroad. The book is a living voice. It is an intellect to which one still listens. Hence we ever remain under the influence of the great men of old. The imperial intellects of the world are as much alive now as they were ages ago. Homer still lives; and though his personal history is hidden in the mists of antiquity, his poems are as fresh to-day as if they had been newly written. Plato still teaches his transcend- ent philosophy ; Horace, Virgil, and Dante still sing as when they lived ; Shakspeare is not dead ; his body was HEADING- THE BIBLE— PERSECUTION, ENGRAVED FOR HOMES. Interest in Biography. 625 buried in 1616, but his mind is as much alive in England now, and his thought as far-reaching, as in the time of the Tudors. Great, indeed, is the human interest felt in biography ! What are all the novels that find such multitudes of readers, but so many ficticious biographies ? What are the dramas that people crowd to see, but so much acted biography? Strange that the highest genius should be employed on the ficticious biography, and so much commonplace ability on the real! The great lesson of biography is to show what man can be and do at his best. A noble life put fairly on record acts like an inspiration to others. It exhibits what life is capable of being made. It refreshes our spirit, encourages our hopes, gives us new strength and courage and faith — faith in others as well as in ourselves. It stimulates our aspirations, rouses us to action, and incites us to become co-partners with them in their work. To live with such men in their biographies, and to be inspired b}^ their example, is to live with the best of men and to mix in the best of company. At the head of all biographies stands the Great Biography — the Book of Books. And what is the Bible, the most sacred and impressive of all books — the edu- cator of youth, the guide of manhood, and the consoler of age — but a series of biographies of great heroes and patriarchs, prophets, kings, and judges culminating in the greatest biography of all — the Life embodied in the New Testament ? How much have the great examples 40 626 History and Biography. there set forth done for mankind! How many have drawn from them their best strength, their highest wis- dom, their best nurture and admonition! History itself is best studied in biography. Indeed, history is biography — collective humanity as influenced and governed by individual men. " What is all history," says Emerson, u but the work of ideas, a record of the incomparable energy which his infinite aspirations in- fuse into man?" In its pages it is always persons we see more than principles. Historical events are inter- esting to us mainly in connection with the feelings, the sufferings, and interests of those by whom they are ac- complished. In history we are surrounded by men long dead, but whose speech and whose deeds survive. We almost catch the sound of their voices; and what they did constitutes the interest of history. While books are among the best companions of old age, they are often the best inspirers of youth. The first book that makes a deep impression on a young man's mind often constitutes an epoch in his life. It may fire the heart, stimulate the enthusiasm, and, by directing his efforts, into unexpected channels, perma- nently influence his character. The new book, in which we form an intimacy with a new friend, whose mind is wiser^ and riper than our own, may thus form an im- portant starting-point in the history of a life. It may sometimes almost be regarded in the light of a new birth. The True Gentleman is one whose nature has been. The True Gentleman. 627 fashioned after the highest models. It is a grand old name, that of Gentleman, and has been recognized as a rank and power in all stages of society. " The Gentle- man is always the Gentleman," said the old French General to his regiment of Scottish gentry at Rousillon, " and invariably proves himself such in need and in danger." To possess this character is a dignity of it- self, commanding the instinctive homage of every gen- erous mind, and those who will not bow to titular rank, will yet do homage to the gentleman. His qualities depend not upon fashion or manners, but upon moral worth — not on personal possessions, but on personal qualities. The Psalmist briefly describes him as one " that walketh uprightly, and worketh righteousness, and speaketh the truth in his heart." The gentleman is eminently distinguished for his self- respect. He values his character — not so much of it only as can be seen of others, but as he sees it himself; having regard for the approval of his inward monitor. And, as he respects himself, so, by the same law, does he respect others. Humanity is sacred in his eyes; and thence proceed politeness and forbearance, kindness and charity. The true gentleman has a keen sense of honor — scru- pulously avoiding mean actions. His standard of pro- bity in word and action is high. He does not shuffle or prevaricate, dodge or skulk; but is honest, upright, and straightforward. His law is rectitude — action in right lines. When he says yes, it is a law: and he 628 The Gentleman s Rectitude. dares to say the^ valiant no at the fitting season. The gentleman will not be bribed; only the low-minded and unprincipled will sell themselves to those who are interested in buying them. * Riches and rank have no necessary connection with •genuine gentlemanly qualities. The poor man may be a true gentleman — in spirit and in daily life. He may be honest, truthful, upright, polite, temperate, courage- ous, self-respecting, and self-helping — that is, be a true gentleman. The poor man with a rich spirit is in all ways superior to the rich man with a poor spirit. To borrow St. Paul's words, the former is as " having nothing, yet possessing all things, 1 ' while the other, though possessing all things has nothing. The first hopes every thing, and fears nothing; the last hopes nothing, and fears every thing. Only the poor in spirit are really poor. He who has lost all, but retains his courage, cheerfulness, hope, virtue, and self-respect, is still rich. For such a man, the world is, as it were, held intrust; his spirit dominating over its grosser cares, he can still walk erect, a true gentleman. There are many tests by which a gentleman may be known; but there is one that never fails — How does he exercise power over those subordinate to him? How does he conduct himself towards women and children? How does the officer treat his men, the employer his servants, the master his pupils, and man in every sta- tion those who are weaker than himself? The discre- tion, forbearance, and kindliness with which power in Exercise of Personal Power, 629 such cases is used, may indeed be regarded as the cru- cial test of gentlemanly character. Gentleness is indeed the best test of gentlemanliness. A consideration for the feelings of others, for his infe- riors and dependents as well as his equals, and respect for their self-respect, will pervade the true gentleman's whole conduct. He will rather himself suffer a small injury, than by any uncharitable construction of anoth- er's behavior, incur the risk of committing a great wrong. He will be forbearant of the weaknesses, the failings, and the errors, of those whose advantages in life have not been equal to his own. He will be mer- ciful even to his beast. He will not boast of his wealth, or his strength, or his gifts. He will not be puffed up by success, or unduly depressed by failure. He will not obtrude his views upon others, but speak his mind freely when occasion calls for it. He will not confer favors with a patronizing air. Sir Walter Scott once said of Lord Lothian, " He is a man from whom one may re- ceive a favor, and that's saying a great deal in these days." The quaint old Fuller sums up in a few words the character of the true gentleman and man of action in describing that of the great admiral, Sir Francis Drake: " Chaste in his life, just in his dealings, true of his word ; merciful to those that were under him, and hat- ing nothing so much as idleness; in matters especially of moment, he was never wont to rely on other men's care, how trusty or skillful soever they might seem to 630 Character of Sir Francis Drake. be, but, always contemning danger, and refusing no toil, he was wont himself to be one (whoever was a second) at every turn, where courage, skill or industry, was to be employed." CHAPTER L. HEALTHY HOMES. Healthy Existence. — Necessity for Pure Air. — Healthy Homes. — Influence of the Home. — Intelligence of Women. — Wholesome Dwellings. " The best security for civilization is the dwelling." — B. Disraeli. " Cleanliness is the elegance of the poor." — English Proverb, " Virtue never dwells long with filth and nastiness." — Count Rumford. (iTEALTH is said to be wealth. Indeed, all wealth -*~-*- is valueless without health. Every man who lives by labor, whether of mind or body, regards health as one of the most valuable of possessions. Without it, life would be unenjoyable. The human system has been so framed as to render enjoyment one of the prin- cipal ends of physical life. The whole arrangement, structure, and functions of the human system are beau- tifully adapted for that purpose. The exercise of every sense is pleasurable — the ex- p ercise of sight, hearing, taste, touch, and muscular ef- fort. What can be more pleasurable, for instance, than the feeling of entire health — health which is the sum total of the functions of life, duly performed? Happiness is the rule of healthy existence; pain and misery are its exceptional conditions. Nor is pain al- 631 632 Healthy Existence- together an evil; it is rather a salutary warning. It tells us that we have transgressed some rule, violated some law, disobeyed some physical obligation. It is a monitor which warns us to amend our state of living. It virtually says, " Return to Nature, observe her laws, and be restored to happiness." Thus, paradoxical though it may seem, pain is one of the conditions of the physical well-being of man; as death, according to Dr. Thomas Brown, is one of the conditions of the en- joyment of life. To enjoy physical happiness, therefore, the natural laws must be complied with. To discover and observe these laws, man has been endowed with the gift of rea- son. Does he fail to exercise this gift — does he neglect to comply with, the law of his being — then pain and dis- ease are the necessary consequence. Wherever any number of persons live together, the atmosphere becomes poisoned, unless means be provi- ded for its constant change and renovation. If there be not sufficient ventilation, the air becomes charged with carbonic acid, principal^' the product of respira- tion. Whatever the body discharges, becomes poison to the body if introduced again through the lungs- Hence the immense importance of pure air. A deficien- cy of food may be considerably less injurious than a deficiency of pure air. Every person above fourteen years of age requires about six hundred cubic feet of shut-up space to breathe in during the twenty-four hours. If he sleeps in a room of smaller dimensions, Necessity for Pure Air. 633 he will suffer more or less, and gradually approach the condition of being smothered. The first method of raising a man above the life of an animal is to provide him with a healthy home. The home is, after all, the best school for the world. Chil- dren grow up into men and women there; they imbibe their best and their worst morality there; and their morals and intelligence are in a great measure well or ill trained there. The home should not be considered merely as an eat- ing and sleeping place; but as a place where self-respect may be preserved, and comfort secured, and domestic pleasures enjoyed. Three-fourths of the petty vices which degrade society, and swell into crimes which dis- grace it, would shrink before the influence of self- re-' spect. To be a place of happiness, exercising beneficial influences upon its members, and especially upon the children growing up within it, the home must be per- vaded by the spirit of comfort, cleanliness, affection, and intelligence. And in order to secure this, the presence of a well-ordered, industrious, and educated woman is indispensable. So much depends upon the woman, that we might almost pronounce the happiness or unhappi- ness of the home to be woman's work. No nation can advance except through the improvement of the nation's homes; and they can only be improved through the in- strumentality of women. They must know how to make homes comfortable; and before they can know, they must have been taught. 634 Wholesome Dwellings, To build a wholesome dwelling costs little more than to build an unwholesome one. What is wanted on the part of the builder are, a knowledge of sanitary condi- tions, and a willingness to provide the proper accom- modation. The space of ground covered by the dwel- ling is the same in both cases; the quantity of bricks and mortar need be no greater; and pure air is of the same price as foul air. Light costs nothing. A healthy home, presided over by a thrifty, cleanly woman, may be the abode of comfort, of virtue, and of happiness. It may be the scene of every ennobling re- lation in family life. It may be endeared to a man by many delightful memories — by the affectionate voices of his wife, his children, and his neighbors. Such a home will be regarded, not as a mere nest of common instinct, but as a training-ground for young immortals, a sanctuary for the heart, a refuge from storms, a sweet resting-place after labor, a consolation in sorrow, a pride in success, and a joy at all times. CHAPTER LI. THE LAST. Youth and Old Age. — The Invisible Messenger. — Frederick the Great. — Sir Harry Vane. — Sir Walter Raleigh. — Sir John Moore. — Sir Walter Scott. — Jeremy Taylor on Life. — A Man's True Life. — St. Francis of Assisi. When darkness gathers over all, And the last tottering .pillars fall, Take the poor dust Thy mercy warms And mould it into heavenly forms. Oliver Wendell Holmes. This is our life, while we enjoy it. We lose it like the sun, which flies swifter than an arrow; and yet no man perceives that it moves. ... Is not earth turned to earth ; and shall not our sun set like theirs when the night comes? — Henry Smith. /TV HE young man enters life with joy and enthusi- -*- asm. The world lies all enamelled before him, as a distant prospect sun-gilt. But time quickly cools his enthusiasm. He can not carry the freshness of the morning through the day and into the night. Youth passes, age matures, and at length he must resign him- self to growing old. But the end is the result of his past life. Words and deeds are irrevocable. They mix themselves up with his character, and descend to futurity. The past is ever present with us. " Every sin," says Jeremy Taylor, 635 636 The Last " smiles in the first address, and carries light in the face and honey on the lip." When life matures, and the evil-doer ceases not from his ways, he can only look forward to old age with fear and despair. But good principles, on the other hand, form a suit of armor which no weapon can penetrate. " True re- ligion," says Cecil, " is the life, health, and education of the soul; and whoever truly possesses it is strength- ened with peculiar encouragement for every good word and work." Death comes to all. • We each day dig our graves with our teeth. The hour-glass is the emblem of life. It wanes low, to the inevitable* last grain, and then there is silence — death. Even the monarch walks over the tombs of his forefathers to be crowned; and is after- ward taken over them to his grave. The old men must give way to the young, and these too for men who are younger than themselves. When time has tugged at us long, we cease to do more than vegetate; we become a burden to ourselves and to oth- ers, and, what is worst of all, we get a longing for a still longer life. " When I look at many old men around me," said Perthes, " I am reminded of Frederick the Great's expostulation with his grenadiers, who demur- red at going to certain death. ' What, you dogs ! would ye go on living forever?' " But there are worst things than death. That is not the greatest calamit} 7 that can befall a man. Death levels, yet ennobles. Love is greater than death. Duty The Last 6o7 fulfilled makes death restful; dishonor makes death ter- rible. " I bless the Lord," said Sir Harry Vane, be- fore his execution on Tower Hill, " that I have not de- serted the righteous cause for which I suffer !" When Sir Walter Raleigh was laid on the block he was told by the executioner to lie with his head toward the east. "No matter how the head lies," was his reply, "so that the heart be right." Sir John Moore was struck down on the field of Co- runna, and the doctor arrived to his help. " No, no!" he said. " You cannot be of use to me; go to the sol- diers, to whom you may be useful." The last words that Nelson said were, " Thank God, I have done my duty. I have done my duty!" " My dear," said Sir Walter Scott to his son on his death-bed," be a good man; be virtuous, be religious, be a good man. Noth- ing else can give you comfort when you come to lie here." " Live well!" said the dying Samuel Johnson. We have only one way into life, and a thousand ways out of it. Birth and death are but the circling of life in itself. God gives us our being, and gives us the custody of the keys of life. We can do, and labor, and love our fellow-creatures, and do our duty to them. " The way to judge of religion," says Jeremy Taylor, " is by doing our duty. Religion is rather a divine life than a divine knowledge. In heaven, indeed, we must first see, and then love; but here, on earth, we must first love, and love will open our eyes as well as our hearts, and we shall then see and perceive and understand." 638 The Last If we would face the future, we must work on cour- ageously from day to day. It is in the steadfast hope of an existence after death, where tears shall be wiped from every eye, that we are enabled to live through the sorrows and troubles of this life. A man's true wealth hereafter is the good he does in this world to his fellow-creatures. When he dies people will say, " What property has he left?" But the angels who ex- amine him will ask, " What good deeds hast thou sent before thee?" To everything under the sun there is a last. The last line of a book, the last sermon, the last speech, the last act of a life, the last words at death. " Bring my soul out of prison, that I may give thanks unto Thy name," were the last words of St. Francis of Assisi. Hie jacet is the universal epitaph. Then the secrets of all hearts shall be finally revealed — at the last day. MpiiSsss^ The Flood of Years, A MIGHTY Hand, from an exhaustless Urn, Pours forth the never-ending Flood of Years, Among the nations. How the rushing waves Bear all before them ! On their foremost edge, And there alone, is Life. The Present there Tosses and foams, and fills the air with roar Of mingled noises. There are they who toil, And they who strive, and they who feast, and they Who hurry to and fro. The sturdy swain — Woodman and delver with the spade — is there, And busy artisan beside his bench, And pallid student with his written roll. A moment on the mounting billows seen, The flood sweeps over them, and they are gone. There groups of revelers whose brows are twined With roses, ride the topmost swell awhile, And as they raise their flowing cups, and touch The clinking brim to brim, are whirled beneath 639 640 The Flood of Years. . , The waves, and disappear. I hear the jar Of beaten drums, and thunders that break forth From cannon, where the advancing billow sends Up to the sight long files of armed men, That hurry to the charge through flame and smoke. The torrent bears them under, whelmed and hid, Slayer and slain, in heaps of bloody foam. Down go the steed and rider, the plumed chief Sinks with his followers ; the head that wears The imperial diadem goes down beside The felon's with cropped ear and branded cheek. A funeral-train — the torrent sweeps away Bearers and bier and mourners. By the bed Of one who dies men gather sorrowing, Arid women weep aloud ; the flood rolls on ; The wail is stifled, and the sobbing group Borne under. Hark to. that shrill, sudden shout, The cry of an applauding multitude, Swayed by some loud-voiced orator who wields The living mass as if he were its soul ! The waters choke the shout, and all is still. Lo ! next a kneeling crowd, and one who spreads The hands in prayer : the ingulfing wave o'ertakes And swallows them and him. A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty ; at his easel, eager eyed, A painter stands, and sunshine at his touch Gathers upon his canvas, and life glows ; A poet, as he paces to and fro, Murmurs his sounding lines. Awhile they ride The advancing, billow, till its tossing crest Strikes them and flings them under, white their tasks Are yet unfinished. See a mother smile On her young babe that smiles to her again : The torrent wrests it from her arms ; she shrieks The Flood of Years. 641 And weeps, and midst her tears is carried down. A beam like that of moonlight turns the spray To glistening pearls ; two lovers, hand in hand, Rise on the billowy swell, and fondly look Into each other's eyes. The rushing flood Flings them apart : the youth goes down ; the maid With hands outstretched in vain, and streaming eyes, Waits for the next high wave to follow him. An aged man succeeds ; his bending form Sinks slowly. Mingling with the sullen stream Gleam the white locks, and then are seen no more. Lo ! wider grows the stream, — a sea-like flood Saps earth's walled cities ; massive palaces Crumble before it ; fortresses and towers Dissolve in the swift waters ;' populous realms Swept by the torrent see their ancient tribes Ingulfed and lost ; their very languages Stifled, and never to be uttered more. I pause and turn my eyes and looking back Where that tumultuous flood has been, I see The silent ocean of the Past, a waste Of waters weltering over graves, its shores Strewn with the wreck of fleets were mast and hull Drop away piecemeal ; battlemented walls Frown idly, green with moss, and temples stand Unroofed, forsaken by the worshiper. There lie memorial stones, whence time has gnawed The graven legends, thrones of kings o'erturned, The broken altars of forgotten gods, Foundations of old cities and long streets Where never fall of human foot is heard, On all the desolate pavement. I behold Dim glimmerings of lost jewels, far within The sleeping waters, diamond, sardonyx, Ruby and topaz, pearl and chrysolite, 642 The Flood of Years. Once glittering at the banquet on fair brows That long ago were dust ; and all around Strewn on the surface of that silent sea Are withering bridal wreaths, and glossy locks Shorn from dear brows by loving hands, and scrolls O'er-written, haply with fond words of love And vows of friendship, and fair pages flung Fresh from the printer's engine. There they lie A moment, and then sink away from sight. I look, and the quick tears are in my eyes, For I behold in every one of these A blighted hope, a separate history Of human sorrows, telling of dear ties Suddenly broken, dreams of happiness Dissolved in air, and happy days too brief That sorrowfully ended, and I think How painfully must the poor heart have beat. In bosoms without number, as the blow Was struck that slew their hope and broke their peace. Sadly I turn and look before, where yet The Flood must pass, and I behold a mist Where swarm dissolving forms, the brood of Hope, Divinely fair, that rest on banks of flowers, Or wander among rainbows, fading soon And re-appearing, haply giving place To forms of grisly aspect such as Fear Shapes from the idle air, — where serpents lift The head to strike, and skeletons stretch forth The bony arm in menace. . Further on A belt of darkness seems to bar the way, Long, low, and distant, where the life to come Touches the life that is. The Flood of Years Rolls toward it near and nearer. It must pass That dismal barrier. What is there beyond ? Hear what the wise and good have said. Beyond The Flood of Years. 643 That belt of darkness, still the years roll on More gently, but with not less mighty sweep. They gather up again and softly bear All the sweet lives that late were overwhelmed And lost to sight, all that in them was good, Noble, and truly great, and worthy of love, — The lives of infants and ingenuous youths, Sages, and saintly women who have made Their households happy; all are raised and borne By that great current in its onward sweep, Wandering and rippling with caressing waves Around green islands fragrant with the breath Of flowers that never wither. So they pass From stage to stage along the shining course Of that bright river, broadening like a sea. As its smooth eddies curl along their way They bring old friends together ; . hands are clasped In joy unspeakable; the mother's arms Again are folded round the child she loved And lost. Old sorrows are forgotten now, Or but remembered to make sweet the hour That overpays them; wounded hearts that bled Or broke are healed for ever. In the room Of this grief-shadowed present, there shall be A Present in whose reign no grief shall gnaw The heart, and never shall a tender tie Be broken; in whose reign the eternal Change That waits on growth and action shall proceed With everlasting Concord hand in hand. HOME. MONTGOMERY. fHERE is a land, of every land the pride, Beloved of Heaven o'er all the world beside, Where brighter suns dispense serener light, And milder moons imparadise the night, — A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth, Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth. The wandering mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, Views not a realm so beautiful and fair, Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air. In ever}' clime the magnet of his soul, Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole; For in this land of Heaven's peculiar grace, The heritage of nature's noblest race, There is a spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest, Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside His sword and scepter, pageantry and pride, While in his softened looks benignly blend The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend. Here woman reigns: the mother, daughter, wife, Strews with fresh flowers the narrow way of life; In the clear heaven of her delighted eye, An angel-guard of Loves and Graces lie; Around her knees domestic duties meet, And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet. Where shall that land, that spot of earth, be found? Art thou a man? a patriot? — look around: O, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, That land thy country, and that spot thy home ! 644 «I*INDEX.^ Abauzit, his patience, 284. Abbot, Dr., on the character of I Sackville, 86. Ability, speculative and practical, j 148. Accuracy, 490, 491. Action a part of duty, 249. Activity, examples of, 474. Adams, President, his mother, 36; and Washington, 103. Addison, 311; Secretary of State, I 140. Admiration of the great and good, 68, 72, 106, 181. Adulteration, 266, 267. Adversity, uses of, 177, 559, 560. African women and Mungo Park, 615. Akenside, poet, 308. Albert, Prince, and the chief prize, 96. Alexander the Great, on pleasure and toil, 118, 295. America, bad work in. 268, 270: re- pudiation in, 277, 273. Adrian VI., 313. Angelo, Michael, 282, 463, 447; and Francis de Medicis, 78; and self- help, 177. Anne. Queen, literary men in reign of, 140. Antisthenes and Diogenes, 176. Anquetil, 176. Application and perseverance, 331. 333, 334, 563. Apprenticeship in America. 268. Ariosto, and Leo X., 78; his genius for business, 142. Aristotle, portrait of the magnani- mous, 181. Arkwright, Sir R,, 397, 403. Arnold, Dr., on personal example, 70; on admiration, 72. Arnold, Matthew 144. Askew, Anne, martyr, 163. 645 Association, influence of, 57. Athens, cause of its decline, 115. Attention, habit of, 335. Attica, its smaliness and greatness, 114. Audley, (Court of Wards) on dishon- esty" in the office, 217. Audubon, ornithologist, his perse- verance, 339. Augustine, St., his boyhood, 25;. on force of habit, 26. Bacon, Lord, 304, 322, 461: his mother, 36; a man of business, 139; on practical wisdom, 141; on leisure, 150; on resolution, 252; on economy, 521. Bailey, Samuel B., literary man and banker, 145. Bankers, literary, 145. Bankruptcy, dishonest, 271. Banks, sculptor, 468. Bannockburn, Douglas and Ran- dolph at, 179. Barberini,Vase, the. and Wedgwood, 386, 387. Barbers, eminent, 397, 398. Bargain-buying, 58, 584. Barry, painter, and Edmund Burke. 209. Beaumont. Sir G-., admiration of Claude. 81. Beethoven and Handel. 79. Bell, SirC, on example, 55: admira- tion of, 181. Bentham, Jeremy, on self-control. 203; on happiness, 288: description of a liberal, 173. Beranger, his songs, 211. Bernard, St., on self -injury. 95. Bible, a series of biographies. 625. Bicknell, husband of Sabrina Syd- ney. 136. Bigness, not greatness. 113. 646 Index. Biography, its uses, 303, 304; a les- son of, 82, 625. Biot, Laplace's generous conduct to, 179. Bird, 462, 465. Birkenhead, loss of the, 192. Blackstone, Sir William, 311. Boccaccio, a diplomatist, 141. Bolingbroke on Marlborough's char- acter, 16. Books, companionship of, 623; society of, 624. Bonald, on education, 252. Boniface, St., and work, 125. Borrowing, danger of, 523. Bossuet, his industry, 131. Boswell and Johnson, 73. Bottgher, J. F., his early life, 372; his boyish trick in Alchemy, 372, 373; his troubles, 373, 378; makes red porcelain, 376 ; makes white por- celain, 377; his death, 380. Boulton and Watt, 401. Brain work, 155. Bremer, Miss, on the power of evil words, 202. Bright, John, on frugality, 516. Brindley, engineer, 504, 306. Broderip, Mr., naturalist, 145. Brooke, Lord, on the character of Sir P. Sidney, 66. Brotherton, Joseph, M. P., 317. Brougham, Lord, on education of the child, 19; his maternal grand- mother, 36; his industry, 137; on hobbies, 151. Brown, SirS., 450. Brown, Capt. John, on character, 62. Browne, Sir T., his profession, 139; on truthfulness, 231. Brunei, Sir I., a thoughtful observer, 450. Bruno, martyrdom of, 154. Buckland, Dr. , assailed because of his views of Geology, 160. Buffon, Comte de, as student, 343: on enthusiam in the young, 290. Burke, Edmund, on example, 54 ; his advice to Barry, 209 ; on suDerfme virtues, 85 ; on the power of virtue, 92; his infirmity of temper, 92; his cheerfulness, 285; Fox's ad- miration of, 67. Burritt, .Elihu, 546. Business habits, and discipline, 195 ; necessary for women, 45, 132 ; and genius, 135. Butler, on duty in action, 254. Buxton, Sir Fowell, 550. Byron, Lord, on Dante, 108; on Sheri- dan, 216; on hope, 296. Caesar, Julius, power of his name after death, 104; his authorship and generalsnip, 134, 152. Caesarism, fallacy of, 300. Caldron, a soldier, 142. Callcott, Sir A., 464. Callistratus, the inspirer of Demos- thenes, 77. Callot, Jacques, artist, 471. Calvin, energy of, 107. Camoens, a soldier, 142. Canning, his mother, 37; admiration of Pitt, 80 ; and literature, 152. Carev, William* missionary, 307, 338, 339. Carew, Lady E., on noble scorn, 205. Carlyle on Johnson. 73; on control of speech, 203; on concentration of energy, 256; his destroyed MSS., 341; on biography, 623.* Cecil on method, 490. Cellini, Benvenuto, his origin, 473; his career, 474, 475; statue of Perseus, 476. Cervantes, a ^olclier, 142. Chalmers, Rev. Dr., on honesty, 509. Chantry, Sir Francis, 309. Character, formation of, 22, 31, 92; influence of, 84; and the home. 17; and will, 96; and reverence, 99, 106; and discipline, 191; is formed of duty, conscience and will, 245, 251; and truthfulness. 230; is power, 544; and marriage. 610 ; and manner, 619. Charity, practical, 206. Charles I., literary men emploved by, 139. Charles IX., death of, 403. Chateaubriand and Washington, 66. Chatterton, poet, 549. Chatham, Earl of, his public honesty, 217; his inspiring energy, 103. Chaucer, Geoffrey, a man of busi- ness, 134, 482. Cheerfulness, 277. 286, 336. Chesterfield, Earl of, on truthful- ness, 230; on hardening of the heart with age, 283; custom and habit, 279. Child, the, and the home, 19. Chisholm, Mrs., 188. Christianity and work, 125. Circumstances and character, 34, 92. Civilization, home, the school of, 18; and mothers, 24 ; and thrift, 564. Index. 64' Clarendon, his character of Hamp- den, 230. €larkson and anti-slavery, 175. Classical studies, uses of, 152. Claude Lorraine and constable, 81. Cleanliness and self-respect, 621. Cobden, R., his laboriousness, 137; an antagonistic man, 175: on thrift, 516. Cockburn, Lord, on the personal in- fluence of Dugald Stewart, 62. Colbert, on the character of the Dutch, 114. Coleridge, S. T., on idlaness and methodical industry, 131. Coligni, Admiral, his granddaughter, Charlotte de la Tremouille, 186. Columbus, a careful observer, 140. Commercial honestvand dishonesty, 266, 268, 271. Common sense, 91, 2C5. Commonwealth, literary men em- ployed by, 140. Companionship, 53-56; in marriage, 610; of books, 623. Confucius, and will, 244, 245. Congreve, a man of business, 140. Conscience is the origin of religion, 237, 238 ; is living and gives self- control, 239, 240; gives happiness and magnanimity, 240-241 ; is the origin of all virtues, 247, 248. Constable, R. A., and Lord Lorraine. 81. Contagiousness of energy and ge- nius, 169, 70, 77, 102, 177. Control of self, 190, 201, 226, 621. Copernicus, followers of, persecuted. 160. Cornwallis, Lord, and Col. Xapier, 217. Cornwall, Barry (Mr. Proctor), 144. Courage, 157; common, 169: in wo- men, 184; and character, 226; is always necessary, 259. 260. Courageous working, 537. Courtesy,. 620, 178. Cowardice, moral, 213, 170. Cowlev, on the influence of example, 217; employed by Chas. 1., 139. Culture, worship of, 260 : vanity of. 261. Cunningham, Allen, his admiration of Sir W. Scott, 74. Custom and habit, 55, 113. D'Alembert, 562. Dalton, John, 334. Daniel, poet, on self-education of character, 97. Dante, his influence on history, 71, 108; a man of business, 141. Dargan, William, on independence, 301. Darwin, on conscience, 242. Davenport of Stamford, 237. Davy, Sir H., 312, 457. 458: in bov- hood, 562. Death, happv and unhappy, 635- 638. Debt, immorality of, 213. Decision, 551; and indecision, 168, 225. Decline of nations, causes of, 114. De Foe, D , a man of business, 143. Delpini and Sheridan, 92. Demosthenes, fired by Callistratus, 77. Denison, Edward, on Providence, 573. Derby, Earl of, his translation of the "Iliad," 155; (Lord Stanley), on work. 123. Descartes, a soldier, 142; his views denounced as irreligious, 160. De Tocqueville. on literature, 152. Difficulties make a good school, 257. Diligence indispensable, 320, 321. Diplomatists and diplomacy, 141, •142, 232. Discipline, value of, 187, 226. Discontent, 291. Discoveries not accidental, 446. Dishonest gains, 510, 511. Dishonest living, 214, 215. Diogenes and Antisthenes, 176. Disraeli, Benjamin, M. P., 323, 326, 327: on Cobden, 81; as a literary man, 155. Disraeli, Isaac, and Dr. Johnson, 75. Domestic training, 19, 193. Domitian, his hobby, 150. Douglas, the, at Otterburn, 104; at Bannoekburn, 179; Catherine, her brave conduct at Perth, 186. Douglas, S. A., and repudiation, 273. Dowry, greatest of a nation, 109. Drake, Sir F.. Admiral, 311, 629; his education by toil, 127. Drew, Samuel, shoemaker and meta- physician, 321; his origin, 348; his courage, 349, 350 ; his studies. 352; his writings, 353, 354; on frugality, 515, 549. Drinking, vice of, 212, 529. Dupanloup, on liberty among chil- dren, 255. Dutch, energy of, 115. Duty, sphere of. 85, 222, 236; 648 Index. sustaining power of, 86, 227; Wellington, 229; in the New Testament, 245, 246; forms char- acter, 247; gives peace in death, 635, 638. Duty and action, 249, 260. Duty and honesty, 226, 276. Dyer, Mary, a New England mar- tyr, 163. Economy and indenendence, 518- 519. Edgeworth, Mr., 394. Education in courage, 184; of wo- men, 47. Edwardes, Colonel, 311. Edwards, Thomas, Banff, 307. Edwards, Sir. H., and General Nicholson, 66. Egotism, 291. Eliot, Sir J., his execution, 165. Elizabeth, reign of, great men in, 108, 139. Elliott, Ebenezer, poet, a man of business, 143 ; on success, 257, 258. Emerson, on civilization, 24; on imitation, 54; on history, 626. Energy, contagiousness of, 69, 70, 77, 176, 102; its influence, 96, 98; of will, 225 ; and courage, 534. Ennui, Helvetius on the use of, 138. Enthusiasm, youthful, uses of, 290. Envy of small minds, 75. Etiquette. 620. Etty, William, 183. Example, influence of, 19; better than precept, 22, 65; of compan- ions, 53; Dr. Arnold's, 61; of the great, 77. Faraday, Professor, 309, 457, 458; inspiration o £ his friendship, 68. Farini, merchant, 142. Fast living, tendency to, 582, 583. Ferguson, astronomer, 455, 549. Fichte, on love, 616. Fielding, Henry, his cheerfulness, 282. First impressions, 20. Flaxman, John, sculptor, 462, 386. Food, women and the art of prepar- ing, 52. Foote, Sam, and his mother, 43. Forbearance, in act, 617. Formation of character, 22, 31, 92. Foster, John, 306 ; words of, 332. Fox, C. J., 318; his admiration of Burke, 67; his spirit of honor, 99; his painstaking, 489, 490, 55^. Franklin, Benjamin, a man of busi- ness, 143 ; Turgot's description of, 152; his discovery of the nature of lightning, 160; and electricity, 452; on thrift of time, 577; his integrity, 418. Franklin, Sir John, his tenderness, 437. Franklin, Lady, 187. Freedom and free will, 226; spirit- ual, 239. French, statesmen and literature, 152 ; gallantry of a French work- ingman, 180 ; of a French officer at Dettingen, 181; generals risen from the ranks, 315, 316. Fry, Mrs., 188. Fuller, Andrew, 352*; on the char- acter of Drake, 127. Gainsborough, painter, 461, 465. Galileo, his business pursuits, 142 ;. his persecution, 159; his observ- ing faculty, 449. Galvani and electricity, 452. Garrett, Miss., 188. Generosity of great men, 179. Genius, inspiring power of , 70, 107;. not incompatible with ability in business, 136 ; definition of, 332,453. Gesner, naturalist, 313. Gentleman, Sir T. Overbury, on the true, 100 ; Aristotle on the same, 181. Gentleness, influence of, 629. Gibson, John, artist, 306. Gibson, William, 307. Gifford, William, 307, 455 ; on busi- ness and literature, 141. Girard, Stephen, on strong tempers, 198. Gladstone, W. E., on Lord Palmer- ston's character, 101. Goethe, his mother, 39; on the present moment, 248; on goody- goody persons, 286. Goldoni and business, 142. Goodness, diffusive, 62. Gotos, South American, 208. Government, and character, 111; origin of, 119; and individual action, 298, 299. Gray, poet, his mother, 39. Great men, influence of, 71, 103-110;; homage of, 78 ; their cheerfulness,. 281. Greece, influence of, in history, 107. Gretry (musician), on good mothers, 27. Index. 649 Greville. Fulke, his character of Sir P. Sidney, 179. Grimaldi and his physician, 292, 293. Grote, Mr., historian, 483. Grumblers at fortune, 290. Grundy, Mrs., despotism of, 170. Habits, force of, 50 ; of business, 138, 195 ; training of, i94; consolidation of, in character, 226. Hall, Capt, Basil and Sir W. Scott,283. Hall, Dr. Marshall, his energy, 69; on indolence, 121 ; on truthful- ness, 234; on cheerfulness, 280. Hampden, 230; industry of, 137; Clarendon's character of, 196. Handel, admiration of, by great musicians, 79. H appiness, from duty, 240, 241 : and temper, 277. Hardenberg, F. von (JYova-hs), 131. Hardin ge. Lord, 311. Hastings, Warren, 311. Havelock at Vera, 102. Hawkswood, Sir John, 307. Hawthorne, Nathaniel, on sexual affection. 616, 617. Haydn, 312; and Porpora, 78; and Handel, 79. Haydon and Sir J. Reynolds. 74; on debt, 523. Hazlitt, on money and debt, 215; on business, 479. Health, of great men, 547, 548; pleasures of, 631 ; injuries to, 632. Heathcoat, John, M P., inventor of bobbin-net machine, 411, 418-428. Heilmann, Joshua, inventor of the combining machine, and its value, 440-445. Heinzelmann, on honorable living. 224. Helps, Arthur, literature and busi- ness, 144. Helvetius, on ennui, 138. Herbert, George, his mother's say- ing about example, 53; George Herbert on the good priest's life. 65 ; maxims of, 150. 187, 203, 208, 233. Hereditary greatness, 112. Herodotus, the inspirer of Thucyd- ides, 77. Heroes of youth, 74. 102. Herschel, astronomer, 309. Herschel. Sir J., as Master of the Mint, 148. History and great men, 107; and biograDhv, 626. Hobbies uses of, 151. Hobson, Admiral, 307. Hoche, General, 315. Hodson of Hodson's Horse, 311. Hogarth. William, painter, 466, 467. Holland, character of its people, 114. Home, a school of character, 17: of moral discipline. 193; influence, 254, 255, 262; the kingdom of, 617: and civilization, 633; and children. 633. Honesty. 263-265; of speech, 204 ; the best policy, 507-511. Honor, sense of, 225; the gentle- man's sense of, 627, 628. Hooker, Dr.. on a good life, 65; a hard-working priest, 139. Hook, Rev. Dr., on work, 337. Hope, Thales on, 295 ; a helper, 338. Horner, Francis, his father's advice, 520. Household management and busi- ness habits, 45. Humbert, General, 315. Humboldt, the brothers, 148. Hume, on moral principle, 90; on high living, 527. Hunter. John, anatomist, 306, 312, 334; and his discoveries, 161; his patient industry, early life and career, 554, 555, 558. Hutchinson, Col., his moral courage, 173; his truthfulness, 230. Hutten, on Luther's courage, 165. ! Hutton, Wm. (of Birmingham), 143. Hypocrisy and time-serving, 172. Idleness, its demoralizing tendencv, 114, 117, 119 ; wretchedness of. 570. Illinois, honesty of, 272, 273. Imagination and fear, 183, 208, 291. Imitation, in childhood, 19, 22; power of, 55. Impatience. 205. Indecision, evils of, 168, 225. Independence, how secured, 519, 520. Indignation, honest, 204. Individualism and freedom, 297- 300; its influence, 303. Industry, necessity of, 117; duty of, 123; of Sir W. Scott. 129. 217: its power, 137; results of, 333; and success, 462, 463. \ Inquisition, persecutions by the, 159. Inspiration : of goodness, 66 ; of ! genius, 79; of energy, 98-100: of. books, 626. Institutions, made by great men r '650 Index. 107; of little value compared with character, 111. Intellect and character, 86. Intrepidity, intellectual, 174. Inventors, benefits to society. 392, 393. Irving, Washington, and Sir W. Scott, 110, 283. 284; on deserts, 487, 488. Israel, influence of people of, 113. Italy, and Dante, 108; Pliny, on early rural condition of , 118; great literary men of, 141. Jackson, W., of Birkenhead, 318, 319. Jacquard, inventor, 428-432. James I. (England), great literary activity in reign of, 139. James II. (Scotland), courageous conduct of his court ladies, 186. Jameson, Mrs., on duty, 223. Jefferson and Washington, 103. Jervis, Admiral, on debt, 526. Johnson, Andrew, President of the United States, 308. Johnson, Dr., his regard for his mother, 33; on admiration of others, 72 ; his own admirers, 73 ; on 3Iilton : s industry, 140 ; on self- control, 194: on temper, 197; his cheerfulness, 282 ; on observation, 448 ; on genius, 453 ; on economy, 585, 586; on poverty, 586. Jonson, Ben, 185, 306. Jones, Inigo, 306, 462. Justice and duty, 223. Kaye, Sir John, 144. Kepler, denounced as a heretic, 160, 310, 333. Kindness, power of, 288. Knowledge, and goodness, 552; ac- quired by labor, 570. Knox, John, his influence on Scotch history and character, 108 : energy of, 177. Labor, necessity of, 117; condition of enjoyment, 122; power and, 137; a blessing, 391; leads to wealth, 564; is never lost, 566, 567; a necessity and pleasure, 568; St. Paul on, 569; gives knowl- edge, 570; and progress, 571; makes the man, 600. Laborers' sons, distinguished,'306. Lacordaire. on speech and silence, 203. Lamark, a soldier, 142. Lamartine, his mother, 44; and literature, 152. Lamb, Chas., on relief from desk drudgery, 128 ; a clerk in the India House, 144. Lamennais's opinion on will, 540. Langdale, Lord, and Sir William Napier's "History," 69. Laplace, and Napoleon, 149; and Biot, 179. Lathom House, gallant defei>se of, 186. Latimer, martyr, 163. Lawrences, the, 462. Lavard, Austen, his perseverance, 3*12. Laziness, danger of, 260, 261. Learning and character, 85; is not happiness, 253, 254 ; is not moral- ity. 254. 255; and wisdom, 552, 5o3. Lee, Professor, linguist, 455. I Lee, Rev. William, inventor of stocking-loom, 411-416. Leisure, enjoyment of, 122. Length of years not length of life, 125. Leonardo da Vinci and Francis L, 78. Leon, De, his self-control, 204. Lewis, Sir G. C, his love of litera- ture, 154. Liberty, the end of training, 255. Life, uncertainty of, 590, 591. Lillo, a jeweler, 142. Lindsay, W. S., 318. Linnaeus, naturalist, 481. Literary, men and business, 140- 141; statesmen. 152: culture, 552, 553. Little things, importance of, 599- 605. Livingstone, Dr.. missionary, 306. Locke, on habit, 55 ; a man of busi- ness, 140 ; on education of the will. 252, 253; on debt, 524. Lockhart and Sir W. Scott, 220. Longevity, Sir G-. C. Lewis and, 154. Loo, manners of the great, 82. Loom, the Jacquard, 434-436. Lope de Vega, a soldier, 142. Lorraine, Claude, painter, 461. 468, 469. Louis XIV. , why unable to conquer the Dutch, 114; and toil, 137. Love, sympathetic power of, 287. Loyola energy of, 177. Lubbock, Sir J., and business, 145. Index. 651 Luck does not make men, 600. Luddites, the, machine-breakers, 424, 425. Lunatic asylums and only children, 193. Luther, his poverty, 89 ; his intrepid example, 98; his influence on German history, 108 ; hislaborious- ness, 125; his courage, 165; his energy, 177; Charles V. at the tomb of, 181; his cheerfulness, 280; his happiness in marriage, 617. Luxury, 274. Lying, meanness of, 231, 232. Lyndnurst, Lord, defense of Heath- coat's patent, 422; on difficulty, 561. Lyons silk industry, 436. Macauley, Lord, on Boswell, 73 ; lit- erature and business, 144. Macleod, Norman, on character, 246, 247; on life battles/257. M'Clintock, Sir L., and his search for Sir J. Franklin, 187. Maginn, his improvidence, 214. Magnanimity, 242. Magnanimous men, the, 181. Maistre, De, on mothers' influence, 32. . Malcolm, Sir J., his cheerfulness, 285. Manchester, Bishop of, on agricult- ural laborers, 597. Manhood from self-control, 240. Manner, importance of, 618. Marathon, Themistocles and, 77. Marcus Aurelius, on good qualities, 242. Marlborough, Lord Bolingbroke on, 76; his patience, 295, Marriage, responsibility of, 582. Marten, Henry, on a well-spent life, 82. Martin, John, artist, 462. Martyn, Henry, early influence of a companion on, 58. Martyrs, of faith, 153 ; of science, 159. Massena, Marshal, 315,. 316. Maternal influence, 21, 31. Mathew, Father, 175. Maupertius, a soldier, 142. Maxims of men as to work, 130. Mean natures, 76; can not admire, 182. Melancholy, causes of, 120. Melbourne, Lord, and Moore the poet's son, 484. Memories of the great, 109. Method, 490. Michelet, his mother, 42. Middleton, Bishop, on manner, 618. Mill, J., on cause of the necessity for government, 119. Mill, J. S., 300, 483 ; his combination of literature with business, 144; on resistance to motives, 238. Miller, Hugh, geologist, on educa- tion, 262 ; his origin, 321 ; on work as a teacher, 391, 536; on drink, 529, 530. Miltiades, his fame envied by The- mistocles, 77. Milton, John, 312; as a man of business, 140, 482; his cheerful- ness, 282. Miseries, self -indulged, 72, 183, 208, 291. Misfortune and stupidity, 486, 487. Models, importance of, for children, 22; of character, 102, 109. Mohammed, energy of, 177. Money, and honest-living, 213 ; rep- resents independence, 581 ; its use and abuse, 512; making and sav- ing, 531, 532. Monica, mother of St. Augustine, 25. Montague, Lady M. W., on Field- ing, 282; and' Pope, 613. Montaigne, on philosophy and busi- ness, 147. Moore, Sir John, and the Napiers, 69. - Moral courage, 148, 157. Moral cowardice, 173, 212, 225. Morality, 216 ; political and individ- ual, 111. More, Sir Thomas, his gentle nature, 66. Mortality, laws of, 592. Mosely, Canon, on the diffusiveness of good, 64 ; on religion, 238. Mothers, influence of, 22, 24; of great men, 31. Motley, on the princes of the house of Nassau, 199. Mozart and Handel, 79. Mulready, artist, 468. Murat, Marshal, 315, 316. Murchison, Sir R., 187. Napiers, the, their mother, 35; their admiration of Sir John Moore, 69, ■ 102; their honesty, 217. Napoleon, I., his opinion of mothers' influence, 30, 51; his respect for labor, 126; and men of science, 149; his temper, "200; and Jac- 652 Index. quard, 435 ; as a business man, at- tentive to details, 497-499; his character, and on will, 542. Napoleon III., on the cause of French decadence, 51 ; and litera- ture, 152. Napoleonic dynasty, Beranger and Thiers, and the, 210, 211. Nassau, William of, 173, 186. National character, 110. National prosperity is not real pros- perity, 596, 597. Nelson, Admiral, an inspiration to his followers, 103, 311 ; his punc- tuality, 493. Newton, Sir Isaac, Buffon's admira- tion of, 80; and business, 148; as irreligious, 160 ; sayings of, 332, 333, 448, 454; as a man of busi- ness, 482, 546. Newton, of Olney, influence of his mother, 26. Ney, Marshal, 315, 316. Nicholson, General, and Sir II. Ed-- wardes, 66. Niebuhr, Perthes's estimate of, 67; and business, 148. Nightingale, Miss Florence, as hos- pital nurse, 188. Normandy, Marquis of, and litera- ture, 155. Norris, E., philology and business, 144. Northcote, painter, 462. Nova-lis, on energy without good- ness, 98; his real name, 131; on character, 250. Nurseries, the schools of civilization, 18. Observation, intelligent, 448, 449. Omar, the Caliph, 104. Opie, painter, 306, 454, 462. Orange, William of, his power after death, 104. Outram, Sir J., his gentleness, 178. Overcrowding, 632. Owen, Richard, naturalist, 312. Pakington, Sir J., on popularity, 173. Paley, Dr., early influence of an associate on, 60. Palissy, the potter, 355-371. Palmerston, Lord, his character, 101; his laboriousness, 137 ; on Sir Gr. C. Lewis, 154; and Sheridan, 216; his cheerfulness, 281. Parental example and precept, 20, 25, 30. Paris, Dr., and his book on "Phi- losophy in Sport," etc., 144. Park, Mungo, and the African woman, 615. Pascal, on the immensity of nature, 243, 244. Patience, virtue of, 195, 284. Patient labor, its results, 332, 336, 344, 561, 562. Patriotism, true and false, 112. Paul, St., on duty, 222, 223. Peacock, Thos. L., author of " Head- long Hall," 144. Peel family, the, 404, 411. Peel, Sir Robert, statesman, his cul- tivation of memory, 335. Pennies, taking care of the, 604, 608. Perga?us and conic sections, 451. Perner, Francois, artist, 471. Persecution of scientific men, 158; of religious men and women, 162. "Perseus," casting of, 476, 478. Perseverance, 177; its value and re- sults, 332-334, 339-347, 354, 359- 368, 488; commands success, 562. Personal influence of great men, 71, 103. Perthes, Caroline, on useful occupa- tion, 127. Perthes, F., on Niebuhr, 67; on learned men, 87; on honest indig- nation, 204: on cheerfulness, 294, 295. Peter the Hermit, 104. Petrarch, man of business, 141. Philanthropy, in women, 188. Physicians, eminent in literature and science, 142. Pitt, Wm., and Canning, 80; love of literature, 152; his patience, 195. Plato, on the creation of the world, 1 62 ; his teaching, 245. Pliny, on early Roman industry, 118: his favorite maxim, 131. Politeness, 620. Politics, secret of success in, 195. Pollock, Lord Chief Baron, 145. Pompey, his personal influence, 104 ; on duty, 227. Pope, Alexander, 312; as estimated by the Guinea trader, 75; his estimate of women, 612, 613. Popularity, pandering to, 172; Sir J. Pakington on,, 147; Washing- ton's indifference to, 228. Porcelain, invention of, 376. Porpora and Haydn, 78. Index. 6.">3 Portraiture of great and good men useful, 68. Potters, illustrious, 355. Poussin, N., artist, 447. Poverty, compatible with high character, 88, 214; and self-re- spect, 622. Power resides in industry, 137. Precept and example, 22, 65. Pretentiousness, 233. Priestley, Dr., 456, 457. Prime Minister, quality most re- quisite in, 195. Principles and character, 90. Prior, M., Under-secretary of State, 140. Procter, Mr. ("Barry Cornwall"),144. Progress, and labor, 571 ; of individ- uals and nations, 589. Promptitude, importance of, 492, 551. Prosperity, and adversity, 167 ; leads to greater expenditure, 594, 595. Punctuality, importance of, 347, 494, 495, 609. Purpose, force of, 535, 536. Pym, J., on courage in speaking the truth, 174. Pythagoras, on silence, 203. Querulousness, and discontent, 183, 207, 292. Rabelais, physician, 142. Raleigh, Sir W., a man of business, 139. Ramus, Pierre, 313. Randolph and Douglas at Bannock- burn, 179. Randolph, John, on mothers' influ- ence, 26. Randon, Marshal, 316. Raphael and Correggio, 81. Rectitude of the gentleman, 627. Reformers, antagonistic men, 175. Regulus, truth of, 265. Reliableness of character, 91. Religion, and self-control, 194; born of conscience, 238. Reverence, for great men, 78, 106; quality of, 99. Reynolds, Sir J., 311, 462, 465, 549; his reverence for Pope, 74. Ricardo, David, political economist, 145, 482. Richardson, S., and business, 143. Riches and worth a temptation to ease, 322. Ridley, martyr, 163. Robbia, Luca della, sculptor, 356. Robertson, Dr., his favorite maxim, 130. Robertson (of Brighton), on duty, 225. Robertson (of Ellon), on the great hope, 296. Rochefoucauld, De la, his maxim on friends, 75; a soldier, 142; on manner, 622. Rogers, S., and Dr. Johnson, 74; anecdote of his power of love, 288. Rome, causes of its decline, 114; laboriousness of early, 118. Romilly, Sir S., 324; on indolence, 121. Rosa, Salvator, 461. Roscoe, historian and banker, 145. Ross, Dr., on intent men, 550. Rosse, Lord, 322, 323. Roux, M., and Sir C. Bell, 80. Rudeness of manner, 619. Rudyard, Sir B., on honesty, 90. Ruskin, on the diffusiveness of good and evil, 64 ; on the power of cir- cumstances, 95 ; on lies, 265. Russell, Earl, 323. Rye, Miss, 188. Sainte-Beuve, on admiration of others, 71. Saint-Pierre, on honesty, 275, 276. Sales, St. Francis de, on kind words, 203; on temper, 293, 294; on politeness, 620. Sarah Sands, burning of the, 192. Sarcasm, dangers of, 202, 210. Saxony, Elector of, and Bottgher, 374, 375. Scarlatti and Handel, 79. Scheffer, Ary, his mother, 40; on womanly courage, 184. Schiller, his admiration of Shakes- peare, 80 ; on mechanical employ- ment, 127; a surgeon, 142; on duty, 257. Schimmelpenninck, Mrs., on associa- tion with the good, 58 ; on little things, 94; on discipline, 193. Science and its persecutors, 159. Scotland, John Knox's influence on character of, 108. Scott, Sir W., 811; his early taste nurtured, 20; on literary talent, 87; on occupation, 124; his indus- try, 129; his maxim, 130; his honesty, 220; his cheerfulness, 283; a patient worker, 345, 346, 456, 482 ; on self-education, 544. 654 Index. Sedgwick and geology, 160. Self-control, 19Q, 202, 226, 240. Self-culture, 544, 545. Self-denial, 513, 514; of Faraday, 200. Self-help, spirit of, 297, 302; means self-respect, 587, 588. Selfishness, self -punishment of, 125 ; of living, 212; miserable compan- ionship of, 290. Self-reliance, 96, 194; in women, 615. Self-respect, 61, 191, 555, 621. Seneca on vicious companionship, 56. Sexual affection, 615,616. Shaftesbury, on the cause of immo- rality, 213. Shakespeare, 305, 481 ; and Schiller, 80; and business, 139. Sharpe, Granville, and anti-slavery, 175 Sheridan, his want of reliableness, 92; his gentlemanliness, 99; his indebtedness, 216. Shovel, Sir Cloudesley, 306. Sidney, Sir P., Lord Brooke's char- acter of, 66 ; as a man of business, 139. Sincerity, 190, 230, 620, 622. Sjoberg (Vita-Us), 131. Smeaton, James, engineer, 311, 394, 546. Smith, the brothers ("Rejected Ad- dresses"), 144. Smith, Rev. Sydney, on honest liv- ing, 215. Smollett, a dyspeptic, 293. Snobs and snobbism, 171, 182. Society, of the good, 56 ; tyranny of, 170; of books, 624. Socrates, martyrdom of, 158; on superfluities, 214. Soldiers, distinguished in literature, 142. Solicitors, literary men, 145. Soult, Marshal, risen from the ranks, 315, 316; loot in Spain, 505. Sour-natured critics, 76, 292. Southey, Robert, 312 ; on early bias and education, 27; laboriousness of, 130. Speculative ability, 148. Speech and silence, 203. Spenser, a man of business, 142, 482. Spinola, and the character of the Dutch, 115. Spinoza, 481. Spurgeon, on truth, 264. Stafford, Earl of, his noble bearing, 165. Stanley, Lord (Earl of Derby), on. work, 123. Statesmen, and toil, 137; hobbies of, 151; French, and literature, 152. Steam-engine, invention of, 393, 394. Steele, Sir R., on woman's character^ 183, 612. Stephenson, George, 308; persever- ance, 341, 342, 546, 554. Stewart, Dugald, his elevating ex- ample, 62. Stone, Edmund, 456, 549. Stothard, painter, 454, 455. Strutt of Derby, 400, 401. Sully, his literary leisure, 152. Suwarrow, on will, 541, 542. Sycophancy, political, 171. Taglioni, labors of, 336. Tailors, distinguished, 307, 308. Talent and character, 90. Taylor, Sir H., on practical wisdom, 91 ; combination of literature and business, 143. Taylor, Jeremy, 305; on the provi- dence of God, 278, 279. Taylor, Tom, 144. Temper, troubles of, 195 ; strength of, 197; government of, 277; in marriage, 617. Temperament and manner, 621. Tempters of youth, 528, 530. Tenderness and courage, 178. Tenterden, Lord, 305. Thales, on hope, 295. Thiers and literature, 152. Thoroughness, 550, 551. Thrift, 515, 517; origin and defini- tion of, 564; an acquired prin- ciple, 573; gives capital, 574, 575: is within reach of all, 576-578; of time, 577 ; needs common sense, 578 ; needs a beginning, 578, 579 ; is a duty, 580; in youth, 584; is practical, 585; dignity of, 586, 587. Thriftlessness, of savages, 565, 566: of nations, 573, 574 : of individuals, 575; selfishness of, 579; depend- ence of, 581 ; cruelty of, 582 ; in prosperous times, 594, 595. Thucydides, his mind fired by Herodotus, 77. Ticknell, Under-secretary of State, 140. Tillotson, Archbishop, on decision of character, 169. Time, value of, 492, 494, 495. Timidity, to be avoided, 184. Index. 655 Titian, and Charles V., 78; his industry, 463. Tocqueville, Alexis de, 328, 329. Tools, education in use of, 546, 547. Trifles, attention to, 447, 448, 451, 488, 497. Trochu, on business habits, 133. Truth, 263-266 ; martyrs for, 158. Truthfulness, essential to character, 90 ; in living, 213 ; in action, 230. Tuf nell, Mr. , on influence of mothers, 31. Turgot, his literary leisure, 152. Turner, artist, 462, 469, 470. Turner, Sharon, solicitor and histo- rian, 144. Tvndall, Professor, 200 ; on Faraday, '177. Tyranny of strong drink, 212. Vattel, 142. _ Vaucanson, inventor, 432. Vauquelin, chemist, 313, 314. Ventilation, 632. Vera, incident at combat of, 102. Vesalius, his persecution, 159. Victor, Marshal, 315. Villani, 141. Vincent, Earl St., on debt, 526, 527. Vita-lis (Sjoberg), 131. Voltaire, his maxim, 130; on busi- ness and literature, 141. Walker, author of "Original," on will, 538. Wallenstein, his business habits, 134. Walpole, Horace, on bargains, 584. Walton, Izaak, a draper, 143. Warren, Samuel, 144. Wart, Gertrude von der, 185. Warwick, Sir P., on the sagacity of Hampden, 196. Washington, 494, 495; his mother, 33, 45; Chateaubriand's interview with, 66 ; power of his name, 103 ; a model man, 110; his business qualities, 142; his self-control, 199, 263; his sense of duty, 227. Waterloo, Wellington at, 200. Watt, James, 308, 394, 395; his per- severance, 342; a thoughtful observer, 450, 546. Weakness of purpose, 168. Wealth, and character, 88; by- labor, 564. Weavers' sons, illustrious, 306, 307. Wedgwood, Miss J., on patience, 205. Wedgwood, Josiah, 355; character and reputation of, 381-389. Wellesley and literature, 152. Wellington, Duke of, 542,543; his mother, 34; his business qualities, 134; his self-control, 200; on duty, 229; his truthfulness, 230, 231 ; a business man, his honesty, 497, 499-506; on accounts, 524. Wesley family: Mrs. Wesley, 38; John Wesley, 177. West, Benjamin, painter, 455, 462, 464. Wilkie, Sir David, 311, 455, 462. Will, and character, 96 ; freedom of, 55, 292; power of, 168, 538-542; energy of, 175 ; a divine gift, 225. William the Silent, 199, 203. Wilson, Professor, 312. Wilson, Richard, artist, 311, 462, 465, 553. Wisdom, 553; practical, 91, 207. Wollaston, Dr., 454. Women, business habits in, 45, 46; education of, 49, 613; elevation of character of, 49 ; their competi- tion with men, 52 ; useful occupa- tion necessary for, 126 ; wives and marriage. 610; influence of, 633, 634. Worcester, Marquis of, and steam- power, 322, 453. Words, rash and hasty, 202. Wordsworth, 311, 482; and his sis- ter, 68; his natural temper, 174; on self-reliance, 328. Work, an educator, 117; the duty of, 131; wholesomeness of, 127; good and bad, 267. 268; a neces- sity, 344, 345. Working-men, and self-respect, 88, 123; definition of, 572; thriftless- ness of, 593, 594. Worms, Luther at the Diet of, 164. Worry, 208. Wotton, Sir H., on diplomacy, 232. Yates, Peel & Co., 407-409. Young, Dr., philosopher, 339,448., x 0' * .0> ,0o ^ V v „0 8 ' A \V s s £ ^ 'o , i * .A x A °/ 4° C \ V °/ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 021 899 105 1