Character (1871) by Samuel Smiles (2024)

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Character (1871) is a book on character by Samuel Smiles.

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CHAPTER I.INFLUENCE OF CHARACTER."Unless above himself he can Erect himself, how poor a thing is man!" -Daniel."Character is moral order seen through the medium of an individual nature . . .Men ofcharacter are the conscience of the society to which they belong." -Emerson."The prosperity of a country depends, not on the abundance of its revenues, nor on the strength of its fortifications, nor on the beauty of its public buildings; but it consists in the number of its cultivated citizens, in its men of education, enlightenment, and character; here are to be found its true interest, its chief strength, its real power." -Martin Luther.CHARACTER is one of the greatest motive powers inthe world. In its noblest embodiments, it exemplifieshuman nature in its highest forms, for it exhibits manat his best.Men of genuine excellence in every station of life-men of industry, of integrity, of high principle, ofsterling honesty of purpose-command the spontaneoushomage of mankind. It is natural to believe in suchmen, to have confidence in them, and to imitate them.All that is good in the world is upheld by them, andwithout their presence in it the world would not beworth living in.Although genius always commands admiration, character most secures respect. The former is more theproduct of brain-power, the latter of heart-power; andin the long run it is the heart that rules in life. MenB2 Sphere of Common Duty.[ CHAP. I.of genius stand to society in the relation of its intellect,as men of character of its conscience; and while theformer are admired , the latter are followed.Great men are always exceptional men; and greatness itself is but comparative. Indeed, the range ofmost men in life is so limited, that very few have theopportunity of being great. But each man can act hispart honestly and honourably, and to the best of hisability. 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 aword, he can do his Duty in that sphere in whichProvidence has placed him.Commonplace though it may appear, this doing ofone's Duty embodies the highest ideal of life and character. There may be nothing heroic about it; butthe common lot of men is not heroic. And though theabiding sense of Duty upholds man in his highestattitudes, it also equally sustains him in the transaction of the ordinary affairs of everyday existence.Man's life is " centred in the sphere of common duties."The most influential of all the virtues are those whichare the most in request for daily use. They wear thebest, and last the longest. Superfine virtues, whichare above the standard of common men, may only besources of temptation and danger. Burke has trulysaid that " the human system which rests for its basison the heroic virtues is sure to have a superstructure ofweakness or of profligacy."When Dr. Abbot, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, drew the character of his deceased friend ThomasSackville, ¹ he did not dwell upon his merits as a states-¹ Sackville, Lord Buckhurst, Lord High Treasurer under Elizabeth and James I.•CHAP. I.] Sustaining Power ofDuty. 3man, or his genius as a poet, but upon his virtues as aman in relation to the ordinary duties of life. "Howmany rare things were in him! " said he. "Who moreloving unto his wife? -who more kind unto hischildren?—who more fast unto his friend?—who moremoderate unto his enemy?-who more true to hisword? " Indeed, we can always better understand andappreciate a man's real character by the manner inwhich he conducts himself towards those who are themost nearly related to him, and by his transaction of theseemingly commonplace details of daily duty, than byhis public exhibition of himself as an author, an orator,or a statesman.At the same time, while Duty, for the most part,applies to the conduct of affairs in common life by theaverage of common men, it is also a sustaining power tomen of the very highest standard of character. Theymay not have either money, or property, or learning,or power; and yet they may be strong in heart andrich in spirit-honest, truthful, dutiful. And whoeverstrives 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 aremany persons of whom it may be said that they have noother possession in the world but their character, andyet they stand as firmly upon it as any crowned king.Intellectual culture has no necessary relation topurity or excellence of character. In the New Testament, appeals are constantly made to the heart of manand to "the spirit we are of," whilst allusions to theintellect are of very rare occurrence. "A handful ofgood life, " says George Herbert, "is worth a bushelof learning. " Not that learning is to be despised, butthat it must be allied to goodness. Intellectual capacityis sometimes found associated with the meanest moralB24 Character above Learning. [ CHAP. I.character-with abject servility to those in high places,and arrogance to those of low estate. Aman may beaccomplished in art, literature, and science, and yet,in honesty, virtue, truthfulness, and the spirit of duty,be entitled to take rank after many a poor and illiteratepeasant."" 166 "You insist," wrote Perthes to a friend, on respectfor 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, delicacy of manner, tact and energy in action, love of truth,honesty, and amiability—that all these may be wantingin a man who may yet be very learned."When some one, in Sir Walter Scott's hearing, madea remark as to the value of literary talents and accomplishments, as if they were above all things to beesteemed and honoured, he observed, " God help us!what a poor world this would be if that were the truedoctrine! I have read books enough, and observedand conversed with enough of eminent and splendidlycultured minds too, in my time; but I assure you, Ihave heard higher sentiments from the lips of pooruneducated men and women, when exerting the spiritof severe yet gentle heroism under difficulties andafflictions, or speaking their simple thoughts as tocirc*mstances in the lot of friends and neighbours, thanI ever yet met with out of the Bible. We shall neverlearn to feel and respect our real calling and destiny,unless we have taught ourselves to consider everythingas moonshine compared with the education of theheart."" 2Still less has wealth any necessary connection withelevation of character. On the contrary, it is much1 'Life of Perthes,' ii . 217. 2 Lockhart's ' Life of Scott.'CHAP. I. ] Character above Wealth. 5more frequently the cause of its corruption and degradation. Wealth and corruption, luxury and vice, havevery close affinities to each other. Wealth, in the handsof men of weak purpose, of deficient self-control, or of illregulated passions, is only a temptation and a snare—the source, it may be, of infinite mischief both to themselves and to others.On the contrary, a condition of comparative povertyis compatible with character in its highest form. Aman may possess only his industry, his frugality, hisintegrity, and yet stand high in the rank of true manhood. The advice which Burns's father gave him wasthe best:“ He bade me act a manly part, though I had neʼer a farthing,For without an honest manly heart no man was worth regarding.”One of the purest and noblest characters the writerever knew was a labouring man in a northern county,who brought up his family respectably on an incomenever amounting to more than ten shillings a week.Though possessed of only the rudiments of commoneducation, obtained at an ordinary parish school, he wasa man full of wisdom and thoughtfulness. His libraryconsisted of the Bible, ' Flavel,' and ' Boston ' -bookswhich, excepting the first, probably few readers haveever heard of. This good man might have sat for theportrait ofWordsworth's well-known ' Wanderer. ' Whenhe had lived his modest life of work and worship, andfinally went to his rest, he left behind him a reputationfor practical wisdom, for genuine goodness, and for helpfulness in every good work, which greater and richermen might have envied.When Luther died, he left behind him, as set forthin his will, " no ready money, no treasure of coin ofany description. " He was so poor at one part of hisHonesty ofCharacter. [CHAP. I.life, that he was under the necessity of earning hisbread by turning, gardening, and clockmaking. Yet,at the very time when he was thus working with hishands, he was moulding the character of his country;and he was morally stronger, and vastly more honouredand followed, than all the princes of Germany.Character is property. It is the noblest of possessions. It is an estate in the general goodwill andrespect of men; and they who invest in it-thoughthey may not become rich in this world's goods -willfind their reward in esteem and reputation fairly andhonourably won. And it is right that in life goodqualities should tell-that industry, virtue, and goodnessshould rank the highest-and that the really best menshould be foremost.Simple honesty of purpose in a man goes a long wayin life, if founded on a just estimate of himself and asteady obedience to the rule he knows and feels to beright. It holds a man straight, gives him strength andsustenance, and forms a mainspring of vigorous action."No man," once said Sir Benjamin Rudyard, " is boundto be rich or great. -no, nor to be wise; but every manis bound to be honest. " 1But the purpose, besides being honest, must beinspired by sound principles, and pursued with undeviating adherence to truth, integrity, and uprightness.Without principles, à man is like a ship without rudderor compass, left to drift hither and thither with everywind that blows. He is as one without law, or rule, ororder, or government. " Moral principles," says Hume,66 are social and universal. They form, in a manner,the party of humankind against vice and disorder, itscommon enemy."1 Debate on the Petition of Right, A.D. 1628.CHAP. I.]Reliableness. 7Epictetus once received a visit from a certain magnificent orator going to Rome on a lawsuit, who wishedto learn from the Stoic something of his philosophy.Epictetus received his visitor coolly, not believing inhis sincerity. " You will only criticise my style," saidhe; " not really wishing to learn principles."-" Well,but," said the orator, " if I attend to that sort of thing,I shall be a mere pauper, like you, with no plate, norequipage, nor land."—" I don't want such things," replied Epictetus; " and besides, you are poorer than Iam, after all. Patron or no patron, what care I? Youdo care. I am richer than you. I don't care whatCæsar thinks of me. I flatter no one. This is what Ihave, instead of your gold and silver plate. You havesilver vessels, but earthenware reasons, principles, appetites. My mind to me a kingdom is, and it furnishesme with abundant and happy occupation in lieu of yourrestless idleness. All your possessions seem small toyou; mine seem great to me. Your desire is insatiate-mine is satisfied." 1Talent is by no means rare in the world; nor is evengenius. But can the talent be trusted?-can thegenius? Not unless based on truthfulness -on veracity.It is this quality more than any other that commandsthe esteem and respect, and secures the confidence ofothers. Truthfulness is at the foundation of all personal excellence. It exhibits itself in conduct. It isrectitude-truth in action, and shines through everyword and deed. It means reliableness, and convincesother men that it can be trusted . And a man isalready of consequence in the world when it is knownthat he can be relied on, -that when he says he knowsa thing, he does know it, -that when he says he will1 The Rev. F. W. Farrar's ' Seekers after God,' p. 241.8 Influence ofCharacter. [CHAP. I.do a thing, he can do, and does it. Thus reliablenessbecomes a passport to the general esteem and confidenceof mankind.In the affairs of life or of business, it is not intellectthat tells so much as character, -not brains so much asheart, -not genius so much as self-control, patience,and discipline, regulated by judgment. Hence there isno better provision for the uses of either private orpublic life, than a fair share of ordinary good senseguided by rectitude. Good sense, disciplined by experience and inspired by goodness, issues in practicalwisdom. Indeed, goodness in a measure implieswisdom-the highest wisdom-the union of the worldlywith the spiritual. " The correspondences of wisdomand goodness," says Sir Henry Taylor, " are manifold; and that they will accompany each other is tobe inferred, not only because men's wisdom makesthem good, but because their goodness makes them wise."IIt is because of this controlling power of character inlife that we often see men exercise an amount of influence apparently out of all proportion to their intellectual endowments. They appear to act by means ofsome latent power, some reserved force, which actssecretly, by mere presence. As Burke said of a powerfulnobleman of the last century, " his virtues were hismeans." The secret is, that the aims of such men arefelt to be pure and noble, and they act upon others witha constraining power.Though the reputation of men of genuine charactermay be of slow growth, their true qualities cannot bewholly concealed. They may be misrepresented bysome, and misunderstood by others; misfortune and1 The Statesman,' p. 30.CHAP. I.] Sheridan and Burke. 9adversity may, for a time, overtake them; but, withpatience and endurance, they will eventually inspirethe respect and command the confidence which theyreally deserve.It has been said of Sheridan that, had he possessedreliableness of character, he might have ruled theworld; whereas, for want of it, his splendid gifts werecomparatively useless. He dazzled and amused, but waswithout weight or influence in life or politics. Eventhe poor pantomimist of Drury Lane felt himself hissuperior. Thus, when Delpini one day pressed themanager for arrears of salary, Sheridan sharply reprovedhim, telling him he had forgotten his station . " No, indeed, Monsieur Sheridan, I have not, " retorted Delpini;"I know the difference between us perfectly well . Inbirth, parentage, and education, you are superior tome; but in life, character, and behaviour, I am superiorto you."Unlike Sheridan, Burke, his countryman, was a greatman of character. He was thirty-five before he gaineda seat in Parliament, yet he found time to carvehis name deep in the political history of England.He was a man of great gifts, and of transcendentforce of character. Yet he had a weakness, whichproved a serious defect-it was his want of temper; hisgenius was sacrificed to his irritability. And withoutthis apparently minor gift of temper, the most splendidendowments may be comparatively valueless to theirpossessor.Character is formed by a variety of minute circ*mstances, more or less under the regulation and controlof 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, asthere is no hair so small but casts its shadow. It wasΙΟ Character and Circ*mstances. [CHAP. I.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 practicallygoverned.Every action, every thought, every feeling, contributes to the education of the temper, the habits, andunderstanding; and exercises an inevitable influenceupon all the acts of our future life. Thus character isundergoing constant change, for better or for worseeither being elevated on the one hand, or degraded onthe 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 pasteffort of my life, every gleam of rightness or good in it,is with me now, to help me in my grasp of this art andits vision. ” 1The mechanical law, that action and reaction areequal, holds true also in morals. Good deeds act andreact on the doers of them; and so do evil. Not onlyso: they produce like effects, by the influence of example, on those who are the subjects of them. Butman is not the creature , so much as he is the creator,of circ*mstances; and, by the exercise of his freewill,11 'Queen ofthe Air,' p. 127.2 Instead of saying that man is the creature of Circ*mstance, it would be nearer the mark to say that man is the architect of Cir- c*mstance. It is Character which builds an existence out of Circum- stance. Our strength is measured by our plastic power. From the same materials one man builds palaces, another hovels: one ware- houses, another villas. Bricks and mortar are mortar and bricks, untilthe architect can make them something else. Thus it is that in the same family, in the same circum- stances, one man rears a stately edifice, while his brother, vacillat- ing and incompetent, lives for ever amid ruins: the block of granite,which was an obstacle on the pathway of the weak, becomes astepping-stone on the pathway of the strong."-G. H. Lewes, Life of Goethe.|CHAP. I. ] Formation ofCharacter.I Ihe can direct his actions so that they shall be productive of good rather than evil. " Nothing can workme damage but myself," said St. Bernard; "the harmthat I sustain I carry about with me; and I am nevera real sufferer but by my own fault."The best sort of character, however, cannot be formedwithout effort. There needs the exercise of constantself-watchfulness, self- discipline, and self- control. Theremay be much faltering, stumbling, and temporary defeat; difficulties and temptations manifold to be battledwith and overcome; but if the spirit be strong and theheart be upright, no one need despair of ultimate success. The very effort to advance-to arrive at a higherstandard of character than we have reached-is inspiring and invigorating; and even though we mayfall short of it, we cannot fail to be improved by everyhonest effort made in an upward direction.And with the light of great examples to guide usrepresentatives of humanity in its best forms-everyone is not only justified, but bound in duty, to aim atreaching the highest standard of character: not tobecome the richest in means, but in spirit; not thegreatest in worldly position, but in true honour; notthe most intellectual, but the most virtuous; not themost 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 powerfullyimpressed and influenced others by the sheer force ofhis own benevolent nature-when drawing up the conditions of the annual prize to be given by Her Majestyat Wellington College, to determine that it should beawarded, not to the cleverest boy, nor to the mostbookish boy, nor to the most precise, diligent, and prudent boy, but to the noblest boy, to the boy who12 Force ofCharacter. [ CHAP. I.should show the most promise of becoming a largehearted, high-motived man.¹Character exhibits itself in conduct, guided and inspired by principle, integrity, and practical wisdom ,In its highest form, it is the individual will acting energetically under the influence of religion, morality, andreason. It chooses its way considerately, and pursuesit steadfastly; esteeming duty above reputation, andthe approval of conscience more than the world's praise.While respecting the personality of others, it preservesits own individuality and independence; and has thecourage to be morally honest, though it may be unpopular, trusting tranquilly to time and experience forrecognition.Although the force of example will always exercisegreat influence upon the formation of character, theself-originating and sustaining force of one's own spiritmust be the mainstay. This alone can hold up thelife, and give individual independence and energy." Unless man can erect himself above himself," saidDaniel, a poet of the Elizabethan era, " how poor athing is man! " Without a certain degree of practicalefficient force-compounded of will, which is the root,and wisdom, which is the stem of character-life willbe indefinite and purposeless-like a body of stagnantwater, instead of a running stream doing useful workand keeping the machinery of a district in motion.When the elements of character are brought intoaction by determinate will, and, influenced by high purpose, man enters upon and courageously perseveres inthe path of duty, at whatever cost of worldly interest, hemay be said to approach the summit of his being. Hẹ¹ Introduction to ' The Principi Speeches and Addresses of H.R.H. the Prince Consort ' ( 1862), pp. 39-40.CHAP. I.] The Inspiration ofEnergy. 13then exhibits character in its most intrepid form, andembodies the highest idea of manliness. The acts of sucha man become repeated in the life and action of others.His very words live and become actions. Thus everyword of Luther's rang through Germany like a trumpet.As Richter said of him, " His words were half-battles.”And thus Luther's life became transfused into the lifeof his country, and still lives in the character of modernGermany.6On the other hand, energy, without integrity and asoul of goodness, may only represent the embodiedprinciple of evil. It is observed by Novalis, in hisThoughts on Morals,' that the ideal of moral perfectionhas no more dangerous rival to contend with than theideal of the highest strength and the most energeticlife, the maximum of the barbarian-which needs onlya due admixture of pride, ambition, and selfishness, tobe a perfect ideal of the devil. Amongst men of suchstamp are found the greatest scourges and devastatorsof the world-those elect scoundrels whom Providence,in its inscrutable designs, permits to fulfil their missionof destruction upon earth.¹Very different is the man of energetic characterinspired by a noble spirit, whose actions are governedby rectitude, and the law of whose life is duty. Heis just and upright,-in his business dealings, in hispublic action, and in his family life -justice being as1 Among the latest of these was Napoleonthe Great," a man, of abounding energy, but destitute of principle. He had the lowest opinion of his fellowmen. " Men are hogs, who feed on gold," he once said: " Well, I throw them gold, and lead them whithersoever I will." When the Abbé de Pradt,Archbishop of Malines, was settingout on his embassy to Poland in1812, Napoleon's parting instruc- tion to him was, " Tenez bonnetable et soignez les femmes,"-of which Benjamin Constant said that such an observation, addressed to a feeble priest of sixty, shows Buonaparte's profound contempt for the human race, without dis- tinction of nation or sex.14 The Conscientious Man. [ CHAP. I.essential in the government of a home as of a nation.He will be honest in all things-in his words and in hiswork. He will be generous and merciful to his opponents, as well as to those who are weaker than himself.It was truly said of Sheridan-who, with all his improvidence, was generous, and never gave pain-that"His wit in the combat, as gentle as bright,Never carried a heart-stain away on its blade.”Such also was the character of Fox, who commandedthe affection and service of others by his uniformneartiness and sympathy. He was a man who couldalways be most easily touched on the side of his honour.Thus, the story is told of a tradesman calling upon himone day for the payment of a promissory note which hepresented. Fox was engaged at the time in countingout gold. The tradesman asked to be paid from themoney before him. " No," said Fox, " I owe this moneyto Sheridan; it is a debt of honour; if any accidenthappened to me, he would have nothing to show. ""Then," said the tradesman, " I change my debt intoone of honour; " and he tore up the note. Fox wasconquered by the act: he thanked the man for hisconfidence, and paid him, saying, " Then Sheridan mustwait; yours is the debt of older standing."The man of character is conscientious. He putshis conscience into his work, into his words, into hisevery action. When Cromwell asked the Parliamentfor soldiers in lieu of the decayed serving-men andtapsters who filled the Commonwealth's army, herequired that they should be men " who made someconscience of what they did; " and such were the menof which his celebrated regiment of " Ironsides " wascomposed.The man of character is also reverential. The pos-•CHAP. I.] The Quality of Reverence. 15session of this quality marks the noblest and highesttype of manhood and womanhood: reverence for thingsconsecrated by the homage of generations-for highobjects, pure thoughts, and noble aims-for the greatmen of former times, and the highminded workersamongst our contemporaries. Reverence is alike indispensable to the happiness of individuals, of families,and of nations. Without it there can be no trust, nofaith, no confidence, either in man or God-neithersocial peace nor social progress. For reverence is butanother word for religion, which binds men to eachother, and all to God.“ The man of noble spirit," says Sir Thomas Overbury, " converts all occurrences into experience, betweenwhich experience and his reason there is marriage, andthe issue are his actions. He moves by affection, not foraffection; he loves glory, scorns shame, and governethand obeyeth with one countenance, for it comes fromone consideration. Knowing reason to be no idle giftof nature, he is the steersman of his own destiny.Truth is his goddess, and he takes pains to get her, notto look like her. Unto the society of men he is a sun,whose clearness directs their steps in a regular motion.He is the wise man's friend, the example of the indifferent, the medicine of the vicious. Thus time goethnot from him, but with him, and he feels age moreby the strength of his soul than by the weakness of hisI body. Thus feels he no pain, but esteems all suchthings as friends, that desire to file off his fetters, andhelp him out of prison." 1Energy of will-self-originating force-is the soulof every great character. Where it is, there is life;where it is not, there is faintness. helplessness, and¹ Condensed from Sir Thomas Overbury's 'Characters' (1614)]].16 Intrepidity ofCharacter. [ CHAP. I.despondency. " The strong man and the waterfall,"says the proverb, " channel their own path." Theenergetic leader of noble spirit not only wins a wayfor himself, but carries others with him. His everyact has a personal significance, indicating vigour, independence, and self-reliance, and unconsciously commands respect, admiration, and homage. Such intrepidity of character characterised Luther, Cromwell,Washington, Pitt, Wellington, and all great leaders ofmen."I am convinced, " said Mr. Gladstone, in describingthe qualities of the late Lord Palmerston in the Houseof Commons, shortly after his death-" I am convinced.that it was the force of will, a sense of duty, and adetermination not to give in, that enabled him to makehimself a model for all of us who yet remain and followhim, with feeble and unequal steps, in the dischargeof our duties; it was that force of will that in point offact did not so much struggle against the infirmitiesof old age, but actually repelled them and kept themat a distance. And one other quality there is, at least,that may be noticed without the smallest risk of stirringin any breast a painful emotion. It is this, that LordPalmerston had a nature incapable of enduring angeror any sentiment of wrath. This freedom from wrathfulsentiment was not the result of painful effort, but thespontaneous fruit of the mind. It was a noble gift ofhis original nature-a gift which beyond all others itwas delightful to observe, delightful also to rememberin connection with him who has left us, and with whomwe have no longer to do, except in endeavouring toprofit by his example wherever it can lead us in thepath of duty and of right, and of bestowing on himthose tributes of admiration and affection which hedeserves at our hands."CHAP. I.] Contagiousness ofEnergy. 17The great leader attracts to himself men of kindredcharacter, drawing them towards him as the loadstonedraws iron. Thus, Sir John Moore early distinguishedthe three brothers Napier from the crowd of officers bywhom he was surrounded, and they, on their part,repaid him by their passionate admiration. They werecaptivated by his courtesy, his bravery, and his loftydisinterestedness; and he became the model whom theyresolved to imitate, and, if possible, to emulate. " Moore'sinfluence, " says the biographer of Sir William Napier," had a signal effect in forming and maturing theircharacters; and it is no small glory to have been thehero of those three men, while his early discovery oftheir mental and moral qualities is a proof of Moore'sown penetration and judgment of character."There is a contagiousness in every example of energetic conduct. The brave man is an inspiration to theweak, and compels them, as it were, to follow him.Thus Napier relates that at the combat of Vera, whenthe Spanish centre was broken and in flight, a youngofficer, named Havelock, sprang forward, and, wavinghis hat, called upon the Spaniards within sight to followhim. Putting spurs to his horse, he leapt the abbatiswhich protected the French front, and went headlongagainst them. The Spaniards were electrified; in amoment they dashed after him, cheering for " El chicoblanco! " (the fair boy) , and with one shock they brokethrough the French and sent them flying downhill.¹1 History of the PeninsularWar,' v. 319.-Napier mentions another striking illustration of theinfluence of personal qualities inyoung Edward Freer, of the same regiment (the 43rd), who, when he fell at the age of nineteen, at the Battle of the Nivelle, hadalready seen more combats andsieges than he could count years." So slight in person, and of suchsurpassing beauty, that the Spa- niards often thought him a girl disguised in man's clothing, he was yet so vigorous, so active, so brave, that the most daring andC18 Influence ofWashington.[CHAP. I.And so it is in ordinary life. The good and thegreat draw others after them; they lighten and lift upall who are within reach of their influence. They are asso many living centres of beneficent activity. Let a manof energetic and upright character be appointed to aposition of trust and authority, and all who serve underhim become, as it were, conscious of an increase ofpower. When Chatham was appointed minister, hispersonal influence was at once felt through all theramifications of office. Every sailor who served underNelson, and knew he was in command, shared the inspiration ofthe hero.When Washington consented to act as commanderin-chief, it was felt as if the strength of the Americanforces had been more than doubled. Many years later,in 1798, when Washington, grown old, had withdrawnfrom public life and was living in retirement at MountVernon, and when it seemed probable that France woulddeclare war against the United States, President Adamswrote to him, saying, " We must have your name, if youwill permit us to use it; there will be more efficacyin it than in many an army." Such was the esteem inwhich the great President's noble character and eminentabilities were held by his countrymen! ¹experienced veterans watched his looks on the field of battle, and,implicitly following where he led,would, like children, obey his slightest sign in the most difficult situations."1 When the dissolution of theUnion at one time seemed immi- nent, and Washington wished to retire into private life, Jeffersonwrote to him, urging his conti- nuance in office. " The confidence of the whole Union," hesaid, " centres in you. Your beingat the helm will be more than an answer to every argument whichcan be used to alarm and lead the people in any quarter into violence and secession. . . . There is some- times an eminence of character onwhich society has such peculiarclaims as to control the predilec- tion of the individual for a par- ticular walk of happiness, and restrain him to that alone arising from the present and future benedictions of mankind. This seems to be your condition, and the lawCHAP. I. ] The Duke ofWellington.19An incident is related by the historian of the Peninsular War, illustrative of the personal influence exercised by a great commander over his followers. TheBritish army lay at Sauroren, before which Soult wasadvancing, prepared to attack in force. Wellingtonwas absent, and his arrival was anxiously looked for.Suddenly a single horseman was seen riding up themountain alone. It was the Duke, about to join histroops. " One of Campbell's Portuguese battalions firstdescried him, and raised a joyful cry; then the shrillclamour, caught up by the next regiment, soon swelledas it ran along the line into that appalling shout whichthe British soldier is wont to give upon the edge ofbattle, and which no enemy ever heard unmoved.Suddenly he stopped at a conspicuous point, for hedesired both armies should know he was there, and adouble spy who was present pointed out Soult, whowas so near that his features could be distinguished.Attentively Wellington fixed his eyes on that formidable man, and, as if speaking to himself, he said:"Yonder is a great commander; but he is cautious,and will delay his attack to ascertain the cause of thosecheers; that will give time for the Sixth Division toarrive, and I shall beat him "-which he did.¹In some cases, personal character acts by a kind oftalismanic influence, as if certain men were the organsof a sort of supernatural force. "If I but stamp on theground in Italy," said Pompey, " an army will appear."imposed on you by Providence |in forming your character and fashioning the events on which it was to operate; and it is to motives like these, and not to personal anxieties of mine or others, whohave no right to call on you for sacrifices, that I appeal from yourformer determination, and urge arevisal of it, on the ground of change in the aspect of things."Sparks' Life of Washington, i.480.1 Napier's History of the Pen insular War,' v. 226.C 220 Influence ofCharacter. [CHAP. I.At the voice of Peter the Hermit, as described by thehistorian, " Europe arose, and precipitated itself uponAsia." It was said of the Caliph Omar that his walkingstick struck more terror into those who saw it thananother man's sword. The very names of some menare like the sound of a trumpet. When the Douglaslay mortally wounded on the field of Otterburn, heordered his name to be shouted still louder than before,saying there was a tradition in his family that a deadDouglas should win a battle. His followers, inspiredby the sound, gathered fresh courage, rallied, and conquered; and thus, in the words of the Scottish poet:"The Douglas dead, his name hath won the field,” ¹1There have been some men whose greatest conquestshave been achieved after they themselves were dead."Never," says Michelet, " was Cæsar more alive, morepowerful, more terrible, than when his old and wornout body, his withered corpse, lay pierced with blows;he appeared then purified, redeemed, —that which hehad been, despite his many stains-the man of humanity." 2 Never did the great character of Williamof Orange, surnamed the Silent, exercise greater powerover his countrymen than after his assassination atDelft by the emissary of the Jesuits. On the very dayof his murder the Estates of Holland resolved " to maintain the good cause, with God's help, to the uttermost,without sparing gold or blood;" and they kept theirword.The same illustration applies to all history andmorals. The career of a great man remains an enduring monument of human energy. The man dies1 Sir W. Scott's ' History of Scotland ,' vol. i. chap. xvi.Michelet's History of Rome, ' p. 374.CHAP. I.] Reverencefor Great Men.21and disappears; but his thoughts and acts survive, andleave an indelible stamp upon his race. And thus thespirit of his life is prolonged and perpetuated, mouldingthe thought and will, and thereby contributing to formthe character of the future. It is the men that advancein the highest and best directions, who are the true beacons of human progress. They are as lights set upon ahill, illumining the moral atmosphere around them;and the light of their spirit continues to shine upon allsucceeding generations.It is natural to admire and revere really great men.They hallow the nation to which they belong, and liftup not only all who live in their time, but those wholive after them. Their great example becomes thecommon heritage of their race; and their great deedsand great thoughts are the most glorious of legacies tomankind. They connect the present with the past, andhelp on the increasing purpose of the future; holdingaloft the standard of principle, maintaining the dignityof human character, and filling the mind with traditions and instincts of all that is most worthy and noblein life.Character, embodied in thought and deed, is ofthe nature of immortality. The solitary thought of agreat thinker will dwell in the minds of men for centuries, until at length it works itself into their daily lifeand practice. It lives on through the ages, speakingas a voice from the dead, and influencing minds livingthousands of years apart. Thus, Moses and David andSolomon, Plato and Socrates and Xenophon, Senecaand Cicero and Epictetus, still speak to us as fromtheir tombs. They still arrest the attention, and exercise an influence upon character, though their thoughtsbe conveyed in languages unspoken by them and in theirtime unknown. Theodore Parker has said that a single22 Influence ofGreat Men. [ CHAP. I.man like Socrates was worth more to a country thanmany such states as South Carolina; that if that statewent out of the world to-day, she would not have doneso much for the world as Socrates.¹Great workers and great thinkers are the true makersof history, which is but continuous humanity influencedby men of character-by great leaders, kings, priests,philosophers, statesmen, and patriots-the true aristocracy of man. Indeed, Mr. Carlyle has broadly statedthat Universal History is, at bottom, but the historyof Great Men. They certainly mark and designate theepochs of national life. Their influence is active, aswell as reactive. Though their mind is, in a measure,the product of their age, the public mind is also, toa great extent, their creation. Their individual actionidentifies the cause the institution. They thinkgreat thoughts, cast them abroad, and the thoughtsmake events. Thus the early Reformers initiated theReformation, and with it the liberation of modernthought. Emerson has said that every institution is tobe regarded as but the lengthened shadow of some greatman: as Islamism of Mahomet, Puritanism of Calvin,Jesuitism of Loyola, Quakerism of Fox, Methodism ofWesley, Abolitionism of Clarkson.Great men stamp their mind upon their age andnation—as Luther did upon ' modern Germany, andKnox upon Scotland. And if there be one man more1 Erasmus so reverenced the character of Socrates that he said,when he considered his life anddoctrines, he was inclined to put him in the calendar of saints,and to exclaim, " Sancte Socrates,ora pro nobis! (Holy Socrates,pray for us!)2 66""Honour to all the brave andtrue; everlasting honour to JohnKnox, one of the truest of the true! That, in the moment while he and his cause, amid civil broils,in convulsion and confusion, were still but struggling for life, he sent the schoolmaster forth to allcorners, and said, ' Let the people be taught this is but one, and,indeed, an inevitable and comparatively inconsiderable item in hisCHAP. I.] Dante's Influence on Italy. 23than another that stamped his mind on modern Italy,it was Dante. During the long centuries of Italiandegradation his burning words were as a watchfire anda beacon to all true men. He was the herald of hisnation's liberty-braving persecution, exile, and death,for the love of it. He was always the most national ofthe Italian poets, the most loved, the most read. Fromthe time of his death all educated Italians had hisbest passages by heart; and the sentiments they enshrined inspired their lives, and eventually influencedthe history of their nation. " The Italians," wrote Byronin 1821, " talk Dante, write Dante, and think anddream Dante, at this moment, to an excess which wouldbe ridiculous, but that he deserves their admiration." ¹great message to men. This message, in its true compass, was,' Let men know that they are men; created by God, responsible to God; who work in any meanest moment of time what will last through eternity. . . . This great message Knox did deliver, with aman's voice and strength; and found a people to believe him.Of such an achievement, were it to be made once only, the results are immense. Thought, in sucha country, may change its form,but cannot go out; the country has attained majority; thought,and a certain spiritual manhood,ready for all work that man can do, endures there. . . . The Scotch national character originated in many circ*mstances; first of all,in the Saxon stuff there was to work on; but next, and beyond all else except that, is the Pres- byterian Gospel of John Knox.”—Carlyle's Miscellanies, iv. 118.' Moore's ' Life ofByron,' 8vo. ed.p. 484.-Dante was a religious as well as a political reformer. He was a reformer three hundredyears before the Reformation, ad- vocating the separation of the spi- ritual from the civil power, anddeclaring the temporal government of the Pope to be a usurpation.The following memorable words were written over five hundred and sixty years ago, while Dante was still a member of the Roman Catholic Church: "Every Di- vine law is found in one or other of the two Testaments; but in neither can I find that the care of temporal matters was given to the priesthood. On the contrary, Ifind that the first priests were removed from them by law, and the later priests, by command of Christ, to His disciples. " - De Monarchia, lib. iii . cap. xi. Dante also, still clinging to the Church he wished to reform,' thus antici- pated the fundamental doctrine of the Reformation: "Before the Church are the Old and New Testament; after the Church are traditions. It follows, then, that the authority of the Church depends,not on traditions, but traditions on the Church."24 Character agreat Legacy. [CHAP. I.A succession of variously gifted men in differentages -extending from Alfred to Albert -has in likemanner contributed, by their life and example, to shapethe multiform character of England. Of these, probablythe most influential were the men of the Elizabethanand Cromwellian, and the intermediate periodsamongst whom we find the great names of Shakspeare, Raleigh, Burleigh, Sidney, Bacon, Milton, Herbert, Hampden, Pym, Eliot, Vane, Cromwell, and manymore--some of them men of great force, and others ofgreat dignity and purity of character. The lives of suchmen have become part of the public life of England,and their deeds and thoughts are regarded as amongthe most cherished bequeathments from the past.So Washington left behind him, as one of the greatesttreasures of his country, the example of a stainless lifeof a great, honest, pure, and noble character-a modelfor his nation to form themselves by in all time tocome. And in the case of Washington, as in so manyother great leaders of men, his greatness did not somuch consist in his intellect, his skill, and his genius,as in his honour, his integrity, his truthfulness, hishigh and controlling sense of duty-in a word, in hisgenuine nobility of character.Men such as these are the true lifeblood of thecountry to which they belong. They elevate anduphold it, fortify and ennoble it, and shed a glory overit by the example of life and character which they havebequeathed. " The names and memories of great men,"says an able writer, " are the dowry of a nation. Widowhood, overthrow, desertion, even slavery, cannot takeaway from her this sacred inheritance. ... Whenevernational life begins to quicken ... the dead heroesrise in the memories of men, and appear to the livingto stand by in solemn spectatorship and approval. Nocountry can be lost which feels herself overlooked byCHAP. I.] Character ofNations. 25such glorious witnesses. They are the salt of the earth,in death as well as in life . What they did once, theirdescendants have still and always a right to do afterthem; and their example lives in their country, a continual stimulant and encouragement for him who hasthe soul to adopt it." ¹But it is not great men only that have to be takeninto account in estimating the qualities of a nation, butthe character that pervades the great body of thepeople. When Washington Irving visited Abbotsford,Sir Walter Scott introduced him to many of his friendsand favourites, not only amongst the neighbouringfarmers, but the labouring peasantry. " I wish to showyou," said Scott, " some of our really excellent plainScotch people. The character of a nation is not to belearnt from its fine folks, its fine gentlemen and ladies;such you meet everywhere, and they are everywherethe same." While statesmen, philosophers, and divinesrepresent the thinking power of society, the men whofound industries and carve out new careers, as well asthe common body of working-people, from whom thenational strength and spirit are from time to timerecruited, must necessarily furnish the vital force andconstitute the real backbone of every nation.Nations have their character to maintain as wellas individuals; and under constitutional governments—where all classes more or less participate in the exercise of political power-the national character willnecessarily depend more upon the moral qualities of themany than of the few. And the same qualities whichdetermine the character of individuals, also determinethe character of nations. Unless they are highminded,truthful, honest, virtuous, and courageous, they will be' Blackwood's Magazine,' June, 1863, art. ' Girolamo Savonarola. '26 Character and Freedom. [CHAP. I.held in light esteem by other nations, and be withoutweight in the world. To have character, they mustneeds also be reverential, disciplined, self- controlling,and devoted to duty. The nation that has no highergod than pleasure, or even dollars or calico, must needsbe in a poor way. It were better to revert to Homer'sgods than be devoted to these; for the heathen deitiesat least imaged human virtues, and were something tolook up to.As for institutions, however good in themselves, theywill avail but little in maintaining the standard ofnational character. It is the individual men, and thespirit which actuates them, that determine the moralstanding and stability of nations. Government, in thelong run, is usually no better than the people governed.Where the mass is sound in conscience, morals, andhabit, the nation will be ruled honestly and nobly.But where they are corrupt, self- seeking, and dishonestin heart, bound neither by truth nor by law, the rule ofrogues and wirepullers becomes inevitable.The only true barrier against the despotism of publicopinion, whether it be of the many or of the few, isenlightened individual freedom and purity of personalcharacter. Without these there can be no vigorousmanhood, no true liberty in a nation. Political rights,however broadly framed, will not elevate a people individually depraved. Indeed, the more complete a systemof popular suffrage, and the more perfect its protection,the more completely will the real character of a peoplebe reflected, as by a mirror, in their laws and government. Political morality can never have any solidexistence on a basis of individual immorality. Evenfreedom, exercised by a debased people, would come tobe regarded as a nuisance, and liberty of the press buta vent for licentiousness and moral abomination.CHAP. I. ] Nations strengthened by Trials. 27Nations, like individuals, derive support and strengthfrom the feeling that they belong to an illustrious race,that they are the heirs of their greatness, and ought tobe the perpetuators of their glory. It is of momentousimportance that a nation should have a great past¹ tolook back upon. It steadies the life of the present,elevates and upholds it, and lightens and lifts it up, bythe memory of the great deeds, the noble sufferings, andthe valorous achievements of the men of old. The life ofnations, as of men, is a great treasury of experience,which, wisely used, issues in social progress and improvėment; or, misused, issues in dreams, delusions, andfailure. Like men, nations are purified and strengthenedby trials. Some of the most glorious chapters in theirhistory are those containing the record of the sufferings by means of which their character has been developed. Love of liberty and patriotic feeling mayhave done much, but trial and suffering nobly borne more than all.A great deal of what passes by the name of patriotismin these days consists of the merest bigotry and narrowmindedness; exhibiting itself in national prejudice, national conceit, and national hatred. It does not showitself in deeds, but in boastings-in howlings, gesticulations, and shrieking helplessly for help-in flyingflags and singing songs-and in perpetual grinding atthe hurdy-gurdy of long-dead grievances and longremedied wrongs. To be infested by such a patriotism¹ One of the last passages inthe Diary of Dr. Arnold, written the year before his death, was as follows:-"It is the misfortune ofFrance that her ' past ' cannot be loved or respected-her futureand her present cannot be wedded to it; yet how can the presentyield fruit, or the future havepromise, except their roots be fixed in the past? The evil is infinite,but the blame rests with thosewho made the past a dead thing,out of which no healthful lifecould be produced." -Life, ii.387-8, Ed. 1858.28 Noble and ignoble Patriotism.[CHAP. I.as this is, perhaps, amongst the greatest curses that canbefall any country.But as there is an ignoble, so is there a noble patriotism—the patriotism that invigorates and elevates acountry by noble work-that does its duty truthfullyand manfully—that lives an honest, sober, and uprightlife, and strives to make the best use of the opportunities for improvement that present themselves onevery side; and at the same time a patriotism thatcherishes the memory and example of the great men ofold, who, by their sufferings in the cause of religion orof freedom, have won for themselves a deathless glory,and for their nation those privileges of free life andfree institutions of which they are the inheritors andpossessors.Nations are not to be judged by their size any morethan individuals:" It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make Man better be."For a nation to be great, it need not necessarily bebig, though bigness is often confounded with greatness. A nation may be very big in point of territory and population, and yet be devoid of true greatness.The people of Israel were a small people, yet what agreat life they developed, and how powerful the influence they have exercised on the destinies of mankind!Greece was not big: the entire population of Atticawas less than that of South Lancashire. Athens wasless populous than New York; and yet how greatit was in art, in literature, in philosophy, and irpatriotism! ¹A public orator lately spoke |with contempt of the Battle of Marathon, because only 192 menperished on the side of the Athenians, whereas by improved me- chanism and destructive chemi- cals, some 50,000 men or more may now be destroyed within aCHAP. I.] Decline and Fall ofNations. 29But it was the fatal weakness of Athens that itscitizens had no true family or home life, while itsfreemen were greatly outnumbered by its slaves. Itspublic men were loose, if not corrupt, in morals. Itswomen, even the most accomplished, were unchaste.Hence its fall became inevitable, and was even moresudden than its rise.In like manner the decline and fall of Rome wasattributable to the general corruption of its people, andto their engrossing love of pleasure and idleness-work,in the later days of Rome, being regarded only asfit 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 deserveto live. And so the nations that are idle and luxurious-that "will rather lose a pound of blood," as old Burtonsays, " in a single combat, than a drop of sweat in anyhonest labour "—must inevitably die out, and laboriousenergetic nations take their place.When Louis XIV. asked Colbert how it was that,ruling so great and populous a country as France, hehad been unable to conquer so small a country asHolland, the minister replied: " Because, Sire, thegreatness of a country does not depend upon the extentof its territory, but on the character of its people. It isbecause of the industry, the frugality, and the energyof the Dutch that your Majesty has found them sodifficult to overcome. "It is also related of Spinola and Richardet, theambassadors sent by the King of Spain to negotiatea treaty at the Hague in 1608, that one day they sawsome eight or ten persons land from a little boat, and,few hours. Yet the Battle ofMarathon, and the heroism dis- played in it, will probably continue to be remembered when thegigantic butcheries of moderntimes have been forgotten.30 Stability ofCharacter. [CHAP. I.sitting down upon the grass, proceed to make a meal ofbread-and-cheese and beer. " Who are those travellers?"asked the ambassadors of a peasant. " These are ourworshipful masters, the deputies from the States," washis reply. Spinola at once whispered to his companion,"We must make peace: these are not men to be conquered. "In fine, stability of institutions must depend uponstability of character. Any number of depraved unitscannot form a great nation. The people may seem to behighly civilised, and yet be ready to fall to pieces at thefirst touch of adversity. Without integrity of individualcharacter, they can have no real strength, cohesion, orsoundness. They may be rich , polite, and artistic; andyet hovering on the brink of ruin. If living for themselves only, and with no end but pleasure-each littleself his own little god-such a nation is doomed, andits decay is inevitable.Where national character ceases to be upheld, anation may be regarded as next to lost. Where itceases to esteem and to practise the virtues of truthfulness, honesty, integrity, and justice, it does not deserveto live. And when the time arrives in any countrywhen wealth has so corrupted, or pleasure so depraved,or faction so infatuated the people, that honour, order,obedience, virtue, and loyalty have seemingly becomethings of the past; then, amidst the darkness, whenhonest men-if, haply, there be such left-are gropingabout and feeling for each other's hands, their only remaining hope will be in the restoration and elevation ofIndividual Character; for by that alone can a nation besaved; and if character be irrecoverably lost, then indeedthere will be nothing left worth saving.CHAP. II. ]Home Power.31CHAPTER II.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." The millstreams that turn the clappers of the world arise in solitary places.” —Helps."In the course of a conversation with Madame Campan, Napoleon Buonaparte re- marked: 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 educa- tion in one word. Be it your care, then, to train up mothers who shall know how to educate their children.' "-Aimé Martin."Lord! with what care hast Thou begirt us round!Parents first season us. Then schoolmasters Deliver us to laws. They send us bound To rules of reason. " -George Herbert.HOMEis the first and most important school of character.It is there that every human being receives his bestmoral training, or his worst; for it is there that heimbibes those principles of conduct which endure throughmanhood, and cease only with life.It is a common saying that " Manners make theman;" and there is a second, that " Mind makes theman;" but truer than either is a third, that " Homemakes the man." For the home-training includes notonly manners and mind, but character. It is mainlyin the home that the heart is opened, the habits areformed, the intellect is awakened, and character mouldedfor good or for evil.From that source, be it pure or impure, issue theprinciples and maxims that govern society. Law itselfis but the reflex of homes. The tiniest bits of opinionsown in the minds of children in private life afterwards32 Home and Civilisation. [CHAP. II.issue forth to the world, and become its public opinion;for nations are gathered out of nurseries, and they whohold the leading-strings of children may even exercise agreater power than those who wield the reins of government.¹It is in the order of nature that domestic life shouldbe preparatory to social, and that the mind and character should first be formed in the home. There theindividuals who afterwards form society are dealt within detail, and fashioned one by one. From the familythey enter life, and advance from boyhood to citizenship. Thus the home may be regarded as the mostinfluential school of civilisation. For, after all, civilisation mainly resolves itself into a question of individualtraining; and according as the respective members ofsociety are well or ill-trained in youth, so will thecommunity which they constitute be more or lesshumanised and civilised.The training of any man, even the wisest, cannot failto be powerfully influenced by the moral surroundingsof his early years. He comes into the world helpless,and absolutely dependent upon those about him fornurture and culture. From the very first breath thathe draws, his education begins. When a motheronce asked a clergyman when she should begin theeducation of her child, then four years old, he replied:"Madam, if you have not begun already, you have lostthose four years. From the first smile that gleamsupon an infant's cheek, your opportunity begins."""But even in this case the education had alreadybegun; for the child learns by simple imitation, with-¹ Civic virtues, unless they have their origin and consecration in private and domestic virtues,are but the virtues of the theatre.He who has not a loving heart for his child, cannot pretend to have any true love for humanity.Jules Simon's Le Devoir.CHAP. II .] Domestic Training. 33out effort, almost through the pores of the skin. “ Afigtree looking on a figtree becometh fruitful, " says theArabian proverb. And so it is with children. Theirfirst great instructor is example.However apparently trivial the influences which contribute to form the character of the child, they endurethrough life. The child's character is the nucleus ofthe man's; all after-education is but superposition; theform ofthe crystal remains the same. Thus the sayingof the poet holds true in a large degree, " The child isfather of the man;" or, as Milton puts it, " The childhood shows the man, as morning shows the day." Thoseimpulses to conduct which last the longest and arerooted the deepest, always have their origin near ourbirth. It is then that the germs of virtues or vices,of feelings or sentiments, are first implanted whichdetermine the character for life.The child is, as it were, laid at the gate of a newworld, and opens his eyes upon things all of which arefull of novelty and wonderment. At first it is enough forhim to gaze; but by-and-by he begins to see, to observe, to compare, to learn, to store up impressions andideas; and under wise guidance the progress which hemakes is really wonderful. Lord Brougham has observed that between the ages of eighteen and thirtymonths, a child learns more of the material world, of hisown powers, of the nature of other bodies, and even ofhis own mind and other minds, than he acquires duringall the rest of his life. The knowledge which a childaccumulates, and the ideas generated in his mind, inthis period, are so important, that if we could imaginethem to be afterwards obliterated, all the learning of asenior wrangler at Cambridge, or a first-classman atOxford, would be as nothing to it, and would literallynot enable its object to prolong his existence for a week.D34 Home Influences.[CHAP. II .It is in childhood that the mind is most open toimpressions, and ready to be kindled by the first sparkthat falls into it . Ideas are then caught quickly andlive lastingly. Thus Scott is said to have received hisfirst bent towards ballad literature from his mother'sand grandmother's recitations in his hearing long beforehe himself had learned to read. Childhood is like amirror, which reflects in after-life the images first presented to it. The first thing continues for ever with thechild. The first joy, the first sorrow, the first success,the first failure, the first achievement, the first misadventure, paint the foreground of his life.All this while, too, the training of the character is inprogress of the temper, the will, and the habits-onwhich so much of the happiness of human beings inafter-life depends. Although man is endowed with acertain self- acting, self- helping power of contributing tohis own development, independent of surrounding circ*mstances, and of reacting upon the life around him,the bias given to his moral character in early life is ofimmense importance. Place even the highest-mindedphilosopher in the midst of daily discomfort, immorality,and vileness, and he will insensibly gravitate towardsbrutality. Howmuch more susceptible is the impressionable and helpless child amidst such surroundings!It is not possible to rear a kindly nature, sensitive toevil, pure in mind and heart, amidst coarseness, discomfort, and impurity.Thus homes, which are the nurseries of children whogrow up into men and women, will be good or badaccording to the power that governs there. Where thespirit of love and duty pervades the home wherehead and heart bear rule wisely there-where the dailylife is honest and virtuous-where the government issensible, kind, and loving, then may we expect from-CHAP. II.] Surroundings ofChildren. 35such a home an issue of healthy, useful, and happybeings, capable, as they gain the requisite strength, offollowing the footsteps of their parents, of walking uprightly, governing themselves wisely, and contributingto the welfare of those about them.On the other hand, if surrounded by ignorance,coarseness, and selfishness, they will unconsciouslyassume the same character, and grow up to adult yearsrude, uncultivated, and all the more dangerous tosociety if placed amidst the manifold temptations ofwhat is called civilised life. " Give your child to beeducated by a slave," said an ancient Greek, " and instead of one slave, you will then have two."The child cannot help imitating what he sees.Everything is to him a model of manner, of gesture, ofspeech, of habit, of character. " For the child," saysRichter, "the most important era of life is that of childhood, when he begins to colour and mould himself bycompanionship with others. Every new educator effectsless than his predecessor; until at last, if we regard alllife as an educational institution, a circumnavigator ofthe world is less influenced by all the nations he hasseen than by his nurse.' Models are therefore ofevery importance in moulding the nature of the child;and if we would have fine characters, we must necessarily present before them fine models. Now, themodel most constantly before every child's eye is theMother."" 1One good mother, said George Herbert, is worth ahundred schoolmasters. In the home she is " loadstoneto all hearts, and loadstar to all eyes. " Imitation of heris constant-imitation, which Bacon likens to " a globeof precepts." But example is , far more than precept.' ' Levana; or, The Doctrine of Education .'D 236Power ofExample. [CHAP. II .It is instruction in action. It is teaching without words,often exemplifying more than tongue can teach. Inthe face of bad example, the best of precepts are ofbut little avail. The example is followed, not theprecepts. Indeed, precept at variance with practice isworse than useless, inasmuch as it only serves to teachthat most cowardly of vices-hypocrisy. Even childrenare judges of consistency, and the lessons of the parentwho says one thing and does the opposite, are quicklyseen through. The teaching of the friar was not worthmuch, who preached the virtue of honesty with a stolengoose in his sleeve.By imitation of acts, the character becomes slowlyand imperceptibly, but at length decidedly formed. Theseveral acts may seem in themselves trivial; but so arethe continuous acts of daily life. Like snowflakes, theyfall unperceived; each flake added to the pile producesno sensible change, and yet the accumulation of snowflakes makes the avalanche. So do repeated acts, onefollowing another, at length become consolidated inhabit, determine the action of the human being forgood 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 hergood example is of so much greater importance in thehome. It is easy to understand how this should be so.The home is the woman's domain-her kingdom, whereshe exercises entire control. Her power over the littlesubjects she rules there is absolute. They look up toher for everything. She is the example and modelconstantly before their eyes, whom they unconsciouslyobserve and imitate.Cowley, speaking of the influence of early example,and of ideas early implanted in the mind, compares themto letters cut in the bark of a young tree, which grewCHAP. II. ]Maternal Love.37and widen with age. The impressions then made, howsoever slight they may seem, are never effaced . Theideas then implanted in the mind are like seeds droppedinto the ground, which lie there and germinate for atime, afterwards springing up in acts and thoughtsand habits. Thus the mother lives again in her children. They unconsciously mould themselves after hermanner, her speech, her conduct, and her method oflife. Her habits become theirs; and her character isvisibly repeated in them.This maternal love is the visible providence of ourrace. Its influence is constant and universal. It beginswith the education of the human being at the outstart of life, and is prolonged by virtue of the powerfulinfluence which every good mother exercises overher children through life. When launched into theworld, each to take part in its labours, anxieties, andtrials, they still turn to their mother for consolation,if not for counsel, in their time of trouble and difficulty.The pure and good thoughts she has implanted in theirminds when children, continue to grow up into goodacts, long after she is dead; and when there is nothingbut a memory of her left, her children rise up andcall her blessed.It is not saying too much to aver that the happinessor misery, the enlightenment or ignorance, the civilisation or barbarism of the world, depends in a very highdegree upon the exercise of woman's power within herspecial kingdom of home. Indeed, Emerson says,broadly and truly, that " a sufficient measure of civilisation is the influence of good women." Posterity maybe said to lie before us in the person of the child in themother's lap. What that child will eventually become,mainly depends upon the training and example which hehas received from his first and most influential educator.+38Boyhood ofSt. Augustine. [ CHAP. II .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 itsgrace, ornament, and solace. Even the understandingof the best woman seems to work mainly through heraffections. And thus, though man may direct theintellect, woman cultivates the feelings, which mainlydetermine the character. While he fills the memory,she occupies the heart. She makes us love what he canonly make us believe, and it is chiefly through her thatwe are enabled to arrive at virtue.The respective influences of the father and the motheron the training and development of character, are remarkably illustrated in the life of St. Augustine. WhileAugustine's father, a poor freeman of Thagaste, proudof his son's abilities, endeavoured to furnish his mindwith the highest learning of the schools, and wasextolled by his neighbours for the sacrifices he madewith that object " beyond the ability of his means " -hismother Monica, on the other hand, sought to lead herson's mind in the direction of the highest good, and withpious care counselled him, entreated him, advised him tochastity, and, amidst much anguish and tribulation, because of his wicked life, never ceased to pray for him untilher prayers were heard and answered. Thus her love atlast triumphed, and the patience and goodness of themother were rewarded, not only by the conversion ofher gifted son, but also of her husband. Later in life,and after her husband's death, Monica, drawn by heraffection, 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 herexample and instruction made the deepest impressionupon his mind, and determined his future character.There are many similar instances of early impressionsCHAP. II.] Early Impressions. 39made upon a child's mind, springing up into good actslate in life , after an intervening period of selfishnessand vice. Parents may do all that they can to developean upright and virtuous character in their children, andapparently in vain. It seems like bread cast upon thewaters and lost. And yet sometimes it happens thatlong after the parents have gone to their rest-it maybe twenty years or more-the good precept, the goodexample set before their sons and daughters in childhood, at length springs up and bears fruit.One of the most remarkable of such instances wasthat of the Reverend John Newton of Olney, the friendof Cowper the poet. It was long subsequent to thedeath of both his parents, and after leading a viciouslife as a youth and as a seaman, that he became suddenly awakened to a sense of his depravity; and thenit was that the lessons which his mother had given himwhen a child sprang up vividly in his memory. Hervoice came to him as it were from the dead, and ledhim gently back to virtue and goodness.Another instance is that of John Randolph, theAmerican statesman, who once said: " I should havebeen an atheist if it had not been for one recollectionand that was the memory of the time when my departedmother used to take my little hand in hers, and causeme on my knees to say, ' Our Father who art inheaven!' "But such instances must, on the whole, be regarded asexceptional. As the character is biassed in early life,so it generally remains, gradually assuming its permanent form as manhood is reached. "Live as long asyou may," said Southey, " the first twenty years are thelongest half of your life," and they are by far the mostpregnant in consequences. When the worn-out slanderer and voluptuary, Dr. Wolcot, lay on his deathbed,40 Home the best School. [CHAP. II .one of his friends asked if he could do anything togratify him. " Yes," said the dying man, eagerly, " giveme back my youth." Give him but that, and he wouldrepent-he would reform. But it was all too late! Hislife had become bound and enthralled by the chains ofhabit.¹Gretry, the musical composer, thought so highly ofthe importance of woman as an educator of character,that he described a good mother as "Nature's chefd'œuvre." And he was right: for good mothers, farmore than fathers, tend to the perpetual renovation ofmankind, creating, as they do, the moral atmosphere ofthe home, which is the nutriment of man's moral being,as the physical atmosphere is of his corporeal frame. Bygood temper, suavity, and kindness, directed by intelligence, woman surrounds the indwellers with a pervadingatmosphere of cheerfulness, contentment, and peace,suitable for the growth of the purest as of the manliestnatures.The poorest dwelling, presided over by a virtuous,thrifty, cheerful, and cleanly woman, may thus be theabode of comfort, virtue, and happiness; it may be thescene of every ennobling relation in family life; it maybe endeared to a man by many delightful associations;furnishing a sanctuary for the heart, a refuge from thestorms of life, a sweet resting-place after labour, a consolation in misfortune, a pride in prosperity, and a joyat all times.The good home isin youth but in age.thus the best of schools, not onlyThere young and old best learn' Speaking of the force of habit,St. Augustine says in his Confes- sions: "My will the enemy held,and thence had made a chain for me, and bound me. For of a froward will was a lust made; and alust served became custom; and custom not resisted became neces- sity. By which links, as it were,joined together (whence I called it a chain) a hard bondage held me enthralled."CHAP. II.] The best Nursery ofCharacter. 4Icheerfulness, patience, self-control, and the spirit ofservice and of duty. Izaak Walton, speaking ofGeorge Herbert's mother, says she governed her familywith judicious care, not rigidly nor sourly, " but withsuch a sweetness and compliance with the recreationsand pleasures of youth, as did incline them to spendmuch of their time in her company, which was to hergreat content.""WithThe home is the true school of courtesy, of whichwoman is always the best practical instructor.out woman," says the Provençal proverb, " men werebut 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 ofall public affections." The wisest and the best havenot been ashamed to own it to be their greatest joy andhappiness to sit " behind the heads of children " in theinviolable circle of home. A life of purity and dutythere is not the least effectual preparative for a life ofpublic work and duty; and the man who loves hishome will not the less fondly love and serve his country.But while homes, which are the nurseries of character,may be the best of schools, they may also be theworst. Between childhood and manhood how incalculable is the mischief which ignorance in the home hasthe power to cause! Between the drawing of the firstbreath and the last, how vast is the moral suffering anddisease 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 evilyou have done. Let the mother be idle, vicious, and aslattern; let her home be pervaded by cavilling, petulance, and discontent, and it will become a dwelling ofmisery-a place to fly from, rather than to fly to; andthe children whose misfortune it is to be brought up42 The Mother's Influence. [CHAP. II.there, will be morally dwarfed and deformed—the causeof misery to themselves as well as to others.Napoleon Buonaparte was accustomed to say that "thefuture good or bad conduct of a child depended entirelyon the mother." He himself attributed his rise in lifein a great measure to the training of his will, hisenergy, and his self- control, by his mother at home."Nobody had any command over him," says one of hisbiographers, " except his mother, who found means, bya mixture of tenderness, severity, and justice, to makehim love, respect, and obey her: from her he learnt thevirtue of obedience. "A curious illustration of the dependence of the character of children on that of the mother incidentallyoccurs in one of Mr. Tufnell's school reports. Thetruth, he observes, is so well established that it has evenbeen made subservient to mercantile calculation. “ Iwas informed," he says, " in a large factory, where manychildren were employed, that the managers before theyengaged a boy always inquired into the mother's character, and if that was satisfactory they were tolerablycertain that her children would conduct themselvescreditably. No attention was paid to the character ofthe father. "1It has also been observed that in cases where thefather has turned out badly-become a drunkard, and"gone to the dogs "-provided the mother is prudentand sensible, the family will be kept together, and thechildren probably make their way honourably in life;whereas in cases of the opposite sort, where the motherturns out badly, no matter how well-conducted thefather may be, the instances of after- success in life onthe part of the children are comparatively rare.61 Mr. Tufnell, in Reports of Inspectors of Parochial School Unions in England and Wales,' 1850.CHAP. II. ] Power of Good Women. 43The greater part of the influence exercised by womenon the formation of character necessarily remains unknown. They accomplish their best work in the quietseclusion of the home and the family, by sustainedeffort and patient perseverance in the path of duty.Their greatest triumphs, because private and domestic,are rarely recorded; and it is not often, even in thebiographies of distinguished men, that we hear of theshare which their mothers have had in the formation oftheir character, and in giving them a bias towardsgoodness. Yet are they not on that account withouttheir reward. The influence they have exercised,though unrecorded, lives after them, and goes on propagating itself in consequences for ever.We do not often hear of great women, as we do ofgreat men. It is of good women that we mostly hear;and it is probable that by determining the character ofmen and women for good, they are doing even greaterwork than if they were to paint great pictures, writegreat books, or compose great operas. "It is quitetrue," said Joseph de Maistre, " that women have produced no chefs-d'œuvre. They have written no ' Iliad,'nor Jerusalem Delivered,' nor ' Hamlet,' nor ' Phædre,'nor Paradise Lost,' nor Tartuffe;' they have designedno Church of St. Peter's, composed no ' Messiah,' carvedno Apollo Belvidere,' painted no Last Judgment; 'they have invented neither algebra, nor telescopes,nor steam-engines; but they have done something fargreater and better than all this, for it is at their kneesthat upright and virtuous men and women have beentrained the most excellent productions in the world."666De Maistre, in his letters and writings, speaks of hisown mother with immense love and reverence. Hernoble character made all other women venerable in hisHe described her as his " sublime mother” . eyes.4466""Johnson and Washington. [CHAP. II .an angel to whom God had lent a body for a briefseason. To her he attributed the bent of his character,and all his bias towards good; and when he had grownto mature years, while acting as ambassador at theCourt of St. Petersburg, he referred to her noble exampleand precepts as the ruling influence in his life.One of the most charming features in the characterof Samuel Johnson, notwithstanding his rough andshaggy exterior, was the tenderness with which heinvariably spoke of his mother¹-a woman of strongunderstanding, who firmly implanted in his mind, as hehimself acknowledges, his first impressions of religion.He was accustomed, even in the time of his greatestdifficulties, to contribute largely, out of his slendermeans, to her comfort; and one of his last acts of filialduty was to write ' Rasselas ' for the purpose of payingher little debts and defraying her funeral charges.George Washington was only eleven years of agethe eldest of five children-when his father died,leaving his mother a widow. She was a woman of rareexcellence-full of resources, a good woman of business,an excellent manager, and possessed of much strengthof character. She had her children to educate andbring up, a large household to govern, and extensiveestates to manage, all of which she accomplished withcomplete success. Her good sense, assiduity, tenderness, industry, and vigilance, enabled her to overcomeevery obstacle; and as the richest reward of her solicitude and toil, she had the happiness to see all herchildren come forward with a fair promise into life,filling the spheres allotted to them in a manner equally1 See the letters (January 13th,16th, 18th, 20th, and 23rd, 1759),written by Johnson to his mother |whenshe was ninety, andhehimself was in his fiftieth year.- Croker's Boswell, 8vo. Ed. pp. 113, 114.CHAP. II. ] Cromwell and Wellington. 45honourable to themselves, and to the parent who hadbeen the only guide of their principles, conduct, andhabits.¹The biographer of Cromwell says little about theProtector's father, but dwells upon the character of hismother, whom he describes as a woman of rare vigourand decision of purpose: " A woman, " he says, " possessed of the glorious faculty of self-help when otherassistance failed her; ready for the demands of fortunein its extremest adverse turn; of spirit and energyequal to her mildness and patience; who, with thelabour of her own hands, gave dowries to five daughterssufficient to marry them into families as honourablebut more wealthy than their own; whose single pridewas honesty, and whose passion was love; who preservedin the gorgeous palace at Whitehall the simple tastesthat distinguished her in the old brewery at Huntingdon; and whose only care, amidst all her splendour,was for the safety of her son in his dangerouseminence. "?We have spoken of the mother of Napoleon Buonaparte as a woman of great force of character. Not lessso was the mother of the Duke of Wellington, whomher son strikingly resembled in features, person, andcharacter; while his father was principally distinguishedas a musical composer and performer.3 But, strange tosay, Wellington's mother mistook him for a dunce;and, for some reason or other, he was not such afavourite as her other children, until his great deeds inafter- life constrained her to be proud of him.The Napiers were blessed in both parents, but espeJared Sparks' ' Life of Wash- 2 Forster's ' Eminent Britishington.' Statesmen ' (Cabinet Cyclop. ) vi. 8.3 The Earl of Mornington, composer of ' Here in cool grot,' &c.46 Mothers ofLawyers and Statesmen. [ CHAP. II.cially in their mother, Lady Sarah Lennox, who earlysought to inspire her sons' minds with elevatingthoughts, admiration of noble deeds, and a chivalrousspirit, which became embodied in their lives, and continued to sustain them, until death, in the path of dutyand of honour.Among statesmen, lawyers, and divines, we findmarked mention made of the mothers of Lord Chancellors Bacon, Erskine, and Brougham-all women ofgreat ability, and, in the case of the first, of greatlearning; as well as of the mothers of Canning, Curran,and President Adams-of Herbert, Paley, and Wesley.Lord Brougham speaks in terms almost approachingreverence of his grandmother, the sister of ProfessorRobertson, as having been mainly instrumental in instilling into his mind a strong desire for information,and the first principles of that persevering energy inthe pursuit of every kind of knowledge which formedhis prominent characteristic throughout life.She was a"Indeed,"Canning's mother was an Irishwoman of great naturalability, for whom her gifted son entertained the greatestlove and respect to the close of his career.woman of no ordinary intellectual power.says Canning's biographer, " were we not otherwiseassured of the fact from direct sources, it would beimpossible to contemplate his profound and touchingdevotion to her, without being led to conclude that theobject of such unchanging attachment must have beenpossessed of rare and commanding qualities. She wasesteemed by the circle in which she lived, as a womanof great mental energy. Her conversation was animatedand vigorous, and marked by a distinct originality ofmanner and a choice of topics fresh and striking, andout of the commonplace routine. To persons who werebut slightly acquainted with her, the energy of herCHAP. II.] Curran and Adams. 47manner had even something of the air of eccentricity." 1Curran speaks with great affection of his mother, as awoman of strong original understanding, to whose wisecounsel, consistent piety, and lessons of honourableambition, which she diligently enforced on the mindsof her children, he himself principally attributed hissuccess in life. " The only inheritance," he used tosay, "that I could boast of from my poor father, wasthe very scanty one of an unattractive face and person,like his own; and if the world has ever attributed to mesomething more valuable than face or person, or thanearthly wealth, it was that another and a dearer parentgave her child a portion from the treasure of hermind. ” 2When ex-President Adams was present at theexamination of a girls' school at Boston, he was presented by the pupils with an address which deeplyaffected him; and in acknowledging it, he took theopportunity of referring to the lasting influence whichwomanly training and association had exercised uponhis own life and character. "As a child," he said, " Ienjoyed perhaps the greatest of blessings that can bebestowed on man-that of a mother, who was anxiousand capable to form the characters of her children.rightly. From her I derived whatever instruction(religious especially, and moral) has pervaded a longlife —I will not say perfectly, or as it ought to be; butI will say, because it is only justice to the memory ofher I revere, that, in the course of that life, whateverimperfection there has been, or deviation from what shetaught me, the fault is mine, and not hers."1 Robert Bell's ' Life of Canning, ' p. 37.2Life of Curran,' by his son, p. 4.48Mother ofthe Wesley's. [ CHAP. II .The Wesleys were peculiarly linked to their parentsby natural piety, though the mother, rather than thefather, influenced their minds and developed theircharacters. The father was a man of strong will, butoccasionally harsh and tyrannical in his dealings withhis family;¹ while the mother, with much strength ofunderstanding and ardent love of truth, was gentle, persuasive, affectionate, and simple. She was the teacherand cheerful companion of her children, who graduallybecame moulded by her example. It was throughthe bias given by her to her sons' minds in religiousmatters that they acquired the tendency which, even inearly years, drew to them the name of Methodists. Ina letter to her son, Samuel Wesley, when a scholar atWestminster in 1709, she said: " I would advise you asmuch as possible to throw your business into a certainmethod, by which means you will learn to improve everyprecious moment, and find an unspeakable facility inthe performance of your respective duties." This"method " she went on to describe, exhorting her son." in all things to act upon principle; " and the societywhich the brothers John and Charles afterwardsfounded at Oxford is supposed to have been in a greatmeasure the result of her exhortations.In the case of poets, literary men, and artists, theinfluence of the mother's feeling and taste has doubtlesshad great effect in directing the genius of their sons;and we find this especially illustrated in the lives ofGray, Thomson, Scott, Southey, Bulwer, Schiller, and1 The father of the Wesleys had even determined at one time toabandon his wife because her conscience forbade her to assentto his prayers for the then reigningmonarch, and he was only saved from the consequences of his rash resolve by the accidental death ofWilliam III. He displayed thesame overbearing disposition in dealing with his children; forcinghis daughter Mehetabel to marry,against her will, a man whom shedid not love, and who proved entirely unworthy of her,CHAP. II. ] Mothers ofPoets.――49Goethe. Gray inherited, almost complete, his kind andloving nature from his mother, while his father washarsh and unamiable. Gray was, in fact, a feminineman -shy, reserved, and wanting in energy, butthoroughly irreproachable in life and character. Thepoet's mother maintained the family, after her unworthy husband had deserted her; and, at her death,Gray placed on her grave, in Stoke Pogis, an epitaphdescribing her as " the careful tender mother of manychildren, one of whom alone had the misfortune tosurvive her." The poet himself was, at his own desire,interred beside her worshipped grave.Goethe, like Schiller, owed the bias of his mind andcharacter to his mother, who, was a woman of extraordinary gifts. She was full of joyous flowing motherwit, and possessed in a high degree the art of stimulating young and active minds, instructing them in thescience of life out of the treasures of her abundantexperience.¹ After a lengthened interview with her,an enthusiastic traveller said, " Now do I understandhow Goethe has become the man he is." Goethehimself affectionately cherished her memory. " Shewas worthy of life! " he once said of her; and whenhe visited Frankfort, he sought out every individualwho had been kind to his mother, and thanked themall.It was Ary Scheffer's mother-whose beautifulfeatures the painter so loved to reproduce in hispictures of Beatrice, St. Monica, and others of hisworks-that encouraged his study of art, and by great1 Goethe himself says-"Vom Vater hab' ich die Statur,Des Lebens ernstes Führen;Von Mütterchen die Frohnatur Und Lust zu fabuliren."50 Ary Scheffer's Mother.و,[ CHAP. II.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 herletters to him, while absent, were always full of soundmotherly advice, and affectionate womanly sympathy." If you could but see me,' she wrote on one occasion, " kissing your picture, then, after a while, takingit up again, and, with a tear in my eye, calling you' my beloved son,' you would comprehend what it costsme to use sometimes the stern language of authority,and to occasion to you moments of pain.Work diligently—be, above all, modest and humble;and when you find yourself excelling others, then compare what you have done with Nature itself, or withthe ' ideal ' of your own mind, and you will be secured,by the contrast which will be apparent, against theeffects of pride and presumption. "

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Long years after, when Ary Scheffer was himself agrandfather, he remembered with affection the adviceof his mother, and repeated it to his children. Andthus the vital power of good example lives on fromgeneration to generation, keeping the world ever freshand young. Writing to his daughter, Madame Marjolin, in 1846, his departed mother's advice recurredto him, and he said: " The word must-fix it wellin your memory, dear child; your grandmother seldomhad it out of hers. The truth is, that through our livesnothing brings any good fruit except what is earned byeither the work of the hands, or by the exertion of one'sself-denial. Sacrifices must, in short, be ever going onif we would obtain any comfort or happiness. Nowthat I am no longer young, I declare that few passagesin my life afford me so much satisfaction as those inwhich I made sacrifices, or denied myself enjoyments.' Das Entsagen ' (the forbidden) is the motto of theCHAP. II.j Michelet's Tribute to his Mother. 51wise man. Self-denial is the quality of which JesusChrist set us the example."'1The French historian Michelet makes the followingtouching reference to his mother in the Preface toone of his most popular books, the subject of muchembittered controversy at the time at which it appeared:-"Whilst writing all this, I have had in my mind awoman, whose strong and serious mind would not havefailed to support me in these contentions. I lost herthirty years ago (I was a child then) -nevertheless,ever living in my memory, she follows me from age toage." She suffered with me in my poverty, and was notallowed to share my better fortune. When young, Imade her sad, and now I cannot console her. I knownot even where her bones are: I was too poor then tobuy earth to bury her!" And yet I owe her much. I feel deeply that I amthe son of woman. Every instant, in my ideas andwords (not to mention my features and gestures), I findagain my mother in myself. It is my mother's bloodwhich gives me the sympathy I feel for bygone ages,and the tender remembrance of all those who are nowno more."What return then could I, who am myself advancingtowards old age, make her for the many things I oweher? One, for which she would have thanked methis protest in favour of women and mothers." 2But while a mother may greatly influence the poeticor artistic mind of her son for good, she may also influence it for evil. Thus the characteristics of Lord1 Mrs. Grote's ' Life of Ary Scheffer, ' p. 154.2 Michelet, ' On Priests, Women, and Families.'E 2•52 Byron and Foote. [ CHAP. II .Byron-the waywardness of his impulses, his defianceof restraint, the bitterness of his hate, and the precipitancy of his resentments-were traceable in no smalldegree to the adverse influences exercised upon hismind from his birth by his capricious, violent, andheadstrong mother. She even taunted her son with hispersonal 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 themafter him as he fled from her presence.¹ It was thisunnatural treatment that gave a morbid turn toByron's after-life; and, careworn, unhappy, great, andyet weak as he was, he carried about with him themother's poison which he had sucked in his infancy.Hence he exclaims, in his Childe Harold ':—"Yet must I think less wildly:-I have thoughtToo long and darkly, till my brain became,In its own eddy boiling and o'erwrought,A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame:And thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame,My springs oflife were poisoned."In like manner, though in a different way, thecharacter of Mrs. Foote, the actor's mother, wascuriously repeated in the life of her joyous, jovialhearted son. Though she had been heiress to a largefortune, she soon spent it all, and was at length imprisoned for debt. In this condition she wrote to Sam,who had been allowing her a hundred a year out of theproceeds of his acting:-" Dear Sam, I am in prisonfor debt; come and assist your loving mother, E. Foote."To which her son characteristically replied “ Dearmother, so am I; which prevents his duty being paid tohis loving mother by her affectionate son, Sam Foote."1 Mrs. Byron is said to have died in a fit of passion, brought on byreading her upholsterer's bills.CHAP. II .]Lamartine's Mother. 53A foolish mother may also spoil a gifted son, by imbuing his mind with unsound sentiments. Thus Lamartine'smother is said to have trained him in altogethererroneous ideas of life, in the school of Rousseau andBernardin de St.-Pierre, by which his sentimentalism,sufficiently strong by nature, was exaggerated insteadof repressed; ¹ and he became the victim of tears, affectation, and improvidence, all his life long. It almostsavours of the ridiculous to find Lamartine, in his' Confidences,' representing himself as a " statue ofAdolescence raised as a model for young men."" 2 Ashe was his mother's spoilt child, so he was the spoiltchild of his country to the end, which was bitter andsad. Sainte-Beuve says of him: " He wasthe continualobject of the richest gifts, which he had not the powerofmanaging, scattering and wasting them all, exceptingthe gift of words, which seemed inexhaustible, and onwhich he continued to play to the end as on an enchanted flute. "3We have spoken of the mother of Washington as anexcellent woman of business; and to possess such aquality as capacity for business is not only compatiblewith true womanliness, but is in a measure essential tothe comfort and wellbeing of every properly-governedfamily. Habits of business do not relate to trademerely, but apply to all the practical affairs of life—to everything that has to be arranged, to be organised,to be provided for, to be done. And in all theserespects the management of a family, and of a household, is as much a matter of business as the management of a shop or of a counting-house. It requiresmethod, accuracy, organization, industry, economy,Sainte-Beuve, ' Causeries du Lundi, ' i. 23.3 Ibid. i . 23.2 Ibid. i. 22.54 Women and Business Habits. [CHAP. II.discipline, tact, knowledge, and capacity for adaptingmeans to ends. All this is of the essence of business;and hence business habits are as necessary to be cultivated by women who would succeed in the affairs ofhome-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, thatwomen have no concern with such matters, and thatbusiness habits and qualifications relate to men only.Take, for instance, the knowledge of figures. Mr.Bright has said of boys, " Teach a boy arithmeticthoroughly, and he is a made man." And why?-Because it teaches him method, accuracy, value, proportions, relations. But how many girls are taughtarithmetic well?-Very few indeed. And what is theconsequence?-When the girl becomes a wife, if sheknows nothing of figures, and is innocent of additionand multiplication, she can keep no record of incomeand expenditure, and there will probably be a succession of mistakes committed which may be prolific indomestic contention. The woman, not being up to herbusiness—that is, the management of her domesticaffairs in conformity with the simple principles ofarithmetic-will, through sheer ignorance, be apt tocommit extravagances, which may be most injurious toher family peace and comfort.Method, which is the soul of business, is also ofessential importance in the home. Work can only begot through by method. Muddle flies before it, andhugger-mugger becomes a thing unknown. Methoddemands punctuality, another eminently businessquality. The unpunctual woman, like the unpunctualman, occasions dislike, because she consumes andwastes time, and provokes the reflection that we areCHAP. II. ] Business Qualities requisite. 55not 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, anddomestic prosperity.Prudence is another important business quality inwomen, as in men. Prudence is practical wisdom, andcomes of the cultivated judgment. It has reference inall things to fitness, to propriety; judging wisely of theright thing to be done, and the right way of doing it.It calculates the means, order, time, and method ofdoing. Prudence learns from experience, quickened byknowledge.For these, amongst other reasons, habits of business.are necessary to be cultivated by all women, in orderto their being efficient helpers in the world's daily lifeand work. Furthermore, to direct the power of thehome aright, women, as the nurses, trainers, andeducators of children, need all the help and strengththat 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 inafamily, needs to be educated. The physical health of therising generation is entrusted to woman by Providence;and it is in the physical nature that the moral andmental nature lies enshrined. It is only by acting inaccordance with the natural laws, which before she canfollow woman must needs understand, that the blessingsof health of body, and health of mind and morals, can besecured at home. Without a knowledge of such laws,the mother's love too often finds its recompence onlyin a child's coffin.¹1 That about one-third of allthe children born in this country die under five years of age, canonly be attributable to ignoranceof the natural laws, ignorance of the human constitution, and+56Woman's Intelligence. [CHAP. II.It is a mere truism to say that the intellect withwhich woman as well as man is endowed, has been givenfor use and exercise, and not "to fust in her unused."Such endowments are never conferred without a purpose. The Creator may be lavish in His gifts, but He isneyer wasteful.Woman was not meant to be either an unthinkingdrudge, or the merely pretty ornament of man's leisure.She exists for herself, as well as for others; and theserious and responsible duties she is called upon to perform in life, require the cultivated head as well as thesympathising heart. Her highest mission is not to befulfilled by the mastery of fleeting accomplishments, onwhich so much useful time is now wasted; for, thoughaccomplishments may enhance the charms of youth andbeauty, of themselves sufficiently charming, they willbe found of very little use in the affairs of real life.The highest praise which the ancient Romans couldexpress of a noble matron was that she sat at home andspan-"Domum mansit, lanam fecit. " In our own time,it has been said that chemistry enough to keep the potboiling, and geography enough to know the differentrooms in her house, was science enough for any woman;whilst Byron, whose sympathies for woman were of avery imperfect kind, professed that he would limit herlibrary to a Bible and a cookery-book. But this viewof woman's character and culture is as absurdly narrowand unintelligent, on the one hand, as the opposite view,now so much in vogue, is extravagant and unnatural onthe other that woman ought to be educated so as to beas much as possible the equal of man; undistinguishablefrom him, except in sex; equal to him in rights andignorance of the uses of pure air, some food. There is no suchpure water, and of the art of pre- mortality amongst the lowerparing and administering whole- animals.CHAP. II.] Education of Women. 57votes; and his competitor in all that makes life a fierce.and selfish struggle for place and power and money.Speaking generally, the training and discipline thatare most suitable for the one sex in early life, are alsothe most suitable for the other; and the education andculture that fill the mind of the man will prove equallywholesome for the woman. Indeed, all the argumentswhich have yet been advanced in favour of the highereducation of men, plead equally strongly in favour of thehigher education of women. In all the departments ofhome, intelligence will add to woman's usefulness andefficiency. It will give her thought and forethought,enable her to anticipate and provide for the contingenciesof life, suggest improved methods of management, andgive her strength in every way. In disciplined mentalpower she will find a stronger and safer protectionagainst deception and imposture than in mere innocentand unsuspecting ignorance; in moral and religiousculture she will secure sources of influence more powerful and enduring than in physical attractions; and indue self-reliance and self-dependence she will discoverthe truest sources of domestic comfort and happiness.But while the mind and character of women ought tobe cultivated with a view to their own wellbeing, theyought not the less to be educated liberally with a viewto the happiness of others. Men themselves cannot besound in mind or morals if women be the reverse; andif, as we hold to be the case, the moral condition of apeople mainly depends upon the education of the home,then the education of women is to be regarded as amatter of national importance. Not only does themoral character but the mental strength of man findtheir best safeguard and support in the moral purityand mental cultivation of woman; but the more completely the powers of both are developed, the more58Nations and Mothers. [CHAP. II.harmonious and well-ordered will society be-the moresafe and certain its elevation and advancement.When, about fifty years since, the First Napoleon saidthat the great want of France was mothers, he meant, inother words, that the French people needed the education of homes, presided over by good, virtuous, intelligentwomen. Indeed, the first French Revolution presentedone of the most striking illustrations of the socialmischiefs resulting from a neglect of the purifyinginfluence of women. When that great national outbreak occurred, society was impenetrated with vice andprofligacy. Morals, religion, virtue, were swamped bysensualism. The character of . woman had becomedepraved. Conjugal fidelity was disregarded; maternitywas held in reproach; family and home were alikecorrupted. Domestic purity no longer bound societytogether. France was motherless; the children brokeloose; and the Revolution burst forth, " amidst the yellsand the fierce violence of women. " 1" Label¹ Beaumarchais' ' Figaro, which was received with such enthusiasm in France shortly before the out- break of the Revolution, may beregarded as a typical play; it represented the average morality of the upper as well as the lower classes with respect to the rela- tions between the sexes.men how you please," says Herbert Spencer, "with titles of ' upper 'and ' middle ' and ' lower, youcannot prevent them from being units of the same society, actedupon by the same spirit of the age, moulded after the same type of character. The mechanicallaw, that action and reaction are equal, has its moral analogue.The deed of one man to another tends ultimately to produce a like effect upon both, be the deed good or bad. Do but put them in re- |lationship, and no division into castes, no differences of wealth,can prevent men from assimilating.The same influences whichrapidly adapt the individual tohis society, ensure, though by aslower process, the general uni- formity of a national character.And so long as the assimi- lating influences productive of itcontinue at work, it is folly to suppose any one grade of a com- munity can be morally different from the rest. In whichever rank you see corruption, be assured it equally pervades all ranks - beassured it is the symptom of a bad social diathesis. Whilst the virusof depravity exists in one part of the body-politic, no other part can remain healthy. "-Social Statics,chap. xx. § 7.CHAP. II. ] True Sphere of Women. 59But the terrible lesson was disregarded, and againand again France has grievously suffered from the wantof that discipline, obedience, self- control, and self-respectwhich can only be truly learnt at home. It is said thatthe Third Napoleon attributed the recent powerlessnessof France, which left her helpless and bleeding at thefeet of her conquerors, to the frivolity and lack of principle of the people, as well as to their love of pleasure-which, however, it must be confessed, he himself didnot a little to foster. It would thus seem that the discipline which France still needs to learn, if she wouldbe good and great, is that indicated by the FirstNapoleon-home education by good mothers.The influence of woman is the same everywhere.Her condition influences the morals, manners, andcharacter of the people in all countries. Where she isdebased, society is debased; where she is morallypure and enlightened , society will be proportionatelyelevated.Hence, to instruct woman is to instruct man; toelevate her character is to raise his own; to enlargeher mental freedom is to extend and secure that of thewhole community. For Nations are but the outcomesof Homes, and Peoples of Mothers.But while it is certain that the character of a nationwill be elevated by the enlightenment and refinementof woman, it is much more than doubtful whether anyadvantage is to be derived from her entering into competition with man in the rough work of business andpolitics. Women can no more do men's special workin the world than men can do women's. And whereverwoman has been withdrawn from her home and familyto enter upon other work, the result has been sociallydisastrous. Indeed, the efforts of some of the bestphilanthropists have of late years been devoted to60 Women and Work. [CHAP. II .withdrawing women from toiling alongside of men incoalpits, factories, nailshops, and brickyards.It is still not uncommon in the North for the husbands to be idle at home, while the mothers anddaughters are working in the factory; the result being,in many cases, an entire subversion of family order, ofdomestic discipline, and of home rule. And for manyyears past, in Paris, that state of things has been reachedwhich some women desire to effect amongst ourselves.Thewomen there mainly attend to business-serving theboutique, or presiding at the comptoir-while the menlounge about the Boulevards. But the result has onlybeen homelessness, degeneracy, and family and socialdecay.Nor is there any reason to believe that the elevationSome twenty-eight years since,the author wrote and published the following passage, not withoutpractical knowledge of the sub- ject; and notwithstanding the great amelioration in the lot offactory-workers, effected mainly through the noble efforts of LordShaftesbury, the description is still to a large extent true:-" The factory system, however much it may have added to the wealth of the country, has had amost deleterious effect on the domestic condition of the people.It has invaded the sanctuary of home, and broken up family and social ties. It has taken the wife from the husband, and the children from their parents. Especiallyhas its tendency been to lower the character of woman. The performance of domestic duties is her proper office, the management of her household, the rearing of her family, the economizing of the family means, the supplying of the family wants. But the factorytakes her from all these duties.Homes become no longer homes.Children grow up uneducated and neglected. The finer affections become blunted. Woman is nomore the gentle wife, companion,and friend of man, but his fellow- labourer and fellow- drudge. She is exposed to influences which too often efface that modesty ofthought and conduct which is one of the best safeguards of virtue.Withoutjudgment or sound prin- ciples to guide them, factory-girls early acquire the feeling of inde- pendence. Ready to throw off the constraint imposed on them by their parents, they leave their homes, and speedily become initi- ated in the vices of their associates.The atmosphere, physical as well as moral, in which they live, sti- mulates their animal appetites;the influence of bad example be- comes contagious among them;and mischief is propagated far and wide."-The Union, January,1843.CHAP. II.] "Enfranchisem*nt" ofWomen. 61and improvement of women are to be secured byinvesting them with political power. There are, however, in these days, many believers in the potentialityof " votes, " who anticipate some indefinite good fromthe enfranchisem*nt " of women. It is not necessary here to enter upon the discussion of this question.But it may be sufficient to state that the power whichwomen do not possess politically is far more than compensated by that which they exercise in private life-bytheir training in the home those who, whether as menor as women, do all the manly as well as womanly workof the world. The Radical Bentham has said that man,even if he would, cannot keep power from woman; forthat she already governs the world " with the wholepower of a despot, " though the power that she mainlygoverns by is love. And to form the character of thewhole human race, is certainly a power far greater thanthat which women could ever hope to exercise as votersfor members of Parliament, or even as lawmakers.There is, however, one special department of woman'swork demanding the earnest attention of all truefemale reformers, though it is one which has hithertobeen unaccountably neglected. We mean the bettereconomizing and preparation of human food, the waste1 A French satirist, pointing tothe repeated plebiscites and perpe- tual voting of late years, and to the growing want of faith in anything but votes, said, in 1870, that weseemed to be rapidly approaching the time when the only prayer of man and woman would be, "Give us this day our daily vote!"2 " Of primeval and necessary and absolute superiority, the rela- tion of the mother to the child is far more complete, though less seldom quoted as an example, thanthat of father and son . . . . BySir Robert Filmer, the supposed necessary as well as absolutepower of the father over his chil- dren, was taken as the foundationand origin, and thence justifying cause, of the power of the monarch in every political state. Withmore propriety he might have stated the absolute dominion ofa woman as the only legitimateform of government." -Deontology,ii . 181 .62 Women and Food. [ CHAP. II.of which at present, for want of the most ordinaryculinary knowledge, is little short of scandalous. Ifthat man is to be regarded as a benefactor of his specieswho makes two stalks of corn to grow where only onegrew before, not less is she to be regarded as a publicbenefactor who economizes and turns to the bestpractical account the food-products of human skilland labour. The improved use of even our existing supply would be equivalent to an immediateextension ofthe cultivable acreage of our country- notto speak of the increase in health, economy, and domestic comfort. Were our female reformers only toturn their energies in this direction with effect, theywould earn the gratitude of all households, and beesteemed as among the greatest of practical philanthropists.1CHAP. III . ] Companionship and Example.63CHAPTER III.COMPANIONSHIP AND EXAMPLE." Keep good company, and you shall be of the number."-George Herbert."For mine own part,I shall be glad to learn of noble men." -Shakspeare."Examples preach to th' eye-care, then, mine says,Not how you end, but how you spend your days."Henry Marten- Last Thoughts."Dis moi qui tu admires, et je dirai qui tu es." -Sainte- Beuve."He that means to be a good limner will be sure to draw after the most excellent copies, and guide every stroke of his pencil by the better pattern that lays before him;so he that desires that the table of his life may be fair, will be careful to propose the best examples, and will never be content till he equals or excels them."-OwenFeltham.THE natural education of the Home is prolonged farinto life-indeed it never entirely ceases. But thetime arrives, in the progress of years, when the Homeceases to exercise an exclusive influence on the formation of character; and it is succeeded by the moreartificial education of the school, and the companionship of friends and comrades, which continue to mouldthe character by the powerful influence of example.Men, young and old-but the young more than theold-cannot help imitating those with whom theyassociate. It was a saying of George Herbert's mother,intended for the guidance of her sons, " that as ourbodies take a nourishment suitable to the meat onwhich we feed, so do our souls as insensibly take invirtue or vice by the example or conversation of goodor bad company."Indeed, it is impossible that association with thoseabout us should not produce a powerful influence inthe formation of character. For men are by nature64imitators, and all persons are more or less impressed bythe speech, the manners, the gait, the gestures, and thevery habits of thinking of their companions."Isexample nothing? " said Burke. " It is everything.Example is the school of mankind, and they will learnat no other." Burke's grand motto, which he wrote forthe tablet of the Marquis of Rockingham, is worthrepeating: it was, " Remember-resemble-persevere."Influence ofCompanionship. [CHAP. III .Imitation is for the most part so unconscious that itseffects are almost unheeded, but its influence is not theless permanent on that account. It is only when animpressive nature is placed in contact with an impressionable one, that the alteration in the characterbecomes recognisable. Yet even the weakest naturesexercise some influence upon those about them. Theapproximation of feeling, thought, and habit is constant,and the action of example unceasing.Emerson has observed that even old couples, orpersons who have been housemates for a course ofyears, grow gradually like each other; so that, if theywere to live long enough, we should scarcely be able toknow them apart. But if this be true of the old, howmuch more true is it of the young, whose plastic naturesare so much more soft and impressionable, and readyto take the stamp of the life and conversation of thoseabout them!"There has been," observed Sir Charles Bell inone 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 exampleset me by my brothers. There was, in all the membersof the family, a reliance on self, a true independence,and by imitation I obtained it.” ¹1 ' Letters of Sir Charles Bell,' p. 10.CHAP. III.] The Force ofImitation. 65It is in the nature of things that the circ*mstanceswhich contribute to form the character, should exercisetheir principal influence during the period of growth.As years advance, example and imitation becomecustom, and gradually consolidate into habit, which is ofso much potency that, almost before we knowit, we havein a measure yielded up to it our personal freedom.It is related of Plato, that on one occasion hereproved a boy for playing at some foolish game." Thou reprovest me," said the boy, " for a very littlething." " But custom," replied Plato, " is not a littlething." Bad custom, consolidated into habit, is such atyrant that men sometimes cling to vices even whilethey curse them. They have become the slaves ofhabits whose power they are impotent to resist. HenceLocke has said that to create and maintain that vigourof mind which is able to contest the empire of habit,may be regarded as one of the chief ends of moraldiscipline.Though much of the education of character byexample is spontaneous and unconscious, the youngneed not necessarily be the passive followers or imitators of those about them. Their own conduct, farmore than the conduct of their companions, tends to fixthe purpose and form the principles of their life. Eachpossesses in himself a power of will and of free activity,which, if courageously exercised, will enable him tomake his own individual selection of friends and associates. It is only through weakness of purpose thatyoung people, as well as old, become the slaves of theirinclinations, or give themselves up to a servile imitationof others.It is a common saying that men are known by thecompany they keep. The sober do not naturally associate with the drunken, the refined with the coarse, theF66 Companionship of the Good. [CHAP. III .decent with the dissolute. To associate with depravedpersons argues a low taste and vicious tendencies, and tofrequent their society leads to inevitable degradation ofcharacter. " The conversation of such persons," saysSeneca, " is very injurious; for even if it does no immediate harm, it leaves its seeds in the mind, and followsus when we have gone from the speakers-a plaguesure to spring up in future resurrection."66If young men are wisely influenced and directed, andconscientiously exert their own free energies, they willseek the society of those better than themselves, andstrive to imitate their example. In companionshipwith the good, growing natures will always find theirbest nourishment; while companionship with the badwill only be fruitful in mischief. There are personswhom to know is to love, honour, and admire; andothers whom to know is to shun and despise, -" dont lesavoir n'est que béterie," as says Rabelais when speakingof the education of Gargantua. Live with persons ofelevated characters, and you will feel lifted and lightedup in them: " Live with wolves," says the Spanishproverb, "and you will learn to howl."Intercourse with e ven commonplace selfish personsmay prove most injurious, by inducing a dry, dull,reserved, and selfish condition of mind, more or lessinimical to true manliness and breadth of character.The mind soon learns to run in small grooves, the heartgrows narrow and contracted, and the moral naturebecomes weak, irresolute, and accommodating, which isfatal to all generous ambition or real excellence.On the other hand, association with persons wiser,better, and more experienced than ourselves, is alwaysmore or less inspiring and invigorating. They enhanceour own knowledge of life. We correct our estimatesby theirs, and become partners in their wisdom. WeCHAP. III . ] The Uses of Association. 67enlarge our field of observation through their eyes,profit by their experience, and learn not only from whatthey have enjoyed, but-which is still more instructive-from what they have suffered. If they are strongerthan ourselves, we become participators in their strength.Hence companionship with the wise and energetic neverfails to have a most valuable influence on the formationof character - increasing our resources, strengtheningour resolves, elevating our aims, and enabling us toexercise 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 experiencedfrom the solitude of my early habits. We need noworse companion than our unregenerate selves, and, byliving alone, a person not only becomes wholly ignorantof the means of helping his fellow-creatures, but is without the perception of those wants which most need help.Association with others, when not on so large a scale asto make hours of retirement impossible, may be considered as furnishing to an individual a rich multipliedexperience; and sympathy so drawn forth, though, unlike charity, it begins abroad, never fails to bring backrich treasures home. Association with others is usefulalso in strengthening the character, and in enabling us,while we never lose sight of our main object, to threadour way wisely and well." 1An entirely new direction may be given to the life ofa young man by a happy suggestion, a timely hint, orthe kindly advice of an honest friend. Thus the life ofHenry Martyn, the Indian missionary, seems to havebeen singularly influenced by a friendship which heformed, when a boy, at Truro Grammar School. Martyn1 ' Autobiography of Mary Anne Schimmelpenninck, ' p. 179.F 268 Boyhood ofHenry Martyn. [ CHAP. III .himself was of feeble frame, and of a delicate nervoustemperament. Wanting in animal spirits, he took butlittle pleasure in schoo sports; and being of a somewhatpetulant temper, the bigger boys took pleasure in provoking him, and some of them in bullying him. Oneof the bigger boys, however, conceiving a friendship forMartyn, took him under his protection, stood betweenhim and his persecutors, and not only fought his battlesfor him, but helped him with his lessons. ThoughMartyn was rather a backward pupil, his father wasdesirous that he should have the advantage of a collegeeducation, and at the age of about fifteen he sent him.to Oxford to try for a Corpus scholarship, in which hefailed. He remained for two years more at the TruroGrammar School, and then went to Cambridge, wherehe was entered at St. John's College. Who should hefind already settled there as a student but his old champion of the Truro Grammar School? Their friendshipwas renewed; and the elder student from that timeforward acted as the Mentor of the younger one.Martyn was fitful in his studies, excitable and petulant,and occasionally subject to fits of almost uncontrollablerage. His big friend, on the other hand, was a steady,patient, hardworking fellow; and he never ceased towatch over, to guide, and to advise for good his irritablefellow-student. He kept Martyn out of the way of evilcompany, advised him to work hard, " not for thepraise 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 achievedany distinction himself; he passed away into obscurity,leading, most probably, a useful though an unknowncareer; his greatest wish in life having been to shapethe character of his friend, to inspire his soul with theCHAP. III.] Dr. Paley's College Life. 69love of truth, and to prepare him for the noble work, onwhich he shortly after entered, of an Indian missionary.A somewhat similar incident is said to have occurredin the college career of Dr. Paley. When a student atChrist's College, Cambridge, he was distinguished forhis shrewdness as well as his clumsiness, and he was atthe same time the favourite and the butt of his companions. Though his natural abilities were great, hewas thoughtless, idle, and a spendthrift; and at thecommencement of his third year he had made comparatively little progress. After one of his usualnight-dissipations, a friend stood by his bedside onthe following morning. " Paley," said he, " I have notbeen able to sleep for thinking about you. I have beenthinking what a fool you are! I have the means ofdissipation, and can afford to be idle: you are poor, andcannot afford it. I could do nothing, probably, evenwere I to try: you are capable of doing anything. Ihave 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 bythis admonition, that from that moment he became analtered man. He formed an entirely new plan of life,and diligently persevered in it. He became one of themost industrious of students. One by one he distancedhis competitors, and at the end of the year he came outSenior Wrangler. What he afterwards accomplished asan author and a divine is sufficiently well known.No one recognised more fully the influence of personal example on the young than did Dr. Arnold. Itwas the great lever with which he worked in striving toelevate the character of his school. He made it hisprincipal object, first to put a right spirit into the70leading boys, by attracting their good and noble feelings; and then to make them instrumental in propagatingthe same spirit among the rest, by the influence of imitation, example, and admiration. He endeavoured tomake all feel that they were fellow-workers with himself, and sharers with him in the moral responsibilityfor the good government of the place. One of the firsteffects of this highminded system of management was,that it inspired the boys with strength and self-respect.Theyfelt 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 preventtheir bad example contaminating others. On one occasion he said to an assistant-master: " Do you see thosetwo boys walking together? I never saw them togetherbefore. You should make an especial point of observingthe company they keep: nothing so tells the changesin a boy's character. "Dr. Arnold an Exemplar. [ CHAP. III."HisDr. Arnold's own example was an inspiration, as isthat of every great teacher. In his presence, youngmen learned to respect themselves; and out of the rootof self-respect there grew up the manly virtues.very presence," says his biographer, " seemed to createa new spring of health and vigour within them, and togive to life an interest and elevation which remainedwith them long after they had left him; and dwelt sohabitually in their thoughts as a living image, that,when death had taken him away, the bond appeared tobe still unbroken, and the sense of separation almostlost in the still deeper sense of a life and a union indestructible." And thus it was that Dr. Arnold traineda host of manly and noble characters, who spread theinfluence of his example in all parts of the world.1¹ Dean Stanley's ' Life of Dr. Arnold, ' i. 151 ( Ed. 1858).CHAP. III .] Power of Goodness. 71So also was it said of Dugald Stewart, that he breathedthe love of virtue into whole generations of pupils." To me," says the late Lord co*ckburn, " his lectureswere like the opening of the heavens. I felt that I hada soul. His noble views, unfolded in glorious sentences,elevated me into a higher world. They changedmy whole nature. ” ¹Character tells in all conditions of life. The manof good character in a workshop will give the tone tohis fellows, and elevate their entire aspirations. ThusFranklin, while a workman in London, is said to have reformed the manners of an entire workshop. So the manof bad character and debased energy will unconsciouslylower and degrade his fellows. Captain John Brown—the " marching-on” Brown-once said to Emerson, that"for a settler in a new country, one good believing manis worth a hundred, nay, worth a thousand men without character." His example is so contagious, that allother men are directly and beneficially influenced byhim, and he insensibly elevates and lifts them up to hisown standard of energetic activity.Communication with the good is invariably productive of good. The good character is diffusive in his influence. "I was common clay till roses were plantedin me," says some aromatic earth in the Eastern fable.Like begets like, and good makes good."It isastonishing," says Canon Moseley, " how much goodgoodness makes. Nothing that is good is alone, noranything bad; it makes others good or others bad-andthat other, and so on: like a stone thrown into a pond,which makes circles that make other wider ones, andthen others, till the last reaches the shore.Almost all the good that is in the world has, I suppose,1 Lord co*ckburn's Memorials, ' pp. 25-6.•72 High Standard ofLife.¹[CHAP. III .thus come down to us traditionally from remote times,and often unknown centres of good." So Mr. Ruskinsays, " That which is born of evil begets evil; and thatwhich is born of valour and honour, teaches valour andhonour."Hence it is that the life of every man is a daily inculcation of good or bad example to others. The lifeof a good man is at the same time the most eloquentlesson of virtue and the most severe reproof of vice.Dr. Hooker described the life of a pious clergyman ofhis acquaintance as " visible rhetoric," convincing eventhe most godless of the beauty of goodness. And so thegood George Herbert said, on entering upon the dutiesof his parish: " Above all, I will be sure to live well,because the virtuous life of a clergyman is the mostpowerful eloquence, to persuade all who see it toreverence and love, and at least to desire to live likehim. And this I will do," he added, " because I knowwe live in an age that hath more need of good examplesthan precepts." It was a fine saying of the same goodpriest, when reproached with doing an act of kindnessto a poor man, considered beneath the dignity of hisoffice, that the thought of such actions " would provemusic to him at midnight. " 2 Izaak Walton speaks ofa 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 alwaysreturn 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 command. The man inspired by it is the true king of men,drawing all hearts after him. When General Nichol-¹ From aletter of Canon Moseley, | shortly after the death of the late read at a Memorial Meeting held Lord Herbert of Lea.2 Izaak Walton's ' Life of George Herbert.'CHAP. III. ] The Inspiration ofGoodness. 73son lay wounded on his deathbed before Delhi, hedictated this last message to his equally noble andgallant friend, 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 dutieshad not prevented my seeing more of him privately. Iwas always the better for a residence with him and hiswife, however short. Give my love to them both! "There are men in whose presence we feel as if webreathed a spiritual ozone, refreshing and invigorating,like inhaling mountain air, or enjoying a bath of sunshine. The power of Sir Thomas More's gentle naturewas so great that it subdued the bad at the same timethat it inspired the good. Lord Brooke said of hisdeceased friend, Sir Philip Sidney, that " his wit andunderstanding beat upon his heart, to make himself andothers, not in word or opinion, but in life and aetion,good and great.”The very sight of a great and good man is often aninspiration to the young, who cannot help admiring andloving the gentle, the brave, the truthful, the magnanimous. Chateaubriand saw Washington only once, butit inspired him for life. After describing the interview,he says: " Washington sank into the tomb before anylittle celebrity had attached to my name. I passedbefore him as the most unknown of beings. He was inall his glory-I in the depth of my obscurity. Myname probably dwelt not a whole day in his memory.Happy, however, was I that his looks were cast uponme. I have felt warmed for it all the rest of my life.There is a virtue even in the looks of a great man.”When Niebuhr died, his friend, Frederick Perthes,said of him: " What a contemporary! The terror ofallbad and base men, the stay of all the sterling andhonest, the friend and helper of youth." Perthes said•74 Admiration of the Good. [ CHAP. III .on another occasion: " It does a wrestling man good tobe constantly surrounded by tried wrestlers; evilthoughts are put to flight when the eye falls on theportrait of one in whose living presence one would haveblushed to own them." A Catholic money- lender,when about to cheat, was wont to draw a veil over thepicture of his favourite saint. So Hazlitt has said ofthe portrait of a beautiful female, that it seemed as if an unhandsome 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 ofthe great Reformer hung upon the wall of her humbledwelling.Even the portrait of a noble or a good man, hung upin a room, is companionship after a sort. It gives us acloser personal interest in him. Looking at the features,we feel as if we knew him better, and were more nearlyrelated to him. It is a link that connects us with ahigher and better nature than our own. And thoughwe may be far from reaching the standard of our hero,we are, to a certain extent, sustained and fortified by hisdepicted presence constantly before us.Fox was proud to acknowledge how much he owed tothe example and conversation of Burke. On one occasion he said of him, that " if he was to put all thepolitical information he had gained from books, all thathe had learned from science, or that the knowledge ofthe world and its affairs taught him, into one scale, andthe improvement he had derived from Mr. Burke's conversation and instruction into the other, the latterwould preponderate.”Professor Tyndall speaks of Faraday's friendship as"energy and inspiration. " After spending an eveningwith him he wrote: " His work excites admiration, butcontact with him warms and elevates the heart. Here,CHAP. III .] Influence ofGentle Natures. 75surely, is a strong man. I love strength, but let me notforget the example of its union with modesty, tenderness, and sweetness, in the character of Faraday. "Even the gentlest natures are powerful to influencethe character of others for good. Thus Wordsworthseems to have been especially impressed by thecharacter of his sister Dorothy, who exercised upon hismind and heart a lasting influence. He describes heras the blessing of his boyhood as well as of his manhood. Though two years younger than himself, hertenderness and sweetness contributed greatly to mouldhis nature, and open his mind to the influences ofpoetry:"She gave me eyes, she gave me ears,And humble cares, and delicate fears;Aheart, the fountain of sweet tears,And love and thought and joy. "Thus the gentlest natures are enabled, by the power ofaffection and intelligence, to mould the characters ofmen destined to influence and elevate their race throughall time.Sir William Napier attributed the early direction ofhis character, first to the impress made upon it by hismother, when a boy; and afterwards to the noble example 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 addressedthe encouragement, " Well done, my majors!" atCorunna. Writing home to his mother, and describing the little court by which Moore was surrounded , hewrote, "Where shall we find such a king?" It was tohis personal affection for his chief that the world ismainly indebted to Sir William Napier for his greatbook, ' The History of the Peninsular War.' But hewas stimulated to write the book by the advice of76 Energy evokes Energy.[ CHAP. III ,another friend, the late Lord Langdale, while one daywalking with him across the fields on which Belgraviais now built. " It was Lord Langdale," he says, " whofirst kindled the fire within me." And of Sir WilliamNapier himself, his biographer truly says, that " nothinking person could ever come in contact with himwithout being strongly impressed with the genius ofthe man. "The career of the late Dr. Marshall Hall was a lifelong illustration of the influence of character in formingcharacter. Many eminent men still living trace theirsuccess in life to his suggestions and assistance, withoutwhich several valuable lines of study and investigationmight not have been entered on, at least at so early aperiod. He would say to young men about him,"Take up a subject and pursue it well, and you cannot fail to succeed. " And often he would throw out a newidea to a young friend, saying, " I make you a presentof it; there is fortune in it, if you pursue it with energy."Energy of character has always a power to evokeenergy in others. It acts through sympathy, one of themost influential of human agencies. The zealousenergetic man unconsciously carries others along withhim. His example is contagious, and compels imitation. He exercises a sort of electric power, which sendsa thrill through every fibre-flows into the nature ofthose about him, and makes them give out sparks offire."ItDr. Arnold's biographer, speaking of the power ofthis kind exercised by him over young men, says:was not so much an enthusiastic admiration for truegenius, or learning, or eloquence, which stirred withinthem; it was a sympathetic thrill, caught from a spiritthat was earnestly at work in the world-whose workwas healthy, sustained, and constantly carried forwardCHAP. III. ] Power ofGreat Minds. 77in the fear of God--a work that was founded on a deepsense of its duty and its value." ¹Such a power, exercised by men of genius, evokescourage, enthusiasm, and devotion. It is this intenseadmiration for individuals-such as one cannot conceiveentertained for a multitude-which has in all timesproduced heroes and martyrs. It is thus that themastery of character makes itself felt. It acts by inspiration, quickening and vivifying the natures subjectto its influence.Great minds are rich in radiating force, not onlyexerting power, but communicating and even creatingit. Thus Dante raised and drew after him a host ofgreat spirits - Petrarch, Boccacio, Tasso, and manymore. From him Milton learnt to bear the stings ofevil tongues and the contumely of evil days; andlong years after, Byron, thinking of Dante under thepine-trees of Ravenna, was incited to attune his harp toloftier strains than he had ever attempted before. Danteinspired the greatest painters of Italy-Giotto, Orcagna,Michael Angelo, and Raphael. So Ariosto and Titianmutually inspired one another, and lighted up eachother's glory.Great and good men draw others after them, excitingthe spontaneous admiration of mankind. This admiration of noble character elevates the mind, and tendsto redeem it from the bondage of self, one of the greateststumblingblocks to moral improvement. The recollection of men who have signalised themselves by greatthoughts or great deeds, seems as if to create for thetime a purer atmosphere around us: and we feel as ifour aims and purposes were unconsciously elevated."Tell me whom you admire," said Sainte-Beuve,¹ Stanley's ' Life and Letters of Dr. Arnold,' i. 33.78 Admire nobly. [CHAP. III."and I will tell you what you are, at least as regardsyour talents, tastes, and character." Do you admiremean men?—your own nature is mean. Do you admirerich men?-you are of the earth, earthy. Do youadmire men of title?—you are a toad-eater, or a tufthunter.¹ Do you admire honest, brave, and manlymen?-you are yourself of an honest, brave, and manlyspirit.It is in the season of youth, while the character isforming, that the impulse to admire is the greatest.As we advance in life, we crystallize into habit; and“Nil admirari ” too often becomes our motto. It is wellto encourage the admiration of great characters while thenature is plastic and open to impressions; for if thegood are not admired-as young men will have theirheroes of some sort-most probably the great bad maybe taken by them for models. Hence it always rejoicedDr. Arnold to hear his pupils expressing admiration ofgreat deeds, or full of enthusiasm for persons or even scenery. "I believe," said he, " that 'Nil admirari ' is thedevil's favourite text; and he could not choose a betterto introduce his pupils into the more esoteric parts ofhis doctrine. And, therefore, I have always lookedupon a man infected with the disorder of anti-romanceas one who has lost the finest part of his nature, andhis best protection against everything lowand foolish."It was a fine trait in the character of Prince Albertthat he was always so ready to express generous admi1 Philip de Comines gives acurious illustration of the sub- servient, though enforced, imita- tion of Philip, Duke of Burgundy,by his courtiers. When that prince fell ill, and had his head shaved, he ordered that all his nobles, five hundred in number,2Life,'should in like manner shave theirheads; and one of them, Pierre de Hagenbach, to prove his devotion,no sooner caught sight of an un- shaven nobleman, than he forth- with had him seized and carried off to the barber! -Philip de Comines (Bohn's Ed. ) , p . 243.i. 344.CHAP. III . ] Johnson and Boswell. 79ration of the good deeds of others. " He had thegreatest delight," says the ablest delineator of his character, " in anybody else saying a fine saying, or doinga great deed. He would rejoice over it, and talk aboutit for days; and whether it was a thing nobly saidor done by a little child, or by a veteran statesman, itgave him equal pleasure. He delighted in humanitydoing well on any occasion and in any manner."1"No quality," said Dr. Johnson, " will get a manmore friends than a sincere admiration of the qualitiesof others. It indicates generosity of nature, frankness,cordiality, and cheerful recognition of merit." It wasto the sincere it might almost be said the reverentialadmiration of Johnson by Boswell, that we owe one ofthe best biographies ever written. One is disposed tothink that there must have been some genuine goodqualities in Boswell to have been attracted by such aman as Johnson, and to have kept faithful to his worship in spite of rebuffs and snubbings innumerable.Macaulay speaks of Boswell as an altogether contemptible person-as a coxcomb and a bore-weak, vain,pushing, curious, garrulous; and without wit, humour,or eloquence. But Carlyle is doubtless more just inhis characterisation of the biographer, in whom-vainand foolish though he was in many respects he sees aman penetrated by the old reverent feeling of discipleship, full of love and admiration for true wisdom andexcellence. Without such qualities, Carlyle insists, theLife of Johnson ' never could have been written."Boswell wrote a good book," he says, " because hehad a heart and an eye to discern wisdom, and anutterance to render it forth; because of his free insight,1 Introduction to ' The Principal Speeches and Addresses of H.R.H,the Prince Consort,' p. 33.80 Young Men's Heroes. [CHAP. III .his lively talent, and, above all, of his love and childlike openmindedness."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 purposeof 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 makethe journey. It is related of Sir Joshua Reynolds, thatwhen a boy of ten, he thrust his hand through intervening rows of people to touch Pope, as if there were asort of virtue in the contact. At a much later period,the painter Haydon was proud to see and to touchReynolds when on a visit to his native place. Rogersthe poet used to tell of his ardent desire, when a boy,to see Dr. Johnson; but when his hand was on theknocker of the house in Bolt Court, his courage failedhim, 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 hisdismay he was informed by the servant that the greatlexicographer had breathed his last only a few hoursbefore.On the contrary, small and ungenerous minds cannotadmire heartily. To their own great misfortune, theycannot recognise, much less reverence, great men andgreat things. The mean nature admires meanly. Thetoad's highest idea of beauty is his toadess. The smallsnob's highest idea of manhood is the great snob. Theslave-dealer values a man according to his muscles.When a Guinea trader was told by Sir Godfrey Kneller,in the presence of Pope, that he saw before himtwo of the greatest men in the world, he replied:"I don't know how great you may be, but I don'tCHAP. III. ] The Envy of Small Minds. 81like your looks. I have often bought a man muchbetter than both of you together, all bones and muscles,for ten guineas! "Although Rochefoucauld, in one of his maxims, saysthat there is something that is not altogether disagreeable to us in the misfortunes of even our best friends,it is only the small and essentially mean nature thatfinds pleasure in the disappointment, and annoyance atthe success of others. There are, unhappily forthemselves, persons so constituted that they havenot the heart to be generous. The most disagreeableof all people are those who " sit in the seat of thescorner. " Persons of this sort often come to regardthe success of others, even in a good work, as akind of personal offence. They cannot bear to hearanother praised, especially if he belong to their ownart, or calling, or profession. They will pardon a man'sfailures, but cannot forgive his doing a thing betterthan they can do. And where they have themselvesfailed, 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. Thegreatest consolation of such persons are the defectsof men of character. "If the wise erred not," saysGeorge Herbert, " it would go hard with fools." Yet,though wise men may learn of fools by avoiding theirerrors, fools rarely profit by the example which wisem*n set them. A German writer has said that it isa miserable temper that cares only to discover theblemishes in the character of great men or greatG82 Admiration and Imitation. [CHAP. III,periods. Let us rather judge them with the charity ofBolingbroke, who, when reminded of one of the allegedweaknesses of Marlborough, observed,-"He was sogreat a man that I forgot he had that defect. "Admiration of great men, living or dead, naturallyevokes imitation of them in a greater or less degree.While a mere youth, the mind of Themistocles wasfired by the great deeds of his contemporaries, and helonged to distinguish himself in the service of hiscountry. When the Battle of Marathon had beenfought, he fell into a state of melancholy; and whenasked by his friends as to the cause, he replied " thatthe trophies of Miltiades would not suffer him to sleep."A few years later, we find him at the head of theAthenian army, defeating the Persian fleet of Xerxesin the battles of Artemisium and Salamis, —his countrygratefully acknowledging that it had been saved throughhis wisdom and valour.It is related of Thucydides that, when a boy, he burstinto tears on hearing Herodotus read his History, andthe impression made upon his mind was such asto determine the bent of his own genius. AndDemosthenes was so fired on one occasion by theeloquence of Callistratus, that the ambition was rousedwithin him of becoming an orator himself. Yet Demosthenes was physically weak, had a feeble voice, indistinct articulation, and shortness of breath-defectswhich he was only enabled to overcome by diligentstudy and invincible determination. But, with all hispractice, he never became a ready speaker; all hisorations, especially the most famous of them, exhibitingindications of careful elaboration,-the art and industryof the orator being visible in almost every sentence.Similar illustrations of character imitating character,and moulding itself by the style and manner andCHAP. III] Haydn and Porpora.83genius of great men, are to be found pervading allhistory. Warriors, statesmen, orators, patriots, poets,and artists-all have been, more or less unconsciously,nurtured by the lives and actions of others living beforethem or presented for their imitation.Great men have evoked the admiration of kings,popes, and emperors. Francis de Medicis never spoketo Michael Angelo without uncovering, and Julius III .made him sit by his side while a dozen cardinals werestanding. Charles V. made way for Titian; and oneday, when the brush dropped from the painter's hand,Charles stooped and picked it up, saying, " You deserveto be served by an emperor. " Leo X. threatened withexcommunication whoever should print and sell thepoems of Ariosto without the author's consent. Thesame pope attended the deathbed of Raphael, asFrancis I. did that of Leonardo da Vinci.Though Haydn once archly observed that he wasloved and esteemed by everybody except professors ofmusic, yet all the greatest musicians were unusuallyready to recognise each other's greatness. Haydn himselfseems to have been entirely free from petty jealousy.His admiration of the famous Porpora was such, thathe resolved to gain admission to his house, and servehim as a valet. Having made the acquaintance ofthe family with whom Porpora lived, he was allowedto officiate in that capacity. Early each morning hetook care to brush the veteran's coat, polish his shoes,and put his rusty wig in order. At first Porpora growledat the intruder, but his asperity soon softened, and eventually melted into affection. He quickly discoveredhis valet's genius, and, by his instructions, directed itinto the line in which Haydn eventually acquired somuch distinction.Haydn himself was enthusiastic in his admiration ofG 284The Great Musicians. [ CHAP. III.Handel. "He is the father of us all ," he said on oneoccasion. Scarlatti followed Handel in admiration allover Italy, and, when his name was mentioned, hecrossed himself in token of veneration. Mozart's recognition of the great composer was not less hearty."When he chooses," said he, " Handel strikes like thethunderbolt." Beethoven hailed him as " The monarchof the musical kingdom." When Beethoven was dying,one of his friends sent him a present of Handel's works,in forty volumes. They were brought into his chamber,and, gazing on them with reanimated eye, he exclaimed,pointing at them with his finger, " There-there is thetruth! "Haydn not only recognised the genius of the greatmen who had passed away, but of his young contemporaries, Mozart and Beethoven. Small men maybe envious of their fellows, but really great men seekout and love each other. Of Mozart, Haydn wrote:-"I only wish I could impress on every friend of music,and on great men in particular, the same depth ofmusical sympathy, and profound appreciation of Mozart'sinimitable music, that I myself feel and enjoy; thennations would vie with each other to possess such a jewelwithin their frontiers. Prague ought not only to strive toretain this precious man, but also to remunerate him;for without this the history of a great genius is sadindeed. It enrages me to think that theunparalleled Mozart is not yet engaged by some imperial or royal court. Forgive my excitement; but Ilove the man so dearly! "66•Mozart was equally generous in his recognition of themerits of Haydn. " Sir," said he to a critic, speakingof the latter, ' if you and I were both melted downtogether, we should not furnish materials for oneHaydn." And when Mozart first heard Beethoven, heCHAP. III .] Masters and Disciples.85observed: " Listen to that young man; be assured thathe will yet make a great name in the world. "Buffon set Newton above all other philosophers, andadmired him so highly that he had always his portraitbefore him while he sat at work. So Schiller lookedup to Shakspeare, whom he studied reverently andzealously for years, until he became capable of comprehending nature at first-hand, and then his admirationbecame even more ardent than before.Pitt was Canning's master and hero, whom hefollowed and admired with attachment and devotion."To one man, while he lived," said Canning, " I wasdevoted with all my heart and all my soul. Since thedeath of Mr. Pitt I acknowledge no leader; my politicalallegiance lies buried in his grave. "" 1A French physiologist, M. Roux, was occupied oneday in lecturing to his pupils, when Sir Charles Bell,whose discoveries were even better known and morehighly appreciated abroad than at home, strolled intohis class-room. The professor, recognising his visitor,at once stopped his exposition, saying: " Messieurs, c'estassezpour aujourd'hui, vous avez vu Sir Charles Bell!"The first acquaintance with a great work of art hasusually proved an important event in every youngartist's life. When Correggio first gazed on Raphael's'Saint Cecilia,' he felt within himself an awakenedpower, and exclaimed, “ And I too am a painter!" SoConstable used to look back on his first sight of Claude'spicture of Hagar,' as forming an epoch in his career.Sir George Beaumont's admiration of the same picturewas such that he always took it with him in his carriagewhen he travelled from home.6The examples set by the great and good do not die;1 Speech at Liverpool, 1812.86 Enduringness ofGood Example. [ CHAP. III .they continue to live and speak to all the generationsthat succeed them. It was very impressively observedby Mr. Disraeli, in the House of Commons, shortly afterthe death of Mr. Cobden:-"There is this consolation remaining to us, when weremember our unequalled and irreparable losses, thatthose great men are not altogether lost to us—thattheir words will often be quoted in this House—thattheir examples will often be referred to and appealedto, and that even their expressions will form part ofour discussions and debates. There are now, I maysay, some members of Parliament who, though theymay not be present, are still members of this Housewho are independent of dissolutions, of the caprices ofconstituencies, and even of the course of time. I thinkthat Mr. Cobden was one of those men.”It is the great lesson of biography to teach what mancan be and can do at his best. It may thus give each manrenewed strength and confidence. The humblest, in sightof even the greatest, may admire, and hope, and takecourage. These great brothers of ours in blood andlineage, who live a universal life, still speak to us fromtheir graves, and beckon us on in the paths which theyhave trod. Their example is still with us, to guide, toinfluence, and to direct us. For nobility of characteris a perpetual bequest, living from age to age, and constantly tending to reproduce its like."The sage," say the Chinese, " is the instructor of 'ahundred ages. When the manners of Loo are heard of,the stupid become intelligent, and the wavering determined." Thus the acted life of a good man continuesto be a gospel of freedom and emancipation to all whosucceed him:"To live in hearts we leave behind,Is not to die. "CHAP. III . ] Consolation ofa Well-spent Life. 87The golden words that good men have uttered, theexamples they have set, live through all time: they passinto the thoughts and hearts of their successors, helpthem on the road of life, and often console them in thehour of death. "And the most miserable or mostpainful of deaths," said Henry Marten, the Commonwealth man, who died in prison, "is as nothing compared with the memory of a well- spent life; and greatalone is he who has earned the glorious privilege ofbequeathing such a lesson and example to his successors!"88 Work. [ CHAP. IV.CHAPTER IV.WORK."Arise therefore, and be doing, and the Lord be with thee."-1 Chronicles xxii. 16."Work as if thou hadst to live for aye;Worship as if thou wert to die to-day. "-Tuscan Proverb."C'est par le travail qu'on regne.” —Louis XIV."Blest work! if ever thou wert curse of God,What must His blessing be! "-J. B. Selkirk."Let every man be occupied, and occupied in the highest employment of which his nature is capable, and die with the consciousness that he has done his best."-Sydney Smith.WORK is one of the best educators of practical character.It evokes and disciplines obedience, self-control, attention, application, and perseverance; giving a mandeftness and skill in his special calling, and aptitudeand dexterity in dealing with the affairs of ordinary life.Work is the law of our being-the living principlethat carries men and nations onward. The greaternumber of men have to work with their hands, as amatter of necessity, in order to live; but all must workin one way or another, if they would enjoy life as itought to be enjoyed.Labour may be a burden and a chastisem*nt, but itis also an honour and a glory. Without it, nothing can beaccomplished. All that is great in man comes throughwork; and civilisation is its product. Were labourabolished, the race of Adam were at once stricken bymoral death.It is idleness that is the curse of man-not labour.Idleness eats the heart out of men as of nations, andCHAP. IV. ] Pliny on Rural Labour. 89consumes them as rust does iron. When Alexanderconquered the Persians, and had an opportunity ofobserving their manners, he remarked that they did notseem conscious that there could be anything moreservile than a life of pleasure, or more princely than alife of toil.When the Emperor Severus lay on his deathbed atYork, whither he had been borne on a litter from thefoot of the Grampians, his final watchword to his soldiers was, "Laboremus" (we must work); andnothing but constant toil maintained the power andextended the authority of the Roman generals.In describing the earlier social condition of Italy,when the ordinary occupations of rural life were considered compatible with the highest civic dignity, Plinyspeaks of the triumphant generals and their menreturning contentedly to the plough. " In those days thelands were tilled by the hands even of generals, the soilexulting beneath a ploughshare crowned with laurels,and guided by a husbandman graced with triumphs ":[Ipsorum tunc manibus imperatorum colebantur agri:ut fas est credere, gaudente terrâ vomere laureato ettriumphali aratore. ] It was only after slaves becameIn the third chapter of his Natural History, Pliny relates in what high honour agriculture washeld in the earlier days of Rome;how the divisions of land weremeasured by the quantity which could be ploughed by a yoke of oxen in a certain time (jugerum,in one day; actus, at one spell);how the greatest recompence to ageneral or valiant citizen was ajugerum; how the earliest surnames were derived from agricul- ture (Pilumnus, from pilum, the pestle for pounding corn; Piso, from piso, to grind corn; Fabius, from1 faba, a bean; Lentulus, from lens,a lentil; Cicero, from cicer, a chick- pea; Babulcus, from bos, &c. );how the highest compliment was to call a man a good agriculturist,or a good husbandman (Locuples,rich, loci plenus, Pecunia, from pecus, &c. ); howthe pasturing of cattle secretly by night upon un- ripe crops was a capital offence,punishable by hanging; how the rural tribes held the foremostrank, while those of the city had discredit thrown upon them as being an indolent race; and how "Gloriam denique ipsam, afarris90 The Curse ofIdleness.[CHAP. IV.extensively employed in all departments of industrythat labour came to be regarded as dishonourable andservile. And so soon as indolence and luxury becamethe characteristics of the ruling classes of Rome, thedownfall of the empire, sooner or later, was inevitable.There is, perhaps, no tendency of our nature thathas to be more carefully guarded against than indolence. When Mr. Gurney asked an intelligent foreignerwho had travelled over the greater part of the world,whether he had observed any one quality which, morethan 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 characteristicof the savage as of the despot. It is natural to men toendeavour to enjoy the products of labour without itstoils. Indeed, so universal is this desire, that JamesMill has argued that it was to prevent its indulgenceat the expense of society at large, that the expedient ofGovernment was originally invented.¹Indolence is equally degrading to individuals as tonations. Sloth never made its mark in the world, andnever will. Sloth never climbed a hill, nor overcame adifficulty that it could avoid. Indolence always failed inlife, and always will. It is in the nature of things that itshould not succeed in anything. It is a burden, anincumbrance, and a nuisance-always useless, complaining, melancholy, and miserable.Burton, in his quaint and curious book-the onlyone, Johnson says, that ever took him out of bed twohours sooner than he wished to rise-describes thecauses of Melancholy as hingeing mainly on Idleness.Idleness," he says, " is the bane of body and mind, the 66honore, adoream ' appellabant;" | valour, being derived from Ador, orAdorea, or Glory, the reward of spelt, a kind of grain.1 ' Essay on Government,' in Encyclopædia Britannica.'CHAP. IV.] Causes ofMelancholy.· ·91nurse of naughtiness, the chief mother of all mischief,one of the seven deadly sins, the devil's cushion, hispillow and chief reposal. An idle dog will bemangy; and how shall an idle person escape? Idlenessof the mind is much worse than that of the body wit,without employment, is a disease-the rust of the soul,a plague, a hell itself. As in a standing pool, wormsand filthy creepers increase, so do evil and corruptthoughts in an idle person; the soul is contaminated.Thus much I dare boldly say: he or she thatis idle, be they of what condition they will, never sorich, so well allied, fortunate, happy-let them have allthings in abundance and felicity. that heart can wishand desire, all contentment-so long as he, or she, orthey, are idle, they shall never be pleased, never well inbody or mind, but weary still, sickly still, vexed still,loathing still, weeping, sighing, grieving, suspecting,offended with the world, with every object, wishingthemselves gone or dead, or else carried away with.some foolish phantasie or other." 1Burton says a great deal more to the same effect;the burden and lesson of his book being embodied inthe pregnant sentence with which it winds up: -" Onlytake this for a corollary and conclusion, as thoutenderest thine own welfare in this, and all other melancholy, thy good health of body and mind, observe thisshort precept, Give not way to solitariness and idleness.Be not solitary- be not idle."2The indolent, however, are not wholly indolent.Though the body may shirk labour, the brain is notidle. If it do not grow corn, it will grow thistles,which will be found springing up all along the idleman's course in life. The ghosts of indolence rise up¹ Burton's ' Anatomy of Melancholy, ' Part i. , Mem. 2, Sub. 6.2 Ibid. End of concluding chapter.92 Excuses ofIndolence. [ CHAP. IV.in the dark, ever staring the recreant in the face, andtormenting 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, ¹but in their action and useful employment. It isindolence that exhausts, not action, in which there islife, health, and pleasure. The spirits may be exhaustedand wearied by employment, but they are utterlywasted by idleness. Hence a wise physician was accustomed to regard occupation as one of his most valuableremedial measures. "Nothing is so injurious," saidDr. Marshall Hall, " as unoccupied time.' An archbishop of Mayence used to say that " the human heartis like a millstone: if you put wheat under it, it grindsthe wheat into flour; if you put no wheat, it grinds on,but then ' tis itself it wears away.'9999Indolence 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 toclimb; " or " There is no use trying—I have tried, andfailed, and cannot do it. " To the sophistries of suchan excuser, Sir Samuel Romilly once wrote to a youngman:-" My attack upon your indolence, loss of time,&c. , was most serious, and I really think that it can beto nothing but your habitual want of exertion that canbe ascribed your using such curious arguments as youdo in your defence. Your theory is this: Every mandoes all the good that he can. If a particular individualdoes no good, it is a proof that he is incapable of doingit. That you don't write proves that you can't; and1 It is characteristic of theHindoos to regard entire inaction as the most perfect state, and todescribe the Supreme Being as "The Unmoveable."CHAP. IV. ] Industry and Leisure. 93your want of inclination demonstrates your want oftalents. What an admirable system!-and what beneficial effects would it be attended with, if it were butuniversally received! "It has been truly said, that to desire to possess,without being burdened with the trouble of acquiring,is as much a sign of weakness, as to recognise that everything worth having is only to be got by paying its price,is the prime secret of practical strength. Even leisurecannot be enjoyed unless it is won by effort.If ithave not been earned by work, the price has not beenpaid for it.¹There must be work before and work behind, withleisure to fall back upon; but the leisure, without thework, can no more be enjoyed than a surfeit. Lifemust needs be disgusting alike to the idle richman as to the idle poor man, who has no work to do,or, having work, will not do it. The words foundtattooed on the right arm of a sentimental beggar offorty, undergoing his eighth imprisonment in the gaol ofBourges in France, might be adopted as the motto ofall idlers: " Le passé m'a trompé; le present me tourmente; l'avenir m'épouvante;" -(The past has deceivedme; the present torments me; the future terrifies me. )The duty of industry applies to all classes and conditions of society. All have their work to do in theirrespective conditions of life-the rich as well as thepoor. The gentleman by birth and education, how1 Lessing was so impressed with the conviction that stagnant satis- faction was fatal to man, that he went so far as to say: "Ifthe All- powerful Being, holding in one hand Truth, and in the other the search for Truth, said to me,' Choose,' I would answer Him,' O AH-powerful, keep for Thyselfthe Truth; but leave to me thesearch for it, which is the better for me." On the other hand ,Bossuet said: " Si je concevais une nature purement intelligente, il mesemble que je n'y mettrais qu'en- tendre et aimer la vérité, et que cela seul la rendrait heureux. "2 The late Sir John Patteson,94 Work a Universal Duty. [ CHAP. IV.over richly he may be endowed with worldly possessions, cannot but feel that he is in duty bound to contribute his quota of endeavour towards the generalwellbeing in which he shares. He cannot be satisfiedwith being fed, clad, and maintained by the labour ofothers, without making some suitable return to thesociety that upholds him. An honest highmindedman would revolt at the idea of sitting down to andenjoying a feast, and then going away without payinghis share of the reckoning. To be idle and useless isneither an honour nor a privilege; and though personsof small natures may be content merely to consume-fruges consumere nati―men of average endowment, ofmanly aspirations, and of honest purpose, will feel sucha condition to be incompatible with real honour andtrue dignity."I don't believe," said Lord Stanley (nowEarl of Derby)at Glasgow, " that an unemployed man, however amiableand otherwise respectable, ever was, or ever can be, reallywhen in his seventieth year, at- tended an annual ploughing-match dinner at Feniton, Devon, at which he thought it worth his while to combat the notion, still too prevaient, that because a man does notwork merely with his bones and muscles, he is therefore not entitled to the appellation of a working- man. "In recollecting similarmeetings to the present," he said,"I remembermyfriend, John Pyle,rather throwing it in my teeth thatI had not worked for nothing; but I told him, ' Mr. Pyle, you do not know what you are talking about.We are all workers. The man whoploughs the field and who digs the hedge is a worker; but there are other workers in other stations of life as well. For myself, I can say that have been a workerever since I have been a boy.'Then I told him that the office ofjudge was by no means a sinecure,for that a judge worked as hard as any man in the country. He has to work at very difficult questions of law, which are brought before him continually, giving him great anxiety; and sometimes the lives of his fellow-creatures are placed in his hands, and are de- pendent very much upon the manner in which he places thefacts before the jury. That is amatter of no little anxiety, I can assure you. Let any man think as he will, there is no man whohas been through the ordeal for the length of time that I have, butmust feel conscious of the impor- tance and gravity of the duty which is cast upon a judge. "CHAP. IV. ] Lord Stanley on Work. 95happy. As work is our life, showme what you can do, andI will show you what you are. I have spoken of love ofone's work as the best preventive of merely low andvicious tastes. I will go further, and say that it is thebest preservative against petty anxieties, and the annoyances that arise out of indulged self-love. Men havethought before now that they could take refuge fromtrouble and vexation by sheltering themselves as it werein a world of their own. The experiment has oftenbeen tried, and always with one result. You cannotescape from anxiety and labour-it is the destiny ofhumanity ... Those who shirk from facing trouble,find that trouble comes to them. The indolent maycontrive that he shall have less than his share of theworld's work to do, but Nature, proportioning theinstinct to the work, contrives that the little shall bemuch and hard to him. The man who has only himselfto please finds, sooner or later, and probably soonerthan later, that he has got a very hard master; and theexcessive weakness which shrinks from responsibilitynas its own punishment too, for where great interestsare excluded little matters become great, and the samewear and tear of mind that might have been at leastusefully and healthfully expended on the real businessof life is often wasted in petty and imaginary vexations,such as breed and multiply in the unoccupied brain. ” ¹Even on the lowest ground-that of personal enjoyment-constant useful occupation is necessary.who labours not, cannot enjoy the reward of labour."We sleep sound," said Sir Walter Scott, "and ourwaking hours are happy, when they are employed; anda little sense of toil is necessary to the enjoyment ofHe1 Lord Stanley's Address to the Students of Glasgow University, on his installation as Lord Rector, 1869.96Life and Work. [CHAP. IV.leisure, even when earned by study and sanctioned bythe discharge of duty."It is true, there are men who die of overwork; butmany more die of selfishness, indulgence, and idleness.Where menbreak down by overwork, it is most commonlyfrom want of duly ordering their lives, and neglect ofthe ordinary conditions of physical health.LordStanley was probably right when he said, in his addressto the Glasgow students above mentioned, that hedoubted whether " hard work, steadily and regularlycarried on, ever yet hurt anybody."Then, again, length of years is no proper test oflength of life. A man's life is to be measured by whathe does in it, and what he feels in it. The more usefulwork the man does, and the more he thinks and feels, themore he really lives. The idle useless man, no matter towhat extent his life may be prolonged, merely vegetates.The early teachers of Christianity ennobled the lotof toil by their example. " He that will not work,"said Saint Paul, "neither shall he eat;" and he glorifiedhimself in that he had laboured with his hands, andhad not been chargeable to any man. When St.Boniface landed in Britain, he came with a gospel inone hand and a carpenter's rule in the other; and fromEngland he afterwards passed over into Germany, carrying thither the art of building. Luther also, in themidst of a multitude of other employments, workeddiligently for a living, earning his bread by gardening,building, turning, and even clockmaking.¹1Writingto an abbot at Nurem- |berg, who had sent him a storeof turning-tools, Luther said: "Ihave made considerable progressin clockmaking, and I am very much delighted at it, for these drunken Saxons need to be constantly reminded of what the realtime is; not that they themselves care much about it, for as long as their glasses are kept filled, they trouble themselves very little as to whether clocks, or clockmakers,or the time itself, go right. "—Michelet's Luther (Bogue Ed. ),p. 200.CHAP. IV. ] The Dignity ofWork. 97It was characteristic of Napoleon, when visiting awork of mechanical excellence, to pay great respect tothe inventor, and on taking his leave, to salute himwith a low bow. Once at St. Helena, when walkingwith Mrs. Balcombe, some servants came along carryinga load. The lady, in an angry tone, ordered them outof the way, on which Napoleon interposed, saying,"Respect the burden, madam." Even the drudgery ofthe humblest labourer contributes towards the generalwellbeing of society; and it was a wise saying of aChinese Emperor, that " if there was a man who didnot work, or a woman that was idle, somebody mustsuffer cold or hunger in the empire."The habit of constant useful occupation is asessential for the happiness and wellbeing of woman asof man. Without it, women are apt to sink into astate of listless ennui and uselessness, accompanied bysick headache and attacks of " nerves." CarolinePerthes carefully warned her married daughter Louisato beware of giving way to such listlessness. " I myself," she said, " when the children are gone out for ahalf-holiday, sometimes feel as stupid and dull as anowl by daylight; but one must not yield to this, whichhappens more or less to all young wives. The bestrelief is work, engaged in with interest and diligence.Work, then, constantly and diligently, at something orother; for idleness is the devil's snare for small andgreat, as your grandfather says, and he says true. " ¹Constant useful occupation is thus wholesome, notonly for the body, but for the mind. While the slothful man drags himself indolently through life, and thebetter part of his nature sleeps a deep sleep, if notmorally and spiritually dead, the energetic man is a' Life of Perthes,' ii . 20.H98Work and Happiness.[ CHAP. IV.source of activity and enjoyment to all who comewithin reach of his influence. Even any ordinarydrudgery is better than idleness. Fuller says of SirFrancis Drake, who was early sent to sea, and keptclose to his work by his master, that such " pains andpatience in his youth knit the joints of his soul, andmade them more solid and compact." Schiller used tosay that he considered it a great advantage to be employed in the discharge of some daily mechanical duty-some regular routine of work, that rendered steadyapplication necessary.Thousands can bear testimony to the truth of thesaying of Greuze, the French painter, that work-employment, useful occupation-is one of the great secretsof happiness. Casaubon was once induced by theentreaties of his friends to take a few days' entire rest,but he returned to his work with the remark, that itwas easier to bear illness doing something, than doingnothing.66When Charles Lamb was released for life from hisdaily drudgery of desk-work at the India Office, hefelt himself the happiest of men. "I would not goback to my prison," he said to a friend, " ten yearslonger, for ten thousand pounds." He also wrote inthe same ecstatic mood to Bernard Barton: " I havescarce steadiness of head to compose a letter, " he said; ·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 yearstwo long and tedious years-passed; and CharlesLamb's feelings had undergone an entire change. Henow discovered that official, even humdrum work-"the appointed round, the daily task" -had been goodfor him, though he knew it not. Time had formerlyCHAP. IV. ] Practical Importance ofIndustry. 9966 been his friend; it had now become his enemy. ToBernard Barton he again wrote: I assure you, nowork is worse than overwork; the mind preys on itself -the most unwholesome of food. I have ceased tocare for almost anything. . . . Never did the watersof heaven pour down upon a forlorner head. What Ican do, and overdo, is to walk. I am a sanguinarymurderer of time. But the oracle is silent."No man could be more sensible of the practicalimportance of industry than Sir Walter Scott, who washimself one of the most laborious and indefatigable ofmen. Indeed, Lockhart says of him that, taking allages and countries together, the rare example of indefatigable energy, in union with serene self- possession ofmind and manner, such as Scott's, must be sought for inthe roll of great sovereigns or great captains, ratherthan in that of literary genius. Scott himself was mostanxious to impress upon the minds of his own childrenthe importance of industry as a means of usefulness andhappiness in the world. To his son Charles, when atschool, he wrote:-"I cannot too much impress uponyour mind that labour is the condition which God has imposed on us in every station of life; there is nothingworth having that can be had without it, from the breadwhich the peasant wins with the sweat of his brow, tothe sports by which the rich man must get rid of hisennui. As for knowledge, it can no more beplanted in the human mind without labour than a fieldof wheat can be produced without the previous use ofthe plough. There is, indeed, this great difference, thatchance or circ*mstances may so cause it that anothershall reap what the farmer sows; but no man can bedeprived, whether by accident or misfortune, of thefruits of his own studies; and the liberal and extendedacquisitions of knowledge which he makes are all for his· •H 2100 Scott and Southey. [CHAP. IVown use. Labour, therefore, my dear boy, and improvethe time. In youth our steps are light, and our mindsare ductile, and knowledge is easily laid up; but if weneglect our spring, our summers will be useless and contemptible, our harvest will be chaff, and the winter ofour old age unrespected and desolate." 1―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 noservice to society. The clown who scares crows fortwopence a day is a more useful man; he preservesthe bread which I eat in idleness. " And yet Southeyhad not been idle as a boy-on the contrary, he had beena most diligent student. He had not only read largelyin English literature, but was well acquainted, throughtranslations, with Tasso, Ariosto, Homer, and Ovid. Hefelt, however, as if his life had been purposeless, and hedetermined to do something. He began, and from thattime forward he pursued an unremitting career ofliterarylabour down to the close of his life-" daily progressingin learning," to use his own words " not so learned as heis poor, not so poor as proud, not so proud as happy. "The maxims of men often reveal their character.2That of Sir Walter Scott was, " Never to be doingnothing. " Robertson the historian, as early as hisfifteenth year, adopted the maxim of " Vita sine literismors est " (Life without learning is death). Voltaire'smotto was, " Toujours au travail ” (Always at work). Thefavourite maxim of Lacepede, the naturalist, was, "Vivre¹ Lockhart's ' Life of Scott' ( Svo.Ed. ) , p. 442.in2 Southey expresses the opinion The Doctor, that the character of a person may be better known by the letters which other persons write to him than by what he himself writes.CHAP. IV. ] Work an Educator of Character. IOIc'est veiller" (To live is to observe): it was also the maximof Pliny. When Bossuet was at college, he was so distinguished by his ardour in study, that his fellowstudents, playing upon his name, designated him as"Bos-suetus aratro " (The ox used to the plough). Thename of Vita-lis (Life a struggle), which the Swedishpoet Sjoberg assumed, as Frederik von Hardenbergassumed that of Nova- lis, described the aspirations andthe labours of both these men of genius.We have spoken of work as a discipline: it is also aneducator of character. Even work that produces noresults, because it is work, is better than torpor, -inasmuch as it educates faculty, and is thus preparatory tosuccessful work. The habit of working teaches method.It compels economy of time, and the disposition of it withjudicious forethought. And when the art of packinglife 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 greater zest.Coleridge has truly observed, that " if the idle aredescribed as killing time, the methodical man may bejustly said to call it into life and moral being, while hemakes it the distinct object not only of the consciousness, but of the conscience. He organizes the hoursand gives them a soul; and by that, the very essence ofwhich is to fleet and to have been, he communicates animperishable and spiritual nature. Of the good andfaithful servant, whose energies thus directed are thusmethodized, it is less truly affirmed that he lives in timethan that time lives in him. His days and monthsand years, asthe stops and punctual marks in the recordof duties performed, will survive the wreckof worlds, andremain extant when time itself shall be no more. " ¹1 'Dissertation on the Science of Method.'102 Training to Business. [CHAP. IV.It is because application to business teaches methodmost effectually, that it is so useful as an educator ofcharacter. The highest working qualities are besttrained by active and sympathetic contact with othersin the affairs of daily life. It does not matter whetherthe business relate to the management of a household or of a nation. Indeed, as we have endeavouredto showin a preceding chapter, the able housewife mustnecessarily be an efficient woman of business. She mustregulate and control the details of her home, keep herexpenditure within her means, arrange everything according to plan and system, and wisely manage andgovern those subject to her rule. Efficient domesticmanagement implies industry, application, method, moraldiscipline, forethought, prudence, practical ability, insight into character, and power of organization—all ofwhich are required in the efficient management of business of whatever sort.Business qualities have, indeed, a very large field ofaction. They mean aptitude for affairs, competency todeal successfully with the practical work of lifewhether the spur of action lie in domestic management, in the conduct of a profession, in trade or commerce, in social organization, or in political government.And the training which gives efficiency in dealing withthese various affairs is of all others the most useful inpractical life.¹ Moreover, it is the best discipline of¹ The following passage, from arecent article in the Pall Mall Gazette, will commend itself to general approval:-" There can be no question nowadays, that application to work,absorption in affairs, contact withmen, and all the stress which business imposes on us, gives anoble training to the intellect , andsplendid opportunity for discipline of character. It is an utterly low view of business which regards it as only a means of getting a living.Aman's business is his part of theworld's work, his share of the great activities which render so- ciety possible. He may like it or dislike it, but it is work, andas such requires application, self-CHAP. IV. ] Business Qualities. 103character; for it involves the exercise of diligence,attention, self-denial, judgment, tact, knowledge of andsympathy with others.Such a discipline is far more productive of happiness,as well as useful efficiency in life, than any amount ofliterary culture or meditative seclusion; for in the long' run it will usually be found that practical ability carriesit over intellect, and temper and habits over talent. Itmust, however, be added that this is a kind of culturethat can only be acquired by diligent observation andcarefully improved experience. " To be a good blacksmith," said General Trochu in a recent publication,"one must have forged all his life: to be a good administrator one should have passed his whole life in thestudy and practice of business."It was characteristic of Sir Walter Scott to entertainthe highest respect for able men of business; and he professed that he did not consider any amount of literarydistinction as entitled to be spoken of in the samebreath with a mastery in the higher departments ofpractical life-least of all with a first-rate captain.The great commander leaves nothing to chance, butprovides for every contingency. He condescends toapparently trivial details. Thus, when Wellington wasat the head of his army in Spain, he directed the precisedenial, discipline. It is his drill,and he cannot be thorough in his occupation without putting him- self into it, checking his fancies,restraining his impulses, and hold- ing himself to the perpetual round of small details-without, in fact,submitting to his drill. But the perpetual call on a man's readiness,self- control, and vigour which business makes, the constant ap- peal to the intellect, the stress upon the will, the necessity forrapid and responsible exercise of judgment-all these things con- stitute a high culture, though not the highest. It is a culture which strengthens and invigorates if it does not refine, which gives force if not polish-the fortiter in re,if not the suaviter in modo. Itmakes strong men and ready men, and men of vast capacity for affairs, though it does not neces- sarily make refined men or gentle- men."104 Wellington—Washington. [ CHAP. IV.· manner in which the soldiers were to cook their provisions. When in India, he specified the exact speed atwhich the bullocks were to be driven; every detail inequipment was carefully arranged beforehand. And thusnot only was efficiency secured, but the devotion of hismen, and their thorough confidence in his command. ¹Like other great captains, Wellington had an almostboundless capacity for work. He drew up the headsof a Dublin Police Bill (being still the Secretary forIreland), when tossing off the mouth of the Mondego,with Junot and the French army waiting for him onthe shore. So Cæsar, another of the greatest commanders, is said to have written an essay on LatinRhetoric while crossing the Alps at the head of hisarmy. And Wallenstein when at the head of 60,000men, and in the midst of a campaign with the enemybefore him, dictated from headquarters the medicaltreatment of his poultry-yard.Washington, also, was an indefatigable man ofbusiness. From his boyhood he diligently trainedhimself in habits of application, of study, and ofmethodical work. His manuscript school-books, whichare still preserved, show that, as early as the age ofthirteen, he occupied himself voluntarily in copyingout such things as forms of receipts, notes of hand,bills of exchange, bonds, indentures, leases, landwarrants, and other dry documents, all written outwith great care. And the habits which he thus earlyacquired were, in a great measure, the foundation ofthose admirable business qualities which he afterwardsOn the first publication of his ' Despatches,' one of his friendssaid to him, on reading the records of his Indian campaigns: " It seems to me, Duke, that your chief business in India was toprocure rice and bullocks." " And so it was," replied Wellington:" for if I had rice and bullocks, Ihad men; and if I had men, Iknew I could beat the enemy."CHAP. IV.] Working Geniuses. 105so successfully brought to bear in the affairs of government.The man or woman who achieves success in themanagement of any great affair of business is entitledto honour, it may be, to as much as the artist whopaints a picture, or the author who writes a book,or the soldier who wins a battle. Their success mayhave been gained in the face of as great difficulties,and after as great struggles; and where they have wontheir battle, it is at least a peaceful one, and there is noblood on their hands.The idea has been entertained by some, that businesshabits are incompatible with genius. In the Life ofRichard Lovell Edgeworth, ' it is observed of a Mr.Bicknell -a respectable but ordinary man, of whomlittle is known but that he married Sabrina Sidney, theélève of Thomas Day, author of ' Sandford and Merton '-that "he had some of the too usual faults of a man ofgenius: he detested the drudgery of business." Butthere cannot be a greater mistake. The greatestgeniuses have, without exception, been the greatestworkers, even to the extent of drudgery. They havenot only worked harder than ordinary men, but broughtto their work higher faculties and a more ardent spirit.Nothing great and durable was ever improvised. It isonly by noble patience and noble labour that themasterpieces of genius have been achieved.Power belongs only to the workers; the idlers arealways powerless. It is the laborious and painstakingmen who are the rulers of the world. There has notbeen a statesman of eminence but was a man of industry. " It is by toil," said even Louis XIV. , " thatkings govern." When Clarendon described Hampden,1 Maria Edgeworth, ' Memoirs of R. L. Edgeworth,' ii. 94.106""Great Toilers. [ CHAP. IV.he spoke of him as " of an industry and vigilance notto be tired out or wearied by the most laborious, and ofparts not to be imposed on by the most subtle andsharp, and of a personal courage equal to his bestparts.' While in the midst of his laborious thoughself-imposed duties, Hampden, on one occasion, wroteto his mother: " My lyfe is nothing but toyle, and hathbeen for many yeares, nowe to the Commonwealth, noweto the Kinge. Not so much tyme left as todoe my dutye to my deare parents, nor to sende tothem." Indeed, all the statesmen of the Commonwealth were great toilers; and Clarendon himself,whether in office or out of it, was a man of indefatigableapplication and industry.The same energetic vitality, as displayed in thepower of working, has distinguished all the eminentmen in our own as well as in past times. Duringthe Anti-Corn Law movement, Cobden, writing to afriend, described himself as " working like a horse,with not a moment to spare." Lord Brougham wasa remarkable instance of the indefatigably activeand laborious man; and it might be said of LordPalmerston, that he worked harder for success inhis extreme old age than he had ever done inthe prime of his manhood-preserving his workingfaculty, his good-humour and bonhommie, unimpaired tothe end.¹ He himself was accustomed to say, thatbeing in office, and consequently full of work, was goodfor his health. It rescued him from ennui. Helvetiuseven held, that it is man's sense of ennui that is1 A friend of Lord Palmerston |has communicated to us the following anecdote. Asking him one day when he considered a man to be in the prime of life, his im66 mediate reply was, Seventy- nine!" "But," he added, with atwinkle in his eye, " as I have just entered my eightieth year, perhaps I am myself a little past it."CHAP. IV. ] Genius and Business. 107the chief cause of his superiority over the brute, -thatit is the necessity which he feels for escaping from itsintolerable suffering that forces him to employ himselfactively, and is hence the great stimulus to humanprogress.Indeed, this living principle of constant work, ofabundant occupation, of practical contact with men inthe affairs of life, has in all times been the bestripener of the energetic vitality of strong natures.Business habits, cultivated and disciplined, are foundalike useful in every pursuit-whether in politics, literature, science, or art. Thus, a great deal of the bestliterary work has been done by men systematicallytrained in business pursuits. The same industry, application, economy of time and labour, 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, thefather of English poetry, was first a soldier, andafterwards a comptroller of petty customs. The officewas no sinecure either, for he had to write up all therecords with his own hand; and when he had done his"reckonings " at the custom-house, he returned withdelight to his favourite studies at home-poring overhis books until his eyes were "dazed " and dull.The great writers in the reign of Elizabeth, duringwhich there was such a development ofrobust life in England, were not literary men according to the modernacceptation of the word, but men of action trained inbusiness. Spenser acted as secretary to the LordDeputy of Ireland; Raleigh was, by turns, a courtier,soldier, sailor, and discoverer; Sydney was a politician,diplomatist, and soldier; Bacon was a laborious lawyer1081Literature and Business. [CHAP. IV.before he became Lord Keeper and Lord Chancellor;Sir Thomas Browne was a physician in country practiceat Norwich; Hooker was the hardworking pastor of acountry parish; Shakspeare was the manager of a theatre,in which he was himself but an indifferent actor, andhe seems to have been even more careful of his moneyinvestments than he was of his intellectual offspring.Yet these, all men of active business habits, are amongthe greatest writers of any age: the period of Elizabethand James I. standing out in the history of England asthe era of its greatest literary activity and splendour.In the reign of Charles I., Cowley held various officesof trust and confidence. He acted as private secretaryto several of the royalist leaders, and was afterwardsengaged as private secretary to the Queen, in cipheringand deciphering the correspondence which passedbetween her and Charles I.; the work occupying allhis days, and often his nights, during several years.And while Cowley was thus employed in the royalcause, Milton was employed by the Commonwealth, ofwhich he was the Latin secretary, and afterwards secretary to the Lord Protector. Yet, in the earlier part ofhis life, Milton was occupied in the humble vocation ofa teacher. Dr. Johnson says, " that in his school, as ineverything else which he undertook, he laboured withgreat diligence, there is no reason for doubting. " Itwas after the Restoration, when his official employmentceased, that Milton entered upon the principal literarywork of his life; but before he undertook the writing ofhis great epic, he deemed it indispensable that to " industrious and select reading " he should add " steady observation " and " insight into all seemly and generous artsand affairs. " 11 ' Reasons of Church Government,' Book II.CHAP. IV.] Literary Men and Business. 109Locke held office in different reigns: first underCharles II. as Secretary to the Board of Trade, andafterwards under William III. as Commissioner ofAppeals and of Trade and Plantations. Many literary men of eminence held office in Queen Anne'sreign. Thus Addison was Secretary of State; Steele,Commissioner of Stamps; Prior, Under-Secretary ofState, and afterwards Ambassador to France; Tickell,Under-Secretary of State, and Secretary to the LordsJustices of Ireland; Congreve, Secretary of Jamaica;and Gay, Secretary of Legation at Hanover.Indeed, habits of business, instead of unfitting a cultivated mind for scientific or literary pursuits, are oftenthe best training for them. Voltaire insisted with truththat the real spirit of business and literature are thesame; the perfection of each being the union of energyand thoughtfulness, of cultivated intelligence and practical wisdom, of the active and contemplative essencea union commended by Lord Bacon as the concentratedexcellence of man's nature. It has been said that eventhe man of genius can write nothing worth reading inrelation to human affairs, unless he has been in someway or other connected with the serious everydaybusiness of life.Hence it has happened that many of the best booksextant have been written by men of business, withwhom literature was a pastime rather than a profession. Gifford, the editor of the ' Quarterly,' whoknew the drudgery of writing for a living, once observed that " a single hour of composition, won fromthe business of the day, is worth more than thewhole day's toil of him who works at the trade ofliterature in the one case, the spirit comes joyfullyto refresh itself, like a hart to the waterbrooks; inthe other, it pursues its miserable way, panting andIIO The Great Italians. [ CHAP. IV.jaded, with the dogs and hunger of necessity behind."1The first great men of letters in Italy were notmere men of letters; they were men of businessmerchants, statesmen, diplomatists, judges, and soldiers.Villani, the author of the best History of Florence,was a merchant; Dante, Petrarch, and Boccacio, wereall engaged in more or less important embassies; andDante, before becoming a diplomatist, was for some timeoccupied as a chemist and druggist. Galileo, Galvani,and Farini were physicians, and Goldoni a lawyer.Ariosto's talent for affairs was as great as his genius forpoetry. At the death of his father, he was called uponto manage the family estate for the benefit of hisyounger brothers and sisters, which he did with abilityand integrity. His genius for business having beenrecognised, he was employed by the Duke of Ferraraon important missions to Rome and elsewhere. Havingafterwards been appointed governor of a turbulentmountain district, he succeeded, by firm and justgovernment, in reducing it to a condition of comparative good order and security. Even the bandits ofthe country respected him. Being arrested one day in66¹ Coleridge's advice to his young forward to with delight as аfriends was much to the same change and recreation, will suffice effect. "With the exception of to realise in literature a largerone extraordinary man," he says, product of what is truly genial,"I have never known an indi- than weeks of compulsion .vidual, least of all an individual If facts are required to prove the of genius, healthy or happy with- possibility of combining weighty out a profession: i.e., some regular performances in literature with employment which does not de- full and independent employment,pend on the will of the moment, the works of Cicero and Xenophon,and which can be carried on so amongthe ancients-of Sir Thomasfar mechanically, that an average More, Bacon, Baxter, or (to refer quantum only of health, spirits, at once to later and contempo- and intellectual exertion are re- rary instances) Darwin and Rosquisite to its faithful discharge. coe, are at once decisive of the Three hours of leisure, unalloyed question." -Biographia Literaria,by any alien anxiety, and looked | Čhap. xi.CHAP. IV.] Literature and Business. IIIthe mountains by a body of outlaws, he mentioned hisname, when they at once offered to escort him in safetywherever he chose.6It has been the same in other countries. Vattel,the author of the Rights of Nations,' was a practicaldiplomatist, and a first-rate man of business. Rabelaiswas a physician, and a successful practitioner; Schillerwas a surgeon; Cervantes, Lope de Vega, Calderon,Camoens, Descartes, Maupertius, La Rochefoucauld,Lacepede, Lamark, were soldiers in the early part oftheir respective lives.In our own country, many men now known by theirwritings, earned their living by their trade. Lillospent the greater part of his life as a working jewellerin the Poultry; occupying the intervals of his leisurein the production of dramatic works, some of them ofacknowledged power and merit. Izaak Walton was alinendraper in Fleet Street, reading much in his leisurehours, and storing his mind with facts for future use inhis capacity of biographer. De Foe was by turns horsefactor, brick and tile maker, shopkeeper, author, andpolitical agent.Samuel Richardson successfully combined literaturewith business; writing his novels in his back-shop inSalisbury Court, Fleet Street, and selling them overthe counter in his front-shop. William Hutton, ofBirmingham, also successfully combined the occupationsof bookselling and authorship. He says, in his Autobiography, that a man may live half a century and notbe acquainted with his own character. He did notknow that he was an antiquary until the world informedhim of it, from having read his ' History of Birmingham,' and then, he said, he could see it himself.Benjamin Franklin was alike eminent as a printer andbookseller-an author, a philosopher and a statesman.112 Modern Literary Workers. [ CHAP. IV.Coming down to our own time, we find EbenezerElliott successfully carrying on the business of a bariron merchant in Sheffield, during which time he wroteand published the greater number of his poems; and hissuccess in business was such as to enable him to retireinto the country and build a house of his own, in whichhe spent the remainder of his days. Isaac Taylor, theauthor of the Natural History of Enthusiasm,' was anengraver of patterns for Manchester calico-printers;and other members of this gifted family were followersofthe same branch of art.The principal early works of John Stuart Mill werewritten in the intervals of official work, while he heldthe office of principal examiner in the East IndiaHouse, in which Charles Lamb, Peaco*ck the authorof ' Headlong Hall,' and Edwin Norris the philologist,were also clerks. Macaulay wrote his ' Lays of AncientRome' in the War Office, while holding the post ofSecretary of War. It is well known that the thoughtfulwritings of Mr. Helps are literally " Essays written inthe Intervals of Business." Many of our best livingauthors are men holding important public offices-suchas Sir Henry Taylor, Sir John Kaye, Anthony Trollope,Tom Taylor, Matthew Arnold, and Samuel Warren.Mr. Proctor the poet, better known as " Barry Cornwall," was a barrister and commissioner in lunacy.Most probably he assumed the pseudonym for the samereason that Dr. Paris published his ' Philosophy in Sportmade Science in Earnest ' anonymously-because heapprehended that, if known, it might compromise hisprofessional position. For it is by no means an uncommon prejudice, still prevalent amongst City men, that aperson who has written a book, and still more one whohas written a poem, is good for nothing in the way ofbusiness. Yet Sharon Turner, though an excellent his-CHAP. IV.] Workers in Leisure Hours. 113torian, was no worse a solicitor on that account; whilethe brothers Horace and James Smith, authors of ' TheRejected Addresses,' were men of such eminence intheir profession, that they were selected to fill the important and lucrative post of solicitors to the Admiralty,and they filled it admirably.66It was while the late Mr. Broderip, the barrister, wasacting as a London police magistrate, that he wasattracted to the study of natural history, in which heoccupied the greater part of his leisure. He wrotethe principal articles on the subject for the ' PennyCyclopædia,' besides several separate works of greatmerit, more particularly the Zoological Recreations,'and Leaves from the Notebook of a Naturalist.' It isrecorded of him that, though he devoted so much of histime to the production of his works, as well as to theZoological Society and their admirable establishmentin Regent's Park, of which he was one of the founders,his studies never interfered with the real business ofhis life, nor is it known that a single question was everraised upon his conduct or his decisions. And whileMr. Broderip devoted himself to natural history, thelate Lord Chief Baron Pollock devoted his leisure tonatural science, recreating himself in the practice ofphotography and the study of mathematics, in both ofwhich he was thoroughly proficient.Among literary bankers we find the names of Rogers,the poet; Roscoe, of Liverpool, the biographer ofLorenzo de Medici; Ricardo, the author of PoliticalEconomy and Taxation; ' Grote, the author of the6Mr. Ricardo published his celebrated Theory of Rent, ' at the urgent recommendation ofJames Mill (like his son, a chief clerk in the India House), author of the History of British India.'1When the Theory of Rent ' was written, Ricardo was so dissatisfied with it that he wished to burn it;but Mr. Mill urged him to pub- lish it, and the book was a great success.I114 Business Value ofCulture.¹[ CHAP. IV.'History of Greece; ' Sir John Lubbock, the scientificantiquarian; and Samuel Bailey, of Sheffield, theauthor of Essays on the Formation and Publication ofOpinions,' besides various important works on ethics,political economy, and philosophy.6Nor, on the other hand, have thoroughly-trainedmenof science and learning proved themselves inefficientas first-rate men of business. Culture of the best sorttrains the habit of application and industry, disciplinesthe mind, supplies it with resources, and gives it freedom and vigour of action-all of which are equallyrequisite in the successful conduct of business. Thus,in young men, education and scholarship usually indicate steadiness of character, for they imply continuousattention, diligence, and the ability and energy necessary to master knowledge; and such persons will alsousually be found possessed of more than averagepromptitude, address, resource, and dexterity.Montaigne has said of true philosophers, that " if theywere great in science, they were yet much greater inaction; . . . and whenever they have been put uponthe proof, they have been seen to fly to so high a pitch,as made it very well appear their souls were strangelyelevated and enriched with the knowledge of things. " 2At the same time, it must be acknowledged that tooexclusive a devotion to imaginative and philosophicalThe late Sir John Lubbock,his father, was also eminent as amathematician and astronomer.2 Thales, once inveighing in discourse against the pains and care men put themselves to, to become rich, was answered by onein the company that he did like the fox, who found fault with whathe could not obtain. Thereupon Thales had a mind, for the jest's sake, to show them the contrary;and having upon this occasion for once made a muster of all his wits,wholly to employ them in theservice of profit, he set a traffic on foot, which in one year brought him in so great riches, that the most experienced in that tradecould hardly in their whole lives,with all their industry, have rakedso much together. - Montaigne's Essays, Book I., chap. 24.CHAP. IV. ] Speculative andPractical Ability. 115literature, especially if prolonged in life until the habitsbecome formed, does to a great extent incapacitate aman for the business of pràctical life. Speculativeability is one thing, and practical ability another; andthe man who, in his study, or with his pen in hand,shows himself capable of forming large views of life andpolicy, may, in the outer world, be found altogetherunfitted for carrying them into practical effect.Speculative ability depends on vigorous thinkingpractical ability on vigorous acting; and the two qualities are usually found combined in very unequal proportions. 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 eachother; whereas the practical man overleaps logical preliminaries, arrives at certain definite convictions, andproceeds forthwith to carry his policy into action.¹Yet there have been many great men of science whohave proved efficient men of business. We do not learnthat Sir Isaac Newton made a worse Master of theMint because he was the greatest of philosophers. Norwere there any complaints as to the efficiency of SirJohn Herschel, who held the same office. The brothersHumboldt were alike capable men in all that they undertook--whether it was literature, philosophy, mining,philology, diplomacy, or statesmanship.1"The understanding," says Mr. Bailey, " that is accustomed to pursue a regular and connected train of ideas, becomes in somemeasure incapacitated for thosequick and versatile movements which are learnt in the commerceof the world, and are indispensableto those whoact a part in it. Deep thinking and practical talents require indeed habits of mind so essentially dissimilar, that whilea man is striving after the one, he will be unavoidably in danger of losing the other. " Thence," headds, "do we so often find men,who are giants in the closet, ' prove but ' children in the world." "."666Essays on the Formation and Publication of Opinions,' pp. 251-3I 2116 Napoleon and Men of Science. [ CHAP. IV.Niebuhr, the historian, was distinguished for hisenergy and success as a man of business. He provedso efficient as secretary and accountant to the Africanconsulate, to which he had been appointed by theDanish Government, that he was afterwards selected asone of the commissioners to manage the nationalfinances; and he quitted that office to undertake thejoint directorship of a bank at Berlin. It was in themidst of his business occupations that he found time tostudy Roman history, to master the Arabic, Russian,and other Sclavonic languages, and to build up the greatreputation as an author by which he is now chieflyremembered.Having regard to the views professed by the FirstNapoleon as to men of science, it was to have beenexpected that he would endeavour to strengthen hisadministration by calling them to his aid. Some of hisappointments proved failures, while others were completely successful. Thus Laplace was made Minister ofthe Interior; but he had no sooner been appointedthan it was seen that a mistake had been made. Napoleon afterwards said of him, that " Laplace looked at noquestion in its true point of view. He was alwayssearching after subtleties; all his ideas were problems,and he carried the spirit of the infinitesimal calculusinto the management of business. " But Laplace'shabits had been formed in the study, and he was too oldto adapt them to the purposes of practical life.With Daru it was different. But Daru had theadvantage of some practical training in business, havingserved as an intendant of the army in Switzerland underMassena, during which time he also distinguished himself as an author. When Napoleon proposed to appointhim a councillor of state and intendant of the ImperialHousehold, Daru hesitated to accept the office. " I haveCHAP. IV. ] Employment of Leisure. 117passed the greater part of my life," he said, " amongbooks, and have not had time to learn the functions ofa courtier." " Of courtiers," replied Napoleon, "I haveplenty about me; they will never fail . But I want aminister, at once enlightened , firm, and vigilant; and itis for these qualities that I have selected you." Darucomplied with the Emperor's wishes, and eventuallybecame his Prime Minister, proving thoroughly efficientin that capacity, and remaining the same modest,honourable, and disinterested man that he had everbeen through life.Men of trained working faculty so contract the habitof labour that idleness becomes intolerable to them;and when driven by circ*mstances from their ownspecial line of occupation, they find refuge in other pursuits. The diligent man is quick to find employmentfor his leisure; and he is able to make leisure when theidle man finds none. " He hath no leisure," says GeorgeHerbert, " who useth it not." " The most active or busyman that hath been or can be," says Bacon, " hath, noquestion, many vacant times of leisure, while he expecteth the tides and returns of business, except he beeither tedious and of no despatch, or lightly and unworthily ambitious to meddle with things that may bebetter done by others." Thus many great things havebeen done during such " vacant times of leisure, " bymen to whom industry had become a second nature, andwho found it easier to work than to be idle.Even hobbies are useful as educators of the workingfaculty. Hobbies evoke industry of a certain kind, andat least provide agreeable occupation. Not such hobbies as that of Domitian, who occupied himself in catching flies. The hobbies of the King of Macedon whomade lanthorns, and of the King of France who madelocks, were of a more respectable order. Even a routine1118Uses of Hobbies. [ CHAP. IV.mechanical employment is felt to be a relief by mindsacting under high-pressure: it is an intermission oflabour-a rest-a relaxation, the pleasure consisting inthe work itself rather than in the result.But the best of hobbies are intellectual ones. Thusmen of active mind retire from their daily business to findrecreation in other pursuits-some in science, some inart, and the greater number in literature. Such recreations are among the best preservatives against selfishness and vulgar worldliness. We believe it was LordBrougham who said, " Blessed is the man that hath ahobby!" and in the abundant versatility of 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; andthe remarkable story of the Man in the Bell,' whichappeared many years ago in ' Blackwood,' is reputedto have been from his pen. Intellectual hobbies, however, must not be ridden too hard-else, instead ofrecreating, refreshing, and invigorating a man's nature,they may only have the effect of sending him back tohis business exhausted, enervated, and depressed.6Many laborious statesmen besides Lord Broughamhave occupied their leisure, or consoled themselves inretirement from office, by the composition of workswhich have become part of the standard literature ofthe world. Thus Cæsar's Commentaries ' still surviveas a classic; the perspicuous and forcible style in whichthey are written placing him in the same rank withXenophon, who also successfully combined the pursuitof letters with the business of active life.When the great Sully was disgraced as a minister,and driven into retirement, he occupied his leisure inwriting out his ' Memoirs,' in anticipation of the judgment of posterity upon his career as a statesman.CHAP. IV. ] Literary Statesmen. 119Besides these, he also composed part of a romance afterthe manner of the Scuderi school, the manuscript ofwhich was found amongst his papers at his death.Turgot found a solace for the loss of office, from whichhe had been driven by the intrigues of his enemies, in thestudy of physical science. He also reverted to his earlytaste for classical literature. During his long journeys,and at nights when tortured by the gout, he amusedhimself by making Latin verses; though the only lineof his that has been preserved was that intended todesignate the portrait of Benjamin Franklin:"Eripuit cælo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis.”Among more recent French statesmen-with whom,however, literature has been their profession as much aspolitics -may be mentioned De Tocqueville, Thiers,Guizot, and Lamartine, while Napoleon III. challengeda place in the Academy by his ' Life of Cæsar.'Literature has also been the chief solace of ourgreatest English statesmen. When Pitt retired fromoffice, like his great contemporary Fox, he revertedwith delight to the study of the Greek and Romanclassics. Indeed, Grenville considered Pitt the bestGreek scholar he had ever known. Canning andWellesley, when in retirement, occupied themselves intranslating the odes and satires of Horace. Canning'spassion for literature entered into all his pursuits, andgave a colour to his whole life. His biographer says ofhim, that after a dinner at Pitt's, while the rest of thecompany were dispersed in conversation, he and Pittwould be observed poring over some old Grecian in acorner of the drawing-room. Fox also was a diligentstudent of the Greek authors, and, like Pitt, readLycophron. He was also the author of a History of120 Sir George C. Lewis. [ CHAP. IV.James II., though the book is only a fragment, and, itmust be confessed, is rather a disappointing work.One of the most able and laborious of our recentstatesmen-with whom literature was a hobby as wellas a pursuit-was the late Sir George Cornewall Lewis.He was an excellent man of business-diligent, exact,and painstaking. He filled by turns the offices ofPresident of the Poor Law Board-the machinery ofwhich he created, —Chancellor of the Exchequer, HomeSecretary, and Secretary at War; and in each heachieved the reputation of a thoroughly successfuladministrator. In the intervals of his official labours,he occupied himself with inquiries into a wide range ofsubjects-history, politics, philology, anthropology, andantiquarianism. His works on The Astronomy of theAncients,' and ' Essays on the Formation of theRomanic Languages,' might have been written by theprofoundest of German savans. He took especialdelight in pursuing the abstruser branches of learning,and found in them his chief 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 orderto study books; Palmerston himself declaring that hehad no time to read books-that the reading of manuscript was quite enough for him.66Doubtless Sir George Lewis rode his hobby too hard,and but for his devotion to study, his useful life wouldprobably have been prolonged. Whether in or out ofoffice, he read, wrote, and studied. He relinquishedthe editorship of the Edinburgh Review ' to becomeChancellor of the Exchequer; and when no longeroccupied in preparing budgets, he proceeded to copy outa mass of Greek manuscripts at the British Museum.He took particular delight in pursuing any difficultCHAP. IV. ] Consolations of Literature.121inquiry in classical antiquity. One of the odd subjectswith which he occupied himself was an examination intothe truth of' reported cases of longevity, which, accord- ing to his custom, he doubted or disbelieved. Thissubject was uppermost in his mind while pursuing hiscanvass of Herefordshire in 1852. On applying to avoter one day for his support, he was met by a decidedrefusal. " I am sorry," was the candidate's reply, " thatyou can't give me your vote; but perhaps you can tellme whether anybody in your parish has died at anextraordinary age! "The contemporaries of Sir George Lewis also furnishmany striking instances of the consolations afforded byliterature to statesmen wearied with the toils of publiclife. Though the door of office may be closed, that ofliterature stands always open, and men who are atdaggers-drawn in politics, join hands over the poetry ofHomer and Horace. The late Earl of Derby, onretiring from power, produced his noble version of' The Iliad,' which will probably continue to be readwhen his speeches have been forgotten. Mr. Gladstonesimilarly occupied his leisure in preparing for the presshis ' Studies on Homer,' ¹ and in editing a translation of' Farini's Roman State; ' while Mr. Disraeli signalisedhis retirement from office by the production of his'Lothair.' Among statesmen who have figured asnovelists, besides Mr. Disraeli, are Lord Russell, whohas also contributed largely to history and biography;the Marquis of Normanby, and the veteran novelist,Lord Lytton, with whom, indeed, politics may be said1 Mr. Gladstone is as great anenthusiast in literature as Canning was. It is related of him that,while he was waiting in his com-.mittee-room at Liverpool for thereturns coming in on the day ofthe South Lancashire polling, heoccupied himself in proceeding with the translation of a work which he was then preparing forthe press.122 Work and Overwork. [ CHAP. IV.to have been his recreation, and literature the chiefemployment of his life.

To conclude: a fair measure of work is good for mindas well as body. Man is an intelligence sustained andpreserved by bodily organs, and their active exerciseis necessary to the enjoyment of health. It is not work,but overwork, that is hurtful; and it is not hard workthat is injurious so much as monotonous work, fa*ggingwork, hopeless work. All hopeful work is healthful;and to be usefully and hopefully employed is one of thegreat secrets of happiness. Brain-work, in moderation,is no more wearing than any other kind of work. Dulyregulated, it is as promotive of health as bodily exercise; and, where due attention is paid to the physicalsystem, it seems difficult to put more upon a man thanhe can bear. Merely to eat and drink and sleep one'sway idly through life is vastly more injurious. Thewear-and-tear of rust is even faster than the wear-andtear of work.But overwork is always bad economy. It is, in fact,great waste, especially if conjoined with worry. Indeed,worry kills far more than work does. It frets, it excites,it consumes the body—as sand and grit, which occasionexcessive friction, wear out the wheels of a machine.Overwork and worry have both to be guarded against.For over-brain-work is strain-work; and it is exhaustingand destructive according as it is in excess of nature.And the brain-worker may exhaust and overbalance hismind by excess, just as the athlete may overstrain hismuscles and break his back by attempting feats beyondthe strength of his physical system.CHAP. V.] Courage. 123CHAPTER V.COURAGE."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."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. Mackay."The heroic example of other days is in great part the source of the courage of each generation; and men walk up composedly to the most perilous enterprises, beckoned onwards by the shades of the brave that were."-Helps.1 "That which we are, we are,One equal temper of heroic hearts,Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."-Tennyson.THE world owes much to its men and women of courage.We do not mean physical courage, in which man is atleast equalled by the bulldog; nor is the bulldogconsidered the wisest of his species.The courage that displays itself in silent effort andendeavour-that dares to endure all and suffer all fortruth and duty-is more truly heroic than the achievements ofphysical valour, which are rewarded by honoursand titles, or by laurels sometimes steeped in blood.It is moral courage that characterises the highestorder of manhood and womanhood-the courage to seekand to speak the truth; the courage to be just; thecourage to be honest; the courage to resist temptation;the courage to do one's duty. If men and women donot possess this virtue, they have no security whateverfor the preservation of any other.124 Moral Courage.[CHAP. V.Every step of progress in the history of our race hasbeen made in the face of opposition and difficulty, andbeen achieved and secured by men of intrepidity andvalour-by leaders in the van of thought-by greatdiscoverers, great patriots, and great workers in allwalks of life. There is scarcely a great truth or doctrine but has had to fight its way to public recognitionin the face of detraction, calumny, and persecution." Everywhere," says Heine, " that a great soul givesutterance 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 raptured fleetness Of her divine completeness."I"Socrates was condemned to drink the hemlock atAthens in his seventy-second year, because his loftyteaching ran counter to the prejudices and party-spiritof his age. He was charged by his accusers withcorrupting the youth of Athens by inciting them todespise the tutelary deities of the state. He had themoral courage to brave not only the tyranny of thejudges who condemned him, but of the mob who couldnot understand him. He died discoursing of the doctrine of the immortality of the soul; his last words tohis judges being, " It is now time that we depart-I todie, you to live; but which has the better destiny isunknown to all, except to the God. "¹ James Russell Lowell.CHAP. V.] Martyrs of Science. 125How many great men and thinkers have been persecuted in the name of religion! Bruno was burnt aliveat Rome, because of his exposure of the fashionable butfalse philosophy of his time. When the judges of theInquisition condemned him to die, Bruno said proudly:“ You are more afraid to pronounce my sentence thanI am to receive it."To him succeeded Galileo, whose character as a manof science is almost eclipsed by that of the martyr.Denounced by the priests from the pulpit, because ofthe views he taught as to the motion of the earth,he was summoned to Rome, in his seventieth year, toanswer for his heterodoxy. And he was imprisonedin the Inquisition, if he was not actually put to thetorture there. He was pursued by persecution evenwhen dead, the Pope refusing a tomb for his body.Roger Bacon, the Franciscan monk, was persecutedon account of his studies in natural philosophy, and hewas charged with dealing in magic, because of hisinvestigations in chemistry. His writings were condemned, and he was thrown into prison, where he layfor ten years, during the lives of four successive Popes.It is even averred that he died in prison.Ockham, the early English speculative philosopher,was excommunicated by the Pope, and died in exile atMunich, where he was protected by the friendship ofthe then Emperor of Germany.The Inquisition branded Vesalius as a heretic forrevealing man to man, as it had before branded Brunoand Galileo for revealing the heavens to man. Vesaliushad the boldness to study the structure of the humanbody by actual dissection, a practice until then almostentirely forbidden. He laid the foundations of ascience, but he paid for it with his life. Condemnedby the Inquisition, his penalty was commuted, by the126 Persecution of Great Discoverers. [CHAP. V.intercession of the Spanish king, into a pilgrimage tothe Holy Land; and when on his way back, while stillin the prime of life, he died miserably at Zante, of feverand want a martyr to his love of science.When the Novum Organon' appeared, a hue-and-crywas raised against it, because of its alleged tendency toproduce " dangerous revolutions," to " subvert governments," and to " overturn the authority of religion;and one Dr. Henry Stubbe (whose name would otherwise have been forgotten) wrote a book against the newphilosophy, denouncing the whole tribe of experimentalists as 66 a Bacon-faced generation." Even the establishment of the Royal Society was opposed, on theground that " experimental philosophy is subversive ofthe Christian faith."While the followers of Copernicus were persecuted asinfidels, Kepler was branded with the stigma of heresy,"because," said he, " I take that side which seems tome to be consonant with the Word of God. " Even thepure and simpleminded Newton, of whom BishopBurnet said that he had the whitest soul he ever knew—who was a very infant in the purity of his mind-evenNewton was accused of " dethroning the Deity " by hissublime discovery of the law of gravitation; and a similarcharge was made against Franklin for explaining thenature of the thunderbolt.Spinoza was excommunicated by the Jews, to whomhe belonged, because of his views of philosophy, whichwere supposed to be adverse to religion; and his lifewas afterwards attempted by an assassin for the samereason. Spinoza remained courageous and self-reliantto the last, dying in obscurity and poverty.¹ Yet Baconhimself had written, | Talmud, and the Alcoran, than " I would rather believe all the that this universal frame is withfaiths in the Legend, and the out a mind."CHAP. V.] Hostility to New Views. 127The philosophy of Descartes was denounced as leadingto irreligion; the doctrines of Locke were said to produce materialism; and in our own day, Dr. Buckland,Mr. Sedgwick, and other leading geologists, have beenaccused of overturning revelation with regard to theconstitution and history of the earth. Indeed, therehas scarcely been a discovery in astronomy, in naturalhistory, or in physical science, that has not been attacked by the bigoted and narrowminded as leadingto infidelity.Other great discoverers, though they may not havebeen charged with irreligion, have had not less obloquyof a professional and public nature to encounter. WhenDr. Harvey published his theory of the circulation ofthe blood, his practice fell off, ' and the medical profession stigmatised him as a fool. "The few good thingsI have been able to do, " said John Hunter, " have beenaccomplished with the greatest difficulty, and encountered the greatest opposition." Sir Charles Bell, whileemployed in his important investigations as to thenervous system, which issued in one of the greatest ofphysiological discoveries, wrote to a friend: “ If Iwere not so poor, and had not so many vexations to encounter, how happy would I be! " But he himselfobserved that his practice sensibly fell off after thepublication of each successive stage of his discovery.Thus, nearly every enlargement of the domain ofknowledge, which has made us better acquainted withthe heavens, with the earth, and with ourselves, hasbeen established by the energy, the devotion, the selfsacrifice, and the courage of the great spirits of past1 Aubrey, in his NaturalHistory of Wiltshire,' alluding to Harvey, says: " He told me himself that upon publishing thatbook, he fell in his practice extremely. "128 Martyrs ofFaith. [CHAP. V.times, who, however much they have been opposed orreviled by their contemporaries, now rank amongstthose whom the enlightened of the human race mostdelight to honour.Nor is the unjust intolerance displayed towards menof science in the past, without its lesson for the present.It teaches us to be forbearant towards those who differfrom us, provided they observe patiently, think honestly,and utter their convictions freely and truthfully. Itwas a remark of Plato, that " the world is God's epistleto mankind; " and to read and study that epistle, so asto elicit its true meaning, can have no other effect on awell-ordered mind than to lead to a deeper impressionof His power, a clearer perception of His wisdom, and amore grateful sense of His goodness.While such has been the courage of the martyrs ofscience, not less glorious has been the courage of themartyrs of faith. The passive endurance of the manor woman who, for conscience' sake, is found ready tosuffer and to endure in solitude, without so much as theencouragement of even a single sympathising voice, isan exhibition of courage of a far higher kind than thatdisplayed in the roar of battle, where even the weakestfeels encouraged and inspired by the enthusiasm of sympathy and the power of numbers. Time would fail totell of the deathless names of those who through faith inprinciples, and in the face of difficulty, danger, andsuffering, " have wrought righteousness and waxedvaliant " in the moral warfare of the world, and beencontent to lay down their lives rather than prove falseto 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 heroicaspects, and continue to present to us some ofthe noblestspectacles to be seen in history. Even women, full ofCHAP. V.] Martyrs ofFaith. 129tenderness and gentleness, not less than men, have inthis cause been found capable of exhibiting the mostunflinching courage. Such, for instance, as that ofAnne Askew, who, when racked until her bones weredislocated, uttered no cry, moved no muscle, but lookedher tormentors calmly in the face, and refused either toconfess or to recant; or such as that of Latimer andRidley, who, instead of bewailing their hard fate andbeating their breasts, went as cheerfully to their deathas a bridegroom to the altar-the one bidding the otherto " be of good comfort," for that " we shall this daylight such a candle in England, by God's grace, as shallnever be put out; " or such, again, as that of MaryDyer, the Quakeress, hanged by the Puritans of NewEngland for preaching to the people, who ascended thescaffold with a willing step, and, after calmly addressingthose who stood about, resigned herself into the handsof her persecutors, and died in peace and joy.Not less courageous was the behaviour of the goodSir Thomas More, who marched willingly to the scaffold,and died cheerfully there, rather than prove false tohis conscience. When More had made his final decisionto stand upon his principles, he felt as if he had won avictory, and said to his son-in-law Roper: " Son Roper,I thank Our Lord, the field is won!" The Duke ofNorfolk told him of his danger, saying: " By the mass,Master More, it is perilous striving with princes; the anger of a prince brings death!" "Is that all, mylord?" said More; " then the difference between youand me is this-that I shall die to-day, and you tomorrow."While it has been the lot of many great men, intimes of difficulty and danger, to be cheered and supported by their wives, More had no such consolation.His helpmate did anything but console him during hisK1130 Sir Thomas More. [CHAP. V.imprisonment in the Tower. She could not conceivethat there was any sufficient reason for his continuingto lie there, when by merely doing what the Kingrequired of him, he might at once enjoy his liberty,together with his fine house at Chelsea, his library, hisorchard, his gallery, and the society of his wife andchildren. " I marvel," said she to him one day, "thatyou, who have been alway hitherto taken for wise,should now so play the fool as to lie here in this closefilthy prison, and be content to be shut up amongstmice and rats, when you might be abroad at yourliberty, if you would but do as the bishops have done?"But More saw his duty from a different point of view:it was not a mere matter of personal comfort withhim; and the expostulations of his wife were of noavail. He gently put her aside, saying cheerfully, “ Isnot this house as nigh heaven as my own?"-to whichshe contemptuously rejoined: " Tilly vally-tilly vally! ”More's daughter, Margaret Roper, on the contrary,encouraged her father to stand firm in his principles,and dutifully consoled and cheered him during his imprisonment. Deprived of pen- and-ink, he wrote hisletters to her with a piece of coal, saying in one ofthem: " If I were to declare in writing how much pleasure your daughterly loving letters gave me, a peck ofcoals would not suffice to make the pens. " More was amartyr to veracity: he would not swear a false oath;1 Sir Thomas More's first wife,Jane Colt, was originally a youngcountry girl, whom he himself in- structed in letters, and moulded to his own tastes and manners.She died young, leaving a son and three daughters, of whom thenoble Margaret Roper most re- sembled More himself. His secondwife was Alice Middleton, a widow,| some seven years older than More,not beautiful-for he characterizedher as "Nec bella, nec puella ”—but a shrewd worldly woman, not byany means disposed to sacrificecomfort and good cheer for con- siderations such as those which sopowerfully influenced the mind of her husband.CHAP. V.] Fortitude ofLuther. 131and he perished because he was sincere. When hishead had been struck off, it was placed on LondonBridge, in accordance with the barbarous practice of thetimes. Margaret Roper had the courage to ask for thehead to be taken down and given to her, and, carryingher affection for her father beyond the grave, shedesired that it might be buried with her when shedied; and long after, when Margaret Roper's tomb wasopened, the precious relic was observed lying on thedust of what had been her bosom.Martin Luther was not called upon to lay down hislife for his faith; but, from the day that he declaredhimself against the Pope, he daily ran the risk of losingit. At the beginning of his great struggle, he stoodalmost entirely alone. The odds against him weretremendous. "On one side," said he himself, "arelearning, genius, numbers, grandeur, rank, power, sanctity, miracles; on the other Wycliffe, Lorenzo Valla,Augustine, and Luther-a poor creature, a man of yesterday, standing wellnigh alone with a few friends." Summoned by the Emperor to appear at Worms, to answerthe charge made against him of heresy, he determinedto answer in person. Those about him told him that hewould lose his life if he went, and they urged him toflee. " No," said he, " I will repair thither, though Ishould find there thrice as many devils as there aretiles upon the housetops!" Warned against the bitterenmity of a certain Duke George, he said—" I will gothere, though for nine whole days running it rainedDuke Georges."Luther was as good as his word; and he set forthupon his perilous journey. When he came in sight ofthe old bell-towers of Worms, he stood up in his chariotand sang, " Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott "—the ' Marseillaise ' of the Reformation-the words and music ofK 2132 Luther before the Diet.[CHAP. V.which he is said to have improvised only two daysbefore. Shortly before the meeting of the Diet, anold soldier, George Freundesberg, put his hand uponLuther's shoulder, and said to him: " Good monk, goodmonk, take heed what thou doest; thou art going intoa harder fight than any of us have ever yet been in.”But Luther's only answer to the veteran was, that hehad “ determined to stand upon the Bible and his con- science. "Luther's courageous defence before the Diet is onrecord, and forms one of the most glorious pages inhistory. When finally urged by the Emperor to retract,he said firmly: " Sire, unless I am convinced of myerror by the testimony of Scripture, or by manifestevidence, I cannot and will not retract, for we mustnever act contrary to our conscience. Such is my profession of faith, and you must expect none other fromme. Hier stehe ich: Ich kann nicht anders: Gott helfemir!" (Here stand I: I cannot do otherwise: God helpme!) . He had to do his duty-to obey the orders of aPower higher than that of kings; and he did it at allhazards.Afterwards, when hard pressed by his enemies atAugsburg, Luther said that "if he had five hundredheads, he would lose them all rather than recant hisarticle concerning faith." Like all courageous men,his strength only seemed to grow in proportion to thedifficulties he had to encounter and overcome. "Thereis no man in Germany," said Hutten, " who more utterlydespises death than does Luther." And to his moralcourage, perhaps more than to that of any other singleman, do we owe the liberation of modern thought, andthe vindication of the great rights of the human understanding.The honourable and brave man does not fear deathCHAP. V.] Success won through Failure. 133compared with ignominy. It is said of the RoyalistEarl of Strafford that, as he walked to the scaffold onTower Hill, his step and manner were those of a generalmarching at the head of an army to secure victory,rather than of a condemned man to undergo sentenceof death. So the Commonwealth man, Sir John Eliot,went alike bravely to his death on the same spot, saying:"Ten thousand deaths rather than defile my conscience,the chastity and purity of which I value beyond allthis world." Eliot's greatest tribulation was on accountof his wife, whom he had to leave behind. When hesaw her looking down upon him from the Tower window,he stood up in the cart, waved his hat, and cried: "Toheaven, my love! —to heaven! —and leave you in thestorm!" As he went on his way, one in the crowdcalled out, " That is the most glorious seat you eversat on;" to which he replied: " It is so, indeed!" andrejoiced exceedingly.¹Although success is the guerdon for which all mentoil, they have nevertheless often to labour on perseveringly, without any glimmer of success in sight. Theyhave to live, meanwhile, upon their courage-sowingtheir seed, it may be, in the dark, in the hope that itwill yet take root and spring up in achieved result.The best of causes have had to fight their way totriumph through a long succession of failures, and manyof the assailants have died in the breach before thefortress has been won. The heroism they have displayedis to be measured, not so much by their immediate1 Before being beheaded, Eliot a time to die. A good death is said, " Death is but a little word; | far better and more eligible than but "tis a great work to die .' an ill life. A wise man lives butIn his 'Prison Thoughts before his so long as his life is worth more execution, he wrote: " He that than his death. The longer lifefears not to die, fears nothing. is not always the better."There is a time to live, and134 Common Courage.[CHAP. V.success, as bythe opposition they have encountered , andthe courage with whichthey have maintained the struggle.The patriot who fights an always-losing battle-themartyr who goes to death amidst the triumphant shoutsof his enemies-the discoverer, like Columbus, whoseheart remains undaunted through the bitter years ofhis " long wandering woe "-are examples of the moralsublime which excite a profounder interest in the heartsof men than even the most complete and conspicuoussuccess. By the side of such instances as these, howsmall by comparison seem the greatest deeds of valour,inciting men to rush upon death and die amidst thefrenzied excitement of physical warfare!But the greater part of the courage that is needed inthe world is not of a heroic kind. Courage may bedisplayed in everyday life as well as in historic fieldsof action. There needs, for example, the commoncourage to be honest—the courage to resist temptation-the courage to speak the truth-the courage to bewhat we really are, and not to pretend to be what weare not the courage to live honestly within our ownmeans, and not dishonestly upon the means of others.Agreat deal of the unhappiness, and much of thevice, of the world is owing to weakness and indecision ofpurpose-in other words, to lack of courage. Men mayknow what is right, and yet fail to exercise the courageto do it; they may understand the duty they have todo, but will not summon up the requisite resolution toperform it. The weak and undisciplined man is at themercy ofevery temptation; he cannot say " No, " but fallsbefore it. And if his companionship be bad, he will beall the easier led away by bad example into wrongdoing.Nothing can be more certain than that the charactercan only be sustained and strengthened by its own energetic action. The will, which is the central force ofCHAP. V.] The Virtue ofSelf-Help. 135character, must be trained to habits of decision-otherwise it will neither be able to resist evil nor to followgood. Decision gives the power of standing firmly,when to yield, however slightly, might be only the firststep in a downhill course to ruin.Calling upon others for help in forming a decision is worse than useless. A man must so train his habitsas to rely upon his own powers and depend upon his own courage in moments of emergency. Plutarch tellsof a King of Macedon who, in the midst of an action ,withdrew into the adjoining town under pretence ofsacrificing to Hercules; whilst his opponent Emilius, atthe same time that he implored the Divine aid, soughtfor victory sword in hand, and won the battle. Andso it ever is in the actions of daily life.Many are the valiant purposes formed, that endmerely in words; deeds intended, that are never done;designs projected, that are never begun; and all forwant of a little courageous decision. Better far thesilent tongue but the eloquent deed. For in life andin business, despatch is better than discourse; and theshortest answer of all is, Doing. "In matters of greatconcern, and which must be done," says Tillotson,"there is no surer argument of a weak mind thanirresolution to be undetermined when the case is soplain and the necessity so urgent. To be always intending to live a new life, but never to find time to setabout it, this is as if a man should put off eating anddrinking and sleeping from one day to another, untilhe is starved and destroyed."There needs also the exercise of no small degree ofmoral courage to resist the corrupting influences ofwhat is called " Society." Although " Mrs. Grundy "may be a very vulgar and commonplace personage, herinfluence is nevertheless prodigious. Most men, but136 Despotism ofFashion. [CHAP. V.especially women, are the moral slaves of the class orcaste to which they belong. There is a sort of unconscious conspiracy existing amongst them againsteach 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 ofbeing tabooed. Some are immured within a bastile offashion, others of custom, others of opinion; and fewthere are who have the courage to think outside theirsect, to act outside their party, and to step out into thefree air of individual thought and action. We dress,and eat, and follow fashion, though it may be at therisk of debt, ruin, and misery; living not so muchaccording to our means, as according to the superstitious observances of our class. Though we mayspeak contemptuously of the Indians who flatten theirheads, and of the Chinese who cramp their toes, we haveonly to look at the deformities of fashion amongst ourselves, to see that the reign of" Mrs. Grundy" is universal.But moral cowardice is exhibited quite as much inpublic as in private life. Snobbism is not confined tothe toadying of the rich, but is quite as often displayedin the toadying of the poor. Formerly, sycophancyshowed itself in not daring to speak the truth to thosein high places; but in these days it rather showsitself in not daring to speak the truth to those inlow places. Now that " the masses "¹ exercise political661 Mr. J. S. Mill, in his book | spond internally to wise and noble ' On Liberty, ' describes "the things, and be led to them with masses," as " collective medi- his eyes open In this age,ocrity.' "The initiation of all the mere example of nonconwise or noble things," he says, formity, the mere refusal to bend ' comes, and must come, from indi- the knee to custom, is itself aviduals generally at first from service. Precisely because the some one individual. The honour tyranny of opinon is such as and glory of the average man is to make eccentricity a reproach,that he is capable of following it is desirable, in order to break that imitation; that he can re- through that tyranny, that peopleCHAP. V.] Pandering to Popularity. 137power, there is a growing tendency to fawn upon them,to flatter them, and to speak nothing but smooth wordsto them. They are credited with virtues which theythemselves know they do not possess. The publicenunciation of wholesome because disagreeable truthsis avoided; and, to win their favour, sympathy is oftenpretended for views, the carrying out ofwhich in practiceis known to be hopeless.It is not the man of the noblest character-thehighest-cultured and best- conditioned man--whosefavour is now sought, so much as that of the lowest man,the least-cultured and worst-conditioned man, becausehis vote is usually that of the majority. Even menof rank, wealth, and education are seen prostratingthemselves before the ignorant, whose votes are thusto be got. They are ready to be unprincipled and unjust rather than unpopular. It is so much easier forsome men to stoop, to bow, and to flatter, than to bemanly, resolute, and magnanimous; and to yield toprejudices than run counter to them. It requiresstrength and courage to swim against the stream, whileany dead fish can float with it.This servile pandering to popularity has been rapidlyon the increase of late years, and its tendency has beento lower and degrade the character of public men.Consciences have become more elastic. There is nowone opinion for the chamber, and another for the platform. Prejudices are pandered to in public, which inprivate are despised. Pretended conversions-whichinvariably jump with party interests-are more sudden;should be eccentric. Eccentricity has always abounded when and where strength of character has abounded; and the amount of eccentricity in a society hasgenerally been proportional to theamount of genius, mental vigour,and moral courage which it con- tained. That so few now dare tobe eccentric, marks the chief danger of the time. "-Pp. 120–1.138Moral Cowardice. [ CHAP. V.and even hypocrisy now appears to be scarcely thoughtdiscreditable.The same moral cowardice extends downwards aswell as upwards. The action and reaction are equal.Hypocrisy and timeserving above are accompanied byhypocrisy and timeserving below. Where men ofhigh 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 beforethem. They too will skulk, and dodge, and prevaricate-be ready to speak one way and act another-just liketheir betters. Give them but a sealed box, or somehole-and- corner to hide their act in, and they will then,forsooth, enjoy their " liberty!"Popularity, as won in these days, is by no means apresumption in a man's favour, but is quite as often apresumption against him. "No man," says the Russianproverb, " can rise to honour who is cursed with a stiffbackbone. " But the backbone of the popularityhunter is of gristle; and he has no difficulty in stooping and bending himself in any direction to catch thebreath of popular applause.Where popularity is won by fawning upon the people,by withholding the truth from them, by writing andspeaking down to the lowest tastes, and still worseby appeals to class-hatred,¹ such a popularity must beMr. Arthur Helps, in one of his thoughtful books, published in 1845, made some observations on this point, which are not less applicable now. He there said:"It is a grievous thing to see literature made a vehicle for encouraging the enmity of class to class. Yet this, unhappily, is not unfrequent now. Some great man summed up the nature of Frenchnovels by calling them the Litera- ture of Despair; the kind of writing that I deprecate may be called the Literature of Envy Such writers like to throw theirinfluence, as they might say, into the weaker scale. Butthat is notthe proper way of looking at the matter. I think, if they saw the ungenerous nature of their pro- ceedings, that alone would stopCHAP. V.] Courage to be Unpopular. 139simply contemptible in the sight of all honest men.Jeremy Bentham, speaking of a well-known publiccharacter, said: " His creed of politics results less fromlove of the many than from hatred of the few; it is toomuch under the influence of selfish and dissocial affection." To how many men in our own day might notthe same description apply?Men of sterling character have the courage to speakthe truth, even when it is unpopular. It was said ofColonel Hutchinson by his wife, that he never soughtafter popular applause, or prided himself on it: " Hemore delighted to do well than to be praised, and neverset vulgar commendations at such a rate as to act contrary to his own conscience or reason for the obtainingthem; nor would he forbear a good action which hewas bound to, though all the world disliked it; for heever looked on things as they were in themselves, notthrough the dim spectacles of vulgar estimation. " 166'Popularity, in the lowest and most common sense,'them. They should recollect thatliterature may fawn upon the masses as well as the aristocracy;and in these days the temptation is in the former direction. But what is most grievous in this kind of writing is the mischief it may do to the working-people them- selves. If you have their true welfare at heart, you will not only care for their being fed and clothed, but you will be anxious not to encourage unreasonable expectations in them-not to make them ungrateful or greedy-minded.Above all, you will be solicitous to preserve some self-reliance in them. You will be careful not tolet them think that their condition can be wholly changed without exertion of their own. You""would not desire to have it sochanged. Once elevate your ideal of what you wish to happen amongst the labouring population,and you will not easily admit any- thing in your writings that may injure their moral or their mental character, even if you thought it might hasten some physical benefit for them. That is the way tomake your genius most service- able to mankind. Depend upon it, honest and bold things require to be said to the lower as well as the higher classes; and the formerare in these times much less likely to have such things addressed to them." Claims of Labour,pp. 253-4.1Memoirs of Colonel Hutchinson ' (Bohn's Ed. ) , p. 32.140 Popularity and Duty.[CHAP. V.said Sir John Pakington, on a recent occasion, " is notworth the having. Do your duty to the best of yourpower, win the approbation of your own conscience,and popularity, in its best and highest sense, is sure to follow. "When Richard Lovell Edgeworth, towards the closeof his life, became very popular in his neighbourhood.he said one day to his daughter: " Maria, I am growingdreadfully popular; I shall be good for nothing soon;a man cannot be good for anything who is verypopular." Probably he had in his mind at the timethe Gospel curse of the popular man, " Woe unto you,when all men shall speak well of you! for so did theirfathers to the false prophets."Intellectual intrepidity is one of the vital conditionsof independence and self-reliance of character. A manmust have the courage to be himself, and not theshadow or the echo of another. He must exercise¹Ata public meetingheld at Wor- cester, in 1867, in recognition of Sir J. Pakington's services as Chair- manof Quarter Sessions for a period oftwenty-four years. Thefollowing remarks, made by Sir John on the occasion, are just and valuable asthey are modest: -" I am indebted for whatever measure of success Ihave attained in my public life, to a combination of moderate abilities,with honesty of intention, firmness of purpose, and steadiness of conduct. If I were to offer advice toany young man anxious to make himself useful in public life, Iwould sum up the results of my experience in three short rulesrules so simple that any man may understand them, and so easy that any man may act upon them. My first rule would be-leave it toothers to judge of what duties youare capable, and for what position you are fitted; but never refuse to give your services in whatever capacity it may be the opinion of others who are competent to judge that you may benefit your neigh- bours or your country. My secondrule is-when you agree to under- take public duties, concentrate every energy and faculty in your possession with the determination to discharge those duties to the best of your ability. Lastly, Iwould counsel you that, in deciding on the line which you will take in public affairs, you should be guided in your decision by that which, after mature deliberation,you believe to be right, and not by that which, in the passing hour,may happen to be fashionable or popular.'CHAP. V.] Intellectual Intrepidity.141his own powers, think his own thoughts, and speak hisown sentiments. He must elaborate his own opinions,and form his own convictions. It has been said that hewho dare not form an opinion, must be a coward; hewho will not, must be an idler; he who cannot, must bea fool.But it is precisely in this element of intrepidity thatso many persons of promise fall short, and disappointthe expectations of their friends. They march up tothe scene of action, but at every step their courageoozes out. They want the requisite decision, courage, andperseverance. They calculate the risks, and weigh thechances, until the opportunity for effective effort haspassed, 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 Commonwealth man, " for speaking the truth, than that thetruth should suffer for want of my speaking." When aman's convictions are honestly formed, after fair andfull consideration, he is justified in striving by all fairmeans to bring them into action. There are certainstates of society and conditions of affairs in which aman is bound to speak out, and be antagonistic-whenconformity is not only a weakness, but a sin. Greatevils are in some cases only to be met by resistance;they cannot be wept down, but must be battled down.The honest man is naturally antagonistic to fraud, thetruthful man to lying, the justice-loving man to oppression, the pureminded man to vice and iniquity. Theyhave to do battle with these conditions, and if possibleovercome them. Such men have in all ages representedthe moral force of the world. Inspired by benevolenceand sustained by courage, they have been the mainstays of all social renovation and progress. But fortheir continuous antagonism to evil conditions, the142 Energetic Courage.[ CHAP. V.world were for the most part given over to the dominionof selfishness and vice. All the great reformers andmartyrs were antagonistic men-enemies to falsehoodand evildoing. The Apostles themselves were anorganised band of social antagonists, who contended withpride, selfishness, superstition, and irreligion. And inour own time the lives of such men as Clarkson andGranville Sharpe, Father Mathew and Richard Cobden, inspired by singleness of purpose, have shown whathighminded social antagonism can effect.It is the strong and courageous men who lead andguide and rule the world. The weak and timid leaveno trace behind them; whilst the life of a single upright and energetic man is like a track of light. Hisexample is remembered and appealed to; and histhoughts, his spirit, and his courage continue to be theinspiration of succeeding generations.It is energy-the central element of which is willthat produces the miracles of enthusiasm in all ages.Everywhere it is the mainspring of what is called forceof character, and the sustaining power of all greataction. In a righteous cause the determined manstands upon his courage as upon a granite block; and,like David, he will go forth to meet Goliath, strong inheart though an host be encamped against him." What artMen often conquer difficulties because they feelthey can. Their confidence in themselves inspires theconfidence of others. When Cæsar was at sea, and astorm began to rage, the captain of the ship whichcarried him became unmanned by fear.thou afraid of?" cried the great captain; "thy vesselcarries Cæsar!" The courage of the brave man is contagious, and carries others along with it. Hisstronger nature awes weaker natures into silence, orinspires them with his own will and purpose.CHAP. V.] Energy and Perseverance. 143The persistent man will not be baffled or repulsed byopposition. Diogenes, desirous of becoming the discipleof Antisthenes, went and offered himself to the cynic.He was refused. Diogenes still persisting, the cynicraised his knotty staff, and threatened to strike him ifhe did not depart. " Strike! " said Diogenes; "youwill not find a stick hard enough to conquer my perseverance." Antisthenes, overcome, had not anotherword to say, but forthwith accepted him as his pupil.Energy of temperament, with a moderate degree ofwisdom, will carry a man further than any amount ofintellect without it. Energy makes the man of practicalability. It gives him vis, force, momentum. It is theactive motive power of character; and if combinedwith sagacity and self-possession, will enable a man toemploy his powers to the best advantage in all theaffairs of life.Hence it is that, inspired by energy of purpose, menof comparatively mediocre powers have often beenenabled to accomplish such extraordinary results. Forthe men who have most powerfully influenced the worldhave not been so much men of genius as men of strongconvictions and enduring capacity for work, impelled byirresistible energy and invincible determination: suchmen, for example, as were Mahomet, 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 notpermit it to retreat. Tyndall said of Faraday, that “ inhis warm moments he formed a resolution, and in hiscool ones he made that resolution good. " Perseverance,working in the right direction, grows with time, andwhen steadily practised, even by the most humble, willrarely fail of its reward. Trusting in the help of others144 Courage and Tenderness. [ CHAP. V.is of comparatively little use.When one of MichaelAngelo's principal patrons died, he said: " I begin tounderstand that the promises of the world are for themost part vain phantoms, and that to confide in one'sself, and become something of worth and value, is thebest and safest course."Courage is by no means incompatible with tenderness.On the contrary, gentleness and tenderness have beenfound to characterise the men, not less than the women,who have done the most courageous deeds. Sir CharlesNapier gave up sporting, because he could not bear tohurt dumb creatures. The same gentleness and tenderness characterised his brother, Sir William, the historianof the Peninsular War. Such also was the character ofSir James Outram, pronounced by Sir Charles Napier tobe" the Bayard of India, sans peur et sans reproche "—oneof the bravest and yet gentlest of men; respectful andThe following illustration of one of his minute acts of kindnessis given in his biography: -" He was one day taking a long country walk near Freshford, when he met a little girl, about five years old, sobbing over a broken bowl;she had dropped and broken it inbringing it back from the field to which she had taken her father's dinner in it, and she said she would be beaten on her returnhome for having broken it; when,with a sudden gleam of hope, sheinnocently looked up into his face,and said, ' But yee can mend it,can't ee?'66 My father explained that he could not mend the bowl, but thetrouble he could, by the gift of asixpence to buy another. However, on opening is purse it was empty of silver, and he had tomake amends by promising to meet his little friend in the samespot at the same hour next day,and to bring the sixpence withhim, bidding her, meanwhile, tell her mother she had seen a gentle- man who would bring her themoney for the bowl next day.The child, entirely trusting him,went on her way comforted. Onhis return home he found an invi- tation awaiting him to dine in Bath the following evening, tomeet some one whom he specially wished to see. He hesitated forsome little time, trying to calculate the possibility of giving tho meeting to his little friend ofthe broken bowl and of still being intime for the dinner-party in Bath;but finding this could not be, he wrote to decline accepting the invitation on the plea of a preengagement,' saying to us, ' I can- not disappoint her, she trusted meso implicitly.""6CHAP. V.] Generosity ofthe Brave. 145reverent to women, tender to children, helpful of theweak, stern to the corrupt, but kindly as summer tothe honest and deserving. Moreover, he was himself ashonest as day, and as pure as virtue. Of him it mightbe said with truth, what Fulke Greville said of Sidney:"He was a true model of worth-a man fit for conquest,reformation, plantation, or what action soever is thegreatest and hardest among men; his chief endswithal being above all things the good of his fellows,and the service of his sovereign and country."When Edward the Black Prince won the Battle ofPoictiers, in which he took prisoner the French kingand his son, he entertained them in the evening at abanquet, when he insisted on waiting upon and servingthem at table. The gallant prince's knightly courtesyand demeanour won the hearts of his captives as completely as his valour had won their persons; for, notwithstanding his youth, Edward was a true knight, thefirst and bravest of his time-a noble pattern andexample of chivalry; his two mottoes, ' Hochmuth ' and"Ich dien ' (high spirit and reverent service), not inaptlyexpressing his prominent and pervading qualities.It is the courageous man who can best afford to begenerous; or rather, it is his nature to be so. WhenFairfax, at the Battle of Naseby, seized the colours froman ensign whom he had struck down in the fight, hehanded them to a common soldier to take care of. Thesoldier, unable to resist the temptation, boasted to hiscomrades that he had himself seized the colours, and theboast was repeated to Fairfax. " Let him retain thehonour," said the commander; " I have enough beside."So when Douglas, at the Battle of Bannockburn, sawRandolph, his rival, outnumbered and apparently overpowered by the enemy, he prepared to hasten to hisassistance; but, seeing that Randolph was already drivingL146 Courage and Self-Sacrifice.[CHAP. V.them back, he cried out, " Hold and halt! We are cometoo late to aid them; let us not lessen the victory theyhave won by affecting to claim a share in it.”Quite as chivalrous, though in a very different fieldof action, was the conduct of Laplace to the youngphilosopher Biot, when the latter had read.to the FrenchAcademy his paper, " Sur les Equations aux Différences Mêlées," The assembled savans, at its close, felicitatedthe reader of the paper on his originality. Monge wasdelighted at his success. Laplace also praised him forthe clearness of his demonstrations, and invited Biot toaccompany him home. Arrived there, Laplace tookfrom a closet in his study a paper, yellow with age, andhanded 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. Withrare magnanimity, Laplace withheld all knowledge ofthe circ*mstance from Biot until the latter had initiatedhis reputation before the Academy; moreover, he enjoined him to silence; and the incident would haveremained a secret had not Biot himself published it,some fifty years afterwards.An incident is related of a French artisan, exhibitingthe same characteristic of self-sacrifice in another form.In front of a lofty house in course of erection at Pariswas the usual scaffold, loaded with men and materials.The scaffold, being too weak, suddenly broke down, andthe men upon it were precipitated to the ground-allexcept two, a young man and a middle-aged one, whohung on to a narrow ledge, which trembled under theirweight, and was evidently on the point of giving way."Pierre," cried the elder of the two, " let go; I am thefather of a family." " C'est juste! " said Pierre; and,instantly letting go his hold, he fell and was killed onthe spot. The father of the family was saved.CHAP. V.] Magnanimity. 147The brave man is magnanimous as well as gentle.He does not take even an enemy at a disadvantage, norstrike a man when he is down and unable to defend himself. Even in the midst of deadly strife such instancesof generosity have not been uncommon. Thus, at theBattle of Dettingen, during the heat of the action, asquadron ofFrench cavalry charged an English regiment;but when the young French officer who led them, andwas about to attack the English leader, observedthat he had only one arm, with which he held his bridle,the Frenchman saluted him courteously with his sword,and passed on.¹It is related of Charles V., that after the siege andcapture of Wittenburg by the Imperialist army, themonarch went to see the tomb of Luther. While reading¹ Miss Florence Nightingale has related the following incident as having occurred before Sebastopol: " I remember a sergeant who, on picket, the rest of the picket killed and himself battered about the head, stumbled back tocamp, and on his way picked up awounded man and brought him in on his shoulders to the lines, where he fell down insensible. When,after many hours, he recovered hissenses, I believe after trepanning,his first words were to ask after his comrade, ' Is he alive?' ' Com- rade, indeed; yes, he's alive—it is thegeneral. Atthat moment the general, though badly wounded,appeared at the bedside. Oh,general, it's you, is it, I brought in? I'm so glad; I didn't know your honour. But, if I'dknown it was you, I'd have saved you all the same.' This is the true soldier's spirit."In the same letter, Miss Night- ingale says: " England, from hergrand, mercantile and commercial successes, has been called sordid; God knows she is not.The simple courage, the endur- ing patience, the good sense, the strength to suffer in silence- what nation shows more of this in war than is shown by her com- monest soldier? I have seen mendying of dysentery, but scorning to report themselves sick lest they should thereby throw more labour on their comrades, go down to the trenches and make the trenches their deathbed. There is nothing in history to compare with it .Say what men will, there is some- thing more truly Christian in the man who gives his time, his strength, his life, if need be, for something not himself-whetherhe call it his Queen, his country,or his colours-than in all theasceticism, the fasts, the humilia- tions, and confessions which haveever been made; and this spirit of giving one's life, without calling it a sacrifice, is found nowhere sotruly as in England."L 2148 The Magnanimous Man.[CHAP. V.the inscription on it, one of the servile courtiers who accompanied him proposed to open the grave, and give the ashes of the "heretic ” to the winds. The monarch'scheek flushed with honest indignation: "I war notwith the dead," said he; "let this place be respected. "The portrait which the great heathen, Aristotle, drewof the Magnanimous Man, in other words the TrueGentleman, more than two thousand years ago, is asfaithful now as it was then. “ The magnanimous man,"he said, " will behave with moderation under both goodfortune and bad. He will know how to be exalted andhow to be abased. He will neither be delighted withsuccess nor grieved by failure. He will neither shundanger nor seek it, for there are few things which hecares for. He is reticent, and somewhat slow of speech,but speaks his mind openly and boldly when occasioncalls for it. He is apt to admire, for nothing is greatto him. He overlooks injuries. He is not given totalk about himself or about others; for he does notcare that he himself should be praised, or that otherpeople should be blamed. He does not cry out abouttrifles, 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 wherethey have themselves succeeded, by unscrupulousmethods, in climbing to positions of authority. Snobsin high places are always much less tolerable than snobsof 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 isthe incongruity oftheir position. "The higherthe monkeyclimbs," says the proverb, " the more he shows his tail."CHAP. V.] Fear to be Avoided. 149Much depends on the way in which a thing is done.An act which might be taken as a kindness if done ina generous spirit, when done in a grudging spirit, maybe felt as stingy, if not harsh and even cruel. WhenBen Jonson lay sick and in poverty, the king sent hima paltry message, accompanied by a gratuity. Thesturdy plainspoken poet's reply was: " I suppose hesends me this because I live in an alley; tell him hissoul lives in an alley.”From what we have said, it will be obvious that to beof an enduring and courageous spirit, is of great importance in the formation of character. It is a sourcenot only of usefulness in life, but of happiness. On theother hand, to be of a timid and, still more, of a cowardlynature, is one of the greatest misfortunes. A wise manwas accustomed to say that one of the principal objectshe aimed at in the education of his sons and daughterswas to train them in the habit of fearing nothing somuch as fear. And the habit of avoiding fear is,doubtless, capable of being trained like any other habit,such as the habit of attention, of diligence, of study, orof cheerfulness.Much of the fear that exists is the offspring ofimagination, which creates the images of evils whichmay happen, but perhaps rarely do. Thus many persons who are capable of summoning up courage enoughto grapple with and overcome real dangers, are paralysedor thrown into consternation by those which are imaginary. Unless the imagination be held under strictdiscipline, we are prone to meet evils more than halfway to suffer them by forestalment, and to assume theburdens which we ourselves create.Education in courage is not usually included amongstthe branches of female training, and yet it is really ofmuch greater importance than either music, French, or150 Courage of Women. [CHAP. V.the use ofthe globes. Contrary to the view of Sir RichardSteele, that women should be characterised by a "tenderfear," and "an inferiority which makes her lovely," wewould have women educated in resolution and courage,as a means of rendering them more helpful, more selfreliant, and vastly more useful and happy.There is, indeed, nothing attractive in timidity, nothingloveable in fear. All weakness, whether of mind orbody, is equivalent to deformity, and the reverse ofinteresting. Courage is graceful and dignified, whilstfear, in any form, is mean and repulsive. Yet theutmost tenderness and gentleness are consistent withcourage. Ary Scheffer, the artist, once wrote to hisdaughter:-" Dear daughter, strive to be of goodcourage, to be gentle-hearted; these are the true qualities for woman. ' Troubles ' everybody must expect.There is but one way of looking at fate-whatever thatbe, whether blessings or afflictions-to behave withdignity under both. We must not lose heart, or it willbe the worse both for ourselves and for those whom welove. To struggle, and again and again to renew theconflict-this is life's inheritance. " ¹In sickness and sorrow, none are braver and lesscomplaining sufferers than women.Their courage,where their hearts are concerned, is indeed proverbial:" Oh! femmes c'est à tort qu'on vous nommes timides,À la voix de vos cœurs vous êtes intrepides."Experience has proved that women can be as enduringas men, under the heaviest trials and calamities; buttoo little pains are taken to teach them to endure pettyterrors and frivolous vexations with fortitude. Suchlittle miseries, if petted and indulged, quickly run intosickly sensibility, and become the bane of their life,¹ Mrs. Grote's ' Life of Ary Scheffer, ' pp. 154–5.CHAP. V.] Moral Strength ofWomen. 151keeping themselves and those about them in a state ofchronic discomfort.The best corrective of this condition of mind iswholesome moral and mental discipline. Mentalstrength is as necessary for the development of woman'scharacter as of man's. It gives her capacity to dealwith the affairs of life, and presence of mind, whichenable her to act with vigour and effect in moments ofemergency. Character, in a woman, as in a man, willalways be found the best safeguard of virtue, the bestnurse ofreligion, the best corrective of Time. Personalbeauty soon passes; but beauty of mind and characterincreases in attractiveness the older it grows.Ben Jonson gives a striking portraiture of a noblewoman in these lines:--"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 a manly soul,I purposed her, that should with even powers,The rock, the spindle, and the shears controlOf destiny, and spin her own free hours."The courage of woman is not the less true because itis for the most part passive. It is not encouraged bythe cheers of the world, for it is mostly exhibited in thequiet recesses of private life. Yet there are cases ofheroic patience and endurance on the part of womenwhich occasionally come to the light of day. One ofthe most celebrated instances in history is that ofGertrude Von der Wart. Her husband, falsely accusedof being an accomplice in the murder of the EmperorAlbert, was condemned to the most frightful of allpunishments-to be broken alive on the wheel. Withthe most profound conviction of her husband's innocence, the faithful woman stood by his side to the last,152 Heroism ofWomen. [CHAP. V.watching over him during two days and nights, bravingthe empress's anger and the inclemency of the weather,in the hope of contributing to soothe his dying agonies.¹But women have not only distinguished themselvesfor their passive courage: impelled by affection, or thesense of duty, they have occasionally become heroic.When the band of conspirators, who sought the life ofJames II. of Scotland, burst into his lodgings at Perth,the king called to the ladies, who were in the chamberoutside his room, to keep the door as well as they could,and give him time to escape. The conspirators hadpreviously destroyed the locks of the doors, so that thekeys could not be turned; and when they reached theladies' apartment, it was found that the bar also had beenremoved. But, on hearing them approach, the braveCatherine Douglas, with the hereditary courage of herfamily, boldly thrust her arm across the door instead ofthe bar; and held it there until, her arm being broken,the conspirators burst into the room with drawn swordsand daggers, overthrowing the ladies, who, thoughunarmed, still endeavoured to resist them.The defence of Lathom House by Charlotte de laTrémouille, the worthy descendant ofWilliam of Nassauand Admiral Coligny, was another striking instance ofheroic bravery on the part of a noble woman. Whensummoned by the Parliamentary forces to surrender, shedeclared that she had been entrusted by her husbandwith the defence of the house, and that she could notgive it up without her dear lord's orders, but trusted in1 The sufferings of this noble woman, together with those of her unfortunate husband, were touchingly described in a letter after- wards addressed by her to a female friend, which was published someyears ago at Haarlem, entitled,' Gertrude von der Wart; or,Fidelity unto Death.' Mrs.Hemans wrote a poem of greatpathos and beauty, commemorat- ing the sad story in her ' Records of Woman.'CHAP. V.] Lady Franklin. 153God for protection and deliverance. In her arrangements for the defence, she is described as having " leftnothing with her eye to be excused afterwards byfortune or negligence, and added to her former patiencea most resolved fortitude." The brave lady held herhouse and home good against the enemy for a wholeyear during three months of which the place wasstrictly besieged and bombarded—until at length thesiege was raised, after a most gallant defence, 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 allothers had died out, in prosecuting the search after theFranklin Expedition. On the occasion ofthe Royal Geographical Society determining to award the Founder'sMedal ' to Lady Franklin, Sir Roderick Murchisonobserved, that in the course of a long friendship withher, he had abundant opportunities of observing andtesting the sterling qualities of a woman who had provedherself worthy of the admiration of mankind. "Nothingdaunted by failure after failure, through twelve longyears of hope deferred, she had persevered, with a singleness of purpose and a sincere devotion which weretruly unparalleled. And now that her one last expedition of the Fox, under the gallant M'Clintock, hadrealised the two great facts-that her husband hadtraversed wide seas unknown to former navigators, anddied in discovering a north-west passage-then, surely,the adjudication of the medal would be hailed by thenationas one of the many recompences to which thewidowof the illustrious Franklin was so eminently entitled."But that devotion to duty which marks the heroiccharacter has more often been exhibited by women indeeds of charity and mercy. The greater part of theseare never known, for they are done in private, out of154 Women Philanthropists. [CHAP. V.the public sight, and for the mere love of doing good.Where fame has come to them, because of the successwhich has attended their labours in a more generalsphere, it has come unsought and unexpected, and isoften felt as a burden. Who has not heard of Mrs. Fryand Miss Carpenter as prison visitors and reformers;of Mrs. Chisholm and Miss Rye as promoters of emigration; and of Miss Nightingale and Miss Garrett asapostles of hospital nursing?That these women should have emerged from thesphere of private and domestic life to become leadersin philanthropy, indicates no small degree of moralcourage on their part; for to women, above all others,quiet and ease and retirement are most natural andwelcome. Very few women step beyond the boundariesof home in search of a larger field of usefulness. Butwhen they have desired one, they have had no difficultyin finding it. The ways in which men and women canhelp their neighbours are innumerable. It needs butthe willing heart and ready hand. Most of the philanthropic workers we have named, however, have scarcelybeen influenced by choice. The duty lay in their wayit seemed to be the nearest to them-and they setabout doing it without desire for fame, or any otherreward but the approval of their own conscience.Among prison-visitors, the name of Sarah Martin ismuch less known than that of Mrs. Fry, although shepreceded her in the work. How she was led to undertake it, furnishes at the same time an illustration ofwomanly trueheartedness and genuine womanly courage.Sarah Martin was the daughter of poor parents, andwas left an orphan at an early age. She was brought upby her grandmother, at Caistor, near Yarmouth, andearned her living by going out to families as assistantdressmaker, at a shilling a day. In 1819, a womanCHAP. V.] Story ofSarah Martin. 155was tried and sentenced to imprisonment in YarmouthGaol, for cruelly beating and illusing her child, and hercrime became the talk of the town. The young dressmaker was much impressed by the report of the trial,and the desire entered her mind of visiting the womanin gaol, and trying to reclaim her. She had oftenbefore, on passing the walls of the borough gaol, feltimpelled to seek admission, with the object of visitingthe inmates, reading the Scriptures to them, and endeavouring to lead them back to the society whose lawsthey had violated.At length she could not resist her impulse to visit theimprisoned mother. She entered the gaol-porch, liftedthe knocker, and asked the gaoler for admission . Forsome reason or other she was refused; but she returned,repeated her request, and this time she was admitted.The culprit mother shortly stood before her.WhenSarah Martin told the motive of her visit, the criminalburst into tears, and thanked her. Those tears andthanks shaped the whole course of Sarah Martin's afterlife; and the poor seamstress, while maintaining herselfby her needle, continued to spend her leisure hours invisiting the prisoners, and endeavouring to alleviatetheir condition. She constituted herself their chaplainand schoolmistress, for at that time they had neither;she read to them from the Scriptures, and taught themto read and write. She gave up an entire day in theweek for this purpose, besides Sundays, as well as otherintervals of spare time, " feeling," she says, " that theblessing of God was upon her." She taught the womento knit, to sew, and to cut out; the sale of the articlesenabling her to buy other materials, and to continuethe industrial education thus begun. She also taughtthe men to make straw hats, men's and boys' caps, graycotton shirts, and even patchwork-anything to keep156 Story of Sarah Martin. [CHAP. V.them out of idleness, and from preying on their ownthoughts. Out of the earnings of the prisoners in thisway, she formed a fund, which she applied to furnishingthem with work on their discharge; thus enabling themagain to begin the world honestly, and at the same timeaffording her, as she herself says, " the advantage ofobserving their conduct."By attending too exclusively to this prison-work,however, Sarah Martin's dressmaking business fell off;and the question arose with her, whether in order torecover her business she was to suspend her prison-work.But her decision had already been made. " I hadcounted the cost," she said, " and my mind was madeup. If, whilst imparting truth to others, I became exposed to temporal want, the privations so momentaryto an individual would not admit of comparison withfollowing the Lord, in thus administering to others."She now devoted six or seven hours every day to theprisoners, converting what would otherwise have beena scene of dissolute idleness into a hive of orderly industry. Newly- admitted prisoners were sometimes refractory, but her persistent gentleness eventually wontheir respect and co-operation. Men old in years andcrime, pert London pickpockets, depraved boys anddissolute sailors, profligate women, smugglers, poachers,and the promiscuous horde of criminals which usuallyfill the gaol of a seaport and county town, all submittedto the benign influence of this good woman; and underher eyes they might be seen, for the first time in theirlives, striving to hold a pen, or to master the charactersin a penny primer. She entered into their confidences-watched, wept, prayed, and felt for all by turns. Shestrengthened their good resolutions, cheered the hopeless and despairing, and endeavoured to put all, andhold all, in the right road of amendment.CHAP. V.] Story of Sarah Martin. 157For more than twenty years this good and truehearted woman pursued her noble course, with littleencouragement, and not much help; almost her onlymeans of subsistence consisting in an annual income often or twelve pounds left by her grandmother, eked outby her little earnings at dressmaking. During the lasttwo years of her ministrations, the borough magistratesof Yarmouth, knowing that her self- imposed labourssaved them the expense of a schoolmaster and chaplain(which they had become bound by law to appoint) ,made a proposal to her of an annual salary of £12 ayear; but they did it in so indelicate a manner as greatlyto wound her sensitive feelings. She shrank from becoming the salaried official of the corporation, andbartering for money those services which had throughout been labours of love. But the Gaol Committeecoarsely informed her, " that if they permitted her tovisit the prison she must submit to their terms, or beexcluded." For two years, therefore, she received thesalary of £12 a year-the acknowledgment of theYarmouth corporation for her services as gaol chaplainand schoolmistress! She was now, however, becomingold and infirm , and the unhealthy atmosphere of thegaol did much towards finally disabling her. Whileshe lay on her deathbed, she resumed the exercise of atalent she had occasionally practised before in hermoments of leisure-the composition of sacred poetry.As works of art, they may not excite admiration; yetnever were verses written truer in spirit, or fuller ofChristian love. But her own life was a nobler poemthan any she ever wrote-full of true courage, perseverance, charity, and wisdom. It was indeed a commentary upon her own words:"The high desire that others may be blest Savours of heaven."158Self-Control.[CHAP. VI.CHAPTER VI.SELF-CONTROL ."Honour and profit do not always lie in the same sack. "-George Herbert."The government of one's self is the only true freedom for the individual.” —Frederick Perthes."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 "Temperance, proof Against all trials; industry severe And constant as the motion ofthe day;Stern self-denial round him spread, with shade That might be deemed forbidding, did not there All generous feelings flourish and rejoice;Forbearance, charity in deed and thought,And resolution competent to take Out ofthe bosom of simplicity All that her holy customs recommend. "-Wordsworth.SELF-CONTROL is only courage under another form. Itmay almost be regarded as the primary essence ofcharacter. 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 themere animal; and, indeed, there can be no true manhood without it.Self-control is at the root of all the virtues. Let aman give the reins to his impulses and passions, andfrom that moment he yields up his moral freedom.He is carried along the current of life, and becomes theslave of his strongest desire for the time being.To be morally free-to be more than an animalman must be able to resist instinctive impulse, and thiscan only be done by the exercise of self-control. Thusit is this power which constitutes the real distinctionCHAP. VI.] The Value ofDiscipline. 159between a physical and a moral life, and that forms theprimary basis of individual character.In the Bible praise is given, not to the strong manwho " taketh a city," but to the stronger man who"ruleth his own spirit." This stronger man is he who, bydiscipline, exercises a constant control over his thoughts,his speech, and his acts. Nine-tenths of the viciousdesires that degrade society, and which, when indulged,swell into the crimes that disgrace it, would shrink intoinsignificance before the advance of valiant self-discipline, self-respect, and self-control. By the watchfulexercise of these virtues, purity of heart and mindbecome habitual, and the character is built up inchastity, virtue, and temperance.The best support of character will always be found inhabit, which, according as the will is directed rightlyor wrongly, as the case may be, will prove either abenignant ruler or a cruel despot. We may be its willing subject on the one hand, or its servile slave on theother. It may help us on the road to good, or it mayhurry us on the road to ruin.Habit is formed by careful training. And it is astonishing how much can be accomplished by systematicdiscipline and drill. See how, for instance, out of themost unpromising materials—such as roughs picked upin the streets, or raw unkempt country lads taken fromthe plough- steady discipline and drill will bring outthe unsuspected qualities of courage, endurance, andself- sacrifice; and how, in the field of battle, or evenon the more trying occasions of perils by sea-such asthe burning of the Sarah Sands or the wreck of theBirkenhead—such men, carefully disciplined, will exhibitthe unmistakable characteristics of true bravery andheroism!Nor is moral discipline and drill less influential in160 Supremacy ofSelf-Control. [ CHAP. VI .the formation of character. Without it, there will beno proper system and order in the regulation of thelife. Upon it depends the cultivation of the sense ofself-respect, the education of the habit of obedience, thedevelopment of the idea of duty. The most self-reliant,self-governing man is always under discipline: and themore perfect the discipline, the higher will be his moralcondition. He has to drill his desires, and keep themin subjection to the higher powers of his nature. Theymust obey the word of command of the internal monitor,the conscience-otherwise they will be but the mereslaves of their inclinations, the sport of feeling andimpulse."In the supremacy of self-control," says HerbertSpencer, "consists one of the perfections of the idealman. Not to be impulsive-not to be spurred hitherand thither by each desire that in turn comes uppermost-but to be self-restrained, self-balanced, governedby the joint decision of the feelings in council assembled, before whom every action shall have been fullydebated and calmly determined-that it is which education, moral education at least, strives to produce. " ¹The first seminary of moral discipline, and the best,as we have already shown, is the home; next comesthe school, and after that the world, the great school ofpractical life. Each is preparatory to the other, andwhat the man or woman becomes, depends for the mostpart upon what has gone before. If they have enjoyedthe advantage of neither the home nor the school, buthave been allowed to grow up untrained, untaught, andundisciplined, then woe to themselves-woe to thesociety of which they form part!The best-regulated home is always that in which the1 'Social Statics,' p. 185.CHAP. VI.] Domestic Discipline.161discipline is the most perfect, and yet where it is theleast felt. Moral discipline acts with the force of alaw of nature. Those subject to it yield themselves toit unconsciously; and though it shapes and forms thewhole character, until the life becomes crystallized inhabit, the influence thus exercised is for the most partunseen and almost unfelt.The importance of strict domestic discipline iscuriously illustrated by a fact mentioned in Mrs. Schimmelpenninck's Memoirs, to the following effect: thata lady who, with her husband, had inspected most ofthe lunatic asylums of England and the Continent, foundthe most numerous class of patients was almost alwayscomposed of those who had been only children, andwhose wills had therefore rarely been thwarted or disciplined in early life; whilst those who were membersof large families, and who had been trained in self-discipline, were far less frequent victims to the malady.Although the moral character depends in a greatdegree on temperament and on physical health, as wellas on domestic and early training and the example ofcompanions, it is also in the power of each individual toregulate, to restrain, and to discipline it by watchful andpersevering self-control. A competent teacher has saidof the propensities and habits, that they are as teachable as Latin and Greek, while they are much moreessential to happiness.Dr. Johnson, though himself constitutionally prone tomelancholy, and afflicted by it as few have been fromhis earliest years, said that “ a man's being in a good orbad humour very much depends upon his will." Wemay train ourselves in a habit of patience and contentment on the one hand, or of grumbling and discontenton the other. We may accustom ourselves to exaggerate small evils, and to underestimate great blessings.M162 Self-Discipline.[CHAP. VI.We may even become the victims of petty miseries bygiving way to them. Thus, we may educate ourselvesin a happy disposition, as well as in a morbid one.Indeed, the habit of viewing things cheerfully, and ofthinking about life hopefully, may be made to grow upin us like any other habit.¹ It was not an exaggeratedestimate of Dr. Johnson to say, that the habit of lookingat the best side of any event is worth far more than athousand pounds a year.The religious man's life is pervaded by rigid self-discipline and self-restraint. He is to be sober and vigilant,to eschew evil and do good, to walk in the spirit, to beobedient unto death, to withstand in the evil day, andhaving done all, to stand; to wrestle against spiritualwickedness, and against the rulers of the darkness ofthis world; to be rooted and built up in faith , and not tobe weary of well-doing; for in due season he shall reap,if he faint not.The man of business also must needs be subject tostrict rule and system. Business, like life, is managedby moral leverage; success in both depending in nosmall degree upon that regulation of temper and carefulself-discipline, which give a wise man not only a command over himself, but over others. Forbearance andself-control smooth the road of life, and open many ways1 " In all cases," says Jeremy Bentham , "when the power ofthe will can be exercised over thethoughts, let those thoughts be directed towards happiness. Look out for the bright, for the brightest side of things, and keep your face constantly turned to it . Alarge part of existence is neces- surily passed in inaction . By day to take an instance from the thousand in constant recurrence ),when in attendance on others, andtime is lost by being kept wait- ing; by night, when sleep is un- willing to close the eyelids, theeconomy of happiness recommends the occupation of pleasurable thought. In walking abroad, or in resting at home, the mind can- not be vacant; its thoughts maybe useful, useless, or pernicious to happiness. Direct them aright;the habit of happy thought will spring up like any other habit." —Deontology, ii. 105-6.CHAP. VI. ] The Virtue of Patience. 163which would otherwise remain closed. And so does selfrespect for as men respect themselves, so will theyusually respect the personality of others.It is the same in politics as in business. Success inthat sphere of life is achieved less by talent than bytemper, less by genius than by character. If a manhave not self-control, he will lack patience, be wantingin tact, and have neither the power of governing himselfnor of managing others. When the quality most neededin a Prime Minister was the subject of conversation inthe presence of Mr. Pitt, one of the speakers said it was"Eloquence;" another said it was " Knowledge;" and athird said it was "Toil. " " No," said Pitt, " it is Patience!"And patience means self-control, a quality in which hehimself was superb. His friend George Rose has saidof him that he never once saw Pitt out of temper.¹ Yet,although patience is usually regarded as a " slow " virtue,Pitt combined with it the most extraordinary readiness,vigour, and rapidity of thought as well as action.It is by patience and self-control that the truly heroiccharacter is perfected. These were among the most1 The following extract from aletter of M. Boyd, Esq. , is given by Earl Stanhope in his ' Miscel- lanies ':-" There was a circum- stauce told me by the late Mr. Christmas, who for many years held an important official situation in the Bank of England. He was,I believe, in early life a clerk in the Treasury, or one of the govern- ment offices, and for some time acted for Mr. Pitt as his confi.dential clerk, or temporary private secretary. Christmas was one ofthe most obliging men I ever knew; and, from the position he occupied, was constantly exposed to interruptions, yet I never sawhis temper in the least ruffled. Oneday I found him more than usually engaged, having a mass of accounts to prepare for one of the law- courts still the same equanimity, and Icould not resist the opportunity of asking the old gentleman the secret. 'Well, Mr. Boyd, youshall know it. Mr. Pitt gave it to me:-Not to lose my temper, if possible, at any time, and never during the hours of business. My labours here ( Bank of England)commence at nine and end atthree; and, acting on the advice of the illustrious statesman, Inever lose my temper during those hours.' "M 2164 Character ofHampden. [CHAP. VI.prominent characteristics of the great Hampden, whosenoble qualities were generously acknowledged even byhis political enemies. Thus Clarendon described him asa man of rare temper and modesty, naturally cheerfuland vivacious, and above all, of a flowing courtesy.He was kind and intrepid, yet gentle, of unblameableconversation, and his heart glowed with love to allmen. He was not a man of many words, but, being ofunimpeachable character, every word he uttered carriedweight. "No man had ever a greater power over himself. . . . He was very temperate in diet, and a supremegovernor over all his passions and affections; and hehad thereby great power over other men's." Sir PhilipWarwick, another of his political opponents, incidentallydescribes his great influence in a certain debate: " Wehad catched at each other's locks, and sheathed ourswords in each other's bowels, had not the sagacity andgreat calmness of Mr. Hampden, by a short speech, prevented it, and led us to defer our angry debate until thenext morning."A strong temper is not necessarily a bad temper.But the stronger the temper, the greater is the need ofself-discipline and self-control. Dr. Johnson says mengrow 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 faultsthat ruin them so much as the manner in which theyconduct themselves after the faults have been committed.The wise will profit by the suffering they cause, andeschew them for the future; but there are those onwhom experience exerts no ripening influence, and whoonly grow narrower and bitterer and more vicious withtime.What is called strong temper in a young man, oftenindicates a large amount of unripe energy, which willCHAP. VI. ] Evils of Strong Temper. 165expend itself in useful work if the road be fairly openedto it. It is said of Stephen Gerard, a Frenchman, whopursued a remarkably successful career in the UnitedStates, that when he heard of a clerk with a strongtemper, he would readily take him into his employment,and set him to work in a room by himself; Gerardbeing of opinion that such persons were the bestworkers, and that their energy would expend itself inwork if removed from the temptation to quarrel.Strong temper may only mean a strong and excitablewill. Uncontrolled, it displays itself in fitful outbreaksof passion; but controlled and held in subjection—likesteam pent-up within the organised mechanism of asteam-engine, the use of which is regulated and controlled by slide-valves and governors and levers—itmay become a source of energetic power and usefulness.Hence, some of the greatest characters in history havebeen men of strong temper, but of equally strongdetermination to hold their motive power under strictregulation and control.The famous Earl of Strafford was of an extremelycholeric and passionate nature, and had great struggleswith himself in his endeavours to control his temper.Referring to the advice of one of his friends, old Secretary Cooke, who was honest enough to tell him of hisweakness, and to caution him against indulging it, hewrote: " You gave me a good lesson to be patient;and, indeed, my years and natural inclinations give meheat more than enough, which, however, I trust moreexperience shall cool, and a watch over myself in timealtogether overcome; in the meantime, in this at leastit will set forth itself more pardonable, because myearnestness shall ever be for the honour, justice, andprofit of my master; and it is not always anger, but themisapplying of it, that is the vice so blameable, and of166 Uses of Strong Temper.[CHAP. VI.disadvantage to those that let themselves loose thereunto."Cromwell, also, is described as having been of a wayward and violent temper in his youth-cross, untractable, and masterless-with a vast quantity ofyouthfulenergy, which exploded in a variety of youthful mischiefs. He even obtained the reputation of aroisterer in his native town, and seemed to be rapidlygoing to the bad, when religion, in one of its most rigidforms, laid hold upon his strong nature, and subjectedit to the iron discipline of Calvinism. An entirely newdirection was thus given to his energy of temperament,which forced an outlet for itself into public life, andeventually became the dominating influence in Englandfor a period of nearly twenty years.The heroic princes of the House of Nassau were alldistinguished for the same qualities of self-control, selfdenial, and determination of purpose. William theSilent was so called, not because he was a taciturn man-for he was an eloquent and powerful speaker whereeloquence was necessary-but because he was a manwho could hold his tongue when it was wisdom not tospeak, and because he carefully kept his own counselwhen to have revealed it might have been dangerous tothe liberties of his country. He was so gentle and conciliatory in his manner that his enemies even describedhim as timid and pusillanimous. Yet, when the timefor action came, his courage was heroic, his determination unconquerable. "The rock in the ocean," saysMr. Motley, the historian of the Netherlands, " tranquilamid raging billows, was the favourite emblem bywhich his friends expressed their sense of his firmness."Mr. Motley compares William the Silent to Wash1 ' Strafford Papers,' i. 87.CHAP. VI. ] Power ofSelf-Restraint.167ington, whom he in many respects resembled. TheAmerican, like the Dutch patriot, stands out in history as the very impersonation of dignity, bravery,purity, and personal excellence. His command overhis feelings, even in moments of great difficulty anddanger, was such as to convey the impression, tothose who did not know him intimately, that he was aman of inborn calmness and almost impassiveness ofdisposition. Yet Washington was by nature ardent andimpetuous; his mildness, gentleness, politeness, andconsideration for others, were the result of rigid selfcontrol and unwearied self- discipline, which he diligentlypractised even from his boyhood. His biographer saysof him, that " his temperament was ardent, his passionsstrong, and amidst the multiplied scenes of temptationand excitement through which he passed , it was hisconstant effort, and ultimate triumph, to check the oneand subdue the other." And again: " His passionswere strong, and sometimes they broke out withvehemence, but he had the power of checking themin an instant. Perhaps self- control was the mostremarkable trait of his character. It was in part theeffect of discipline; yet he seems by nature to havepossessed this power in a degree which has been deniedto other men.'" 1The Duke of Wellington's natural temper, like thatof Napoleon, was irritable in the extreme; and it wasonly by watchful self-control that he was enabled torestrain it. He studied calmness and coolness in themidst of danger, like any Indian chief. At Waterloo,and elsewhere, he gave his orders in the most criticalmoments, without the slightest excitement, and in atone of voice almost more than usually subdued.21 Jared Sparks' ' Life of Washington,' pp. 7, 534.2 Brialmont's ' Life of Wellington. '168 Instances of Self- Control.[CHAP. VI.Wordsworth the poet was, in his childhood, " of astiff, moody, and violent temper, " and " perverse andobstinate in defying chastisem*nt." When experienceof life had disciplined his temper, he learnt to exercisegreater self-control; but, at the same time, the qualitieswhich distinguished him as a child were afterwardsuseful in enabling him to defy the criticism of hisenemies. Nothing was more marked than Wordsworth's self-respect and self-determination, as well ashis self- consciousness of power, at all periods of hishistory.Henry Martyn, the missionary, was another instanceof a man in whom strength of temper was only so muchpent-up, unripe energy. As a boy he was impatient,petulant, and perverse; but by constant wrestlingagainst his tendency to wrongheadedness, he graduallygained the requisite strength, so as to entirely overcomeit, and to acquire what he so greatly coveted-the giftof patience.A man may be feeble in organization, but, blessedwith a happy temperament, his soul may be great,active, noble, and sovereign. Professor Tyndall hasgiven us a fine picture of the character of Faraday, andof his self-denying labours in the cause of science--exhibiting him as a man of strong, original, and even fierynature, and yet of extreme tenderness and sensibility."Underneath his sweetness and gentleness," he says,66Iwas 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 motivepower of life, instead of permitting it to waste itself inuseless passion."There was one fine feature in Faraday's characterwhich is worthy of notice-one closely akin to selfcontrol: it was his self- denial. By devoting himself toCHAP. VI. ] Instances of Self-Denial. 169analytical chemistry, he might have speedily realised alarge fortune; but he nobly resisted the temptation,and preferred to follow the path of pure science."Taking the duration of his life into account," saysMr. Tyndall, " this son of a blacksmith and apprenticeto a bookbinder had to decide between a fortune of£150,000 on the one side, and his undowered science.on the other. He chose the latter, and died a poorBut his was the glory of holding aloft amongthe nations the scientific name of England for a periodof forty years. "1man.Take a like instance of the self-denial of a Frenchman. The historian Anquetil was one of the smallnumber of literary men in France who refused to bowto the Napoleonic yoke. He sank into great poverty,living on bread-and-milk, and limiting his expenditureto only three sous a day. " I have still two sous a dayleft," said he, “ for the conqueror of Marengo andAusterlitz." "But if you fall sick," said a friend tohim, " you will need the help of a pension. Why notdo as others do? Pay court to the Emperor-you haveneed of him to live." "I do not need him to die," wasthe historian's reply. But Anquetil did not die ofpoverty; he lived to the age of ninety-four, saying toa friend, on the eve of his death, " Come, see a man whodies still full of life!"Sir James Outram exhibited the same characteristicof noble self-denial, though in an altogether differentsphere of life. Like the great King Arthur, he wasemphatically a man who " forbore his own advantage."He was characterised throughout his whole career byhis noble unselfishness. Though he might personallydisapprove of the policy he was occasionally ordered toProfessor Tyndall, on ' Faraday as a Discoverer,' p. 156.170 Outram's Self-Denial.[CHAP. VI.carry out, he never once faltered in the path of duty.Thus he did not approve of the policy of invadingScinde; yet his services throughout the campaign wereacknowledged by General Sir C. Napier to have been ofthe most brilliant character. But when the war was over,and the rich spoils of Scinde lay at the conqueror's feet,Outram said: "I disapprove of the policy of this war—I will accept no share of the prize-money!"Not less marked was his generous self-denial whendespatched with a strong force to aid Havelock infighting his way to Lucknow. As superior officer, hewas entitled to take upon himself the chief command;but, recognising what Havelock had already done, withrare disinterestedness, he left to hisjunior officer the gloryof completing the campaign, offering to serve underhim as a volunteer. "With such reputation," saidLord Clyde, "as Major-General Outram has won forhimself, he can afford to share glory and honour withothers. But that does not lessen the value of thesacrifice he has made with such disinterested generosity."If a man would get through life honourably andpeaceably, he must necessarily learn to practise selfdenial in small things as well as great. Men have tobear as well as forbear. The temper has to be held insubjection to the judgment; and the little demons ofill-humour, petulance, and sarcasm, kept resolutelyat a distance. If once they find an entrance to themind, they are very apt to return, and to establish forthemselves a permanent occupation there.It is necessary to one's personal happiness, to exercisecontrol over one's words as well as acts: for there arewords that strike even harder than blows; and menmay "speak daggers," though they use none. " Uncoup de langue," says the French proverb, " est pireCHAP. VI. ] Forbearance of Speech. 171qu'un coup de lance." The stinging repartee that risesto the lips, and which, if uttered, might cover an adversary with confusion, how difficult it sometimes is toresist saying it! " Heaven keep us," says Miss Bremerin her Home,' " from the destroying power of words!There are words which sever hearts more than sharpswords do; there are words the point of which stingthe heart through the course of a whole life."Thus character exhibits itself in self-control of speechas much as in anything else. The wise and forbearantman will restrain his desire to say a smart or severething at the expense of another's feelings; while thefool blurts out what he thinks, and will sacrifice hisfriend rather than his joke. " The mouth of a wiseman," said Solomon, "is in his heart; the heart of afool is in his mouth. "There are, however, men who are no fools, that areheadlong in their language as in their acts, because oftheir want of forbearance and self-restraining patience.The impulsive genius, gifted with quick thought andincisive speech -perhaps carried away by the cheersof the moment-lets fly a sarcastic sentence which mayreturn upon him to his own infinite damage. Evenstatesmen might be named, who have failed throughtheir inability to resist the temptation of saying cleverand spiteful things at their adversary's expense. " Theturn of a sentence, " says Bentham, " has decided thefate of many a friendship, and, for aught that we know,the fate of many a kingdom." So, when one is temptedto write a clever but harsh thing, though it may bedifficult to restrain it, it is always better to leave it inthe inkstand. "A goose's quill," says the Spanishproverb, " often hurts more than a lion's claw."66Carlyle says, when speaking of Oliver Cromwell," He that cannot withal keep his mind to himself,172 Self-Control in Speech.[CHAP. VI .cannot practise any considerable thing whatsoever." Itwas said of William the Silent, by one of his greatestenemies, that an arrogant or indiscreet word was neverknown to fall from his lips. Like him, Washingtonwas discretion itself in the use of speech, never takingadvantage of an opponent, or seeking a shortlivedtriumph in a debate. And it is said that in the longrun, 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 thatthey have often regretted having spoken, but neveronce regretted holding their tongue. " Be silent," saysPythagoras, " or say something better than silence. ""Speak fitly," says George Herbert, " or be silentwisely. " St. Francis de Sales, whom Leigh Huntstyled " the Gentleman Saint, " has said: " It is betterto remain silent than to speak the truth ill-humouredly,and so spoil an excellent dish by covering it with badsauce. Another Frenchman, Lacordaire, characteristically puts speech first, and silence next,"""Afterspeech," he says, " silence is the greatest power in theworld." Yet a word spoken in season, how powerful itmay be! As the old Welsh proverb has it, " A goldentongue is in the mouth of the blessed."It related, as a remarkable instance of self-controlon the part of De Leon, a distinguished Spanish poet ofthe sixteenth century, who lay for years in the dungeonsof the Inquisition without light or society, because ofhis having translated a part of the Scriptures into hisnative tongue, that on being liberated and restored tohis professorship, an immense crowd attended his firstlecture, expecting some account of his long imprisonment; but De Leon was too wise and too gentle to .indulge in recrimination. He merely resumed thelecture which, five years before, had been so sadlyCHAP. VI.] The Expression ofIndignation. 173interrupted, with the accustomed formula " Heri dicebamus," and went directly into his subject.There are, of course, times and occasions when theexpression of indignation is not only justifiable butnecessary. We are bound to be indignant at falsehood,selfishness, and cruelty. A man of true feeling firesup naturally at baseness or meanness of any sort, evenin cases where he may be under no obligation to speak"I would have nothing to do," said Perthes,"with the man who cannot be moved to indignation.There are more good people than bad in the world, andthe bad get the upper hand merely because they arebolder. We cannot help being pleased with a manwho uses his powers with decision; and we often takehis side for no other reason than because he does souse them. No doubt, I have often repented speaking;but not less often have I repented keeping silence. " ¹One who loves right cannot be indifferent to wrong,or wrongdoing. If he feels warmly, he will speakwarmly, out of the fulness of his heart. As a noblelady2 has written:"A noble heart doth teach a virtuous scornTo 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 impatient scorn. The best people are apt to have theirimpatient side; and often, the very temper which makesmen earnest, makes them also intolerant.³ " Of all1Life of Perthes,' ii . 216.Lady Elizabeth Carew.3 Francis Horner, in one of hisletters, says: " It is among the very sincere and zealous friends of liberty that you will find themost perfect specimens of wrong- headedness; men of a dissenting,provincial cast of virtue-who (according to one of Sharpe'sfavourite phrases) will drive awedge the broad end foremost -J74 Practical Wisdom. [CHAP. VI.mental gifts," says Miss Julia Wedgwood, " the rarestis intellectual patience; and the last lesson of cultureis to believe in difficulties which are invisible to ourselves."The best corrective of intolerance in disposition, isincrease of wisdom and enlarged experience of life. Cultivated good sense will usually save men from the entanglements in which moral impatience is apt to involvethem; good sense consisting chiefly in that temper ofmind which enables its possessor to deal with the practical affairs of life with justice, judgment, discretion,and charity. Hence men of culture and experience areinvariably found the most forbearant and tolerant, asignorant and narrowminded persons are found the mostunforgiving and intolerant. Men of large and generousnatures, in proportion to their practical wisdom, aredisposed to make allowance for the defects and disadvantages of others-allowance for the controlling powerof circ*mstances in the formation of character, and thelimited power of resistance of weak and fallible naturesto 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 acriminal drawn on his hurdle to Tyburn: " There goesJonathan Bradford-but for the grace of God! "Life will always be, to a great extent, what we ourselves make it. The cheerful man makes a cheerfulworld, the gloomy man a gloomy one. We usuallyfind but our own temperament reflected in the dispositions of those about us. If we are ourselves querulous,we will find them so; if we are unforgiving and uncharitable to them, they will be the same to us. Autter strangers to all moderation | Horner's Life and Correspondence in political business." Francis ( 1843), ii. 133.CHAP. VI. ] Forbearance towards Others. 175person returning from an evening party not long ago,complained to a policeman on his beat that an illlooking fellow was following him: it turned out to beonly his own shadow! And such usually is human lifeto each of us; it is, for the most part, but the reflectionof ourselves.( If we would be at peace with others, and ensure theirrespect, we must have regard for their personality.Every man has his peculiarities of manner and character, as he has peculiarities of form and feature; andwe must have forbearance in dealing with them, as weexpect them to have forbearance in dealing with us.We may not be conscious of our own peculiarities, yetthey exist nevertheless. There is a village in SouthAmerica where gotos or goitres are so common that tobe without one is regarded as a deformity. One day aparty of Englishmen passed through the place, whenquite a crowd collected to jeer them, shouting: " See,see these people-they have got no gotos! "Many persons give themselves a great deal of fidgetconcerning what other people think of them and theirpeculiarities. Some are too much disposed to take theillnatured side, and, judging by themselves, infer theworst. But it is very often the case that the uncharitableness of others, where it really exists, is butthe reflection of our own want of charity and want oftemper. It still oftener happens, that the worry wesubject ourselves to, has its source in our own imagination. And even though those about us may think ofus uncharitably, we shall not mend matters by exasperating ourselves against them. We may thereby onlyexpose ourselves unnecessarily to their illnature orcaprice. " The ill that comes out of our mouth," says George Herbert, " ofttimes falls into our bosom. "The great and good philosopher Faraday communi-176 Faraday's Practical Philosophy. [CHAP. VI.cated the following piece of admirable advice, full ofpractical wisdom, the result of a rich experience of life,in a letter to his friend Professor Tyndall:- 66 Let me,as an old man, who ought by this time to have profitedby experience, say that when I was younger I found Ioften misrepresented the intentions of people, and thatthey did not mean what at the time I supposed theymeant; and further, that, as a general rule, it was betterto be a little dull of apprehension where phrases seemedto imply pique, and quick in perception when, on thecontrary, they seemed to imply kindly feeling. The realtruth never fails ultimately to appear; and opposingparties, if wrong, are sooner convinced when repliedto forbearingly, than when overwhelmed. All I meanto say is, that it is better to be blind to the results ofpartisanship, and quick to see goodwill. One has morehappiness in one's self in endeavouring to follow thethings that make for peace. You can hardly imaginehow often I have been heated in private when opposed, asI have thought unjustly and superciliously, and yet I havestriven, and succeeded, I hope, in keeping down repliesof the like kind. And I know I have never lost by it." ¹While the painter Barry was at Rome, he involvedhimself, as was his wont, in furious quarrels with theartists and dilettanti, about picture-painting and picturedealing, upon which his friend and countryman, EdmundBurke-always the generous friend of struggling merit-wrote to him kindly and sensibly: " Believe me, dearBarry, that the arms with which the ill-dispositions ofthe world are to be combated, and the qualities bywhich it is to be reconciled to us, and we reconciled toit, are moderation, gentleness, a little indulgence toothers, and a great deal of distrust of ourselves; which1 Professor Tyndall on ' Faraday as a Discoverer,' pp. 40–1.CHAP. VI. ] Burns's Want of Self- Control. 177are not qualities of a mean spirit, as some may possiblythink them, but virtues of a great and noble kind, andsuch as dignify our nature as much as they contributeto our repose and fortune; for nothing can be so unworthy of a well-composed soul as to pass away life inbickerings and litigations-in snarling and scufflingwith every one about us. We must be at peace withour species, if not for their sakes, at least very muchfor our own." 1No one knew the value of self-control better thanthe poet Burns, and no one could teach it moreeloquently to others; but when it came to practice,Burns was as weak as the weakest. He could not denyhimself the pleasure of uttering a harsh and cleversarcasm at another's expense. One of his biographersobserves of him, that it was no extravagant arithmeticto say that for every ten jokes he made himself ahundred enemies. But this was not all. Poor Burnsexercised no control over his appetites, but freelygave them the rein:"Thus thoughtless follies laid him low And stained his name."Nor had he the self-denial to resist giving publicity1 Yet Burke himself, though | plied, goodnaturedly: "Ah! nevercapable of giving Barry such excellent advice, was by no meansimmaculate as regarded his owntemper. When he lay ill at Beaconsfield, Fox, from whom hehad become separated by political differences arising out of theFrench Revolution, went down to see his old friend. But Burkewould not grant him an interview;he positively refused to see him.On his return to town, Fox toldhis friend co*ke the result of hisjourney; and when co*ke lamented Burke's obstinacy, Fox only remind, Tom; I always find every Irishman has got a piece of potato in his head." Yet Fox, with hisusual generosity, when he heard of Burke's impending death, wrote a most kind and ccrdial letter to Mrs. Burke, expressive of his griefand sympathy; and when Burke was no more, Fox was the first topropose that he should be interred with public honours in Westminster Abbey-which only Burke's own express wish, that he should beburied at Beaconsfield, prevented being carried out.N178 MischiefofBéranger's Songs. [CHAP. VI.to compositions originally intended for the delight ofthe tap-room, but which continue secretly to sow pollution broadcast in the minds of youth. Indeed, notwithstanding the many exquisite poems of this writer, it isnot saying too much to aver that his immoral writingshave done far more harm than his purer writings havedone good; and that it would be better that all hiswritings should be destroyed and forgotten, providedhis indecent songs could be destroyed with them.The remark applies alike to Béranger, who has beenstyled " The Burns of France." Béranger was of thesame bright incisive genius; he had the same love ofpleasure, the same love of popularity; and while heflattered French vanity to the top of its bent, he alsopainted the vices most loved by his countrymen with the pen of a master. Béranger's songs and Thiers'History probably did more than anything else to reestablish the Napoleonic dynasty in France. But thatwas a small evil compared with the moral mischief whichmany of Béranger's songs are calculated to produce; for,circulating freely as they do in French households, theyexhibit pictures of nastiness and vice, which are enoughto pollute and destroy a nation.One of Burns's finest poems, written in his twentyeighth year, is entitled ' A Bard's Epitaph.' It is adescription, by anticipation, of his own life. Wordsworth has said of it: " Here is a sincere and solemnavowal; a public declaration from his own will; a confession at once devout, poetical, and human; a historyin 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 t is earthly hole In low pursuit;Know-prudent, cautious self-control,Is Wisdom's root."CHAP. VI. ] The Tyranny ofAppetite. 179One of the vices before which Burns fell-and it maybe said to be a master-vice, because it is productive ofso many other vices —was drinking. Not that he was adrunkard, but because he yielded to the temptations ofdrink, with its degrading associations, and therebylowered and depraved his whole nature. But poorBurns did not stand alone; for, alas! of all vices, theunrestrained appetite for drink was in his time, as itcontinues to be now, the most prevalent, popular, degrading, and destructive.Were it possible to conceive the existence of atyrant who should compel his people to give up tohim one-third or more of their earnings, and requirethem at the same time to consume a commodity thatshould brutalise and degrade them, destroy the peaceand comfort of their families, and sow in themselvesthe seeds of disease and premature death-what indignation meetings, what monster processions, therewould be! What eloquent speeches and apostrophesto the spirit of liberty! —what appeals against a despotism so monstrous and so unnatural! And yet sucha tyrant really exists amongst us-the tyrant of unrestrained appetite, whom no force of arms, or voices, orvotes can resist, while men are willing to be his slaves.The power of this tyrant can only be overcome bymoral means-by self-discipline, self-respect, and selfcontrol. There is no other way of withstanding thedespotism of appetite in any of its forms. No reform of661 When Curran, the Irish bar- | spot where Robert Burnswas born. "rister, visited Burns's cabin in "The genius and the fate of the 1810, he found it converted into a man," says Curran, were already public-house, and the landlordwho heavy on my heart; but the drun- showed it was drunk. "There," ken laugh of the landlord gave me such a view of the rock on whichhe had foundered, that I could not stand it, but burst into tears."said he, pointing to a corner on one side of the fire, with a most mal- apropos laugh " there is the veryN 2180 Honest Living.[CHAP. VI.institutions, no extended power of voting, no improvedform of government, no amount of scholastic instruction,can possibly elevate the character of a people whovoluntarily abandon themselves to sensual indulgence.The pursuit of ignoble pleasure is the degradation oftrue happiness; it saps the morals, destroys the energies, and degrades the manliness and robustness ofindividuals as of nations.The courage of self-control exhibits itself in manyways, but in none more clearly than in honest living.Men without the virtue of self-denial are not onlysubject to their own selfish desires, but they are usuallyin bondage to others who are likeminded with themselves. What others do, they do. They must live according to the artificial standard of their class, spendinglike their neighbours, regardless of the consequences, atthe same time that all are, perhaps, aspiring after a styleofliving higher than their means. Each carries the othersalong with him, and they have not the moral courage tostop. They cannot resist the temptation of living high,though it may be at the expense of others; and theygradually become reckless of debt, until it enthrals them.In all this there is great moral cowardice, pusillanimity,and want of manly independence of character.A rightminded man will shrink from seeming to bewhat he is not, or pretending to be richer than he reallyis, or assuming a style of living that his circ*mstanceswill not justify. He will have the courage to livehonestly within his own means, rather than dishonestlyupon the means of other people; for he who incursdebts in striving to maintain a style of living beyondhis income, is in spirit as dishonest as the man whoopenly picks your pocket.To many, this may seem an extreme view, but it willbear the strictest test. Living at the cost of othersCHAP. VI.] The Virtue of Honesty.181is 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.Shaftesbury somewhere says that a restlessness to havesomething which we have not, and to be somethingwhich we are not, is the root of all immorality.¹ Noreliance is to be placed on the saying-a very dangerousone-of Mirabeau, that " Lapetite morale était l'ennemiede la grande." On the contrary, strict adherence toeven the smallest details of morality is the foundationof all manly and noble character.The honourable man is frugal of his means, and payshis way honestly. He does not seek to pass himself offas richer than he is, or, by running into debt, open anaccount with ruin. As that man is not poor whosemeans are small, but whose desires are controlled, sothat man is rich whose means are more than sufficientfor his wants. When Socrates saw a great quantityof riches, jewels, and furniture of great value, carriedin pomp through Athens, he said, " Now do I see howmany things I do not desire." " I can forgive everything but selfishness," said Perthes. "Even the narrowestcirc*mstances admit of greatness with reference to' mine and thine '; and none but the very poorest needfill their daily life with thoughts of money, if they havebut prudence to arrange their housekeeping within thelimits of their income.'291 The chaplain of Horsemonger- lane Gaol, in his annual report to the Surrey justices, thus states the result of his careful study of the causes ofdishonesty: "Frommyex- perience ofpredatory crime, founded upon a careful study of the cha- racter ofa great variety of prisoners,I conclude that habitual dishonesty is to be referred neither to igno .rance, nor to drunkenness, nor to poverty, nor to overcrowding in towns, nor to temptation from sur- rounding wealth-nor, indeed, to any one ofthe many indirect causes to which it is sometimes referred- but mainly to a disposition to acquire property with a less degree of labour than ordinary industry."'Theitalics are the reverend author's.99182 Maginn's Improvidence. [CHAP. VI.A man may be indifferent to money because ofhigher considerations, as Faraday was, who sacrificedwealth to pursue science; but if he would have theenjoyments that money can purchase, he must honestlyearn it, and not live upon the earnings of others, asthose do who habitually incur debts which they haveno means of paying. When Maginn, always drownedin debt, was asked what he paid for his wine, he repliedthat he did not know, but he believed they " put something down in a book." 1This " putting-down in a book " has proved the ruinof a great many weakminded people, who cannot resistthe temptation of taking things upon credit which theyhave not the present means of paying for; and it wouldprobably prove of great social benefit if the law whichenables creditors to recover debts contracted under certain circ*mstances were altogether abolished. But, inthe competition for trade, every encouragement is givento the incurring of debt, the creditor relying upon thelaw to aid him in the last extremity. When SydneySmith once went into a new neighbourhood, it wasgiven out in the local papers that he was a man of highconnections, and he was besought on all sides for his " custom." But he speedily undeceived his new neighbours."We are not great people at all," he said: "we are onlycommon honest people-people that pay our debts. "Hazlitt, who was a thoroughly honest though ratherthriftless man, speaks of two classes of persons, notunlike each other-those who cannot keep their ownmoney in their hands, and those who cannot keep theirhands from other people's. The former are always inwant of money, for they throw it away on any objectthat first presents itself, as if to get rid of it; the latter1 S. C. Hall's ' Memories.'CHAP. VI. ] Sheridan's Public Honesty. 183make away with what they have of their own, and areperpetual borrowers from all who will lend to them;and their genius for borrowing, in the long run, usuallyproves their ruin.Sheridan was one of such eminent unfortunates. Hewas impulsive and careless in his expenditure, borrowingmoney, and running into debt with everybody whowould trust him. When he stood for Westminster, hisunpopularity arose chiefly from his general indebtedness. " Numbers of poor people," says Lord Palmerstonin one of his letters, " crowded round the hustings,demanding payment for the bills he owed them." Inthe midst of all his difficulties, Sheridan was as lighthearted as ever, and cracked many a good joke at hiscreditors' expense. Lord Palmerston was actually present at the dinner given by him, at which the sheriff'sofficers in possession were dressed up and officiated aswaiters.Yet, however loose Sheridan's morality may havebeen as regarded his private creditors, he was honestso far as the public money was concerned. Once, at adinner, 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 totheir principles -on which Sheridan turned sharplyround, and said: " Sir, it is easy for my Lord this, orEarl that, or the Marquis of t'other, with thousands uponthousands a year, some of it either presently derived orinherited in sinecure or acquisitions from the publicmoney, to boast of their patriotism, and keep alooffrom temptation; but they do not know from whattemptation those have kept aloof who had equal pride,at least equal talents, and not unequal passions,and nevertheless knew not, in the course of their lives,what it was to have a shilling of their own." And184 Public Honesty.[CHAP. VI.Lord Byron adds, that, in saying this, Sheridanwept.¹The tone of public morality in money-matters wasvery low in those days. Political peculation was notthought discreditable; and heads of parties did nothesitate to secure the adhesion oftheir followers by a freeuse of the public money. They were generous, but at theexpense 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-Lieutenantof Ireland, he pressed upon Colonel Napier, the fatherof the Napiers, the comptrollership of army accounts.I want," said his Lordship, " an honest man, and this isthe only thing I have been able to wrest from theharpies around me. ”66It is said that Lord Chatham was the first to set theexample of disdaining to govern by petty larceny; andhis great son was alike honest in his administration.While millions of money were passing through Pitt'shands, he himself was never otherwise than poor; andhe died poor. Of all his rancorous libellers, not oneever ventured to call in question his honesty.enormous.In former times, the profits of office were sometimesWhen Audley, the famous annuity-mongerof the sixteenth century, was asked the value of anoffice which he had purchased in the Court of Wards,he replied: " Some thousands to any one who wishesto get to heaven immediately; twice as much to himwho does not mind being in purgatory; and nobodyknows what to him who is not afraid of the devil."Sir Walter Scott was a man who was honest to thecore of his nature; and his strenuous and determined¹ Moore's ' Life of Byron,' 8vo. Ed., p. 182.CHAP. VI.] Sir Walter Scott. 185efforts to pay his debts, or rather the debts of the firmwith which he had become involved, has always appearedto us one of the grandest things in biography. Whenhis publisher and printer broke down, ruin seemed tostare him in the face. There was no want of sympathyfor him in his great misfortune, and friends came forward who offered to raise money enough to enable himto arrange with his creditors. "No! "said he, proudly;"this right hand shall work it all off! " " If we loseeverything else," he wrote to a friend, " we will at leastkeep our honour unblemished." While his health wasalready becoming undermined by overwork, he went onwriting like a tiger," as he himself expressed it, untilno longer able to wield a pen; and though he paid thepenalty of his supreme efforts with his life, he nevertheless saved his honour and his self-respect.6661Everybody knows how Scott threw off Woodstock,'the Life of Napoleon ' (which he thought would be hisdeath²), articles for the Quarterly,' ' Chronicles of theCanongate,' Prose Miscellanies,' and ' Tales of aGrandfather '—all written in the midst of pain, sorrow,and ruin. The proceeds of those various works went¹ Captain Basil Hall records the following conversation with Scott:-" It occurs to me," I observed, "that people are apt to make too much fuss about the loss of fortune, which is one of the smallest of the great evils of life, and ought to be among the most tolerable. "- " Do you callit a small misfortune to be ruinedin money-matters?" he asked."It is not so painful, at all events,as the loss of friends. "-" I grant that," he said. "As the loss ofcharacter?"-" True again." "As the loss of health? "—" Ay, there you have me," he muttered to himself, in a tone so melancholy that Iwished I had not spoken. "Whatis the loss of fortune to the loss of peace ofmind?"I continued. " Inshort," said he, playfully, " you will make it out that there is no harm in a man's being plunged over-head-and-ears in a debt hecannot remove." "Muchdepends,I think, on how it was incurred,and what efforts are made to re- deem it—at least, if the sufferer bea rightminded man.' " I hopeit does," he said, cheerfully and firmly.-Fragments of Voyages andTravels, 3rd series, pp. 308-9.2 "These battles," he wrote in his Diary, " have been the death ofmany a man, I think they will be mine."186 Scott's Courage and Honesty. [ CHAP. VI.to his creditors. " I could not have slept sound,” hewrote, " as I now can, under the comfortable impressionof receiving the thanks of my creditors, and the conscious feeling of discharging my duty as a man ofhonour and honesty. I see before me a long, tedious, anddark path, but it leads to stainless reputation. If I diein the harrows, as is very likely, I shall die with honour.If I achieve my task, I shall have the thanks of all concerned, and the approbation of my own conscience. " ¹6And then followed more articles, memoirs, and evensermons-' The Fair Maid of Perth,' a completely revisededition of his novels, Anne of Geierstein,' and more'Tales of a Grandfather' -until he was suddenly struckdown by paralysis. But he had no sooner recoveredsufficient strength to be able to hold a pen, than we findhim again at his desk writing the ' Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft,' a volume of Scottish Historyfor Lardner's Cyclopædia, ' and a fourth series ofTales of a Grandfather ' in his French History. In vainhis doctors told him to give up work; he would notbe dissuaded. " As for bidding me not work," he saidto Dr. Abercrombie, " Molly might just as well put thekettle on the fire and say, ' Now, kettle, don't boil;' " towhich he added, " If I were to be idle I should go mad! "By means of the profits realised by these tremendousefforts, Scott saw his debts in course of rapid diminution, 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 ' CountRobert of Paris ' with greatly impaired skill, untilhe was prostrated by another and severer attack ofpalsy. He now felt that the plough was nearing theend of the furrow; his physical strength was gone; he¹ Scott's Diary, December 17th, 1827.CHAP. VI.] Lockhart's Devotion to Scott. 187was " not quite himself in all things, " and yet hiscourage and perseverance never failed. " I havesuffered terribly," he wrote in his Diary, " though ratherin body than in mind, and I often wish I could lie downand sleep without waking. But I will fight it out ifIcan.”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 lasttour to Italy in search of rest and health, during which,while at Naples, in spite of all remonstrances, he gaveseveral hours every morning to the composition of anew novel, which, however, has not seen the light.Scott returned to Abbotsford to die. " I have seenmuch," he said on his return, " but nothing like my ownhouse-give me one turn more. " One of the last thingshe uttered, in one of his lucid intervals, was worthy ofhim. " I have been," he said, " perhaps the mostvoluminous author of my day, and it is a comfort tome to think that I have tried to unsettle no man's faith,to corrupt no man's principles, and that I have writtennothing which on my deathbed I should wish blottedout. " His last injunction to his son- in-law was:' Lockhart, I may 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 cometo lie here."66The devoted conduct of Lockhart himselfwas worthyof his great relative. The ' Life of Scott,' which heafterwards wrote, occupied him several years, and wasa remarkably successful work. Yet he himself derivedno pecuniary advantage from it; handing over theprofits of the whole undertaking to Sir Walter's creditors, in payment of debts which he was in no wayresponsible, but influenced entirely by a spirit of honour,and of regard for the memory of the illustrious dead.188 Duty-Truthfulness. [CHAP. VII .CHAPTER VII.DUTY-TRUTHFULNESS."I slept, and dreamt that life was Beauty;I woke, and found that life was Duty.""Duty! wondrous thought, that workest neither by fond insinuation, flattery, nor by any threat, but merely by holding up thy naked law in the soul, and so extorting for thyself always reverence, if not always obedience; before whom all appetites are dumb,however secretly they rebel!" —Kant."How happy is he born and taught,That serveth not another's will!Whose armour is his honest thought,And simple truth his utmost skill:"Whose passions not his masters are,Whose soul is still prepared for death;Untied unto the world by care Of public fame, or private breath. * * *"This man is freed from servile bands,Of hope to rise, or fear to fall:Lord of himself, though not of land;And having nothing, yet hath all. "-Wotton." His nay was nay without recall;His yea was yea, and powerful all;He gave his yea with careful heed,His thoughts and words were well agreed;His word, his bond and seal."Inscription on Baron Stein's Tomb.DUTY is a thing that is due, and must be paid by everyman who would avoid present discredit and eventualmoral insolvency. It is an obligation-a debt-whichcan only be discharged by voluntary effort and resoluteaction in the affairs of life.Duty embraces man's whole existence. It begins inthe home, where there is the duty which children oweto their parents on the one hand, and the duty whichparents owe to their children on the other. There are,in like manner, the respective duties of husbands andwives, of masters and servants; while outside the homeCHAP. VII. ] The Abiding Sense ofDuty. 189there are the duties which men and women owe to eachother as friends and neighbours, as employers and employed, as governors and governed."Render, therefore," says St. Paul, " to all their dues:tribute to whom tribute is due; custom to whom custom;fear to whom fear; honour to whom honour. Owe noman anything, but to love one another; for he thatloveth another hath fulfilled the law."Thus duty rounds the whole of life, from our entranceinto it until our exit from it-duty to superiors, duty toinferiors, and duty to equals duty to man, and duty toGod. Wherever there is power to use or to direct, thereis duty. For we are but as stewards, appointed toemploy the means entrusted to us for our own and forothers' good.66The abiding sense of duty is the very crown of character. It is the upholding law of man in his highestattitudes. Without it, the individual totters and fallsbefore the first puff of adversity or temptation; whereas,inspired by it, the weakest becomes strong and full ofcourage. Duty," says Mrs. Jameson, "is the cementwhich binds the whole moral edifice together; withoutwhich, all power, goodness, intellect, truth, happiness,love itself, can have no permanence; but all the fabricof existence crumbles away from under us, and leavesus at last sitting in the midst of a ruin, astonished atour own desolation."Duty is based upon a sense of justice-justice inspiredby love, which is the most perfect form of goodness.Duty is not a sentiment, but a principle pervadingthe life and it exhibits itself in conduct and in acts,which are mainly determined by man's conscience andfreewill.The voice of conscience speaks in duty done; andwithout its regulating and controlling influence, the190 Conscience and Will. [CHAP. VII.brightest and greatest intellect may be merely as alight that leads astray. Conscience sets a man uponhis feet, while his will holds him upright. Conscienceis the moral governor of the heart-the governor ofright action, of right thought, of right faith, of rightlife-and only through its dominating influence can thenoble and upright character be fully developed.The conscience, however, may speak never so loudly,but without energetic will it may speak in vain. Thewill is free to choose between the right course and thewrong one, but the choice is nothing unless followed byimmediate and decisive action. If the sense of duty bestrong, and the course of action clear, the courageouswill, upheld by the conscience, enables a man to proceed on his course bravely, and to accomplish hispurposes in the face of all opposition and difficulty.And should failure be the issue, there will remain atleast this satisfaction, that it has been in the cause ofduty.mann,"Be and continue poor, young man, " said Heinzel-"while others around you grow rich by fraud anddisloyalty; be without place or power while others begtheir way upwards; bear the pain of disappointed hopes,while others gain the accomplishment of theirs byflattery; forego the gracious pressure of the hand, forwhich others cringe and crawl. Wrap yourself in yourown virtue, and seek a friend and your daily bread . Ifyou have in your own cause grown gray with unbleached honour, bless God and die! "Men inspired by high principles are often requiredto sacrifice all that they esteem and love rather thanfail in their duty. The old English idea of thissublime devotion to duty was expressed by the loyalistpoet to his sweetheart, on taking up arms for hissovereign:-CHAP. VII. ] The Sense ofHonour."I could not love thee, dear, so much,Loved I not honour more.'991191And Sertorius has said: " The man who has any dignityof character, should conquer with honour, and not useany base means even to save his life." So St. Paul,inspired by duty and faith, declared himself as not only"ready to be bound, but to die at Jerusalem."When the Marquis of Pescara was entreated by theprinces of Italy to desert the Spanish cause, to whichhe was in honour bound, his noble wife, VittoriaColonna, reminded him of his duty. She wrote tohim: " Remember your honour, which raises youabove fortune and above kings; by that alone, and notby the splendour of titles, is glory acquired—that glorywhich it will be your happiness and pride to transmitunspotted to your posterity." Such was the dignifiedview which she took of her husband's honour; and whenhe fell at Pavia, though young and beautiful, andbesought by many admirers, she betook herself to solitude, that she might lament over her husband's lossand celebrate his exploits."To live really, is to act energetically. Life is abattle to be fought valiantly. Inspired by high andhonourable resolve, a man must stand to his post, anddie there, if need be. Like the old Danish hero, hisdetermination should be, "to dare nobly, to willstrongly, and never to falter in the path of duty."The power of will, be it great or small, which God hasgiven us, is a Divine gift; and we ought neither tolet it perish for want of using on the one hand, norprofane it by employing it for ignoble purposes on the1 From Lovelace's lines to Lu- casta (Lucy Sacheverell), ' Going to the Wars.'2 Amongst other great men ofgenius, Ariosto and Michael An- gelo devoted to her their service and their muse.192 Sacredness of Duty. [CHAP. VII.other. Robertson, of Brighton, has truly said, thatman's real greatness consists not in seeking his ownpleasure, or fame, or advancement-" not that everyone shall save his own life, not that every man shallseek his own glory-but that every man shall do hisown duty."What most stands in the way of the performance ofduty, is irresolution, weakness of purpose, and indecision. On the one side are conscience and the knowledge of good and evil; on the other are indolence,selfishness, love of pleasure, or passion. The weak andill-disciplined will may remain suspended for a timebetween these influences; but at length the balanceinclines one way or the other, according as the will iscalled into action or otherwise. If it be allowed toremain passive, the lower influence of selfishness orpassion will prevail; and thus manhood suffers abdication, individuality is renounced, character is degraded,and the man permits himself to become the merepassive slave of his senses.Thus, the power of exercising the will promptly, inobedience to the dictates of conscience, and therebyresisting the impulses of the lower nature, is of essentialimportance in moral discipline, and absolutely necessaryfor the development of character in its best forms. Toacquire the habit of well-doing, to resist evil propensities, to fight against sensual desires, to overcomeinborn selfishness, may require a long and perseveringdiscipline; but when once the practice of duty islearnt, it becomes consolidated in habit, and thenceforward is comparatively easy.The valiant good man is he who, by the resoluteexercise of his freewill, has so disciplined himself as tohave acquired the habit of virtue; as the bad man is hewho, by allowing his freewill to remain inactive, andCHAP. VII. ] Freedom ofthe Individual. 193giving the bridle to his desires and passions, hasacquired 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 theaction of his own freewill. If he is to stand erect, itmust be by his own efforts; for he cannot be keptpropped up by the help of others. He is master ofhimself and of his actions. He can avoid falsehood,and be truthful; he can shun sensualism, and be continent; he can turn aside from doing a cruel thing, andbe benevolent and forgiving. All these lie within thesphere of individual efforts, and come within the rangeof self- discipline. And it depends upon men themselves whether in these respects they will be free, pure,and good on the one hand; or enslaved, impure, andmiserable on the other.Among the wise sayings of Epictetus we find thefollowing: " We do not choose our own parts in life,and have nothing to do with those parts: our simpleduty is confined to playing them well. The slave maybe as free as the consul; and freedom is the chief ofblessings; it dwarfs all others; beside it all others areinsignificant; with it all others are needless; without itno others are possible. • You must teach menthat happiness is not where, in their blindness andmisery, they seek it. It is not in strength, for Myroand Ofellius were not happy; not in wealth, for Croesuswas not happy; not in power, for the Consuls were nothappy; not in all these together, for Nero and Sardanapalus and Agamemnon sighed and wept and toretheir hair, and were the slaves of circ*mstances and thedupes of semblances. It lies in yourselves; in truefreedom, in the absence or conquest of every ignoblefear; in perfect self-government; and in a power ofcontentment and peace, and the even flow of life amid194 The Spirit ofDuty.[CHAP. VII.poverty, exile, disease, and the very valley of theshadow of death. " ¹The sense of duty is a sustaining power even to acourageous man. It holds him upright, and makes himstrong. It was a noble saying of Pompey, when hisfriends tried to dissuade him from embarking for Romein a storm, telling him that he did so at the greatperil of his life: " It is necessary for me to go," hesaid; " it is not necessary for me to live." What it wasright that he should do, he would do, in the face ofdanger and in defiance of storms.As might be expected of the great Washington, thechief motive power in his life was the spirit of duty.It was the regal and commanding element in hischaracter which gave it unity, compactness, and vigour.When he clearly saw his duty before him, he did it atall hazards, and with inflexible integrity. He did notdo it for effect; nor did he think of glory, or of fameand its rewards; but of the right thing to be done, andthe best way of doing it.Yet Washington had a most modest opinion of himself; and when offered the chief command of theAmerican patriot army, he hesitated to accept it untilit was pressed upon him. When acknowledging inCongress the honour which had been done him inSee the Rev. F. W. Farrar'sadmirable book, entitled ' Seekers after God ' (Sunday Library). The author there says: " Epictetus was not a Christian. He has only once alluded to the Christians in his works, and then it is under theopprobrious title of ' Galileans,'who practised a kind of insensibi- lity in painful circ*mstances, and anindifference to worldly interests,which Epictetus unjustly sets down to ' mere habit.' Unhappily, it wasnot granted to these heathen philosophers in any true sense to know what Christianity was. They thought that it was an attempt to imitate the results of phi- losophy, without having passed through the necessary discipline.They viewed it with suspicion, they treated it with injustice. And yet in Christianity, and in Christianity alone, they would have found an ideal which would have surpassed their loftiest anticipations. 'CHAP. VII.] Washington's Sense ofDuty. 195selecting him to so important a trust, on the executionof which the future of his country in a great measuredepended, Washington said: " I beg it may be remembered, lest some unlucky event should happen unfavourable to my reputation, that I this day declare, withthe utmost sincerity, I do not think myself equal tothe command I am honoured with."And in his letter to his wife, communicating to herhis appointment as Commander-in-Chief, he said: “ Ihave used every endeavour in my power to avoid it, notonly from my unwillingness to part with you and thefamily, but from a consciousness of its being a trust toogreat for my capacity; and that I should enjoy morereal happiness in one month with you at home, than Ihave the most distant prospect of finding abroad, if mystay were to be seven times seven years. But, as it hasbeen a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon thisservice, I shall hope that my undertaking it is designedfor some good purpose. It was utterly out of mypower to refuse the appointment, without exposing mycharacter to such censures as would have reflecteddishonour upon myself, and given pain to my friends.This, I am sure, could not, and ought not, to be pleasingto you, and must have lessened me considerably in my.own esteem. "99 1Washington pursued his upright course through life,first as Commander- in-Chief, and afterwards as President, never faltering in the path of duty. He had noregard for popularity, but held to his purpose, throughgood and through evil report, often at the risk of hispower and influence. Thus, on one occasion, when theratification of a treaty, arranged by Mr. Jay with GreatBritain, was in question, Washington was urged to reject1 Sparks' ' Life of Washington,' pp. 141-2.0 2196 Wellington's Ideal of Duty. [CHAP. VII.it. But his honour, and the honour of his country, wascommitted, and he refused to do so. A great outcrywas raised against the treaty, and for a time Washingtonwas so unpopular that he is said to have been actuallystoned bythe mob. But he, nevertheless, held it to behis duty to ratify the treaty; and it was carried out, indespite 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 deserveit than by obeying the dictates of my conscience. "Wellington's watchword, like Washington's, wasduty; and no man could be more loyal to it than hewas.¹ "There is little or nothing," he once said, " inthis life worth living for; but we can all of us gostraight forward and do our duty." None recognisedmore cheerfully than he did the duty of obedience andwilling service; for unless men can serve faithfully,they will not rule others wisely. There is no mottothat becomes the wise man better than Ich dien, " Iserve;" and " They also serve who only stand and wait."When the mortification of an officer, because of hisbeing appointed to a command inferior to what he considered to be his merits, was communicated to the Duke,he said: " In the course of my military career, I havegone from the command of a brigade to that of myregiment, and from the command of an army to that ofa brigade or a division, as I was ordered, and withoutany feeling of mortification. "Whilst commanding the allied army in Portugal,¹ Wellington, like Washington ,had to pay the penalty of his ad- herence to the cause he thought right, in his loss of " popularity."He was mobbed in the streets of London, and had his windowssmashed by the mob, while his wife lay dead in the house. Sir Walter Scott also was hooted and pelted at Hawick by " the people, ” amidst cries of " Burke Sir Walter!"CHAP. VII. ] Nelson and Collingwood. 197the conduct of the native population did not seem toWellington to be either becoming or dutiful. "Wehave enthusiasm in plenty," he said, " and plenty ofcries of 'Viva! We have illuminations, patriotic songs,and fêtes everywhere. But what we want is, that eachin his own station should do his duty faithfully, and payimplicit obedience to legal authority."This abiding ideal of duty seemed to bethe governingprinciple of Wellington's character. It was alwaysuppermost in his mind, and directed all the publicactions of his life. Nor did it fail to communicate itselfto those under him, who served him in the like spirit.When he rode into one of his infantry squares atWaterloo, as its diminished numbers closed up toreceive a charge of French cavalry, he said to the men,"Stand steady, lads; think of what they will say of usin England; " to which the men replied, " Never fear,sir-we know our duty."Duty was also the dominant idea in Nelson's mind.The spirit in which he served his country was expressedin the famous watchword, " England expects everyman to do his duty," signalled by him to the fleetbefore going into action at Trafalgar, as well as in thelast words that passed his lips,-" I have done my duty;I praise God for it!"And Nelson's companion and friend-the brave,sensible, homely-minded Collingwood--he who, as hisship bore down into the great sea-fight, said to his flagcaptain, " Just about this time our wives are going tochurch in England," -Collingwood too was, like hiscommander, an ardent devotee of duty. "Do yourduty to the best of your ability," was the maxim whichhe urged upon many young men starting on the voyageof life. To a midshipman he once gave the followingmanly and sensible advice:-19866Devotion to Duty. [CHAP. VII.Youmay depend upon it, that it is more in your ownpower than in anybody else's to promote both your comfort and advancement. A strict and unwearied attentionto your duty, and a complacent and respectful behaviour,not only to your superiors but to everybody, will ensureyou their regard, and the reward will surely come; butif it should not, I am convinced you have too much goodsense to let disappointment sour you. Guard carefullyagainst letting discontent appear in you. It will besorrow to your friends, a triumph to your competitors,and cannot be productive of any good. Conduct yourself so as to deserve the best that can come to you, andthe consciousness ofyour own proper behaviour will keepyou in spirits if it should not come.Let it be yourambition to be foremost in all duty. Do not be a niceobserver of turns, but ever present yourself ready foreverything, and, unless your officers are very inattentivemen, they will not allow others to impose more duty onyou than they should."This devotion to duty is said to be peculiar to theEnglish nation; and it has certainly more or lesscharacterised our greatest public men. Probably nocommander of any other nation ever went into actionwith such a signal flying as Nelson at Trafalgar-notGlory," or " Victory," or " Honour," or " Country "-but simply " Duty! " How few are the nations willingto rally to such a battle-cry!66Shortly after the wreck of the Birkenhead off thecoast of Africa, in which the officers and men wentdown firing a feu- de-joie after seeing the women andchildren safely embarked in the boats, -Robertson ofBrighton, referring to the circ*mstance in one of hisletters, said: " Yes! Goodness, Duty, Sacrifice, -theseare the qualities that England honours. She gapes andwonders every now and then, like an awkward peasant,CHAP. VII .] National Sense ofDuty. 199at some other things-railway kings, electro-biology,and other trumperies; but nothing stirs her grand oldheart down to its central deeps universally and long,except the Right. She puts on her shawl very badly,and she is awkward enough in a concert-room, scarceknowing a Swedish nightingale from a jackdaw; butblessings large and long upon her! -she knows how toteach her sons to sink like men amidst sharks andbillows, without parade, without display, as if Duty werethe most natural thing in the world; and she nevermistakes long an actor for a hero, or a hero for anactor." 1It is a grand thing, after all, this pervading spirit ofDuty in a nation; and so long as it survives, no oneneed despair of its future. But when it has departed,or become deadened, and been supplanted by thirst forpleasure, or selfish aggrandisem*nt, or " glory "—thenwoe to that nation, for its dissolution is near at hand!Ifthere be one point on which intelligent observers areagreed more than another as to the cause of the late deplorable collapse of France as a nation, it was the utterabsence of this feeling of duty, as well as of truthfulness,from the mind, not only of the men, but of the leaders ofthe French people. The unprejudiced testimony ofBaron Stoffel, French military attaché at Berlin, beforethe war, is conclusive on this point. In his private reportto the Emperor, found at the Tuileries, which waswritten in August, 1869, about a year before the outbreak of the war, Baron Stoffel pointed out that thehighly-educated and disciplined German people werepervaded by an ardent sense of duty, and did not thinkit beneath them to reverence sincerely what was nobleand lofty; whereas, in all respects, France presented a1 Robertson's ' Life and Letters,' ii. 157.200 Baron Stoffel's Report [CHAP. VII.melancholy contrast. There the people, having sneeredat everything, had lost the faculty of respecting anything, and virtue, family life, patriotism, honour, andreligion, were represented to a frivolous generation asonly fitting subjects for ridicule.¹ Alas! how terribly-We select the following pas- sages from this remarkable report of Baron Stoffel, as being of more than merely temporary interest: -"Whothat has lived here (Berlin)will deny that the Prussians are energetic, patriotic, and teeming with youthful vigour; that theyare not corrupted by sensual plea- sures, but are manly, have earnest convictions, do not think it beneath them to reverence sincerely what is noble and lofty? What a melan- choly contrast does France offer in all this? Having sneered at every- thing, she has lost the faculty of respecting anything. Virtue, fa- mily life, patriotism, honour, re- ligion, are represented to a frivolous generation as fitting subjects of ridicule. The theatres have becomeschools of shamelessness and ob- scenity . Drop by drop, poisonis instilled into the very core of an ignorant and enervatedsociety, which has neither the insight nor the energy left to amend its institutions, nor-which would be the most necessary step to take become better informed or more moral. One after the other the fine qualities of the nation are dying out. Where is the gene- rosity, the loyalty, the charm of our esprit, and our former elevation of soul? If this goes on, the time will come when this noble race of France will be known only by its faults. And France has no ideathat while she is sinking, more earnest nations are stealing amarch upon her, are distancingher on the road to progress, and are preparing for her a secondary position in the world." I am afraid that these opinions will not be relished in France.However correct, they differ too much from what is usually said and asserted at home. I shouldwish some enlightened and unpre- judiced Frenchmen to come to Prussia and make this country their study. They would soon dis- cover that they were living in the midst of a strong, earnest, and in- telligent nation , entirely destitute,it is true, of noble and delicate feelings, of all fascinating charms.but endowed with every solid virtue, and alike distinguished for untiring industry, order, and ecc- nomy, as well as for patriotism, astrong sense of duty, and that consciousness of personal dignitywhich in their case is so happily blended with respect for authorityand obedience to the law. They would see a country with firm,sound, andmoral institutions, whose upper classes are worthy of their rank, and, by possessingthe highest degree of culture, devoting them- selves to the service of the State,setting an example of patriotism,and knowing how to preserve the influence legitimately their own.They would find a State with an excellent administration, whereeverything is in its right place,and where the most admirableorder prevails in every branch of the social and political system.Prussia may be well compared toCHAP. VII. ] on the Decadence ofFrance.201has France been punished for her sins against truth andduty!Yet the time was, when France possessed many greatmen inspired by duty; but they were all men of acomparatively remote past. The race of Bayard,Duguesclin, Coligny, Duquesne, Turenne, Colbert, andSully, seems to have died out and left no lineage.There has been an occasional great Frenchman ofmodern times who has raised the cry of Duty; but hisvoice has been as that of one crying in the wilderness.De Tocqueville was one of such; but, like all men ofhis stamp, he was proscribed, imprisoned, and drivenfrom public life. Writing on one occasion to his friendKergorlay, he said: " Like you, I become more and morewhile it lasts, France should be full ofa people without a position, with- out a calling, who do not know what to do with themselves, but are none the less eager to envy and malign every one who does..a massive structure of lofty pro- portions and astounding solidity,which, though it has nothing to delight the eye or speak to the heart, cannot but impress us with its grand symmetry, equally ob- servable in its broad foundations "The French do not possess inas in its strong and sheltering roof. any very marked degree the quali- "And what is France? What ties required to render general conis French society in these latter scription acceptable, or to turn it days? A hurly- burly of disorderly to account. Conceited and egotistic elements, all mixed and jumbled as they are, the people would ob- together; a country in which every- ject to an innovation whose invi- body claims the right to occupy the highest posts, yet fewremember that a man to be employed in aresponsible position ought to have a well-balanced mind, ought to be strictly moral, to know something of the world, and possess certain intellectual powers; a country in which the highest offices are frequently held by ignorant and un- educated persons, who either boast some special talent, or whose only claim is social position and some versatility and address. What abaneful and degrading state of things! And how natural that,gorating force they are unable to comprehend, and which cannot be carried out without virtues whichthey do not possess self-abnega,tion, conscientious recognition of duty, and a willingness to sacrifice personal interests to the loftier de- mands of the country. As thecharacter of individuals is onlyimproved by experience, most.nations require a chastisem*nt be- fore they set about reorganising their political institutions.Prussia wanted a Jena to make herthe strong and healthy country she is."So202 France and Duty.[CHAP. VII.alive to the happiness which consists in the fulfilment ofDuty. I believe there is no other so deep and so real.There is only one great object in the world whichdeserves our efforts, and that is the good of mankind. "¹Although France has been the unquiet spirit amongthe nations of Europe since the reign of Louis XIV. ,there have from time to time been honest and faithfulmen who have lifted up their voices against the turbulent warlike tendencies of the people, and not onlypreached, but endeavoured to carry into practice, agospel ofpeace. Ofthese, the Abbé de St.- Pierre was oneof the most courageous. He had even the boldness todenounce the wars of Louis XIV. , and to deny thatmonarch's right to the epithet of ' Great,' for which hewas punished by expulsion from the Academy. TheAbbé was as enthusiastic an agitator for a system ofinternational peace as any member ofthe modern Societyof Friends. As Joseph Sturge went to St. Petersburgto convert the Emperor of Russia to his views, so theAbbé went to Utrecht to convert the Conference sittingthere, to his project for a Diet to secure perpetual peace.Of course he was regarded as an enthusiast, CardinalDubois characterising his scheme as "the dream of anhonest man.' Yet the Abbé had found his dream inthe Gospel; and in what better way could he exemplifythe spirit of the Master he served than by endeavouring""1 Yet even in De Tocqueville's | spires neither confidence nor grati- benevolent nature, there was a per- tude. I should like to belong to vading element of impatience. In the second class, but often I can- the very letter in which the above not. I love mankind in general,passage occurs, he says: "Some persons try to be of use to menwhile they despise them, and others because they love them. In the services rendered by the first, thereis always something incomplete,rough, and contemptuous, that inbut I constantly meet with indi- viduals whose baseness revolts me.I struggle daily against a universalcontempt for my fellow- creatures."-Memoirs and Remains of DeTocqueville, vol. i . p. 313. (Letter to Kergorlay, Nov. 13th, 1833) .CHAP. VII.] The Abbé de St.-Pierre.203to abate the horrors and abominations of war? The Conference was an assemblage of men representing ChristianStates: and the Abbé merely called upon them to putin practice the doctrines they professed to believe. Itwas of no use: the potentates and their representatives turned to him a deaf ear.The Abbé de St.- Pierre lived several hundred yearstoo soon. But he determined that his idea should notbe lost, and in 1713 he published his ' Project of Perpetual Peace.' He there proposed the formation of aEuropean Diet, or Senate, to be composed of representatives of all nations, before which princes should bebound, before resorting to arms, to state their grievancesand require redress. Writing about eighty years afterthe publication of this project, Volney asked: " Whatis a people? —an individual of the society at large.What a war?-a duel between two individual people.In what manner ought a society to act when two of itsmembers fight?-Interfere, and reconcile or repressthem. In the days of the Abbé de St.- Pierre, this wastreated as a dream; but, happily for the human race, itbegins to be realised." Alas for the prediction ofVolney! The twenty-five years that followed the dateat which this passage was written, were distinguished bymore devastating and furious wars on the part of Francethan had ever been known in the world before.The Abbé was not, however, a mere dreamer. Hewas an active practical philanthropist, and anticipatedmany social improvements which have since becomegenerally adopted. He was the original founder ofindustrial schools for poor children, where they notonly received a good education, but learned some usefultrade, by which they might earn an honest living whenthey grew up to manhood. He advocated the revisionand simplification of the whole code of laws-an ideaafterwards carried out by the First Napoleon. He wrote204 Duty and Truthfulness. [CHAP. VII.against duelling, against luxury, against gambling,against monasticism, quoting the remark of Segrais,that "the mania for a monastic life is the smallpox ofthe mind. " He spent his whole income in acts of charity-not in almsgiving, but in helping poor children, andpoor men and women, to help themselves. His objectalways was to benefit permanently those whom heassisted. He continued his love of truth and his freedomof speech to the last. At the age of eighty he said:"If life is a lottery for happiness, my lot has been one ofthe best. " When on his deathbed, Voltaire asked himhow he felt, to which he answered, "As about to makea journey into the country."And in this peacefulframe of mind he died. But so.outspoken had St.-Pierrebeen against corruption in high places, that Maupertius,his successor at the Academy, was not permitted to pronounce his éloge; nor was it until thirty-two years afterhis death that this honour was done to his memory byD'Alembert. The true and emphatic epitaph of thegood, truth-loving, truth- speaking Abbé was this-" HELOVED MUCH!"Duty is closely allied to truthfulness of character;and the dutiful man is, above all things, truthful in hiswords as in his actions. He says and he does the rightthing, in the right way, and at the right time.There is probably no saying of Lord Chesterfield thatcommends itself more strongly to the approval of manlyminded men, than that it is truth that makes the successof the gentleman. Clarendon, speaking of one of thenoblest and purest gentlemen of his age, says of Falkland,that he "was so severe an adorer of truth that he could aseasily have given himself leave to steal as to dissemble."It was one of the finest things that Mrs. Hutchinsoncould say of her husband, that he was a thoroughlytruthful and reliable man: " He never professed thething he intended not, nor promised what he believedCHAP. VII.] Resistance to Falsehood. 205out of his power, nor failed in the performance ofanything that was in his power to fulfil.”Wellington was a severe admirer of truth. An illustration may be given. When afflicted by deafness heconsulted a celebrated aurist, who, after trying all remedies in vain, determined, as a last resource, to injectinto the ear a strong solution of caustic. It caused themost intense pain, but the patient bore it with his usualequanimity. The family physician accidentally callingone day, found the Duke with flushed cheeks and bloodshot eyes, and when he rose he staggered about like adrunken man. The doctor asked to be permitted tolook at his ear, and then he found that a furious inflammation was going on, which, if not immediately checked,must shortly reach the brain and kill him. Vigorousremedies were at once applied, and the inflammationwas checked. But the hearing of that ear was completely destroyed. When the aurist heard of the dangerhis patient had run, through the violence of theremedy he had employed, he hastened to Apsley Houseto express his grief and mortification; but the Dukemerely said: " Do not say a word more about it- youdid all for the best." The aurist said it would be hisruin when it became known that he had been the causeof so much suffering and danger to his Grace. " But nobody need know anything about it: keep your owncounsel, and, depend upon it, I won't say a word toany one." " Then your Grace will allow me to attendyou as usual, which will show the public that you havenot withdrawn your confidence from me?" " No, " repliedthe Duke, kindly but firmly; " I can't do that, for thatwould be a lie." He would not act a falsehood anymore than he would speak one.¹Gleig's ' Life of Wellington,' pp. 314, 315.206 Truth the Bond ofSociety. [CHAP. VII .Another illustration of duty and truthfulness, as exhibited in the fulfilment of a promise, may be addedfrom the life of Blucher. When he was hastening withhis army over bad roads to the help of Wellington, onthe 18th of June, 1815, he encouraged his troops bywords and gestures. " Forwards, children-forwards!""It is impossible; it can't be done," was the answer.Again and again he urged them. Children, we mustget on; you may say it can't be done, but it must bedone! I have promised my brother Wellington-promised, do you hear? You wouldn't have me break myword!" And it was done.66Truth is the very bond of society, without which itmust cease to exist, and dissolve into anarchy andchaos. A household cannot be governed by lying; norcan a nation. Sir Thomas Browne once asked, " Dothe devils lie?" "No," was his answer; "for theneven hell could not subsist." No considerations canjustify the sacrifice of truth, which ought to be sovereignin all the relations of life.Of all mean vices, perhaps lying is the meanest. It isin some cases the offspring of perversity and vice, and inothers of sheer moral cowardice. Yet many per- manysons think so lightly of it that they will order theirservants to lie for them; nor can they feel surprised if,after such ignoble instruction, they find their servantslying for themselves.Sir Harry Wotton's description of an ambassador as66 an honest man sent to lie abroad for the benefit ofhis country," though meant as a satire, brought himinto disfavour with James I. when it became published; for an adversary quoted it as a principle of theking's religion. That it was not Wotton's real viewof the duty of an honest man, is obvious from thelines quoted at the head of this chapter, on ' TheCHAP. VII.] Equivocation. 207Character of a Happy Life,' in which he eulogises theman"Whose armour is his honest thought,And simple truth his utmost skill."But lying assumes many forms-such as diplomacy,expediency, and moral reservation; and, under oneguise or another, it is found more or less pervading allclasses of society. Sometimes it assumes the form ofequivocation or moral dodging-twisting and so statingthe things said as to convey a false impression -a kindof lying which a Frenchman once described as " walkinground about the truth."There are even men of narrow minds and dishonestnatures, who pride themselves upon their jesuitical cleverness in equivocation, in their serpent-wise shirking ofthe truth and getting out of moral back-doors, in orderto hide their real opinions and evade the consequencesof holding and openly professing them. Institutions orsystems based upon any such expedients must necessarily prove false and hollow. "Though a lie be everso well dressed," says George Herbert, " it is ever overcome." Downright lying, though bolder and morevicious, is even less contemptible than such kind ofshuffling and equivocation.Untruthfulness exhibits itself in many other forms:in reticency on the one hand, or exaggeration on theother; in disguise or concealment; in pretended concurrence in others' opinions; in assuming an attitudeof conformity which is deceptive; in making promises,or allowing them to be implied, which are never intended to be performed; or even in refraining fromspeaking the truth when to do so is a duty. There arealso those who are all things to all men, who say onething and do another, like Bunyan's Mr. Facing-both-208 Pretentiousness. [CHAP. VII.ways; only deceiving themselves when they think theyare deceiving others—and who, being essentially insincere, fail to evoke confidence, and invariably in the endturn out failures, if not impostors.Others are untruthful in their pretentiousness, and inassuming merits which they do not really possess. Thetruthful man is, on the contrary, modest, and makes noparade of himself and his deeds. When Pitt was inhis last illness, the news reached England of the greatdeeds of Wellington in India. " The more I hear ofhis exploits, " said Pitt, " the more I admire the modestywith which he receives the praises he merits for them.He is the only man I ever knew that was not vainof what he had done, and yet had so much reason tobe so."66 So it is said of Faraday by Professor Tyndall, thatpretence of all kinds, whether in life or in philosophy,was hateful to him." Dr. Marshall Hall was a man oflike 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, givemy 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-neitherexpediency nor inclination weighing one jot in thebalance.There was no virtue that Dr. Arnold laboured moresedulously to instil into young men than the virtue oftruthfulness, as being the manliest of virtues, as indeedthe very basis of all true manliness. He designatedtruthfulness as " moral transparency," and he valued itmore highly than any other quality. When lying wasdetected, he treated it as a great moral offence; butwhen a pupil made an assertion, he accepted it withCHAP. VII. ] Life of George Wilson. 209confidence. " If you say so, that is quite enough; ofcourse I believe your word." By thus trusting andbelieving them, he educated the young in truthfulness;the boys at length coming to say to one another:"It's a shame to tell Arnold a lie-he always believesone.""" 1One of the most striking instances that could begiven of the character of the dutiful, truthful, laboriousman, is presented in the life of the late George Wilson,Professor of Technology in the University of Edinburgh. Though we bring this illustration under thehead of Duty, it might equally have stood under thatof Courage, Cheerfulness, or Industry, for it is alikeillustrative of these several qualities.2Wilson'slife was, indeed, a marvel of cheerful laboriousness; exhibiting the power of the soul to triumph overthe body, and almost to set it at defiance. It might betaken as an illustration of the saying of the whalingcaptain to Dr. Kane, as to the power of moral forceover physical: " Bless you, sir, the soul will any daylift the body out of its boots! "A fragile but bright and lively boy, he had scarcelyentered manhood ere his constitution began to exhibitsigns of disease. As early, indeed, as his seventeenthyear, he began to complain of melancholy and sleeplessness, supposed to be the effects of bile. " I don'tthink I shall live long," he then said to a friend; " mymind will-must work itself out, and the body will soonfollow it." A strange confession for a boy to make!But he gave his physical health no fair chance. Hislife was all brain-work, study, and competition. Whenhe took exercise it was in sudden bursts, which did him1 'Life of Arnold,' i. 94. Wilson, M.D., F.R.S.E.' By his2 See the Memoir of George | sister (Edinburgh, 1860).P210 Wilson's Bodily Sufferings. [CHAP. VII .more harm than good. Long walks in the Highlandsjaded and exhausted him; and he returned to his brainwork unrested and unrefreshed.It was during one of his forced walks of some twentyfour miles in the neighbourhood of Stirling, that heinjured one of his feet, and he returned home seriouslyill. The result was an abscess, disease of the anklejoint, and long agony, which ended in the amputationof the right foot. But he never relaxed in his labours.He was now writing, lecturing, and teaching chemistry. Rheumatism and acute inflammation of theeye next attacked him; and were treated by cupping,blistering, and colchicum. Unable himself to write, hewent on preparing his lectures, which he dictated to hissister. Pain haunted him day and night, and sleepwas only forced by morphia. While in this state ofgeneral prostration, symptoms of pulmonary diseasebegan to show themselves. Yet he continued to givethe weekly lectures to which he stood committed to theEdinburgh School of Arts. Not one was shirked,though their delivery, before a large audience, was amost exhausting duty. " Well, there's another nail putinto my coffin," was the remark made on throwing offhis top-coat on returning home; and a sleepless nightalmost invariably followed.At twenty-seven, Wilson was lecturing ten, eleven,or more hours weekly, usually with setons or openblister- wounds upon him-his "bosom friends," he usedto call them. He felt the shadow of death upon him;and he worked as if his days were numbered. "Don'tbe surprised," he wrote to a friend, " if any morning atbreakfast you hear that I am gone. " But while he saidso, he did not in the least degree indulge in the feelingof sickly sentimentality. He worked on as cheerfullyand hopefully as if in the very fulness of his strength.CHAP. VII. ] His Unwearying Industry. 2ΙΙ"To none," said he, " is life so sweet as to those whohave lost all fear to die."Sometimes he was compelled to desist from hislabours by sheer debility, occasioned by loss of bloodfrom the lungs; but after a few weeks' rest and changeof air, he would return to his work, saying, "Thewater is rising in the well again! " Though diseasehad fastened on his lungs, and was spreading there, andthough suffering from a distressing cough, he went onlecturing as usual. To add to his troubles, when oneday endeavouring to recover himself from a stumbleoccasioned by his lameness, he overstrained his arm,and broke the bone near the shoulder. But he recovered from his successive accidents and illnesses inthe most extraordinary way. The reed bent, but did notbreak the storm passed, and it stood erect as before.There was no worry, nor fever, nor fret about him;but instead, cheerfulness, patience, and unfailing perseverance. His mind, amidst all his sufferings, remainedperfectly calm and serene. He went about his dailywork with an apparently charmed life, as if he had thestrength of many men in him. Yet all the while heknew he was dying, his chief anxiety being to concealhis state from those about him at home, to whom theknowledge of his actual condition would have beeninexpressibly distressing. " I am cheerful amongstrangers," he said, " and try to live day by day as adying man." 1He went on teaching as before-lecturing to the1 Such cases are not unusual.We personally knew a young lady,a countrywoman of Professor Wil- son, afflicted by cancer in the breast, who concealed the disease from her parents lest it should occasion them distress. Anoperation became necessary; and whenthe surgeons called for the purpose of performing it, she herself an- swered the door, received themwith a cheerful countenance, led them upstairs to her room, and sub- mitted herself to the knife; and herP 2212 Progress ofWilson's Disease. [ CHAP. VII.Architectural Institute and to the School of Arts. Oneday, after a lecture before the latter institute, he lay downto rest, and was shortly awakened by the rupture ofa bloodvessel, which occasioned him the loss of a considerable quantity of blood. He did not experience thedespair and agony that Keats did on a like occasion;'though he equally knew that the messenger of deathhad come, and was waiting for him. He appeared atthe family meals as usual, and next day he lectured.twice, punctually fulfilling his engagements; but theexertion of speaking was followed by a second attack ofhæmorrhage. He now became seriously ill, and it wasdoubted whether he would survive the night. But hedid survive; and during his convalescence he was appointed to an important public office -that of Directorof the Scottish Industrial Museum, which involved agreat amount of labour, as well as lecturing, in hisparents knew nothing of the opera- tion until it was all over. But the disease had become too deeply seated for recovery, and the noble self-denying girl died, cheerful and uncomplaining to the end.1 "One night, about eleveno'clock, Keats returned home in astate of strange physical excite- ment-it might have appeared, to those who did not know him, one of fierce intoxication. He told his friend he had been outside thestage-coach, had received a severe chill, was a little fevered, butadded, ' I don't feel it now.' He was easily persuaded to go to bed,and as he leapt into the cold sheet , before his head was on thepillow, he slightly coughed and said, That is blood from my mouth; bring me the candle; let me see this blood.' He gazed stead- fastly for some moments at the"ruddy stain, and then, looking in his friend's face with an expression of sudden calmness never to be for- gotten, said, ' I know the colour of that blood, —it is arterial blood.I cannot be deceived in that colour;that drop is my death-warrant. Imust die! "-Houghton's Life of Keats, Ed. 1867, p. 289.Inthe case of George Wilson, the bleeding was in the first instancefromthe stomach, though he after- wards suffered from lung hæmorrhage like Keats. Wilson after- wards, speaking of the Lives ofLamb and Keats, which had just appeared, said he had been reading them with great sadness.is," said he, " something in thenoble brotherly love of Charles to brighten, and hallow, and relieve that sadness; but Keats's deathbedis the blackness of midnight, un- mitigated by one ray of light! ""ThereCHAP. VII. ] His Perseverance to the End. 213capacity of Professor of Technology, which he held inconnection with the office.""From this time forward, his " dear museum," as hecalled it, absorbed all his surplus energies. While busilyoccupied in collecting models and specimens for themuseum, he filled up his odds-and-ends of time inlecturing to Ragged Schools, Ragged Kirks, andMedical Missionary Societies. He gave himself norest, either of mind or body; and " to die workingwas the fate he envied. His mind would not give in,but his poor body was forced to yield, and a severeattack of hæmorrhage-bleeding from both lungs andstomach -compelled him to relax in his labours. " Fora month, or some forty days," he wrote-" a dreadfulLent-the wind has blown geographically from ' Arabythe blest,' but thermometrically from Iceland theaccursed. I have been made a prisoner of war, hit byan icicle in the lungs, and have shivered and burnedalternately for a large portion of the last month, andspat blood till I grew pale with coughing. Now I ambetter, and to-morrow I give my concluding lecture (onTechnology), thankful that I have contrived, notwithstanding all my troubles, to carry on without missing alecture to the last day of the Faculty of Arts, to whichI belong. "2How long was it to last? He himself began to wonder,for he had long felt his life as if ebbing away. Atlength he became languid, weary, and unfit for work;even the writing of a letter cost him a painful effort,and he felt " as if to lie down and sleep were the only"Here lies George Wilson,1 On the doctors, who attended | epitaph:-him in his first attack, mistaking the hæmorrhage from the stomach for hemorrhage from the lungs, he wrote: "It would have been butpoor consolation to have had as anOvertaken by Nemesis;He died not of Hæmoptysis,But of Hæmatemesis."2.Memoir,' p. 427.214 Wilson's Love of Work and Duty. [CHAP. VII,things worth doing." Yet shortly after, to help aSunday-school, he wrote his ‘ Five Gateways of Knowledge, ' as a lecture, and afterwards expanded it into abook. He also recovered strength sufficient to enablehim to proceed with his lectures to the institutions towhich he belonged, besides on various occasions undertaking to do other people's work. " I am looked uponas good as mad,” he wrote to his brother, " because, ona hasty notice, I took a defaulting lecturer's place at thePhilosophical Institution, and discoursed on the Polarization of Light. But I like work: it is afamily weakness."Then followed chronic malaise-sleepless nights, daysof pain, and more spitting of blood. " My only painlessmoments," he says, " were when lecturing." In thisstate of prostration and disease, the indefatigable manundertook to write the Life of Edward Forbes '; and hedid it, like everything he undertook, with admirableability. He proceeded with his lectures as usual. Toan association of teachers he delivered a discourse onthe educational value of industrial science. After hehad spoken to his audience for an hour, he left them tosay whether he should go on or not, and they cheeredhim on to another half-hour's address: " It is curious,"he wrote, "the feeling of having an audience, like clayin your hands, to mould for a season as you please. Itis a terribly responsible power.I do not meanfor a moment to imply that I am indifferent to the goodopinion of others-far otherwise; but to gain this ismuch less a concern with me than to deserve it. Itwas not so once. I had no wish for unmerited praise,but I was too ready to settle that I did merit it. Now,the word DUTY seems to me the biggest word in theworld, and is uppermost in all my serious doings."·This was written only about four months before hisCHAP. VII.] His Last Illness and Death. 215death. A little later he wrote, " I spin my thread oflife from week to week, rather than from year to year."Constant attacks of bleeding from the lungs sapped hislittle remaining strength, but did not altogether disablehim from lecturing. He was amused by one of hisfriends proposing to put him under trustees for the purpose of looking after his health. But he would not berestrained from working, so long as a vestige of strengthremained.One day, in the autumn of 1859, he returned from hiscustomary lecture in the University of Edinburgh with asevere pain in his side. He was scarcely able to crawlupstairs. Medical aid was sent for, and he was pronouncedto be suffering from pleurisy and inflammation of thelungs. His enfeebled frame was ill able to resist sosevere a disease, and he sank peacefully to the rest heso longed for, after a few days' illness:"Wrong not the dead with tears!Aglorious bright to-morrowEndeth a weary life of pain and sorrow."The life of George Wilson-so admirably and affectionately related by his sister-is probably one ofthe most marvellous records of pain and longsuffering,and yet of persistent, noble, and useful work, that is tobe found in the whole history of literature. His entirecareer was indeed but a prolonged illustration of thelines which he himself addressed to his deceased friend,Dr. John Reid, a likeminded man, whose memoir hewrote:-"Thou wert a daily lesson Of courage, hope, and faith;Wewondered at thee living,We envy thee thy death."Thou wert so meek and reverent,So resolute of will,So bold to bear the uttermost,And yet so calm and still. "216 Temper.[CHAP. VIII.CHAPTER VIII.TEMPER."Temper is nine- tenths of Christianity."-Bishop Wilson." Heaven is a temper, not a place. ” —Dr. Chalmers."And should my youth, as youth is apt, I know,Some harshness show;All vain asperities I day by day Would wear away,Till the smooth temper of my age should be Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree. " -Southey."Even Power itself hath not one- half the might of Gentleness. "-Leigh Hunt.IT has been said that men succeed in life quite asmuch by their temper as by their talents. Howeverthis may be, it is certain that their happiness in lifedepends mainly upon their equanimity of disposition,their patience and forbearance, and their kindness andthoughtfulness for those about them. It is really truewhat Plato says, that in seeking the good of others wefind our own.There are some natures so happily constituted thatthey can find good in everything. There is no calamityso great but they can educe comfort or consolation fromit-no sky so black but they can discover a gleam ofsunshine issuing through it from some quarter oranother; and if the sun be not visible to their eyes,they at least comfort themselves with the thought thatit is there, though veiled from them for some good and wise purpose.Such happy natures are to be envied. They have abeam in the eye-a beam of pleasure, gladness, religious1CHAP. VIII. ] Cheerfulness ofNature. 217cheerfulness, philosophy, call it what you will. Sunshine is about their hearts, and their mind gilds withits own hues all that it looks upon. When they haveburdens to bear, they bear them cheerfully-not repining, nor fretting, nor wasting their energies in uselesslamentation, but struggling onward manfully, gatheringup such flowers as lie along their path.Let it not for a moment be supposed that men such asthose we speak of are weak and unreflective. The largestand most comprehensive natures are generally also themost cheerful, the most loving, the most hopeful, themost trustful. It is the wise man, of large vision, whois the quickest to discern the moral sunshine gleamingthrough the darkest cloud. In present evil he seesprospective good; in pain, he recognises the effort ofnature to restore health; in trials, he finds correctionand discipline; and in sorrow and suffering, he gatherscourage, knowledge, and the best practical wisdom.When Jeremy Taylor had lost all-when his househad been plundered , and his family driven out-ofdoors, and all his worldly estate had been sequestrated-he could still write thus: " I am fallen into thehands of publicans and sequestrators, and they have taken all from me; what now? Let me look aboutme. They have left me the sun and moon, a lovingwife, and many friends to pity me, and some to relieveme; and I can still discourse, and, unless I list, theyhave not taken away my merry countenance and mycheerful spirit, and a good conscience; they have stillleft me the providence of God, and all the promises ofthe Gospel, and my religion, and my hopes of heaven,and my charity to them, too; and still I sleep anddigest, 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, who218 Uses of Cheerfulness.[CHAP. VIII .loves all these pleasures, and chooses to sit down uponhis little handful of thorns." 1Although cheerfulness of disposition is very much amatter of inborn temperament, it is also capable ofbeing trained and cultivated like any other habit. Wemay make the best of life, or we may make the worst ofit; and it depends very much upon ourselves whetherwe extract joy or misery from it. There are alwaystwo sides of life on which we can look, according as wechoose the bright side or the gloomy. We can bringthe power of the will to bear in making the choice,and thus cultivate the habit of being happy or theWe can encourage the disposition of lookingat the brightest side of things, instead of the darkest.And while we see the cloud, let us not shut our eyes tothe silver lining.reverse.The beam in the eye sheds brightness, beauty, andjoy 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, andcheers it. The beam in the eye gives lustre to intellect, and brightens beauty itself. Without it the sunshine of life is not felt, flowers bloom in vain, themarvels of heaven and earth are not seen or acknowledged, and creation is but a dreary, lifeless, soullessblank.While cheerfulness of disposition is a great source ofenjoyment in life, it is also a great safeguard of character. A devotional writer of the present day, inanswer 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 and1 Jeremy Taylor's ' Holy Living.'CHAP. VIII. ] Cheerfulness a Tonic. 219virtue. It gives brightness of heart and elasticity ofspirit. It is the companion of charity, the nurse ofpatience, the mother of wisdom. It is also the best ofmoral and mental tonics. "The best cordial of all,"said Dr. Marshall Hall to one of his patients, " is cheerfulness." And Solomon has said that " a merry heartdoeth good like a medicine. "When Luther was once applied to for a remedyagainst melancholy, his advice was: " Gaiety andcourage-innocent gaiety, and rational honourablecourage-are the best medicine for young men, and forold men, too; for all men against sad thoughts. " Nextto music, if not before it, Luther loved children andflowers. The great gnarled man had a heart as tenderas a woman's.Cheerfulness is also an excellent wearing quality. Ithas been called the bright weather of the heart. Itgives harmony of soul, and is a perpetual song without words. It is tantamount to repose. It enables natureto recruit its strength; whereas worry and discontentdebilitate it, involving constant wear-and-tear.How is it that we see such men as Lord Palmerstongrowing old in harness, working on vigorously to theend? Mainly through equanimity of temper andhabitual cheerfulness. They have educated themselvesin the habit of endurance, of not being easily provoked,of bearing and forbearing, of hearing harsh and evenunjust things said of them without indulging in undue resentment, and avoiding worreting, petty, andself-tormenting cares. An intimate friend of LordPalmerston, who observed him closely for twenty years,has said that he never saw him angry, with perhaps oneexception; and that was when the ministry responsible1 Michelet's ' Life of Luther,' pp. 411-12.220 Great Men Cheerful.[CHAP. VIII.for the calamity in Affghanistan, of which he was one,were unjustly accused by their opponents of falsehood,perjury, and wilful mutilation of public documents.So far as can be learnt from biography, men of thegreatest genius have been for the most part cheerful,contented men-not eager for reputation, money, orpower-but relishing life, and keenly susceptible ofenjoyment, 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. Amongthe same class of cheerful-minded men may also bementioned Luther, More, Bacon, Leonardo da Vinci,Raphael, and Michael Angelo. Perhaps they werehappy because constantly occupied, and in the pleasantest of all work—that of creating out of the fulnessand richness of their great minds.Milton, too, though a man of many trials and sufferings, must have been a man of great cheerfulness andelasticity of nature. Though overtaken by blindness,deserted by friends, and fallen upon evil days-" darkness before and danger's voice behind "-yet did he notbate heart or hope, but " still bore up and steered rightonward."Henry Fielding was a man borne down through lifeby debt, and difficulty, and bodily suffering; and yetLady Mary Wortley Montague has said of him that, byvirtue of his cheerful disposition, she was persuaded he"had known more happy moments than any person onearth. "Dr. Johnson, through all his trials and sufferings andhard fights with fortune, was a courageous and cheerfulnatured man. He manfully made the best of life, andtried to be glad in it. Once, when a clergyman wascomplaining of the dulness of society in the country,CHAP. VIII. ] Instances ofCheerful Men.221saying " they only talk of runts " (young cows) , Johnson felt flattered by the observation of Mrs. Thrale'smother, who said, " Sir, Dr. Johnson would learn totalk of runts ❞ —meaning that he was a man who wouldmake the most of his situation, whatever it was.Johnson was of opinion that a man grew better as hegrew older, and that his nature mellowed with age.This is certainly a much more cheerful view of humannature than that of Lord Chesterfield, who saw lifethrough the eyes of a cynic, and held that " the heartnever grows better by age: it only grows harder." Butboth sayings may be true according to the point fromwhich life is viewed, and the temper by which a man isgoverned; for while the good, profiting by experience,and disciplining themselves by self- control, will growbetter, the ill- conditioned, uninfluenced by experience,will only grow worse.Sir Walter Scott was a man full of the milk ofhuman kindness. Everybody loved him. He wasnever five minutes in a room ere the little pets of thefamily, whether dumb or lisping, had found out his kindness for all their generation. Scott related to CaptainBasil Hall an incident of his boyhood which showedthe tenderness of his nature. One day, a dog comingtowards him, he took up a big stone, threw it, and hitthe dog. The poor creature had strength enough leftto crawl up to him and lick his feet, although he sawits leg was broken. The incident, he said, had givenhim the bitterest remorse in his after-life; but headded, " An early circ*mstance of that kind, properlyreflected on, is calculated to have the best effect onone's character throughout life.""Give me an honest laugher," Scott would say; andhe himself laughed the heart's laugh. He had a kindword for everybody, and his kindness acted all round•222 Scott-Arnold-Sydney Smith. [CHAP. VIII .him like a contagion, dispelling the reserve and awewhich his great name was calculated to inspire. " He'llcome here," said the keeper of the ruins of MelroseAbbey to Washington Irving-" he'll come here sometimes, wi' great folks in his company, and the first I'llknow of it is hearing his voice calling out, ' Johnny!Johnny Bower!' And when I go out I'm sure to begreeted wi' a joke or a pleasant word. He'll stand andcrack and laugh wi' me, just like an auld wife; and tothink that of a man that has such an awfu' knowledge o'history!"Dr. Arnold was a man of the same hearty cordialityof manner-full of human sympathy. There was not aparticle of affectation or pretence of condescension abouthim. " I never knew such a humble man as the doctor,"said the parish clerk at Laleham; " he comes and shakesus by the hand as if he was one of us. ""He used tocome into my house," said an old woman near FoxHow, "and talk to me as if I were a lady."Sydney Smith was another illustration of the powerof cheerfulness. He was ever ready to look on thebright side of things; the darkest cloud had to himits silver lining. Whether working as country curate,or as parish rector, he was always kind, laborious,patient, and exemplary; exhibiting in every sphere oflife the spirit of a Christian, the kindness of a pastor,and the honour of a gentleman. In his leisure heemployed his pen on the side of justice, freedom, education, toleration, emancipation; and his writings, thoughfull of common-sense and bright humour, are nevervulgar; nor did he ever pander to popularity or prejudice. His good spirits, thanks to his natural vivacityand stamina of constitution, never forsook him; and inhis old age, when borne down by disease, he wrote to afriend: " I have gout, asthma, and seven other maladies,CHAP. VIII. ] Cheerfulness ofMen ofGenius. 223but am otherwise very well." In one of the last lettershe wrote to Lady Carlisle, he said: " If you hear of sixteen or eighteen pounds of flesh wanting an owner, theybelong to me. I look as if a curate had been taken outof me.29

Great men of science have for the most part beenpatient, laborious, cheerful- minded men, Such wereGalileo, Descartes, Newton, and Laplace. Euler themathematician, one of the greatest of natural philosophers, was a distinguished instance. Towards the closeof his life he became completely blind; but he went onwriting as cheerfully as before, supplying the want ofsight by various ingenious mechanical devices, and bythe increased cultivation of his memory, which becameexceedingly tenacious. His chief pleasure was in thesociety of his grandchildren, to whom he taught theirlittle lessons in the intervals of his severer studies.In like manner, Professor Robison of Edinburgh, thefirst editor of the Encyclopædia Britannica,' whendisabled from work by a lingering and painful disorder,found his chief pleasure in the society of his grandchild ."I am infinitely delighted," he wrote to James Watt,"with observing the growth of its little soul, and particularly with its numberless instincts, which formerlypassed unheeded. I thank the French theorists formore forcibly directing my attention to the finger ofGod, which I discern in every awkward movement andevery wayward whim. They are all guardians of hislife and growth and power. I regret indeed that I havenot time to make infancy and the development of itspowers my sole study.”One of the sorest trials of a man's temper and patiencewas that which befell Abauzit, the natural philosopher,while residing at Geneva; resembling in many respectsa similar calamity which occurred to Newton, and which224 Patience ofAbauzit.[CHAP. VIII .he bore with equal resignation. Amongst other things,Abauzit devoted much study to the barometer and itsvariations, with the object of deducing the general lawswhich regulated atmospheric pressure. During twentyseven years he made numerous observations daily, recording them on sheets prepared for the purpose. Oneday, when a new servant was installed in the house, sheimmediately proceeded to display her zeal by "puttingthings to-rights." Abauzit's study, amongst otherrooms, was made tidy and set in order. When heentered it, he asked of the servant, "What have youdone with the paper that was round the barometer?"Oh, sir," was the reply, " it was so dirty that I burntit, and put in its place this paper, which you will seeis quite new." Abauzit crossed his arms, and aftersome moments of internal struggle, he said, in a tone ofcalmness and resignation: " You have destroyed theresults of twenty- seven years' labour; in future touchnothing whatever in this room."66The study of natural history, more than that of anyother branch of science, seems to be accompanied byunusual cheerfulness and equanimity of temper on thepart of its votaries; the result of which is, that the lifeof naturalists is on the whole more prolonged thanthat of any other class of men of science. A memberof the Linnæan Society has informed us that of fourteenmembers who died in 1870, two were over ninety, fivewere over eighty, and two were over seventy. Theaverage age of all the members who died in that yearwas seventy- five.Adanson, the French botanist, was about seventyyears old when the Revolution broke out, and amidst theshock he lost everything-his fortune, his places, and hisgardens. But his patience, courage, and resignationnever forsook him. He became reduced to the greatestCHAP. VIII. ] Cheerful Workers. 225straits, and even wanted food and clothing; yet hisardour of investigation remained the same. Once, whenthe Institute invited him, as being one of its oldestmembers, to assist at a séance, his answer was that heregretted he could not attend for want of shoes. " Itwas a touching sight," says Cuvier, " to see the poor oldman, bent over the embers of a decaying fire, trying totrace characters with a feeble hand on the little bit ofpaper which he held, forgetting all the pains of life insome new idea in natural history, which came to himlike some beneficent fairy to cheer him in his loneliness. "The Directory eventually gave him a small pension,which Napoleon doubled; and at length, easeful deathcame to his relief in his seventy-ninth year. A clausein his will, as to the manner of his funeral, illustratesthe character of the man. He directed that a garlandof flowers, provided by fifty- eight families whom he hadestablished in life, should be the only decoration of hiscoffin--a slight but touching image of the more durablemonument which he had erected for himself in his works.Such are only a fewinstances of the cheerful-workingness of great men, which might, indeed, be multipliedto any extent. All large healthy natures are cheerfulas well as hopeful. Their example is also contagiousand diffusive, brightening and cheering all who comewithin reach of their influence. It was said of Sir JohnMalcolm, when he appeared in a saddened camp inIndia, that " it was like a gleam of sunlight, noman left him without a smile on his face. He was ' BoyMalcolm ' still. It was impossible to resist the fascinationof his genial presence.""" 1•There was the same joyousness of nature aboutEdmund Burke. Once at a dinner at Sir Joshua¹ Sir John Kaye's ' Lives of Indian Officers.'226 Basis of Cheerfulness. [CHAP. VIII.Reynolds's, when the conversation turned upon the suitability of liquors for particular temperaments, Johnsonsaid, " Claret is for boys, port for men, and brandy forheroes." "Then," said Burke, " let me have claret: Ilove to be a boy, and to have the careless gaiety ofboyish days. " And so it is, that there are old youngmen, and young old men—some who are as joyous andcheerful as boys in their old age, and others who are asmorose and cheerless as saddened old men while still intheir boyhood.In the presence of some priggish youths, we haveheard a cheerful old man declare that, apparently, therewould soon be nothing but " old boys " left. Cheerfulness, being generous and genial, joyous and hearty, isnever the characteristic of prigs. Goethe used toexclaim of goody-goody persons, " Oh! if they had butthe heart to commit an absurdity!" This was when hethought they wanted heartiness and nature. "Prettydolls!" was his expression when speaking of them, andturning away.The true basis of cheerfulness is love, hope, andpatience. Love evokes love, and begets lovingkindness. Love cherishes hopeful and generous thoughts ofothers. It is charitable, gentle, and truthful. It is adiscerner of good. It turns to the brightest side of things,and its face is ever directed towards happiness. It sees"the glory in the grass, the sunshine on the flower." Itencourages happy thoughts, and lives in an 'atmosphereof cheerfulness. It costs nothing, and yet is invaluable;for it blesses its possessor, and grows up in abundanthappiness in the bosoms of others. Even its sorrowsare linked with pleasures, and its very tears are sweet.Bentham lays it down as a principle, that a manbecomes rich in his own stock of pleasures in proportionto the amount he distributes to others. His kindnessCHAP. VIII. ] Beneficence and Benevolence. 227will evoke kindness, and his happiness be increased byhis own benevolence. " Kind words," he says, "costno more than unkind ones. Kind words produce kindactions, not only on the part of him to whom they areaddressed, but on the part of him by whom they areemployed; and this not incidentally only, but habitually,in virtue of the principle of association. ” " Itmay indeed happen, that the effort of beneficence maynot benefit those for whom it was intended; but whenwisely directed, it must benefit the person from whomit emanates. Good and friendly conduct may meetwith an unworthy and ungrateful return; but the absenceof gratitude on the part of the receiver cannot destroythe self-approbation which recompenses the giver, and wemay scatter the seeds of courtesy and kindliness aroundus at so little expense. Some of them will inevitablyfall on good ground, and grow up into benevolence inthe minds of others; and all of them will bear fruit ofhappiness in the bosom whence they spring. Once blestare all the virtues always; twice blest sometimes." ¹The poet Rogers used to tell a story of a little girl,a great favourite with every one who knew her.Some one said to her, "Why does everybody love youso much?" She answered, " I think it is because Ilove everybody so much." This little story is capableof a very wide application; for our happiness ashuman beings, generally speaking, will be found to bevery much in proportion to the number of things welove, and the number of things that love us. And thegreatest worldly success, however honestly achieved,will contribute comparatively little to happiness, unlessit be accompanied by a lively benevolence towardsevery human being.' 'Deontology,' pp. 130–1, 144.Q 2228 Power ofKindness. [CHAP. VIII.Kindness is indeed a great power in the world. LeighHunt has truly said that " Power itself hath not onehalf the might of gentleness." Men are always bestgoverned through their affections. There is a Frenchproverb which says that, " Les hommes se prennent parla douceur," and a coarser English one, to the effect that"More wasps are caught by honey than by vinegar.""Every act of kindness," says Bentham, " is in fact anexercise of power, and a stock of friendship laid up;and why should not power exercise itself in the production of pleasure as of pain?99Kindness does not consist in gifts, but in gentlenessand generosity of spirit. Men may give their moneywhich comes from the purse, and withhold their kindness which comes fromthe heart. The kindness that displays itself in giving money, does not amount to much,and often does quite as much harm as good; but thekindness of true sympathy, of thoughtful help, is neverwithout beneficent results. }The good temper that displays itself in kindnessmust not be confounded with softness or silliness. Inits best form, it is not a merely passive but an activecondition of being. It is not by any means indifferent,but largely sympathetic. It does not characterise thelowest and most gelatinous forms of human life, butthose that are the most highly organized. True kindnesscherishes and actively promotes all reasonable instrumentalities for doing practical good in its own time; and,looking into futurity, sees the same spirit working onfor the eventual elevation and happiness of the race.It is the kindly- dispositioned men who are the activemen of the world, while the selfish and the sceptical,who have no love but for themselves, are its idlers.Buffon used to say, that he would give nothing for ayoung man who did not begin life with an enthusiasmCHAP. VIII.] The Shallowness ofDiscontent. 229of some sort. It showed that at least he had faith insomething good, lofty, and generous, even if unattainable.Egotism, scepticism, and selfishness are alwaysmiserable companions in life, and they are especiallyunnatural in youth. The egotist is next-door to afanatic. Constantly occupied with self, he has nothought to spare for others. He refers to himself in allthings, thinks of himself, and studies himself, until hisown little self becomes his own little god.Worst of all are the grumblers and growlers at fortune-who find that " whatever is is wrong," and will donothing to set matters right-who declare all to bebarren " from Dan even to Beersheba." These grumblersare invariably found the least efficient helpers in theschool of life. As the worst workmen are usually thereadiest to " strike," so the least industrious members ofsociety are the readiest to complain. The worst wheelof all is the one that creaks.66There is such a thing as the cherishing of discontentuntil the feeling becomes morbid. The jaundiced seeeverything about them yellow. The ill-conditionedthink all things awry, and the whole world out-of-joint.All is vanity and vexation of spirit. The little girl inPunch, who found her doll stuffed with bran, and forthwith declared everything to be hollow and wanted togo into a nunnery," had her counterpart in real life.Many full-grown people are quite as morbidly unreasonable. There are those who may be said to " enjoy badhealth;" they regard it as a sort of property. They canspeak of" my headache"-" my backache," and so forth,until in course of time it becomes their most cherishedpossession. But perhaps it is the source to them of muchcoveted sympathy, without which they might find themselves of comparatively little importance in the world.230 Querulousness. [CHAP. VIII.We have to be on our guard against small troubles,which, by encouraging, we are apt to magnify intogreat ones. Indeed, the chief source of worry inthe world is not real but imaginary evil-small vexations and trivial afflictions. In the presence of a greatsorrow, all petty troubles disappear; but we are tooready to take some cherished misery to our bosom, and topet it there. Very often it is the child of our fancy; and,forgetful ofthe many means of happiness which lie withinour reach, we indulge this spoilt child of ours until itmasters us. We shut the door against cheerfulness, andsurround ourselves with gloom. The habit gives acolouring to our life. We grow querulous, moody, andunsympathetic. Our conversation becomes full of regrets. We are harsh in our judgment of others. Weare unsociable, and think everybody else is so. We makeour breast a storehouse of pain, which we inflict uponourselves as well as upon others.This disposition is encouraged by selfishness: indeed,it is for the most part selfishness unmingled, withoutany admixture of sympathy or consideration for thefeelings of those about us. It is simply wilfulness inthe wrong direction. It is wilful, because it might beavoided. Let the necessitarians argue as they may,freedom of will and action is the possession of every manand woman. It is sometimes our glory, and very oftenit is our shame: all depends upon the manner in whichit is used. We can choose to look at the bright side ofthings, or at the dark. We can follow good andeschew evil thoughts. We can be wrongheaded andwronghearted, or the reverse, as we ourselves determine.The world will be to each one of us very much whatwe make it. The cheerful are its real possessors, forthe world belongs to those who enjoy it.It must, however, be admitted that there are casesCHAP. VIII.]66و,The Little Virtues. 231beyond the reach of the moralist. Once, when a miserable-looking dyspeptic called upon a leading physicianand laid his case before him, " Oh! " said the doctor,you only want a good hearty laugh: go and seeGrimaldi. ' "Alas! " said the miserable patient, “ IamGrimaldi! " So, when Smollett, oppressed by disease,travelled over Europe in the hope of finding health, hesaw everything through his own jaundiced eyes." I'lltell it," said Smellfungus, "to the world. " "You hadbetter tell it," said Sterne, " to your physician."The restless, anxious, dissatisfied temper, that is everready to run and meet care half-way, is fatal to allhappiness and peace of mind. How often do we seemen and women set themselves about as if with stiffbristles, so that one dare scarcely approach them without fear of being pricked! For want of a little occasional command over one's temper, an amount of miseryis occasioned in society which is positively frightful.Thus enjoyment is turned into bitterness, and lifebecomes like a journey barefooted amongst thorns and briers and prickles. Though sometimes small evils,"says Richard Sharp, " like invisible insects, inflict greatpain, and a single hair may stop a vast machine, yetthe chief secret of comfort lies in not suffering trifles tovex us; and in prudently cultivating an undergrowthof small pleasures, since very few great ones, alas! arelet on long leases." 16666St. Francis de Sales treats the same topic from theChristian's point of view. “ How carefully," he says,' we should cherish the little virtues which spring upat the foot of the Cross! " When the saint was asked," What virtues do you mean? " he replied: " Humility,patience, meekness, benignity, bearing one another's1 ' Letters and Essays,' p. 67.232 'Gentleness. [CHAP. VIII.burden, condescension, softness of heart, cheerfulness,cordiality, compassion, forgiving injuries, simplicity,candour-all, in short, of that sort of little virtues.They, like unobtrusive violets, love the shade; likethem are sustained by dew; and though, like them,they make little show, they shed a sweet odour on allaround. " 1And again he said: " If you would fall into anyextreme, let it be on the side of gentleness. The humanmind is so constructed that it resists rigour, and yieldsto softness. A mild word quenches anger, as waterquenches the rage of fire; and by benignity any soilmay be rendered fruitful. Truth, uttered with courtesy,is heaping coals of fire on the head—or rather, throwingroses in the face. How can we resist a foe whoseweapons are pearls and diamonds? "2Meeting evils by anticipation is not the way to overcome them. If we perpetually carry our burdensabout with us, they will soon bear us down under theirload. When evil comes, we must deal with it bravelyand hopefully. What Perthes wrote to a young man,who seemed to him inclined to take trifles as well assorrows too much to heart, was doubtless good advice:-"Go forward with hope and confidence. This is theadvice given thee by an old man, who has had a fullshare of the burden and heat of life's day. We mustever stand upright, happen what may, and for this endwe must cheerfully resign ourselves to the varied influences of this many-coloured life. You may call thislevity, and you are partly right; for flowers and coloursare but trifles light as air, but such levity is a constituent portion of our human nature, without which itwould sink under the weight of time. While on earth1 Beauties of St. Francis de Sales.' 2 Ibid.CHAP. VIII. ]Cheerfulness and Hope. 233we must still play with earth, and with that whichblooms and fades upon its breast. The consciousness ofthis mortal life being but the way to a higher goal, byno means precludes our playing with it cheerfully;and, indeed, we must do so, otherwise our energy inaction will entirely fail." 1Cheerfulness also accompanies patience, which is oneof the main conditions of happiness and success in life." He that will be served," says George Herbert, " mustbe patient." It was said of the cheerful and patientKing Alfred, that " good fortune accompanied him likea gift of God. " Marlborough's expectant calmness wasgreat, and a principal secret of his success as a general."Patience will overcome all things," he wrote to Godolphin, in 1702. In the midst of a great emergency,while baffled and opposed by his allies, he said, " Having done all that is possible, we should submit withpatience.'66""Last and chiefest of blessings is Hope, the most common of possessions; for, as Thales the philosopher said,Even those who have nothing else have hope." Hopeis the great helper of the poor. It has even been styled"the poor man's bread." It is also the sustainer andinspirer of great deeds. It is recorded of Alexander theGreat, that when he succeeded to the throne of Macedon,he gave away amongst his friends the greater part ofthe estates which his father had left him; and whenPerdiccas asked him what he reserved for himself,Alexander answered, "The greatest possession of all,-Hope!"The pleasures of memory, however great, are stalecompared with those of hope; for hope is the parent ofall effort and endeavour; and " every gift of noble origin1 ' Life of Perthes,' ii . 449.234 Pleasures ofHope. [CHAP. VIII.is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath. " It maybe said to be the moral engine that moves the world, andkeeps it in action; and at the end of all there standsbefore us what Robertson of Ellon styled " The GreatHope." " If it were not for Hope," said Byron, " wherewould the Future be?-in hell! It is useless to saywhere the Present is, for most of us know; and as forthe Past, what predominates in memory?-Hope baffled.Ergo, in all human affairs it is Hope, Hope, Hope! " ¹¹ Moore's ' Life of Byron,' 8vo. Ed. , p. 483.CHAP. IX. ] Manner. 235CHAPTER IX.MANNER-ART.'We must be gentle, now we are gentlemen."-Shakspeare."Manners are not idle, but the fruit Of noble nature and of loyal mind."-Tennyson."A beautiful behaviour is better than a beautiful form; it gives a higher pleasure than statues and pictures; it is the finest of the fine arts."-Emerson."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 manner; besides, manners are the shadows of virtues."-The Rev. Sydney Smith.MANNER is one of the principal external graces of character. It is the ornament of action, and often makesthe commonest offices beautiful by the way in which itperforms 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 somemay think it to be; for it tends greatly to facilitate thebusiness of life, as well as to sweeten and soften socialintercourse. "Virtue itself," says Bishop Middleton,offends, when coupled with a forbidding manner.'66Manner has a good deal to do with the estimation inwhich men are held by the world; and it has oftenmore influence in the government of others than qualities of much greater depth and substance. A mannerat once gracious and cordial is among the greatest aidsto success, and many there are who fail for want of it.¹1 Locke thought it of greater | well-tempered, than that he should importance that an educator of be either a thorough classicist oryouth should be well-bred and man of science. Writing to Lord236 Power ofManner.[CHAP. IX.For a great deal depends upon first impressions; andthese are usually favourable or otherwise according to aman's courteousness and civility.66 ""While rudeness and gruffness bar doors and shuthearts, kindness and propriety of behaviour, in whichgood manners consist, act as an open sesame everywhere. Doors unbar before them, and they are a passport to the hearts of everybody, young and old.There is a common saying that " Manners make theman;" but this is not so true as that " Man makes themanners. " A man may be gruff, and even rude, andyet be good at heart and of sterling character; yet hewould doubtless be a much more agreeable, and probablya much more useful man, were he to exhibit that suavityof disposition and courtesy of manner which alwaysgives a finish to the true gentleman.Mrs. Hutchinson, in the noble portraiture of herhusband, to which we have already had occasion torefer, thus describes his manly courteousness andaffability of disposition:-" I cannot say whether hewere more truly magnanimous or less proud; he neverdisdained the meanest person, nor flattered the greatest;he had a loving and sweet courtesy to the poorest, andwould often employ many spare hours with the commonest soldiers and poorest labourers; but still so ordering his familiarity, that it never raised them to a contempt, but entertained still at the same time a reverenceand love of him. "1A man's manner, to a certain extent, indicates hisPeterborough as to his son's educa- general scheme of the sciences, Ition, Locke said: " Your Lordship think that enough. But I would would have your son's tutor a have him well-bred and well-temthorough scholar, and I think it pered."not much matter whether he be 1 Mrs. Hutchinson's ' Memoir ofany scholar or no: if he but un- the Life of Lieut. -Colonel Hutchin- derstand Latin well, and have a son,' p. 32.CHAP. IX.] Politeness-"Etiquette." 237character. It is the external exponent of his innernature. It indicates his taste, his feelings, and histemper, as well as the society to which he has beenaccustomed. There is a conventional manner, which isof comparatively little importance; but the naturalmanner, the outcome of natural gifts, improved bycareful self- culture, signifies a great deal.Grace of manner is inspired by sentiment, which isa source of no slight enjoyment to a cultivated mind.Viewed in this light, sentiment is of almost as muchimportance as talents and acquirements, while it iseven more influential in giving the direction to a man'stastes and character. Sympathy is the golden key thatunlocks the hearts of others. It not only teaches politeness and courtesy, but gives insight and unfolds wisdom,and may almost be regarded as the crowning grace ofhumanity.Artificial rules of politeness are of very little use.What passes by the name of " Etiquette" is often of theessence of unpoliteness and untruthfulness. It consists ina great measure of posture-making, and is easily seenthrough. Even at best, etiquette is but a substitutefor good manners, though it is often but their mere coun- terfeit.Good manners consist, for the most part, in courteousness and kindliness. Politeness has been described as theart of showing, by external signs, the internal regard wehave for others. But one may be perfectly polite toanother without necessarily having a special regard forhim. Good manners are neither more nor less thanbeautiful behaviour. It has been well said, that " a beautiful form is better than a beautiful face, and a beautifulbehaviour is better than a beautiful form; it gives ahigher pleasure than statues or pictures-it is thefinest of the fine arts."238 True Courtesy. [CHAP. IX.The truest politeness comes of sincerity. It must bethe outcome of the heart, or it will make no lastingimpression; for no amount of polish can dispense with truthfulness. The natural character must beallowed to appear, freed of its angularities and asperities.Though politeness, in its best form, should (as St. Francisde Sales says) resemble water-"best when clearest, mostsimple, and without taste,"—yet genius in a man willalways cover many defects of manner, and much willbe excused to the strong and the original. Withoutgenuineness and individuality, human life would losemuch of its interest and variety, as well as its manlinessand robustness of character.True courtesy is kind. It exhibits itself in the disposition to contribute to the happiness of others, and inrefraining from all that may annoy them. It is gratefulas well as kind, and readily acknowledges kind actions.Curiously enough, Captain Speke found this quality ofcharacter recognised even by the natives of Uganda, onthe shores of Lake Nyanza, in the heart of Africa,where, he says, " Ingratitude, or neglecting to thank aperson for a benefit conferred, is punishable."True politeness especially exhibits itself in regardfor the personality of others. A man will respect theindividuality of another if he wishes to be respectedhimself. He will have due regard for his views andopinions, even though they differ from his own. Thewell-mannered man pays a compliment to another, andsometimes even secures his respect, by patiently listening to him. He is simply tolerant and forbearant, andrefrains from judging harshly; and harsh judgments ofothers will almost invariably provoke harsh judgmentsof ourselves.The unpolite impulsive man will, however, sometimes rather lose his friend than his joke. He mayCHAP. IX.] Self-Restraint. 239surely be pronounced a very foolish person who securesanother's hatred at the price of a moment's gratification. It was a saying of Brunel the engineer-himselfone of the kindest-natured of men-that " spite and illnature are among the most expensive luxuries in life. "Dr. Johnson once said: " Sir, a man has no more right tosay an uncivil thing than to act one-no more right tosay a rude thing to another than to knock him down."Asensible polite person does not assume to be betteror wiser or richer than his neighbour. He does notboast of his rank, or his birth, or his country; or lookdown upon others because they have not been born tolike privileges with himself. He does not brag of hisachievements or of his calling, or " talk shop" whenever he opens his mouth. On the contrary, in all that hesays or does, he will be modest, unpretentious, unassuming; exhibiting his true character in performing ratherthan in boasting, in doing rather than in talking.Want of respect for the feelings of others usuallyoriginates in selfishness, and issues in hardness andrepulsiveness of manner. It may not proceed frommalignity so much as from want of sympathy and wantof delicacy—a want of that perception of, and attentionto, those little and apparently trifling things by whichpleasure is given or pain occasioned to others. Indeed,it may be said that in self-sacrificingness, so to speak,in the ordinary intercourse of life, mainly consists thedifference between being well and ill bred.Without some degree of self-restraint in society, aman may be found almost insufferable. No one haspleasure in holding intercourse with such a person, andhe is a constant source of annoyance to those abouthim. For want of self-restraint, many men are engagedall their lives in fighting with difficulties of their ownmaking, and rendering success impossible by their own240 Practical Unpoliteness. [CHAP. IX.crossgrained ungentleness; whilst others, it may bemuch less gifted, make their way and achieve successby simple patience, equanimity, and self-control.It has been said that men succeed in life quite as muchby their temper as by their talents. However this maybe, it is certain that their happiness depends mainly ontheir temperament, especially upon their disposition tobe cheerful; upon their complaisance, kindliness ofmanner, and willingness to oblige others-details ofconduct which are like the small-change in the intercourse of life, and are always in request.Men may show their disregard of others in variousunpolite ways—as, for instance, by neglect of proprietyin dress, by the absence of cleanliness, or by indulgingin repulsive habits. The slovenly dirty person, byrendering himself physically disagreeable, sets thetastes and feelings of others at defiance, and is rude anduncivil only under another form.David Ancillon, a Huguenot preacher of singularattractiveness, who studied and composed his sermonswith the greatest care, was accustomed to say "that itwas showing too little esteem for the public to take nopains in preparation, and that a man who shouldappear on a ceremonial-day in his nightcap and dressing-gown, could not commit a greater breach ofcivility."The perfection of manner is ease—that it attracts noman's notice as such, but is natural and unaffected.Artifice is incompatible with courteous frankness ofmanner. Rochefoucauld has said that " nothing so muchprevents our being natural as the desire of appearingso." Thus we come round again to sincerity and truthfulness, which find their outward expression in graciousness, urbanity, kindliness, and consideration for thefeelings of others. The frank and cordial man setsCHAP. IX. ] Indications of Self- Respect. 241those about him at their ease. He warms and elevatesthem by his presence, and wins all hearts. Thusmanner, in its highest form, like character, becomes agenuine motive power."The love and admiration," says Canon Kingsley,"which that truly brave and loving man, Sir SydneySmith, won from every one, rich and poor, with whom hecame in contact, seems to have arisen from the one fact,that without, perhaps, having any such conscious intention, he treated rich and poor, his own servants andthe noblemen his guests, alike, and alike courteously,considerately, cheerfully, affectionately-so leaving ablessing, and reaping a blessing, wherever he went. "Good manners are usually supposed to be the peculiarcharacteristic of persons gently born and bred, and ofpersons moving in the higher rather than in the lowerspheres of society. And this is no doubt to a greatextent true, because of the more favourable surroundings of the former in early life. But there is no reasonwhythe poorest classes should not practise good mannerstowards each other as well as the richest.Men who toil with their hands, equally with thosewho do not, may respect themselves and respect oneanother; and it is by their demeanour to each otherin other words, by their manners-that self-respect aswell as mutual respect are indicated. There is scarcelya moment in their lives, the enjoyment of which mightnot be enhanced, by kindliness of this sort-in the workshop, in the street, or at home. The civil workmanwill exercise increased power amongst his class, andgradually induce them to imitate him by his persistentsteadiness, civility, and kindness. Thus BenjaminFranklin, when a working-man, is said to have reformedthe habits of an entire workshop.One may be polite and gentle with very little money.R242 Politeness of Foreigners. [CHAP. IX.in his purse. Politeness goes far, yet costs nothing. Itis the cheapest of all commodities. It is the humblestof the fine arts, yet it is so useful and so pleasuregiving, that it might almost be ranked amongst thehumanities.Every nation may learn something of others; and ifthere be one thing more than another that the Englishworking-class might afford to copy with advantage fromtheir Continental neighbours, it is their politeness. TheFrench and Germans, of even the humblest classes, aregracious in manner, complaisant, cordial, and well- bred.The foreign workman lifts his cap and respectfully saluteshis fellow-workman in passing. There is no sacrificeof manliness in this, but grace and dignity. Even thelowest poverty of the foreign workpeople is not misery,simply because it is cheerful. Though not receivingone-half the income which our working-classes do, theydo not sink into wretchedness and drown their troublesin drink; but contrive to make the best of life, and toenjoy it even amidst poverty.Good taste is a true economist. It may be practisedon small means, and sweeten the lot of labour as well asof ease. It is all the more enjoyed, indeed, when associated with industry and the performance of duty. Eventhe lot of poverty is elevated by taste. It exhibitsitself in the economies of the household. It givesbrightness and grace to the humblest dwelling. Itproduces refinement, it engenders goodwill, and createsan atmosphere of cheerfulness. Thus good taste, associated with kindliness, sympathy, and intelligence, mayelevate and adorn even the lowliest lot..The first and best school of manners, as of character,is always the Home, where woman is the teacher. Themanners of society at large are but the reflex of themanners of our collective homes, neither better norCHAP. IX. ] Instinctive Tact ofWomen. 243worse. Yet, with all the disadvantages of ungenialhomes, men may practise self-culture of manner as ofintellect, and learn by good examples to cultivate agraceful and agreeable behaviour towards others. Mostmen are like so many gems in the rough, which needpolishing by contact with other and better natures, tobring out their full beauty and lustre. Some have butone side polished, sufficient only to show the delicategraining of the interior; but to bring out the fullqualities of the gem needs the discipline of experience,and contact with the best examples of character in theintercourse of daily life.A good deal of the success of manner consists in tact ,and it is because women, on the whole, have greatertact than men, that they prove its most influentialteachers. They have more self-restraint than men,and are naturally more gracious and polite. Theypossess an intuitive quickness and readiness of action,have a keener insight into character, and exhibit greaterdiscrimination and address. In matters of social detail,aptness and dexterity come to them like nature; andhence well-mannered men usually receive their bestculture by mixing in the society of gentle and adroitwomen.Tact is an intuitive art of manner, which carries onethrough a difficulty better than either talent or knowledge. "Talent," says a public writer, "is power:tact is skill. Talent is weight: tact is momentum.Talent knows what to do: tact knows how to do it.Talent makes a man respectable: tact makes himrespected. Talent is wealth: tact is ready-money."The difference between a man of quick tact andof no tact whatever was exemplified in an interviewwhich once took place between Lord Palmerston andMr. Behnes, the sculptor. At the last sitting whichR 2244 Superficiality ofManner.[CHAP. IX.Lord Palmerston gave him, Behnes opened the conversation with " Any news, my Lord, from France?How do we stand with Louis Napoleon?" The ForeignSecretary raised his eyebrows for an instant, andquietly replied, " Really, Mr. Behnes, I don't know:I have not seen the newspapers!" Poor Behnes, withmany excellent qualities and much real talent, was oneof the many men who entirely missed their way in lifethrough want of tact.Such is the power of manner, combined with tact,that Wilkes, one of the ugliest of men, used to say,that in winning the graces of a lady, there was notmore than three days' difference between him and thehandsomest man in England.But this reference to Wilkes reminds us that toomuch importance must not be attached to manner, forit does not afford any genuine test of character. Thewell-mannered man may, like Wilkes, be merely actinga part, and that for an immoral purpose. Manner, likeother fine arts, gives pleasure, and is exceedingly agreeable to look upon; but it may be assumed as adisguise, as men " assume a virtue though they have.it not." It is but the exterior sign of good conduct,but may be no more than skin-deep. The most highlypolished person may be thoroughly depraved in heart;and his superfine manners may, after all, only consistin pleasing gestures and in fine phrases.On the other hand, it must be acknowledged thatsome of the richest and most generous natures havebeen wanting in the graces of courtesy and politeness.As a rough rind sometimes covers the sweetest fruit, soa rough exterior often conceals a kindly and heartynature. The blunt man may seem even rude inmanner, and yet, at heart, be honest, kind, and gentle.John Knox and Martin Luther were by no meansCHAP. IX. John Knox and Martin Luther. 245distinguished for their urbanity. They had work to dowhich needed strong and determined rather than wellmannered men. Indeed, they were both thought tobe unnecessarily harsh and violent in their manner."And who art thou," said Mary Queen of Scots toKnox, "that presumest to school the nobles andsovereign of this realm?" -" Madam, " replied Knox,a subject born within the same. " It is said that hisboldness, or roughness, more than once made QueenMary weep. When Regent Morton heard of this, hesaid, " Well, 'tis better that women should weep thanbearded men."66As Knox was retiring from the Queen's presence onone occasion, he overheard one of the royal attendantssay to another, " He is not afraid! " Turning roundupon them, he said: " And why should the pleasingface of a gentleman frighten me? I have looked onthe faces ofangry men, and yet have not been afraidbeyond measure." When the Reformer, worn-out byexcess of labour and anxiety, was at length laid to hisrest, the Regent, looking down into the open grave,exclaimed, in words which made a strong impressionfrom their aptness and truth-"There lies he whonever feared the face of man!"Luther also was thought by some to be a merecompound of violence and ruggedness. But, as in thecase of Knox, the times in which he lived were rudeand violent; and the work he had to do could scarcelyhave been accomplished with gentleness and suavity.To rouse Europe from its lethargy, he had to speak andto write with force, and even vehemence. Yet Luther'svehemence was only in words.exterior covered a warm heart.gentle, loving, and affectionate.homely, even to commonness.His apparently rudeIn private life he wasHe was simple andFond of all common246 Johnson's Gruffness.[CHAP. IX.pleasures and enjoyments, he was anything but anaustere man, or a bigot; for he was hearty, genial, andeven " jolly." Luther was the common people's hero inhis lifetime, and he remains so in Germany to this day.Samuel Johnson was rude and often gruff in manner.But he had been brought up in a rough school. Povertyin early life had made him acquainted with strange companions. He had wandered in the streets withSavage for nights together, unable between them toraise money enough to pay for a bed. When his indomitable courage and industry at length secured forhim a footing in society, he still bore upon him thescars of his early sorrows and struggles. He was bynature strong and robust, and his experience made him unaccommodating and self-asserting. When he wasonce asked why he was not invited to dine out asGarrick was, he answered, " Because great lords andladies did not like to have their mouths stopped;" andJohnson was a notorious mouth-stopper, though whathe said was always worth listening to.Johnson's companions spoke of him as " Ursa Major;"but, as Goldsmith generously said of him, " No man alivehas a more tender heart; he has nothing of the bearabout him but his skin." The kindliness of Johnson'snature was shown on one occasion by the manner inwhich he assisted a supposed lady in crossing FleetStreet. He gave her his arm, and led her across, notobserving that she was in liquor at the time. But thespirit of the act was not the less kind on that account.On the other hand, the conduct of the bookseller onwhom Johnson once called to solicit employment, andwho, regarding his athletic but uncouth person, toldhim he had better " go buy a porter's knot and carrytrunks," in howsoever bland tones the advice mighthave been communicated, was simply brutal.CHAP. IX. ] Shyness and Reserve. 247While captiousness of manner, and the habit of disputing and contradicting everything said, is chillingand repulsive, the opposite habit of assenting to, andsympathising with, every statement made, or emotionexpressed, is almost equally disagreeable. It is unmanly, and is felt to be dishonest. " It may seemdifficult," says Richard Sharp, "to steer always between bluntness and plain-dealing, between givingmerited praise and lavishing indiscriminate flattery;but it is very easy-good-humour, kindheartedness, andperfect simplicity, being all that are requisite to do whatis right in the right way.'" 1At the same time, many are unpolite-not becausethey mean to be so, but because they are awkward, andperhaps know no better. Thus, when Gibbon hadpublished the second and third volumes of his ' Declineand Fall,' the Duke of Cumberland met him one day,and accosted him with, " How do you do, Mr. Gibbon?I see you are always at it in the old way-scribble,scribble, scribble!" The Duke probably intended to paythe author a compliment, but did not know how betterto do it, than in this blunt and apparently rude way.Again, many persons are thought to be stiff, reserved,and proud, when they are only shy. Shyness is characteristic of most people of Teutonic race. It has beenstyled " the English mania," but it pervades, to a greateror less degree, all the Northern nations. The ordinaryEnglishman, when he travels abroad, carries his shyness with him. He is stiff, awkward, ungraceful, undemonstrative, and apparently unsympathetic; andthough he may assume a brusqueness of manner, theshyness is there, and cannot be wholly concealed.The naturally graceful and intensely social FrenchLetters and Essays,' p. 59.T248 Teutonic Shyness.. [CHAP. IX.cannot understand such a character; and the Englishman is their standing joke-the subject of their mostludicrous caricatures. George Sand attributes therigidity of the natives of Albion to a stock of fluideBritannique which they carry about with them, thatrenders them impassive under all circ*mstances, andas impervious to the atmosphere of the regions theytraverse as a mouse in the centre of an exhaustedreceiver. "166The average Frenchman and Irishman excel theaverage Englishman, German, or American in courtesyand ease of manner, simply because it is their nature.They are more social and less self-dependent than menof Teutonic origin, more demonstrative and lessreticent; they are more communicative, conversational,and freer in their intercourse with each other in allrespects; whilst men of German race are comparatively stiff, reserved, shy, and awkward. At the sametime, a people may exhibit ease, gaiety, and sprightliness of character, and yet possess no deeper qualitiescalculated to inspire respect. They may have everygrace of manner, and yet be heartless, frivolous, selfish.The character may be on the surface only, and withoutany solid qualities for a foundation.There can be no doubt as to which of the two sortsof people-the easy and graceful, or the stiff andawkward-it is most agreeable to meet, either in business, in society, or in the casual intercourse of life.Which make the fastest friends, the truest men of theirword, the most conscientious performers of their duty,is an entirely different matter.The dry gauche Englishman -to use the Frenchphrase, l'Anglais empêtré-is certainly a somewhat dis1 'Lettres d'un Voyageur.'CHAP. IX. ]66 Respectful Uneasiness."99249agreeable person to meet at first. He looks as if hehad swallowed a poker. He is shy himself, and thecause of shyness in others. He is stiff, not because heis proud, but because he is shy; and he cannot shakeoff his shyness even if he would. Indeed, we shouldnot be surprised to find that even the clever writer whodescribes the English Philistine in all his enormity ofawkward manner and absence of grace, were himselfas shy as a bat.When two shy men meet, they seem like a couple oficicles. They sidle away and turn their backs on eachother in a room, or when travelling creep into the opposite corners of a railway-carriage. When shy Englishmen are about to start on a journey by railway, they walkalong the train, to discover an empty compartment inwhich to bestow themselves; and when once ensconced,they inwardly hate the next man who comes in. So, onentering the dining-room of their club, each shy manlooks out for an unoccupied table, until sometimes allthe tables in the room are occupied by single diners.All this apparent unsociableness is merely shyness-thenational characteristic of the Englishman."The disciples of Confucius," observes Mr. ArthurHelps, " say that when in the presence of the prince, hismanner displayed respectful uneasiness. There couldhardly be given any two words which more fitlydescribe the manner of most Englishmen when insociety. " Perhaps it is due to this feeling that SirHenry Taylor, in his Statesman, ' recommends that, inthe management of interviews, the minister should beas "near to the door " as possible; and, instead ofbowing his visitor out, that he should take refuge, atthe end of an interview, in the adjoining room." Timid and embarrassed men," he says, " will sit as ifthey were rooted to the spot, when they are conscious250 Prince Albert-Sir Isaac Newton. [ CHAP. IX.that they have to traverse the length of a room in theirretreat. In every case, an interview will find a moreeasy and pleasing termination when the door is at handas the last words are spoken. """ 1The late Prince Albert, one of the gentlest and mostamiable, was also one of the most retiring of men. Hestruggled much against his sense of shyness, but wasnever able either to conquer or conceal it. Hisbiographer, in explaining its causes, says: " It was theshyness of a very delicate nature, that is not sure itwill please, and is without the confidence and thevanity which often go to form characters that are outwardly more genial.'" 2But the Prince shared this defect with some of thegreatest ofEnglishmen. Sir Isaac Newton was probablythe shyest man of his age. He kept secret for a time someof his greatest discoveries, for fear of the notoriety theymight bring him. His discovery of the Binomial Theoremand its most important applications, as well as his stillgreater discovery of the Law of Gravitation, were notpublished for years after they were made; and when hecommunicated to Collins his solution of the theory ofthe moon's rotation round the earth, he forbade him toinsert his name in connection with it in the Philosophical Transactions, ' saying: " It would, perhaps, increase my acquaintance-the thing which I chiefly studyto decline."From all that can be learnt of Shakspeare, it is to beinferred that he was an exceedingly shy man. Themanner in which his plays were sent into the world-for it is not known that he edited or authorized theSir Henry Taylor's ' States- | Speeches and Addresses of His man,' p. 59. Royal Highness the Prince Con- 2 Introduction to the ' Principal sort,' 1862.CHAP. IX.] Shakspeare's Shyness. 251publication of a single one of them-and the datesat which they respectively appeared, are mere mattersof conjecture. His appearance in his own plays insecond and even third-rate parts-his indifference toreputation, and even his apparent aversion to be heldin repute by his contemporaries-his disappearancefrom London (the seat and centre of English histrionicart) so soon as he had realised a moderate competency-and his retirement about the age of forty, for theremainder of his days, to a life of obscurity in a smalltown in the midland counties-all seem to unite inproving the shrinking nature of the man, and his unconquerable shyness.It is also probable that, besides being shy-and hisshyness may, like that of Byron, have been increasedby his limp-Shakspeare did not possess in any highdegree the gift of Hope. It is a remarkable circ*mstance, that whilst the great dramatist has, in the courseof his writings, copiously illustrated all other gifts,affections, and virtues, the passages are very rare inwhich Hope is mentioned, and then it is usually in adesponding and despairing tone, as when he says:"The miserable hath no other medicine,But only Hope."Many of his sonnets breathe the spirit of despair andhopelessness.¹ He laments his lameness; 2 apologizes1 "When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,I all alone beweep my outcast state,And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,And look upon myself and curse my fate;Wishing melike to one more rich in Hope,Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,With what I most enjoy, contented least;Yet in these thoughts, myselfalmost despising,Haply I think on thee," &c. -Sonnet xxix.2 " So I, made lame by sorrow's dearest spite," &c. - Sonnet xxxvi."And strength, by limping sway disabled," &c.-Sonnet lxvi."Speak ofmy lameness, and I straight will halt."-Sonnet lamxxix.252 Mathews and Byron. [CHAP. IX.for his profession as an actor; ¹ expresses his " fear oftrust " in himself, and his hopeless, perhaps misplaced,affection; anticipates a " coffin'd doom; " and uttershis profoundly pathetic cry " for restful death."It might naturally be supposed that Shakspeare'sprofession of an actor, and his repeated appearances inpublic, would speedily overcome his shyness, did suchexist. But inborn shyness, when strong, is not soeasily conquered.3 Who could have believed that thelate Charles Mathews, who entertained crowdedhouses night after night, was naturally one of theshyest of men? He would even make long circuits(lame though he was) along the byelanes of London toavoid recognition. His wife says of him, that he looked"sheepish" and confused if recognised; and that hiseyes would fall, and his colour would mount, if he heardhis name even whispered in passing along the streets. *Nor would it at first sight have been supposed that1 " Alas! ' tis true, I have gone here and there,And made myself a motley to the view,Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear,Made old offences of affections new," &c.-Sonnet cx "Oh, for my sake do you with fortune chide!The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,That did not better for my life provide,Than public means, which public manners breed;Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,And almost thence my nature is subdued,To what it works in like the dyer's hand," &c.- Sonnet cxi.2 "In our two loves there is but one respect,Though in our loves a separable spite,Which though it alter not love's sole effect;Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight,I may not evermore acknowledge thee,Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame." -Sonnet xxxvi.3 It is related of Garrick, thatwhen subpoenaed on Baretti's trial,and required to give his evidence before the court though he had been accustomed for thirty yearsto act with the greatest self-pos- session in the presence of thousands -he became so perplexed and confused, that he was actually sentfrom the witness-box by the judge,as a man from whom no evidence could be obtained.Mrs. Mathews' ' Life and Correspondence of Charles Mathews,(Ed. 1860) p. 232.CHAP. IX.] Archbishop Whately.253Lord Byron was affected with shyness, and yet he was avictim to it; his biographer relating that, while on avisit to Mrs. Pigot, at Southwell, when he saw strangersapproaching, he would instantly jump out of the window,and escape on to the lawn to avoid them.But a still more recent and striking instance is thatof the late Archbishop Whately, who, in the early partof his life, was painfully oppressed by the sense ofshyness. When at Oxford, his white rough coat andwhite hat obtained for him the soubriquet of " The WhiteBear; " and his manners, according to his own accountof himself, corresponded with the appellation. He wasdirected, by way of remedy, to copy the example of thebest-mannered men he met in society; but the attemptto do this only increased his shyness, and he failed.He found that he was all the while thinking of himself,rather than of others; whereas thinking of others, ratherthan of one's self, is of the true essence of politeness.Finding that he was making no progress, Whatelywas driven to utter despair; and then he said to himself: " Why should I endure this torture all my life tono purpose? I would bear it still if there was anysuccess to be hoped for; but since there is not, I willdie quietly, without taking any more doses . I havetried my very utmost, and find that I must be asawkward as a bear all my life, in spite of it. I willendeavour to think as little about it as a bear, andmake up my mind to endure what can't be cured."From this time forth he struggled to shake off all consciousness as to manner, and to disregard censure asmuch as possible. In adopting this course, he says:" I succeeded beyond my expectations; for I not onlygot rid of the personal suffering of shyness, but also ofmost of those faults of manner which consciousnessproduces; and acquired at once an easy and natural254 Nathaniel Hawthorne. [CHAP. IX.manner-careless, indeed, in the extreme, from itsoriginating in a stern defiance of opinion, which I hadconvinced myself must be ever against me; rough andawkward, for smoothness and grace are quite out of myway, and, of course, tutorially pedantic; but unconscious, and therefore giving expression to that goodwilltowards men which I really feel; and these, I believe,are the main points. " 1Washington, who was an Englishman in his lineage,was also one in his shyness. Heis described incidentallyby Mr. Josiah Quincy, as " a little stiff in his person,not a little formal in his manner, and not particularlyat ease in the presence of strangers. He had the air ofa country gentleman not accustomed to mix much insociety, perfectly polite, but not easy in his address andconversation, and not graceful in his movements."Although we are not accustomed to think of modernAmericans as shy, the most distinguished Americanauthor of our time was probably the shyest of men.Nathaniel Hawthorne was shy to the extent of morbidity.We have observed him, when a stranger entered theroom where he was, turn his back for the purpose ofavoiding recognition. And yet, when the crust of hisshyness was broken, no man could be more cordial andgenial than Hawthorne.We observe a remark in one of Hawthorne's latelypublished Notebooks, ' that on one occasion he met C 21 Archbishop Whately's ' Com- met him. Whilst he suffered at monplace Book.'2 Emerson is said to have hadNathaniel Hawthorne in his mind when writing the following pas- sage in his ' Society and Solitude:'" The most agreeable compliment you could pay him was, to imply that you had not observed him in a house or a street where you hadbeing seen where he was, he con- soled himself with the deliciousthought of the inconceivable num- ber of places where he was not.All he wished of his tailor was toprovide that sober mean of colour and cut which would never detain the eye for a moment. . . . He had a remorse, running to despair, ofCHAP. IX.] The "Niemec." 255Mr. Helps in society, and found him " cold." Anddoubtless Mr. Helps thought the same of him. It wasonly the case of two shy men meeting, each thinkingthe other stiff and reserved, and parting before theirmutual film of shyness had been removed by a littlefriendly intercourse. Before pronouncing a hasty judgment in such cases, it would be well to bear in mindthe motto of Helvetius, which Bentham says provedsuch a real treasure to him: "Pour aimer les hommes,il faut attendre peu."We have thus far spoken of shyness as a defect. Butthere is another way of looking at it; for even shynesshas its bright side, and contains an element of good.Shy men and shy races are ungraceful and undemonstrative, because, as regards society at large, they arecomparatively unsociable. They do not possess thoseelegances of manner, acquired by free intercourse,which distinguish the social races, because their tendency is to shun society rather than to seek it. Theyare shy in the presence of strangers, and shy even intheir own families. They hide their affections under arobe of reserve, and when they do give way to theirfeelings, it is only in some very hidden inner-chamber.And yet the feelings are there, and not the less healthyand genuine that they are not made the subject of exhibition to others.It was not a little characteristic of the ancient Germans, that the more social and demonstrative peoplesby whom they were surrounded should have characterised them as the NIEMEC, or Dumb men. And thesame designation might equally apply to the modernhis social gaucheries, and walked miles and miles to get the twitch- ings out of his face, and the starts and shrugs out of his arms andshoulders. 'God may forgive sins,' he said, ' but awkwardness has no forgiveness in heaven or earth.256 English Love ofHome. [CHAP. IX.English, as compared, for example, with their nimbler,more communicative and vocal, and in all respectsmore social neighbours, the modern French and Irish.But there is one characteristic which marks theEnglish people, as it did the races from which theyhave mainly sprung, and that is their intense love ofHome. Give the Englishman a home, and he is comparatively indifferent to society. For the sake of aholding which he can call his own, he will cross theseas, plant himself on the prairie or amidst theprimeval forest, and make for himself a home. Thesolitude of the wilderness has no fears for him; thesociety of his wife and family is sufficient, and he caresfor no other. Hence it is that the people of Germanicorigin, from whom the English and Americans havealike sprung, make the best of colonizers, and are nowrapidly extending themselves as emigrants and settlersin all parts of the habitable globe.The French have never made any progress ascolonizers, mainly because of their intense social instincts the secret of their graces of manner, —andbecause they can never forget that they are Frenchmen.¹ It seemed at one time within the limits ofdevant lui la terre, l'instrumentde travail, sinon inépuisable, du moins inépuisé, s'est mis a l'ex- ploiter sous l'inspiration de1 In a series of clever articlesin the Revue des deux Mondes, en- titled, ' Six mille Lieues à toute Vapeur,' giving a description of his travels in North America, l'égoïsme; et nous autres Fran- Maurice Sand keenly observed the cais, nous n'avons rien su en faire,comparatively anti-social proclivi- parceque nous ne pouvons rien dans ties ofthe American compared with l'isolement.L'Americain supthe Frenchman. The one, he says,is inspired by the spirit of indi- viduality, the other by the spirit of society. In America he sees the individual absorbing society; as in France he sees society absorbing the individual. " Ce peuple Anglo- Saxon," he says, qui trouvait 66porte la solitude avec un stoicisme admirable, mais effrayant; il ne l'aime pas, il ne songe qu'à la dé- truire. Le Français est tout autre. Il aime son parent, son ami,son compagnon, et jusqu'àson voisin d'omnibus ou de théâtre, si sa figurelui est sympathetique. Pourquoi?CHAP. IX.] French Sociability. 257probability that the French would occupy the greaterpart of the North American continent. From LowerCanada their line of forts extended up the St. Lawrence, and from Fond du Lac on Lake Superior, alongthe River St. Croix, all down the Mississippi, to itsmouth at New Orleans. But the great, self-reliant,industrious " Niemec," from a fringe of settlementsalong the seacoast, silently extended westward, settlingand planting themselves everywhere solidly upon thesoil; and nearly all that now remains of the originalFrench occupation of America, is the French colony ofAcadia, in Lower Canada.And even there we find one of the most strikingillustrations of that intense sociability of the Frenchwhich keeps them together, and prevents their spreading over and planting themselves firmly in a newcountry, as it is the instinct of the men of Teutonic raceto do. While, in Upper Canada, the colonists of English and Scotch descent penetrate the forest and thewilderness, each settler living, it may be, miles apartfrom his nearest neighbour, the Lower Canadians ofFrench descent continue clustered together in villages,usually consisting ofa line of houses on either side of theroad, behind which extend their long strips of farmland, divided and subdivided to an extreme tenuity.They willingly submit to all the inconveniences of thismethod of farming for the sake of each other's society,rather than betake themselves to the solitary backwoods,Parce qu'il le regarde et cherche son âme, parce qu'il vit dans sonsemblable autant qu'en lui-même.Quand il est longtemps seul, il dépérit, et quand il est toujours seul, it meurt."All this is perfectly true, and it explains why the comparativelyunsociable Germans, English, and Americans, are spreading overthe earth, while the intensely sociableFrenchmen, unable to enjoy life without each other's society,prefer to stay at home, and France fails to extend itself beyondFrance.S

258 Shyness and Colonization. [CHAP. IX.as English, Germans, and Americans so readily do.Indeed, not only does the American backwoodsmanbecome accustomed to solitude, but he prefers it. Andin the Western States, when settlers come too near him,and the country seems to become " overcrowded," heretreats before the advance of society, and, packing uphis " things " in a waggon, he sets out cheerfully, withhis wife and family, to found for himself a new homein the Far West.Thus the Teuton, because of his very shyness, is thetrue colonizer. English, Scotch, Germans, and Americansare alike ready to accept solitude, provided they can butestablish a home and maintain a family. Thus theircomparative indifference to society has tended to spreadthis race over the earth, to till and to subdue it; while theintense social instincts of the French, though issuing inmuch greater gracefulness of manner, has stood in theirway as colonizers; so that, in the countries in whichthey have planted themselves-as in Algiers and elsewhere they have remained little more than garrisons.¹There are other qualities besides these, which grow outof the comparative unsociableness of the Englishman.His shyness throws him back upon himself, and rendershim self-reliant and self-dependent. Society not beingessential to his happiness, he takes refuge in reading,1 The Irish have, in many res- pects, the same strong social in- stincts as the French. In theUnited States theycluster naturallyin the towns, where they have their " Irish Quarters," as in Eng- land. They are even more Irish there than at home, and can nomoreforget that they are Irishmen than the French can that they are Frenchmen. "I deliberately assert,"says Mr. Maguire, in his recentwork on ' The Irish in America,"that it is not within the power of language to describe adequately, much less to exaggerate,the evils consequent on the un- happy tendency of the Irish to congregate in the large towns of America. " It is this intensesocialism of the Irish that keeps them in a comparatively hand-to- mouth condition in all the States of the Union.CHAP. IX.] Contrast ofNationalities. 259in study, in invention; or he finds pleasure in industrial work, and becomes the best of mechanics. Hedoes not fear to entrust himself to the solitude of theocean, and he becomes a fisherman, a sailor, a discoverer.Since the early Northmen scoured the northern seas,discovered America, and sent their fleets along theshores of Europe and up the Mediterranean, the seamanship of the men of Teutonic race has always beenin the ascendant.The English are inartistic for the same reason thatthey are unsociable. They may make good colonists,sailors, and mechanics; but they do not make goodsingers, dancers, actors, artistes, or modistes. Theyneither dress well, act well, speak well, nor write well.They want style-they want elegance. What theyhave to do they do in a straightforward manner,but without grace. This was strikingly exhibitedat an International Cattle Exhibition held at Parisa few years ago.At the close of the Exhibition,the competitors came up with the prize animals toreceive the prizes. First came a gay and gallantSpaniard, a magnificent man, beautifully dressed, whor*ceived a prize of the lowest class with an air andattitude that would have become a grandee of thehighest order. Then came Frenchmen and Italians,full ofgrace, politeness, and chic-themselves elegantlydressed, and their animals decorated to the horns withflowers and coloured ribbons harmoniously blended.And last of all came the exhibitor who was to receivethe first prize-a slouching man, plainly dressed, with apair of farmer's gaiters on, and without even a flowerin his buttonhole. "Who is he? " asked the spectators. "Why, he is the Englishman," was the reply."The Englishman! —that the representative of a greatcountry! " was the general exclamation. But it wass 2260 Art Culture. [CHAP. IX.the Englishman all over. He was sent there, not toexhibit himself, but to show " the best beast," and he didit, carrying away the first prize. Yet he would have beennothing the worse for the flower in his buttonhole.To remedy this admitted defect of grace and want ofartistic taste in the English people, a school has sprungup amongst us for the more general diffusion of fine art.The Beautiful has now its teachers and preachers, andby some it is almost regarded in the light of a religion." The Beautiful is the Good "- "The Beautiful is theTrue "-"The Beautiful is the priest of the Benevolent,"are among their texts. It is believed that by thestudy of art the tastes of the people may be improved;that by contemplating objects of beauty their naturewill become purified; and that by being thereby withdrawn from sensual enjoyments, their character will berefined and elevated.But though such culture is calculated to be elevatingand purifying in a certain degree, we must not expecttoo much from it. Grace is a sweetener and embellisher of life, and as such is worthy of cultivation.Music, painting, dancing, and the fine arts, are allsources of pleasure; and though they may not be sensual, yet they are sensuous, and often nothing more.The cultivation of a taste for beauty of form or colour,of sound or attitude, has no necessary effect upon thecultivation of the mind or the development of the character. The contemplation of fine works of art willdoubtless improve the taste, and excite admiration;but a single noble action done in the sight of men willmore influence the mind, and stimulate the character toimitation, than the sight of miles of statuary or acres ofpictures. For it is mind, soul, and heart—not taste orart-that make men great.It is indeed doubtful whether the cultivation of artCHAP. IX. ] Art and National Decadence. 261—which usually ministers to luxury-has done so muchfor human progress as is generally supposed. It iseven possible that its too exclusive culture may effeminate rather than strengthen the character, by laying itmore open to the temptations of the senses. "It is thenature of the imaginative temperament cultivated bythe arts," says Sir Henry Taylor, " to undermine thecourage, and, byabating strength of character, to rendermen more easily subservient-sequaces, cereos, et admandata ductiles." The gift of the artist greatly differsfrom that of the thinker; his highest idea is to mouldhis subject-whether it be of painting, or music, orliterature-into that perfect grace of form in whichthought (it may not be of the deepest) finds its apotheosis and immortality.Art has usually flourished most during the decadenceof nations, when it has been hired by wealth as theminister of luxury. Exquisite art and degrading corruption were contemporary in Greece as well as inRome. Phidias and Iktinos had scarcely completedthe Parthenon, when the glory of Athens had departed;Phidias died in prison; and the Spartans set up in thecity the memorials of their own triumph and of Atheniandefeat. It was the same in ancient Rome, where artwas at its greatest height when the people were in theirmost degraded condition. Nero was an artist, as wellas Domitian, two of the greatest monsters of the Empire.If the " Beautiful " had been the " Good," Commodusmust have been one of the best of men. But accordingto history he was one of the worst.Again, the greatest period of modern Roman artwas that in which Pope Leo X. flourished, of whosereign it has been said, that " profligacy and licentiousness1 'The Statesman, ' p. 35.262 Paris and Rome. [ CHAP. IX.prevailed amongst the people and clergy, as they haddone almost uncontrolled ever since the pontificate ofAlexander VI." In like manner, the period at which artreached its highest point in the Low Countries was thatwhich immediately succeeded the destruction of civiland religious liberty, and the prostration of the nationallife under the despotism of Spain. If art could elevatea nation, and the contemplation of The Beautifulwere calculated to make men The Good-then Parisought to contain a population of the wisest and bestof human beings. Rome also is a great city of art;and yet there, the virtus or valour of the ancientRomans has characteristically degenerated into vertu,or a taste for knicknacks; whilst, according to recentaccounts, the city itself is inexpressibly foul.¹Art would sometimes even appear to have a closeconnection with dirt; and it is said of Mr. Ruskin, thatwhen searching for works of art in Venice, his attendantin his explorations would sniff an ill-odour, and when itwas strong would say, " Nowwe are coming to somethingvery old and fine! "-meaning in art.2 A little commonneath its sublime arches, and ornament them with cheap little coloured prints of the Crucifixion;they hang tin hearts, and other tinsel and trumpery, at the gor- geous shrines of the saints, in chapels that are encrusted with gems, or marbles almost as pre- cious; they putpasteboard statues of saints beneath the dome of thePantheon; -in short, they let the sublime and the ridiculous come close together, and are not in the least troubled by the proximity. "Nathaniel Hawthorne, in his ' First Impressions of France and Italy,' says his opinion of the un- cleanly character of the modern Romans is so unfavourable that hehardly knows how to express it:"But the fact is that through the Forum, and everywhere out of the commonest foot-trackand roadway,you must look well to your steps.Perhaps there is some- thing in the minds of the people of these countries that enables them to dissever small ugliness from great sublimity and beauty.They spit upon the glorious pave- ment of St. Peter's, and wherever else they like; they place paltry- ing, 1862).looking wooden confessionals be2 Edwin Chadwick's ' Address tothe Economic Science and StatisticSection,' British Association (Meet-CHAP. IX. ] The Highest Culture. 263education in cleanliness, where it is wanting, would probably be much more improving, as well as wholesome,than any amount of education in fine art. Ruffles areall very well, but it is folly to cultivate them to theneglect of the shirt.Whilst, therefore, grace of manner, politeness of behaviour, elegance of demeanour, and all the arts thatcontribute to make life pleasant and beautiful, areworthy of cultivation, it must not be at the expense ofthe more solid and enduring qualities of honesty, sincerity, and truthfulness. The fountain of beauty mustbe in the heart more than in the eye, and if art do nottend to produce beautiful life and noble practice, it willbe of comparatively little avail. Politeness of manneris not worth much, unless accompanied by polite action .Grace may be but skin-deep-very pleasant and attractive, and yet very heartless. Art is a source of innocentenjoyment, and an important aid to higher culture; butunless it leads to higher culture, it will probably bemerely sensuous.And when art is merely sensuous, itis enfeebling and demoralizing rather than strengthening or elevating. Honest courage is of greater worththan any amount of grace; purity is better than elegance; and cleanliness of body, mind, and heart, thanany amount of fine art.In fine, while the cultivation of the graces is not to beneglected, it should ever be held in mind that there issomething far higher and nobler to be aimed at-greaterthan pleasure, greater than art, greater than wealth,greater than power, greater than intellect, greater thangenius-and that is, purity and excellence of character.Without a solid sterling basis of individual goodness,all the grace, elegance, and art in the world would failto save or to elevate a people.264 Companionship ofBooks. [CHAP. XCHAPTER X.COMPANIONSHIP OF BOOKS."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."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."I read all biographies with intense interest. Even a man without a heart, like Cavendish, I think about, and read about, and dream about, and picture to myself in all possible ways, till he grows into a living being beside me, and I put my feet into his shoes, and become for the time Cavendish, and think as he thought, and do as he did." -George Wilson." My thoughts are with the dead; with them live in long-past years;Their virtues love, their faults condemn;Partake their hopes and fears;And from their lessons seek and find Instruction with a humble mind." -Southey.A MAN may usually be known by the books he reads,as well as by the company he keeps; for there is acompanionship of books as well as of men; and oneshould always live in the best company, whether it beof books or of men.A good book may be among the best of friends. Itis the same to-day that it always was, and it will neverchange. It is the most patient and cheerful of companions. It does not turn its back upon us in times ofadversity or distress. It always receives us with thesame kindness; amusing and instructing us in youth,and comforting and consoling us in age.Men often discover their affinity to each other by themutual love they have for a book-just as two personssometimes discover a friend by the admiration whichCHAP. X.] Companionship ofBooks. 265There is an old proverb,But there is more wisdomboth entertain for a third."Love me, love my dog."in this: " Love me, love my book." The book is atruer and higher bond of union. Men can think,feel, and sympathise with each other through theirfavourite author. They live in him together, and hein them."Books," said Hazlitt, " wind into the heart; thepoet's verse slides into the current of our blood. Weread them when young, we remember them when old.We read there of what has happened to others; we feelthat it has happened to ourselves. They are to be hadeverywhere cheap and good. We breathe but the airof books. We owe everything to their authors, on this side barbarism. "Agood book is often the best urn of a life, enshriningthe best thoughts of which that life was capable; forthe world of a man's life is, for the most part, but theworld ofhis thoughts. Thus the best books are treasuriesof good words and golden thoughts, which, rememberedand cherished, become our abiding companions andcomforters. " They are never alone," said Sir PhilipSidney, "that are accompanied by noble thoughts."The good and true thought may in time of temptation be as an angel of mercy purifying and guarding the soul. It also enshrines the germs of action,for good words almost invariably inspire to goodworks.Thus Sir Henry Lawrence prized above all othercompositions Wordsworth's Character of the HappyWarrior,' which he endeavoured to embody in his ownlife. It was ever before him as an exemplar. Hethought of it continually, and often quoted it to others.His biographer says: " He tried to conform his ownlife and to assimilate his own character to it; and266 Good Books the Best Society. [CHAP. X.he succeeded, as all men succeed who are truly inearnest."" 1Books possess an essence of immortality. They areby far the most lasting products of human effort.Temples crumble into ruin; pictures and statues decay; but books survive. Time is of no account withgreat thoughts, which are as fresh to-day as when theyfirst passed through their authors' minds ages ago.What was then said and thought still speaks to us asvividly as ever from the printed page. The only effectof time has been to sift and winnow out the bad products; for nothing in literature can long survive butwhat is really good.2Books introduce us into the best society; theybring us into the presence of the greatest minds thathave ever lived. We hear what they said and did; wesee them as if they were really alive; we are participators in their thoughts; we sympathise with them,enjoy with them, grieve with them; their experiencebecomes ours, and we feel as if we were in a measureactors 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. Thebook is a living voice. It is an intellect to which onestill listens. Hence we ever remain under the influenceofthe great men of old:"The dead but sceptred sovrans, who still rule Our spirits from their urns."6¹ Kaye's 'Lives of Indian Officers.' | tical rules I have to offer are these:2 Emerson, in his Society and -1. Never read a book that is not Solitude,' says: "Incontemporaries, a year old; 2. Never read any but it is not so easy to distinguish be- tween notoriety and fame. Be sure,then, to read no mean books. Shun the spawn of the press or the gossip of the hour. ... The three pracfamed books; 3. Never read any but what you like." Lord Lytton's maxim is: " In science, read by preference the newest books; in literature, the oldest. "Great Writers Immortal. CHAP. X.]267The imperial intellects of the world are as much alivenow as they were ages ago. Homer still lives; andthough his personal history is hidden in the mists ofantiquity, his poems are as fresh to- day as if they hadbeen newly written. Plato still teaches his transcendent philosophy; Horace, Virgil, and Dante stillsing as when they lived; Shakspeare is not dead: hisbody was buried in 1616, but his mind is as much alivein England now, and his thought as far-reaching, as inthe time of the Tudors.The humblest and poorest may enter the society ofthese great spirits without being thought intrusive.All who can read have got the entrée. Would youlaugh? Cervantes or Rabelais will laugh with you.Do you grieve?-there is Thomas à Kempis orJeremy Taylor to grieve with and console you. Alwaysit is to books, and the spirits of great men embalmed inthem, that we turn, for entertainment, for instructionand solace-in joy and in sorrow, as in prosperity and inadversity.Man himself is, of all things in the world, the mostinteresting to man. Whatever relates to human lifeits experiences, its joys, its sufferings, and its achievements—has usually attractions for him beyond all else.Each man is more or less interested in all other men ashis fellow-creatures-as members of the great familyof humankind; and the larger a man's culture, thewider is the range of his sympathies in all that affects the welfare of his race.Men's interest in each other as individuals manifestsitself in a thousand ways—in the portraits which theypaint, in the busts which they carve, in the narrativeswhich they relate of each other. " Man," says Emerson,66 can paint, or make, or think, nothing but Man. "Most of all is this interest shown in the fascination268 Interest ofBiography. [CHAP. X.which personal history possesses for him. " Man'ssociality of nature," says Carlyle, " evinces itself, inspite of all that can be said, with abundance of evidence, by this one fact, were there no other: theunspeakable delight he takes in Biography.”Great, indeed, is the human interest felt in biography!What are all the novels that find such multitudes ofreaders, but so many fictitious biographies? What arethe dramas that people crowd to see, but so much actedbiography? Strange that the highest genius should beemployed on the fictitious biography, and so muchcommonplace ability on the real!Yet the authentic picture of any human being's lifeand experience ought to possess an interest greatly beyondthat which is fictitious, inasmuch as it has the charm ofreality. Every person may learn something from therecorded life of another; and even comparativelytrivial deeds and sayings may be invested with interest,as being the outcome of the lives of such beings as we ourselves are.The records of the lives of good men are especiallyuseful. They influence our hearts, inspire us withhope, and set before us great examples. And whenmen have done their duty through life in a greatspirit, their influence will never wholly pass away. "Thegood life," says George Herbert, " is never out ofseason.Goethe has said that there is no man so commonplace that a wise man may not learn something fromhim. Sir Walter Scott could not travel in a coachwithout gleaning some information or discovering somenew trait of character in his companions.¹ Dr. Johnson1 A friend of Sir Walter Scott, | himself on his powers of conversawho had the same habit, and prided | tion, one day tried to " draw out"CHAP. X. ] Great Lesson ofBiography. 269once observed that there was not a person in the streetsbut he should like to know his biography-his experiences of life, his trials, his difficulties, his successes,and his failures. How much more truly might this besaid of the men who have made their mark in theworld's history, and have created for us that greatinheritance of civilization of which we are the possessors! Whatever relates to such men-to their habits,their manners, their modes of living, their personalhistory, their conversation, their maxims, their virtues,or their greatness-is always full of interest, of instruction, of encouragement, and of example.The great lesson of Biography is to show what man.can be and do at his best. A noble life put fairly onrecord acts like an inspiration to others. It exhibitswhat life is capable of being made. It refreshes ourspirit, encourages our hopes, gives us new strength andcourage and faith-faith in others as well as in ourselves. It stimulates our aspirations, rouses us toaction, and incites us to become co-partners with themin their work. To live with such men in theirbiographies, and to be inspired by their example, is tolive with the best of men, and to mix in the best ofcompany.At the head of all biographies stands the GreatBiography, the Book of Books. And what is the Bible,the most sacred and impressive of all books-the66a fellow-passenger who sat beside blasphemy, and philosophy: ishim on the outside of a coach , but there any one subject that youwith indifferent success. At length will favour me by opening upon?"the conversationalist descended to The wight writhed his countenance expostulation. " I have talked to into a grin: " Sir," said he, canyou, my friend," said he, " on all you say anything clever about bendthe ordinary subjects-literature, leather? " As might be expected, thefarming, merchandise, gaming, conversationalist was completelygame-laws, horse-races, suits at nonplussed.law, politics, and swindling, and270 The Book ofBooks. [CHAP. X.educator of youth, the guide of manhood, and the consoler of age-but a series of biographies of great heroesand patriarchs, prophets, kings, and judges, culminatingin the greatest biography of all, the Life embodied inthe New Testament? How much have the great examples there set forth done for mankind! How manyhave drawn from them their truest strength, their highestwisdom, their best nurture and admonition! Trulydoes a great Roman Catholic writer describe the Bibleas a book whose words " live in the ear like a music thatcan never be forgotten-like the sound of church- bellswhich the convert hardly knows how he can forego.Its felicities often seem to be almost things rather thanmere words. It is part of the national mind, and theanchor of national seriousness. The memory of thedead passes into it. The potent traditions of childhoodare stereotyped in its verses. The power of all thegriefs and trials of man is hidden beneath its words.It is the representative of his best moments, and allthat has been about him of soft, and gentle, and pure,and penitent, and good, speaks to him for ever out of hisEnglish Bible. It is his sacred thing, which doubt hasnever dimmed and controversy never soiled. In thelength and breadth of the land there is not a Protestantwith one spark of religiousness about him whosespiritual biography is not in his Saxon Bible."661¹ Coleridge, in his ' Lay Sermon,' of this book from the works which points out, as a fact of history, how it is the fashion to quote as guides large a part of our present know- and authorities in morals, politics,ledge and civilization is owing, and history. " In the Bible, " he directly or indirectly, to the Bible; says, every agent appears and that the Bible has been the main acts as a self- substituting indilever by which the moral and in- vidual: each has a life of its own,tellectual character of Europe has and yet all are in life. The elo- been raised to its present compara- ments of necessity and freewill are tive height; and he specifies the reconciled in the higher power of marked and prominent difference an omnipresent Providence, thatCHAP. X.] History and Biography. 275It would, indeed, be difficult to overestimate theinfluence which the lives of the great and good haveexercised upon the elevation of human character."The best biography," says Isaac Disraeli, "is a reunion with human existence in its most excellentstate." Indeed, it is impossible for one to read the livesof good men, much less inspired men, without beingunconsciously lighted and lifted up in them, and growing insensibly nearer to what they thought and did.And even the lives of humbler persons, of men of faithfuland honest spirit, who have done their duty in life well,are not without an elevating influence upon the character of those who come after them.History itself is best studied in biography. Indeed,history is biography-collective humanity as influencedand governed by individual men. "What is allhistory," says Emerson, " but the work of ideas, arecord of the incomparable energy which his infinite.aspirations infuse into man?" In its pages it is alwayspersons we see more than principles. Historical eventsare interesting to us mainly in connection with thefeelings, the sufferings, and interests of those by whomthey are accomplished. In history we are surroundedby men long dead, but whose speech and whose deedssurvive. We almost catch the sound of their voices;and what they did constitutes the interest of history.We never feel personally interested in masses of men;but we feel and sympathise with the individual actors,whose biographies afford the finest and most realtouches in all great historical dramas.predestinates the whole in the moral freedom of the integral parts.Of this the Bible never suffers us to lose sight. The root is never detached from the ground. It is-God everywhere; and all creatures conform to His decrees - therighteous by performance of the law, the disobedient by the suf- ferance of the penalty."6Plutarch's Lives. 272 [CHAP. X.Among the great writers of the past, probably thetwo that have been most influential in forming the characters of great men of action and great men ofthought, have been Plutarch and Montaigne-the oneby presenting heroic models for imitation, the other byprobing questions of constant recurrence in which thehuman mind in all ages has taken the deepest interest.And the works of both are for the most part cast in abiographic form, their most striking illustrations consisting in the exhibitions of character and experiencewhich they contain.Plutarch's ' Lives,' though written nearly eighteenhundred years ago, like Homer's Iliad,' still holds itsground as the greatest work of its kind. It was thefavourite book of Montaigne; and to Englishmen it possesses the special interest of having been Shakspeare'sprincipal authority in his great classical dramas. Montaigne pronounced Plutarch to be " the greatest masterin that kind of writing "-the biographic; and he declared that he " could no sooner cast an eye uponhim but he purloined either a leg or a wing."•Alfieri was first drawn with passion to literature byreading Plutarch. " I read," said he, "the lives ofTimoleon, Cæsar, Brutus, Pelopidas, more than sixtimes, with cries, with tears, and with such transports,that I was almost furious .. Every time that I metwith one of the grand traits of these great men, I wasseized with such vehement agitation as to be unable tosit still." Plutarch was also a favourite with persons ofsuch various minds as Schiller and Benjamin Franklin,Napoleon and Madame Roland. The latter was sofascinated by the book that she carried it to church withher in the guise of a missal, and read it surreptitiouslyduring the service.It has also been the nurture of heroic souls such asCHAP. X.] Influence ofPlutarch. 273Henry IV. of France, Turenne, and the Napiers. Itwas one of Sir William Napier's favourite books whena boy. His mind was early imbued by it with a passionate admiration for the great heroes of antiquity;and its influence had, doubtless, much to do with theformation of his character, as well as the direction of hiscareer in life. It is related of him, that in his lastillness, when feeble and exhausted, his mind wanderedback to Plutarch's heroes; and he descanted for hoursto his son-in-law on the mighty deeds of Alexander,Hannibal, and Cæsar. Indeed, if it were possible to pollthe great body of readers in all ages whose minds havebeen influenced and directed by books, it is probablethat excepting always the Bible the immensemajority of votes would be cast in favour of Plutarch.- -And how is it that Plutarch has succeeded in excitingan interest which continues to attract and rivet theattention of readers of all ages and classes to this day?In the first place, because the subject of his work is greatmen, who occupied a prominent place in the world'shistory, and because he had an eye to see and a pen todescribe the more prominent events and circ*mstancesin their lives. And not only so, but he possessed thepower of portraying the individual character of hisheroes; for it is the principle of individuality whichgives the charm and interest to all biography. The mostengaging side of great men is not so much what theydo as what they are, and does not depend upon theirpower of intellect but on their personal attractiveness.Thus, there are men whose lives are far more eloquentthan their speeches, and whose personal character is fargreater than their deeds.It is also to be observed, that while the best andmost carefully-drawn of Plutarch's portraits are oflife-size, many of them are little more than busts.T274 Genius ofPlutarch.[CHAP. X.They are well- proportioned but compact, and withinsuch reasonable compass that the best of them-such asthe lives of Cæsar and Alexander-may be read in halfan hour. Reduced to this measure, they are, however,greatly more imposing than a lifeless Colossus, or anexaggerated giant. They are not overlaid by disquisition and description, but the characters naturally un- fold themselves. Montaigne, indeed, complained ofPlutarch's brevity. " No doubt," he added, " but hisreputation is the better for it, though in the meantime.we are the worse. Plutarch would rather we shouldapplaud his judgment than commend his knowledge,and had rather leave us with an appetite to read morethan glutted with what we have already read. He knew very well that a man may say too much even onthe best subjects . . . Such as have lean and sparebodies stuff themselves out with clothes; so they whoare defective in matter, endeavour to make amends withwords. " 1Plutarch possessed the art of delineating the moredelicate features of mind and minute peculiarities of conduct, as well as the foibles and defects of his heroes, allof which is necessary to faithful and accurate portraiture."To see him," says Montaigne, " pick out a light actionin a man's life, or a word, that does not seem to be ofany importance, is itself a whole discourse." He evencondescends to inform us of such homely particularsas that Alexander carried his head affectedly on oneside; that Alcibiades was a dandy, and had a lisp,which became him, giving a grace and persuasive turnto his discourse; that Cato had red hair and gray eyes,and was a usurer and a screw, selling off his old slaves¹ Montaigne's Essay (Book I. chap. xxv. ) -' Of the Education of Children.CHAP. X.]Plutarch's Art.275when they became unfit for hard work; that Cæsar wasbald and fond of gay dress; and that Cicero (like LordBrougham) had involuntary twitchings of his nose.Such minute particulars may by some be thoughtbeneath the dignity of biography, but Plutarch thoughtthem requisite for the due finish of the complete portrait which he set himself to draw; and it is by smalldetails of character-personal traits, features, habits,and characteristics-that we are enabled to see beforeus the men as they really lived. Plutarch's greatmerit consists in his attention to these little things,without giving them undue preponderance, or neglecting those which are of greater moment. Sometimes hehits off an individual trait by an anecdote, which throwsmore light upon the character described than pages ofrhetorical description would do. In some cases, he givesus the favourite maxim of his hero; and the maxims ofmen often reveal their hearts.Then, as to foibles, the greatest of men are notusually symmetrical. Each has his defect, his twist,his craze; and it is by his faults that the great manreveals his common humanity. We may, at a distance,admire him as a demigod; but as we come nearer tohim, we find that he is but a fallible man, and ourbrother.¹Nor are the illustrations of the defects of great menwithout their uses; for, as Dr. Johnson observed, “ Ifnothing but the bright side of characters were shown,we should sit down in despondency, and think it utterlyimpossible to imitate them in anything. "Plutarch, himself, justifies his method of portraiture66 "Tant il est vrai," says Vol- | par les faiblesses; car pourquoi les taire, que les hommes qui sont talents nous mettraient-ils auaudessus des autres par les talents, dessus de l'humanité?" -Vie de s'en rapprochent presque toujours | Molière.T 2276 Trifles in Biography.[CHAP. X.by averring that his design was not to write histories,but lives. " The most glorious exploits," he says, " donot always furnish us with the clearest discoveries ofvirtue or of vice in men. Sometimes a matter of muchless moment, an expression or a jest, better informs usof their characters and inclinations than battles with theslaughter of tens of thousands, and the greatest arrays ofarmies or sieges of cities. Therefore, as portrait- paintersare more exact in their lines and features of the faceand the expression of the eyes, in which the characteris seen, without troubling themselves about the otherparts of the body, so I must be allowed to give my moreparticular attention to the signs and indications of thesouls of men; and while I endeavour by these meansto portray their lives, I leave important events andgreat battles to be described by others."Things apparently trifling may stand for much inbiography as well as history, and slight circ*mstancesmay influence great results. Pascal has remarked, thatif Cleopatra's nose had been shorter, the whole face ofthe world would probably have been changed. But forthe amours of Pepin the Fat, the Saracens might haveoverrun Europe; as it was his illegitimate son, Charles.Martel, who overthrew them at Tours, and eventuallydrove them out of France.That Sir Walter Scott should have sprained his footin running round the room when a child, may seem unworthy of notice in his biography; yet ' Ivanhoe,' ' OldMortality,' and all the Waverley novels depended uponit. When his son intimated a desire to enter the army,Scott wrote to Southey, " I have no title to combat achoice which would have been my own, had not mylameness prevented." So that, had not Scott been lame,he might have fought all through the Peninsular War,and had his breast covered with medals; but we shouldCHAP. X.] Byron and Scarron. 277probably have had none of those works of his which havemade his name immortal, and shed so much glory uponhis country. Talleyrand also was kept out ofthe army,for which he had been destined, by his lameness; butdirecting his attention to the study of books, andeventually of men, he at length took rank amongst thegreatest diplomatists of his time.Byron's clubfoot had probably not a little to do withdetermining his destiny as a poet. Had not his mindbeen embittered and made morbid by his deformity, hemight never have written a line-he might have beenthe noblest fop of his day. But his misshapen footstimulated his mind, roused his ardour, threw him uponhis own resources-and we know with what result.So, too, of Scarron, to whose hunchback we probablyowe his cynical verse; and of Pope, whose satire was ina measure the outcome of his deformity-for he was,as Johnson described him, " protuberant behind andbefore." What Lord Bacon said of deformity is doubtless, to a great extent, true. "Whoever," said he, "hathanything fixed in his person that doth induce contempt,hath also a perpetual spur in himself to rescue anddeliver himself from scorn; therefore, all deformedpersons are extremely bold. "As in portraiture, so in biography, there must be lightand shade. The portrait-painter does not pose hissitter so as to bring out his deformities; nor does thebiographer give undue prominence to the defects of thecharacter he portrays. Not many men are so outspoken as Cromwell was when he sat to Cooper for hisminiature: " Paint me as I am," said he, " warts and all."Yet, if we would have a faithful likeness of faces andcharacters, they must be painted as they are."Biography," said Sir Walter Scott, " the most interesting ofevery species of composition, loses all its interest with278 Portraiture of Character.[ CHAP. X.me when the shades and lights of the principalcharacters are not accurately and faithfully detailed.I can no more sympathise with a mere eulogist, than Ican with a ranting hero on the stage.'99 1Addison liked to know as much as possible about theperson and character of his authors, inasmuch as it increased the pleasure and satisfaction which he derivedfrom the perusal of their books. What was theirhistory, their experience, their temper and disposition?Did their lives resemble their books? They thoughtnobly-did they act nobly? "Should we not delight,"says Sir Egerton Brydges, " to have the frank story ofthe lives and feelings of Wordsworth, Southey, Coleridge,Campbell, Rogers, Moore, and Wilson, related by themselves?—with whom they lived early; how their benttook a decided course; their likes and dislikes; theirdifficulties and obstacles; their tastes, their passions;the rocks they were conscious of having split upon;their regrets, their complacencies, and their selfjustifications? " 2When Mason was reproached for publishing theprivate letters of Gray, he answered, " Would you alwayshave myfriends appear in full-dress?" Johnson was ofopinion that to write a man's life truly, it is necessarythat the biographer should have personally known him.But this condition has been wanting in some of the bestwriters of biographies extant.3 In the case of LordCampbell, his personal intimacy with Lords Lyndhurstand Brougham seems to have been a positive dis1 ' Life,' 8vo Ed. , p. 102.2 Autobiography of Sir Egerton Brydges, Bart.,' vol. i. p. 91 .3 It was wanting in Plutarch,in Southey ( Life of Nelson' ) , and in Forster ( Life of Goldsmith ');yet it must be acknowledged thatpersonal knowledge gives the prin- cipal charm to Tacitus's ' Agricola,'Roper's Life of More,' Johnson's' Lives of Savage and Pope,' Bos- well's ' Johnson, Lockhart's ' Scott,Carlyle's ' Sterling,' and Moore's ' Byron.'CHAP. X.] Faithfulness ofPortraiture. 279advantage, leading him to dwarf the excellences and tomagnify the blots in their characters. Again, Johnsonsays: " If a man profess to write a life, he must write itreally as it was. A man's peculiarities, and even hisvices, should be mentioned, because they mark hischaracter." But there is always this difficulty,—thatwhile minute details of conduct, favourable or otherwise,can best be given from personal knowledge, they cannotalways be published, out of regard for the living; andwhen the time arrives when they may at length be told,they are then no longer remembered. Johnson himselfexpressed this reluctance to tell all he knew of thosepoets who had been his contemporaries, saying that hefelt as if " walking upon ashes under which the firewas not extinguished."For this reason, amongst others, we rarely obtain anunvarnished picture of character from the near relativesof distinguished men; and, interesting though all autobiography is, still less can we expect it from the menthemselves. In writing his own memoirs, a man willnot tell all that he knows about himself. St. Augustinewas a rare exception, but few there are who will, as hedid in his ' Confessions,' lay bare their innate viciousness,deceitfulness, and selfishness. There is a Highlandproverb which says, that ifthe best man's faults werewritten on his forehead he would pull his bonnet overhis brow. “ There is no man,,"' said Voltaire, “ whohas not something hateful in him-no man who hasnot some of the wild beast in him. But there are fewwho will honestly tell us how they manage their wildbeast." Rousseau pretended to unbosom himself in his'Confessions;' but it is manifest that he held back farmore than he revealed. Even Chamfort, one of thelast men to fear what his contemporaries mightthink or say of him, once observed:-" It seems to me280 French Mémoires. [CHAP. X.impossible, in the actual state of society, for any manto exhibit his secret heart, the details of his characteras known to himself, and, above all, his weaknesses andhis vices, to even his best friend."An autobiography may be true so far as it goes; butin communicating only part of the truth, it may conveyan impression that is really false. It may be a disguise—sometimes it is an apology-exhibiting not so muchwhat a man really was, as what he would have liked tobe. A portrait in profile may be correct, but whoknows whether some scar on the off- cheek, or somesquint in the eye that is not seen, might not haveentirely altered the expression of the face if broughtinto sight? Scott, Moore, Southey, all began autobiographies, but the task of continuing them was doubtless felt to be too difficult as well as delicate, and theywere abandoned.French literature is especially rich in a class ofbiographic memoirs, of which we have few counterpartsin English. We refer to their Mémoires pour servir,such as those of Sully, De Comines, Lauzun, De Retz,De Thou, Rochefoucalt, &c. , in which we have recordedan immense mass of minute and circ*mstantial information relative to many great personages of history.They are full of anecdotes illustrative of life and character, and of details which might be called frivolous,but that they throw a flood of light on the socialhabits and general civilisation of the periods to whichthey relate. The Mémoires of Saint-Simon are somethingmore: they are marvellous dissections of character, andconstitute the most extraordinary collection of anatomical biography that has ever been brought together.Saint-Simon might almost be regarded in the lightof a posthumous court- spy of Louis the Fourteenth.He was possessed by a passion for reading character,CHAP. X.] Saint-Simon and La Bruyère. 281and endeavouring to decipher motives and intentionsin the faces, expressions, conversation, and byplay of those about him. "I examine all my personages closely,"said he " watch their mouth, eyes, and ears constantly."And what he heard and saw he noted down with extraordinary vividness and dash. Acute, keen, and observant,he pierced the masks of the courtiers, and detected theirsecrets. The ardour with which he prosecuted hisfavourite study of character seemed insatiable, and evencruel. " The eager anatomist," says Sainte- Beuve,"was not more ready to plunge the scalpel into thestill-palpitating bosom in search of the disease that hadbaffled him."La Bruyère possessed the same gift of accurate andpenetrating observation of character. He watched andstudied everybody about him. He sought to read theirsecrets; and, retiring to his chamber, he deliberatelypainted their portraits, returning to them from timeto time to correct some prominent feature-hangingover them as fondly as an artist over some favouritestudy-adding trait to trait, and touch to touch, until atlength the picture was complete and the likenessperfect.It may be said that much of the interest of biography,especially of the more familiar sort, is of the nature ofgossip; as that of the Mémoires pour servir is of thenature of scandal, which is no doubt true. But bothgossip and scandal illustrate the strength of the interestwhich men and women take in each other's personality; and which, exhibited in the form of biography, iscapable of communicating the highest pleasure, and yielding the best instruction . Indeed biography, becauseit is instinct of humanity, is the branch of literaturewhich-whether in the form of fiction, of anecdotalrecollection, or of personal narrative-is the one that282 Biography and Fiction. [ CHAP. X.invariably commends itself to by far the largest class of readers.There is no room for doubt that the surpassinginterest which fiction, whether in poetry or prose,possesses for most minds, arises mainly from thebiographic element which it contains. Homer's ' Iliad 'owes its marvellous popularity to the genius which itsauthor displayed in the portrayal of heroic character.Yet he does not so much describe his personages indetail as make them develope themselves by theiractions. " There are in Homer," said Dr. Johnson,"such characters of heroes and combination of qualitiesof heroes, that the united powers of mankind ever sincehave not produced any but what are to be found there."The genius of Shakspeare also was displayed in thepowerful delineation of character, and the dramaticevolution of human passions. His personages seem tobe real-living and breathing before us. So too withCervantes, whose Sancho Panza, though homely andvulgar, is intensely human. The characters in LeSage's ' Gil Blas,' in Goldsmith's ' Vicar of Wakefield , 'and in Scott's marvellous muster-roll, seem to us almostas real as persons whom we have actually known; andDe Foe's greatest works are but so many biographies,painted in minute detail, with reality so apparentlystamped upon every page, that it is difficult to believehis Robinson Crusoe and Colonel Jack to have beenfictitious instead of real persons.Though the richest romance lies enclosed in actualhuman life, and though biography, because it describesbeings who have actually felt the joys and sorrows, andexperienced the difficulties and triumphs, of real life, iscapable of being made more attractive than the mostperfect fictions ever woven, it is remarkable that so fewmen of genius have been attracted to the compositionCHAP. X.] Great Biographies Rare.283of works of this kind. Great works of fiction abound,but great biographies may be counted on the fingers.It may be for the same reason that a great painter ofportraits, the late John Phillip, R.A., explained his preference for subject-painting, because, said he, " Portraitpainting does not pay." Biographic portraiture involveslaborious investigation and careful collection of facts,judicious rejection and skilful condensation, as well asthe art of presenting the character portrayed in themost attractive and lifelike form; whereas, in thework of fiction, the writer's imagination is free to createand to portray character, without being trammelled byreferences, or held down by the actual details of reallife.There is, indeed, no want among us of ponderous butlifeless memoirs, many of them little better than inventories, put together with the help of the scissors as muchas ofthe pen. What Constable said of the portraits ofaninferior artist-" He takes all the bones and brains outof his heads "-applies to a large class of portraiture,written as well as painted. They have no more life inthem than a piece of waxwork, or a clothes-dummy ata tailor's door. What we want is a picture of a man ashe lived, and lo! we have an exhibition of the biographer himself. We expect an embalmed heart, andwe find only clothes.There is doubtless as high art displayed in painting aportrait in words, as there is in painting one in colours..To do either well requires the seeing eye and theskilful pen or brush. A common artist sees only thefeatures of a face, and copies them; but the great artistsees the living soul shining through the features, and places it on the canvas. Johnson was once asked toassist the chaplain of a deceased bishop in writinga memoir of his lordship; but when he proceeded to284 Boswell's ' Life ofJohnson. [CHAP. X.inquire for information, the chaplain could scarcely tellhim anything. Hence Johnson was led to observe that" few people who have lived with a man know what toremark about him. "In the case of Johnson's own life, it was the seeingeye of Boswell that enabled him to note and treasureup those minute details of habit and conversation inwhich so much of the interest of biography consists.Boswell, because of his simple love and admiration ofhis hero, succeeded where probably greater men wouldhave failed . He descended to apparently insignificant,but yet most characteristic, particulars. Thus heapologizes for informing the reader that Johnson, whenjourneying, " carried in his hand a large English oakstick " adding, " I remember Dr. Adam Smith, in hisrhetorical lectures at Glasgow, told us he was glad toknow that Milton wore latchets in his shoes instead ofbuckles." Boswell lets us know how Johnson looked,what dress he wore, what was his talk, what were hisprejudices. He painted him with all his scars, and awonderful portrait it is-perhaps the most completepicture of a great man ever limned in words.But for the accident of the Scotch advocate's intimacywith Johnson, and his devoted admiration of him, thelatter would not probably have stood nearly so high inliterature as he now does. It is in the pages of Boswellthat Johnson really lives; and but for Boswell, he mighthave remained little more than a name. Others thereare who have bequeathed great works to posterity, butof whose lives next to nothing is known. What wouldwe not give to have a Boswell's account of Shakspeare?We positively know more of the personal history ofSocrates, of Horace, of Cicero, of Augustine, than we doofthat of Shakspeare. Wedo not know what was his religion, what were his politics, what were his experiences,CHAP. X.] Men and their Contemporaries. 285what were his relations to his contemporaries. Themen of his own time do not seem to have recognisedhis greatness; and Ben Jonson, the court poet, whoseblank-verse Shakspeare was content to commit to memory and recite as an actor, stood higher in popularestimation. We only know that he was a successfultheatrical manager, and that in the prime of life he retired to his native place, where he died, and had thehonours of a village funeral. The greater part of thebiography which has been constructed respecting himhas been the result, not of contemporary observation orof record, but of inference. The best inner biography ofthe man is to be found in his sonnets.Men do not always take an accurate measure of theircontemporaries. The statesman, the general, themonarch of to-day fills all eyes and ears, though to thenext generation he may be as if he had never been."And who is king to-day?" the painter Greuze wouldask of his daughter, during the throes of the firstFrench Revolution, when men, great for the time, weresuddenly thrown to the surface, and as suddenly droptout of sight again, never to reappear. "And who isking to-day? After all, " Greuze would add, "CitizenHomer and Citizen Raphael will outlive those greatcitizens of ours, whose names I have never before heardof." Yet of the personal history of Homer nothing isknown, and of Raphael comparatively little. EvenPlutarch, who wrote the lives of others so well, has nobiography, none of the eminent Roman writers whowere his contemporaries having so much as mentionedhis name. And so of Correggio, who delineated thefeatures of others so well, there is not known to exist anauthentic portrait.There have been men who greatly influenced thelife of their time, whose reputation has been much286 Unwritten Biographies. [CHAP. X.greater with posterity than it was with their contemporaries. Of Wickliffe, the patriarch of the Reformation, our knowledge is extremely small. He was but asa voice crying in the wilderness. We do not reallyknow who was the author of ' The Imitation of Christ '-a book that has had an immense circulation, andexercised a vast religious influence in all Christiancountries. It is usually attributed to Thomas à Kempis;but there is reason to believe that he was merely itstranslator, and the book that is really known to be his,¹is in all respects so inferior, that it is difficult to believethat ' The Imitation' proceeded from the same pen. Itis considered more probable that the real author wasJohn Gerson, Chancellor of the University of Paris, amost learned and devout man, who died in 1429.Some of the greatest men of genius have had theshortest biographies. Of Plato, one of the great fathersof moral philosophy, we have no personal account. Ifhe had wife and children, we hear nothing of them.About the life of Aristotle there is the greatest diversityof opinion. One says he was a Jew; another, that heonly got his information from a Jew: one says hekept an apothecary's shop; another, that he was onlythe son of a physician: one alleges that he was anatheist; another, that he was a Trinitarian, and so forth.But we know almost as little with respect to many menof comparatively modern times. Thus, howlittle do weknow of the lives of Spenser, author of ' The FaerieQueen,' and of Butler, the author of ' Hudibras, ' beyondthe fact that they lived in comparative obscurity, and diedin extreme poverty! How little, comparatively, do weknow of the life of Jeremy Taylor, the golden preacher,of whom we should like to have known so much!The ' Dialogus Novitiorum de Contemptu Mundi.'CHAP. X.] Unrecorded Lives. 287The author of ' Philip Van Artevelde has said that"the world knows nothing of its greatest men." Anddoubtless oblivion has enwrapt in its folds many greatmen who have done great deeds, and been forgotten.Augustine speaks of Romanianus as the greatest geniusthat ever lived, and yet we know nothing of himbut his name; he is as much forgotten as the buildersof the Pyramids. Gordiani's epitaph was written infive languages, yet it sufficed not to rescue him fromoblivion.Many, indeed, are the lives worthy of record that haveremained unwritten. Men who have written bookshave been the most fortunate in this respect, becausethey possess an attraction for literary men which thosewhose lives have been embodied in deeds do not possess.Thus there have been lives written of Poets Laureatewho were mere men of their time, and of their timeonly. Dr. Johnson includes some of them in his ' Livesof the Poets,' such as Edmund Smith and others, whosepoems are now no longer known. The lives of somemen of letters such as Goldsmith, Swift, Sterne,and Steele-have been written again and again, whilstgreat men of action, men of science, and men of industry, are left without a record.¹We have said that a man may be known by thecompany he keeps in his books. Let us mention a fewof the favourites of the best-known men. Plutarch'sadmirers have already been referred to. Montaignealso has been the companion of most meditative men.The Life of Sir Charles Bell,one of our greatest physiologists,was left to be written by Amédée Pichot, a Frenchman; and thoughSir Charles Bell's letters to his brother have since been published,his Life still remains to be written.It may also be added that the bestLife of Goethe has been written by an Englishman, and the best Lifeof Frederick the Great by aScotchman.288 Favourite Books ofGreat Men. [ CHAP. X.Although Shakspeare must have studied Plutarchcarefully, inasmuch as he copied from him freely, evento his very words, it is remarkable that Montaigne isthe only book which we certainly know to have been inthe poet's library; one of Shakspeare's existing autographs having been found in a copy of Florio's translation of The Essays,' which also contains, on the flyleaf,the autograph of Ben Jonson.Milton's favourite books were Homer, Ovid, andEuripides. The latter book was also the favourite ofCharles James Fox, who regarded the study of it asespecially useful to a public speaker. On the otherhand, Pitt took especial delight in Milton-whom Foxdid not appreciate-taking pleasure in reciting, from' Paradise Lost,' the grand speech of Belial before theassembled powers of Pandemonium. Another of Pitt'sfavourite books was Newton's ' Principia.' Again, theEarl of Chatham's favourite book was ' Barrow'sSermons,' which he read so often as to be able to repeatthem from memory; while Burke's companions wereDemosthenes, Milton, Bolingbroke, and Young's ' NightThoughts.'Curran's favourite was Homer, which he read throughonce a year. Virgil was another of his favourites; hisbiographer, Phillips, saying that he once saw him readingthe ' Eneid ' in the cabin of a Holyhead packet, whileevery one about him was prostrate by seasickness.Ofthe poets, Dante's favourite was Virgil; Corneille'swas Lucan; Schiller's was Shakspeare; Gray's wasSpenser; whilst Coleridge admired Collins and Bowles.Dante himself was a favourite with most great poets,from Chaucer to Byron and Tennyson. Lord Brougham,Macaulay, and Carlyle have alike admired and eulogized the great Italian. The first advised the studentsat Glasgow that, next to Demosthenes, the study ofCHAP. X. ] Favourite Books of Great Men. 289Dante was the best preparative for the eloquence ofthe pulpit or the bar. Robert Hall sought relief inDante from the racking pains of spinal disease; andSydney Smith took to the same poet for comfort andsolace in his old age. It was characteristic of Goethethat his favourite book should have been Spinoza's' Ethics,' in which he said he had found a peace andconsolation such as he had been able to find in no otherwork.¹Barrow's favourite was St. Chrysostom; Bossuet'swas Homer. Bunyan's was the old legend of Sir Bevisof Southampton, which in all probability gave himthe first idea of his ' Pilgrim's Progress.' One of the bestprelates that ever sat on the English bench, Dr. JohnSharp, said—“ Shakspeare and the Bible have made meArchbishop of York. " The two books which mostimpressed John Wesley when a young man, were ' TheImitation of Christ ' and Jeremy Taylor's ' Holy Livingand Dying.' Yet Wesley was accustomed to caution hisyoung friends against overmuch reading."Beware yoube not swallowed up in books," he would say to them;"an ounce of love is worth a pound of knowledge."Wesley's own Life has been a great favourite withmany thoughtful readers. Coleridge says, in his preface1 It is not a little remarkable that the pious Schleiermacher should have concurred in opinion with Goethe as to the merits ofSpinoza, though he was a man ex communicated by the Jews, to whom he belonged, and denounced by the Christians as a man little better than an atheist.Great Spirit of the world," says Schleiermacher, in his Rede über die Religion, "penetrated the holy but repudiated Spinoza; theInfinite was his beginning and his" Theend; the universe his only and eternal love. He was filled withreligion and religious feeling; and therefore is it that he stands aloneunapproachable, the master in hisart, but elevated above the profane world, without adherents, and without even citizenship. "Cousin also says of Spinoza:-"Theauthor whom this pretendedatheist most resembles is the un- known author of ' The Imitation of Jesus Christ." "U290 Favourite Books of Great Men. [CHAP. X.to Southey's ' Life of Wesley,' that it was more often inhis hands than any other in his ragged book- regiment."To this work, and to the Life of Richard Baxter," hesays,"I was used to resort whenever sickness and languor made me feel the want of an old friend of whosecompany I could never be tired. How many and manyan hour of self-oblivion do I owe to this Life of Wesley;and how often have I argued with it, questioned, remonstrated, been peevish, and asked pardon; thenagain listened, and cried, ' Right! Excellent! ' and inyet heavier hours entreated it, as it were, to continuetalking to me; for that I heard and listened, and wassoothed, though I could make no reply! " 1Soumet had only a very few books in his library,but they were of the best -Homer, Virgil, Dante,Camoens, Tasso, and Milton. De Quincey's favouritefew were Donne, Chillingworth, Jeremy Taylor, Milton,South, Barrow, and Sir Thomas Browne. He describedthese writers as " a pleiad or constellation of sevengolden stars, such as in their class no literature canmatch," and from whose works he would undertake "tobuild up an entire body of philosophy."Frederick the Great of Prussia manifested his strongFrench leanings in his choice of books; his principalfavourites being Bayle, Rousseau, Voltaire, Rollin,Fleury, Malebranche, and one English author-Locke.His especial favourite was Bayle's Dictionary, whichwas the first book that laid hold of his mind; and hethought so highly of it, that he himself made anabridgment and translation of it into German, which waspublished. It was a saying of Frederick's, that "booksmake up no small part of true happiness." In his oldage he said, " My latest passion will be for literaturė. ”Preface to Southey's ' Life of Wesley ' (1864).CHAP. X.] Favourite Books ofGreat Men. 291"6It seems odd that Marshal Blucher's favourite bookshould have been Klopstock's Messiah,' and NapoleonBuonaparte's favourites, Ossian's Poems ' and the 'Sorrows of Werther.' But Napoleon's range of readingwas very extensive. It included Homer, Virgil , Tasso;novels of all countries; histories of all times; mathematics, legislation, and theology. He detested what hecalled "the bombast and tinsel " of Voltaire. Thepraises of Homer and Ossian he was never wearied ofsounding. " Read again," he said to an officer on boardthe Bellerophon— “ read again the poet of Achilles;devour Ossian. Those are the poets who lift up thesoul, and give to man a colossal greatness. " 1The Duke of Wellington was an extensive reader;his principal favourites were Clarendon, Bishop Butler,Smith's Wealth of Nations, ' Hume, the ArchdukeCharles, Leslie, and the Bible. He was also particularlyinterested by French and English memoirs-more especially the French Mémoires pour servir of all kinds.When at Walmer, Mr. Gleig says, the Bible, the PrayerBook, Taylor's ' Holy Living and Dying,' and Cæsar'sCommentaries,' lay within the Duke's reach; and,61 Napoleon also read Milton carefully, and it has been relatedof him by Sir Colin Campbell, who resided with Napoleon at Elba,that when speaking of the Battle of Austerlitz, he said that a par- ticular disposition of his artillery,which, in its results, had a decisive effect in winning the battle, was suggested to his mind by the recol- lection of four lines in Milton. The lines occur in the sixth book, and are descriptive of Satan's artifice during the war with Heaven:-"In hollow cube Training his devilish engin'ry, impal'dOn every side with shadowing squadrons deep Tohide thefraud."" The indubitable fact," says Mr. Edwards, in his book ' OnLibraries,'"that these lines have a certainappositeness to an important ma- noeuvre at Austerlitz, gives aninde- pendent interest to the story; butit is highly imaginative to ascribe the victory to that manoeuvre. And forthe other preliminaries of the tale,it is unfortunate that Napoleon had learned a good deal about war long before he had learned anything about Milton."U 2292 Books the Inspirers of Youth. [CHAP. X.judging by the marks of use on them, they must have been much read and often consulted.While books are among the best companions of oldage, they are often the best inspirers of youth. Thefirst book that makes a deep impression on a youngman's mind, often constitutes an epoch in his life. Itmay fire the heart, stimulate the enthusiasm, and bydirecting his efforts into unexpected channels, permanently influence his character. The newbook, in whichwe form an intimacy with a new friend, whose mind iswiser and riper than our own, may thus form an important starting-point in the history of a life . It may sometimes almost be regarded in the light of a new birth.6From the day when James Edward Smith was presented with his first botanical lesson-book, and SirJoseph Banks fell in with Gerard's Herbal ' -from thetime when Alfieri first read Plutarch, and Schiller madehis first acquaintance with Shakspeare, and Gibbondevoured the first volume of ' The Universal History'-each dated an inspiration so exalted, that they felt as iftheir real lives had only then begun.In the earlier part of his youth, La Fontaine wasdistinguished for his idleness, but hearing an ode byMalherbe read, he is said to have exclaimed, “ I tooam a poet," and his genius was awakened. CharlesBossuet's mind was first fired to study by reading, at anearly age, Fontenelle's ' Eloges ' of men of science .Another work of Fontenelle's - On the Plurality ofWorlds '-influenced the mind of Lalande in makingchoice of a profession. " It is with pleasure," saysLalande himself, in a preface to the book, which heafterwards edited, " that I acknowledge my obligationto it for that devouring activity which its perusal firstexcited in me at the age of sixteen, and which I havesince retained.".CHAP. X.] Books the Awakeners ofGenius. 2936In like manner, Lacepede was directed to the studyof natural history by the perusal of Buffon's ' HistoireNaturelle,' which he found in his father's library, andread over and over again until he almost knew it byheart. Goethe was greatly influenced by the readingof Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield,' just at the criticalmoment of his mental development; and he attributedto it much of his best education. The reading of aprose Life of Götz von Berlichingen ' afterwards stimulated him to delineate his character in a poeticform. " The figure of a rude, well- meaning self-helper,"he said, " in a wild anarchic time, excited my deepestsympathy."Keats was an insatiable reader when a boy; but itwas the perusal of the ' Faerie Queen,' at the age ofseventeen, that first lit the fire of his genius. Thesame poem is also said to have been the inspirer ofCowley, who found a copy of it accidentally lying onthe window of his mother's apartment; and reading andadmiring it, he became, as he relates, irrecoverably apoet.Coleridge speaks of the great influence which thepoems of Bowles had in forming his own mind. Theworks of a past age, says he, seem to a young man tobe things of another race; but the writings of a contemporary " possess a reality for him, and inspire anactual friendship as of a man for a man. His veryadmiration is the wind which fans and feeds his hope.The poems themselves assume the properties of flesh and blood. "1But men have not merely been stimulated to undertake special literary pursuits by the perusal of particular books; they have been also stimulated by them to' Biographia Literaria, ` chap. i.294 6Bentham and Telemachus. [CHAP. X.enter upon particular lines of action in the seriousbusiness of life. Thus Henry Martyn was powerfullyinfluenced to enter upon his heroic career as a missionary by perusing the Lives of Henry Brainerd andDr. Carey, who had opened up the furrows in which hewent forth to sow the seed.Bentham has described the extraordinary influencewhich the perusal of ' Telemachus ' exercised upon hismind in boyhood. " Another book, " said he, "and offar higher character " (than a collection of Fairy Tales,to which he refers), " was placed in my hands. It wasTelemachus. ' In my own imagination, and at the ageof six or seven, I identified my own personality withthat of the hero, who seemed to me a model of perfectvirtue; and in my walk of life, whatever it may cometo be, why (said I to myself every now and then)—whyshould not I be a Telemachus? That romancemay be regarded as the foundation-stone of my wholecharacter-the starting- post from whence my career oflife commenced. The first dawning in my mind of the' Principles of Utility ' may, I think, be traced to it." 1Cobbett's first favourite, because his only book,which he bought for threepence, was Swift's ' Tale of aTub,' the repeated perusal of which had, doubtless,much to do with the formation of his pithy, straightforward, and hard-hitting style of writing. The delightwith which Pope, when a schoolboy, read Ogilvy's'Homer' was, most probably, the origin of the English' Iliad '; as the ' Percy Reliques ' fired the juvenile mindof Scott, and stimulated him to enter upon the collection and composition of his Border Ballads.'Keightley's first reading of Paradise Lost,' when aboy, led to his afterwards undertaking his Life of the"1 Sir John Bowring's ' Memoirs of Bentham,' p. 10.CHAP. X. ] Humanizing Influence ofBooks. 295poet. "The reading," he says, " of Paradise Lost ' forthe first time forms, or should form, an era in the lifeof every one possessed of taste and poetic feeling. Tomy mind, that time is ever present.Eversince, the poetry of Milton has formed my constantstudy-a source of delight in prosperity, of strengthand consolation in adversity."Good books are thus among the best of companions;and, by elevating the thoughts and aspirations, theyact as preservatives against low associations. "Anatural turn for reading and intellectual pursuits," saysThomas Hood, " probably preserved me from the moralshipwreck so apt to befal those who are deprived inearly life of their parental pilotage. My books kept mefrom the ring, the dogpit, the tavern, the saloon. Thecloset associate of Pope and Addison, the mind accustomed to the noble though silent discourse of Shakspeare and Milton, will hardly seek or put up with lowcompany and slaves."It has been truly said, that the best books are thosewhich most resemble good actions. They are purifying,elevating, and sustaining; they enlarge and liberalizethe mind; they preserve it against vulgar worldliness;they tend to produce highminded cheerfulness andequanimity of character; they fashion, and shape, andhumanize the mind. In the Northern universities, theschools in which the ancient classics are studied, areappropriately styled " The Humanity Classes." 11 Notwithstanding recent cen- sures of classical studies as a use- less waste of time, there can be no doubt that they give the highest finish to intellectual culture. The ancient classics contain the most consummate models of literary art;and the greatest writers have beentheir most diligent students. Clas- sical culture was the instrument with which Erasmus and the Reformers purified Europe. It dis- tinguished the great patriots of the seventeenth century; and it has ever since characterised our great- est statesmen. " I know not how it296 Books Necessaries of Life. [CHAP. X.Erasmus, the great scholar, was even of opinion thatbooks were the necessaries of life, and clothes theluxuries; and he frequently postponed buying thelatter until he had supplied himself with the former.His greatest favourites were the works of Cicero,which he says he always felt himself the better forreading. " I can never," he says, " read the works ofCicero on Old Age, ' or ' Friendship, ' or his ' TusculanDisputations,' without fervently pressing them to mylips, without being penetrated with veneration for amind little short of inspired by God himself. " It wasthe accidental perusal of Cicero's ' Hortensius ' whichfirst detached St. Augustine-until then a profligateand abandoned sensualist-from his immoral life, andstarted him upon the course of inquiry and studywhich led to his becoming the greatest among theFathers of the Early Church. Sir William Jones madeit a practice to read through, once a year, the writingsof Cicero, " whose life indeed," says his biographer,"was the great exemplar of his own."When the good old Puritan Baxter came to enumerate the valuable and delightful things of whichdeath would deprive him, his mind reverted to thepleasures he had derived from books and study."When I die," he said, " I must depart, not only fromsensual delights, but from the more manly pleasures ofmy studies, knowledge, and converse with many wiseand godly men, and from all my pleasure in reading,hearing, public and private exercises of religion, andis," says an English writer, "but their commerce with the ancientsappears to me to produce, in those who constantly practise it, a steady- ing and composing effect upon their judgment, not of literary works only, but of men and eventsin general. They are like persons who have had a weighty and impressive experience; they are more truly than others under the empireof facts, and more independent ofthe language current among those with whom they live."CHAP. X.] Moral Influence ofBooks. 297such like. I must leave my library, and turn overthose pleasant books no more. I must no more comeamong the living, nor see the faces of my faithfulfriends, nor be seen of man; houses, and cities, andfields, and countries, gardens, and walks, will be asnothing to me. I shall no more hear of the affairs ofthe world, of man, or wars, or other news; nor see whatbecomes of that beloved interest of wisdom, piety, andpeace, which I desire may prosper."It is unnecessary to speak of the enormous moralinfluence which books have exercised upon the generalcivilization of mankind, from the Bible downwards.They contain the treasured knowledge of the humanrace. They are the record of all labours, achievements, speculations, successes, and failures, in science,philosophy, religion, and morals. They have been thegreatest motive powers in all times. " From the Gospelto the Contrat Social," says De Bonald, " it is booksthat have made revolutions." Indeed, a great book isoften a greater thing than a great battle. Even worksof fiction have occasionally exercised immense power onsociety. Thus Rabelais in France, and Cervantes inSpain, overturned at the same time the dominion ofmonkery and chivalry, employing no other weaponsbut ridicule, the natural contrast of human terror. Thepeople laughed, and felt reassured. So ' Telemachus 'appeared, and recalled men back to the harmonies ofnature."Poets," says Hazlitt, " are a longer-lived race than.heroes: they breathe more of the air of immortality.They survive more entire in their thoughts and acts.We have all that Virgil or Homer did, as much as ifwe had lived at the same time with them. We canhold their works in our hands, or lay them on ourpillows, or put them to our lips. Scarcely a trace of298 The Immortality ofLiterature. [ CHAP. X.what the others did is left upon the earth, so as to bevisible to common eyes. The one, the dead authors,are living men, still breathing and moving in theirwritings; the others, the conquerors of the world, arebut the ashes in an urn. The sympathy (so to speak)between thought and thought is more intimate andvital than that between thought and action. Thoughtis linked to thought as flame kindles into flame; thetribute of admiration to the manes of departed heroismis like burning incense in a marble monument. Words,ideas, feelings, with the progress of time harden intosubstances: things, bodies, actions, moulder away, ormelt into a sound-into thin air. Not only aman's actions are effaced and vanish with him; hisvirtues and generous qualities die with him also. Hisintellect only is immortal, and bequeathed unimpairedto posterity. Words are the only things that last forever." 1¹ Hazlitt's Table Talk: ' On Thought and Action.'CHAP. XI.] Companionship in Marriage. 299CHAPTER XI.COMPANIONSHIP IN MARRIAGE."Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks,'Shall win my love. "-Shakspeare."In the husband Wisdom, in the wife Gentleness. "-George Herbert."If God had designed woman as man's master, He would have taken her from his head; if as his slave, He would have taken her from his feet; but as He designed her for his companion and equal, He took her from his side." — Saint Augustine- ' De Civitate Dei."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 ... Strength and honour are her clothing, and she shall rejoice in time to come. She openeth her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She looketh well to the ways of her husband, and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. "-Proverbs of Solomon.THE character of men, as of women, is powerfullyinfluenced by their companionship in all the stages oflife. We have already spoken of the influence of themother in forming the character of her children. Shemakes the moral atmosphere in which they live, andby which their minds and souls are nourished, as theirbodies are by the physical atmosphere they breathe.And while woman is the natural cherisher of infancyand the instructor of childhood, she is also the guideand counsellor of youth, and the confidant and companion of manhood, in her various relations of mother,sister, lover, and wife. In short, the influence ofwoman.more or less affects, for good or for evil, the entiredestinies of man.The respective social functions and duties of men andwomen are clearly defined by nature. God createdman and woman, each to do their proper work, each to300 The Mission ofMan and Woman. [ CHAP. XI.fill their proper sphere.Neither can occupy theposition, nor perform the functions, of the other. Theirseveral vocations are perfectly distinct. Woman existson her own account, as man does on his, at the sametime 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 mustnecessarily be included.Though companions and equals, yet, as regards themeasure of their powers, they are unequal. Man isstronger, more muscular, and of tougher fibre; womanis more delicate, sensitive, and nervous.The oneexcels in power of brain, the other in qualities of heart;and though the head may rule, it is the heart thatinfluences. Both are alike adapted for the respectivefunctions they have to perform in life; and to attemptto impose woman's work upon man would be quite asabsurd as to attempt to impose man's work upon woman. Men are sometimes womanlike, and womenare sometimes manlike; but these are only exceptionswhich prove the rule.Although man's qualities belong more to the head,and woman's more to the heart-yet it is not less necessary that man's heart should be cultivated as well as hishead, and woman's head cultivated as well as her heart.A heartless man is as much out-of- keeping in civilizedsociety as a stupid and unintelligent woman. Thecultivation of all parts of the moral and intellectualnature is requisite to form the man or woman ofhealthy and well-balanced character. Without sympathy or consideration for others, man were a poor,stunted, sordid, selfish being; and without cultivatedintelligence, the most beautiful woman were little betterthan a well-dressed doll.It used to be a favourite notion about woman, thatCHAP. XI.] Views of Woman's Character. 301her weakness and dependency upon others constitutedher principal claim to admiration. "If we were toform an image of dignity in a man, " said Sir RichardSteele, "we should give him wisdom and valour, asbeing essential to the character of manhood. In likemanner, if you describe a right woman in a laudablesense, she should have gentle softness, tender fear, andall 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 weaknesswas to be cultivated, rather than her strength; herfolly, rather than her wisdom. She was to be a weak,fearful, tearful, characterless, inferior creature, withjust sense enough to understand the soft nothingsaddressed to her by the " superior " sex. She was tobe educated as an ornamental appanage of man, ratheras an independent intelligence-or as a wife, mother,companion, or friend.Pope, in one of his ' Moral Essays,' asserts that"most women have no characters at all; " and againhe 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 female friend who sotyrannically ruled him; and in the same verses hespitefully girds at Lady Mary Wortley Montague, atwhose feet he had thrown himself as a lover, and beencontemptuously rejected . But . Pope was no judge ofwomen, nor was he even a very wise or tolerant judgeof men.It is still too much the practice to cultivate theweakness of woman rather than her strength, and toHer302 Early Education ofBoth Sexes. [CHAP. XI.render her attractive rather than self-reliant.sensibilities are developed at the expense of her health ofbody as well as of mind. She lives, moves, and has herbeing in the sympathy of others. She dresses that shemay attract, and is burdened with accomplishmentsthat she may be chosen. Weak, trembling, and dependent, she incurs the risk of becoming a livingembodiment of the Italian proverb-" so good that sheis good for nothing."On the other hand, the education of young men toooften errs on the side of selfishness. While the boy isincited to trust mainly to his own efforts in pushinghis way in the world, the girl is encouraged to relyalmost entirely upon others. He is educated with tooexclusive reference to himself, and she is educated withtoo exclusive reference to him. He is taught to be selfreliant and self- dependent, while she is taught to bedistrustful of herself, dependent, and self-sacrificing inall things. Thus, the intellect of the one is cultivatedat the expense of the affections, and the affections ofthe other at the expense of the intellect.It is unquestionable that the highest qualities ofwoman are displayed in her relationship to others,through the medium of her affections. She is thenurse whom nature has given to all humankind. Shetakes charge of the helpless, and nourishes and cherishesthose we love. She is the presiding genius of the fireside, where she creates an atmosphere of serenity andcontentment suitable for the nurture and growth ofCharacter in its best forms. She is by her very constitution compassionate, gentle, patient, and self- denying.Loving, hopeful, trustful, her eye sheds brightnesseverywhere. It shines upon coldness and warms it,upon suffering and relieves it, upon sorrow and cheers it:-CHAP. XI.] Woman's Affectionateness."Her silver flowOf subtle-paced counsel in distress,Right to the heart and brain, though undescried,Winning its way with extreme gentleness Through all the outworks of suspicion's pride.”"303Womanhas been styled "the angel of the unfortunate. ”She is ready to help the weak, to raise the fallen, tocomfort the suffering. It was characteristic of woman,that she should have been the first to build and endowan hospital. It has been said that wherever a humanbeing 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 bythe men, was preparing to spend the night under atree, exposed to the rain and the wild beasts whichthere abounded, a poor negro woman, returning fromthe labours of the field, took compassion upon him,conducted him into her hut, and there gave him food,succour, and shelter.¹But while the most characteristic qualities of womanare displayed through her sympathies and affections, itis also necessary for her own happiness, as a self- dependent being, to develope and strengthen her character,¹ Mungo Park declared that he was more affected by this incident than by any other that befel him in the course of his travels. As he lay down to sleep on the mat spread for him on the floor of the hut, hisbenefactress called to the female part of the family to resume their task of spinning cotton, in which they continued employed far into the night. "They lightened theirlabour with songs," says the tra- veller, one of which was composed extempore, for I was myself the subject of it; it was sung by one of the young women, the rest66joining in a chorus. The air was sweet and plaintive, and the words,literally translated, were these:The winds roared, and the rains fell. The poor white man, faint and weary, came and sat under ourtree. He has no mother to bring him milk, no wife to grind his corn.' Chorus-' Let us pity the white man, no mother has he!'Trifling as this recital may appear,to a person in my situation the circ*mstance was affecting in thehighest degree. I was so oppressed by such unexpected kindness, that sleep fled before my eyes."304 Culture ofBoth Sexes.[CHAP. XIby due self-culture, self-reliance, and self-control. It isnot desirable, even were it possible, to close the beautiful avenues of the heart. Self-reliance of the best kinddoes not involve any limitation in the range of humansympathy. But the happiness of woman, as of man,depends in a great measure upon her individual completeness of character. And that self-dependence whichsprings from the due cultivation of the intellectualpowers, conjoined with a proper discipline of the heartand conscience, will enable her to be more useful in lifeas well as more happy; to dispense blessings intelligentlyas well as to enjoy them; and most of all those whichspring from mutual dependence and social sympathy.To maintain a high standard of purity in society, theculture of both sexes must be in harmony, and keepequal pace. A pure womanhood must be accompaniedby a pure manhood. The same moral lawapplies aliketo both. It would be loosening the foundations ofvirtue, to countenance the notion that because of adifference in sex, man were at liberty to set morality atdefiance, and to do that with impunity, which, if doneby a woman, would stain her character for life . Tomaintain a pure and virtuous condition of society, therefore, man as well as woman must be pure and virtuous;both alike shunning all acts impinging on the heart,character, and conscience-shunning them as poison,which, once imbibed, can never be entirely thrown outagain, but mentally embitters, to a greater or less extent,the happiness of after-life.And here we would venture to touch upon a delicatetopic. Though it is one of universal and engrossinghuman interest, the moralist avoids it, the educatorshuns it, and parents taboo it. It is almost consideredindelicate to refer to Love as between the sexes; andyoung persons are left to gather their only notions of itCHAP. XI. ] The Sentiment ofLove. 305from the impossible love-stories that fill the shelves ofcirculating libraries. This strong and absorbing feeling,this besoin d'aimer-which nature has for wise purposesmade so strong in woman that it colours her whole lifeand history, though it may form but an episode in thelife of man-is usually left to follow its own inclinations,and to grow up for the most part unchecked, withoutany guidance or direction whatever.Although nature spurns all formal rules and directions in affairs of love, it might at all events be possibleto implant in young minds such views of Character asshould enable them to discriminate between the true andthe false, and to accustom them to hold in esteem thosequalities of moral purity and integrity, without whichlife is but a scene of folly and misery. It may not bepossible to teach young people to love wisely, but theymay at least be guarded by parental advice against thefrivolous and despicable passions which so often usurpits name. "Love," it has been said, " in the commonacceptation of the term, is folly; but love, in its purity,its loftiness, its unselfishness, is not only a consequence,but a proof, of our moral excellence. The sensibility tomoral beauty, the forgetfulness of self in the admirationengendered by it, all prove its claim to a high moralinfluence. It is the triumph of the unselfish over theselfish part of our nature. "It is by means of this divine passion that the worldis kept ever fresh and young. It is the perpetualmelody of humanity. It sheds an effulgence uponyouth, and throws a halo round age. It glorifies thepresent by the light it casts backward, and it lightensthe future by the beams it casts forward. The lovewhich is the outcome of esteem and admiration, has anelevating and purifying effect on the character. Ittends to emancipate one from the slavery of self. It isX306Love an Inspirer.[CHAP. XI.altogether unsordid; itself is its only price. It inspiresgentleness, sympathy, mutual faith, and confidence.True love also in a measure elevates the intellect."All love renders wise in a degree," says the poetBrowning, and the most gifted minds have been thesincerest lovers. Great souls make all affections great;they elevate and consecrate all true delights. Thesentiment even brings to light qualities before lyingdormant and unsuspected. It elevates the aspirations,expands the soul, and stimulates the mental powers.One of the finest compliments ever paid to a woman wasthat of Steele, when he said of Lady Elizabeth Hastings,"that to have loved her was a liberal education."Viewed in this light, woman is an educator in thehighest sense, because, above all other educators, sheeducates humanly and lovingly.BothIt has been said that no man and no woman can beregarded as complete in their experience of life, untilthey have been subdued into union with the worldthrough their affections. As woman is not womanuntil she has known love, neither is man man.are requisite to each other's completeness. Plato entertained the idea that lovers each sought a likeness inthe other, and that love was only the divorced half ofthe original human being entering into union with itscounterpart. But philosophy would here seem to be atfault, for affection quite as often springs from unlikenessas from likeness in its object.66The true union must needs be one of mind as well asof heart, and based on mutual esteem as well as mutualaffection. "No true and enduring love," says Fichte,can exist without esteem; every other draws regretafter it, and is unworthy of any noble human soul."One cannot really love the bad, but always something that we esteem and respect as well as admire. InCHAP. XI. ] Love a Purifier. 307short, true union must rest on qualities of character,which rule in domestic as in public life.But there is something far more than mere respectand esteem in the union between man and wife. Thefeeling on which it rests is far deeper and tenderer—such, indeed, as never exists between men or betweenwomen. "In matters of affection," says Nathaniel Hawthorne, " there is always an impassable gulf between man and man. They can never quite grasp eachother's hands, and therefore man never derives anyintimate help, any heart-sustenance, from his brotherman, but from woman-his mother, his sister, or hiswife."1Man enters a new world of joy, and sympathy, andhuman interest, through the porch of love. He entersa new world in his home-the home of his own making-altogether different from the home of his boyhood,where each day brings with it a succession of new joysand experiences. He enters also, it may be, a newworld of trials and sorrows, in which he often gathershis best culture and discipline. "Family life," saysSainte-Beuve, " may be full of thorns and cares; butthey are fruitful: all others are dry thorns." Andagain: " If a man's home, at a certain period of life,does not contain children, it will probably be foundfilled with follies or with vices."" 2A life exclusively occupied in affairs of businessinsensibly tends to narrow and harden the character.It is mainly occupied with self-watching for advantages, and guarding against sharp practice on the partof others. Thus the character unconsciously tends togrow suspicious and ungenerous. The best corrective1 Transformation, or Monte Beni.'2 Portraits Contemporains,' iii. 519.x 2308 Man in the Home. [CHAP. XI.of such influences is always the domestic; by withdrawing the mind from thoughts that are whollygainful, by taking it out of its daily rut, and bringingit back to the sanctuary of home for refreshment andrest:66"That truest, rarest light of social joy,Which gleams upon the man of many cares.'99Business," says Sir Henry Taylor, " does but laywaste the approaches to the heart, whilst marriagegarrisons the fortress." And however the head may beoccupied, by labours of ambition or of business-if theheart be not occupied by affection for others and sympathy with them—life, though it may appear to the outerworld to be a success, will probably be no success at all,but a failure.¹A man's real character will always be more visible inhis household than anywhere else; and his practicalwisdom will be better exhibited by the manner in whichhe bears rule there, than even in the larger affairs ofbusiness or public life. His whole mind may be in hisbusiness; but, if he would be happy, his whole heartmust be in his home. It is there that his genuinequalities most surely display themselves-there that heshows his truthfulness, his love, his sympathy, his con1 Mr. Arthur Helps, in one of hisEssays, has wisely said: " You observe a man becoming day by day richer, or advancing in station, or in- creasing in professional reputation,and you sethimdownas a successful man in life. But if his home isan ill-regulated one, where no links of affection extend throughout the family-whose former domestics (and he has had more of themthan he can well remember) look back upon their sojourn with himas one unblessed by kind words ordeeds-I contend that that man has not been successful. Whatevergood fortune he may have in the world, it is to be remembered thathe has always left one important fortress untaken behind him. That man's life does not surely read well whose benevolence has found no central home. It may have sent forth rays in various directions,but there should have been a warmfocus of love-that home- nest whichis formed round a good man'sheart. "-Claims ofLabour.CHAP. XI.] A Christian Household. 309sideration for others, his uprightness, his manliness—ina word, his character. If affection be not the governingprinciple in a household, domestic life may be themost intolerable of despotisms. Without justice, also,there can be neither love, confidence, nor respect, onwhich all true domestic rule is founded.66 Erasmus speaks of Sir Thomas More's home as aschool and exercise of the Christian religion." "Nowrangling, no angry word was heard in it; no one wasidle; every one did his duty with alacrity, and not withouta temperate cheerfulness." Sir Thomas won all heartsto obedience by his gentleness. He was a man clothedin household goodness; and he ruled so gently andwisely, that his home was pervaded by an atmosphereof love and duty. He himself spoke of the hourlyinterchange of the smaller acts of kindness with theseveral members of his family, as having a claim upon histime as strong as those other public occupations of hislife which seemed to others so much more serious andimportant.But the man whose affections are quickened byhome-life, does not confine his sympathies within thatcomparatively narrow sphere. His love enlarges in thefamily, and through the family it expands into theworld. " Love," says Emerson, " is a fire that, kindlingits first embers in the narrow nook of a private bosom,caught from a wandering spark out of another privateheart, glows and enlarges until it warms and beamsupon multitudes of men and women, upon the universalheart of all, and so lights up the whole world andnature with its generous flames. "It is by the regimen of domestic affection that theheart of man is best composed and regulated. Thehome is the woman's kingdom, her state, her worldwhere she governs by affection, by kindness, by the310 The Woman's Kingdom. [CHAP. XI.power of gentleness. There is nothing which so settlesthe turbulence of a man's nature as his union in life witha highminded woman. There he finds rest, contentment,and happiness -rest of brain and peace of spirit. Hewill also often find in her his best counsellor, for herinstinctive tact will usually lead him right when hisown unaided reason might be apt to go wrong. Thetrue wife is a staff to lean upon in times of trial anddifficulty; and she is never wanting in sympathy and solace when distress occurs or fortune frowns. In thetime of youth, she is a comfort and an ornament ofman's life; and she remains a faithful helpmate inmaturer years, when life has ceased to be an anticipa- tion, and we live in its realities.What a happy man must Edmund Burke have been,when he could say ofhis home, " Every care vanishes themoment I enter under my own roof! " And Luther, aman full of human affection, speaking of his wife, said,"I would not exchange my poverty with her for all theriches of Croesus without her. " Ofmarriage he observed:"The utmost blessing that God can confer on a man isthe possession of a good and pious wife, with whom hemay live in peace and tranquillity-to whom he mayconfide his whole possessions, even his life and welfare."And again he said, " To rise betimes, and to marryyoung, are what no man ever repents of doing."For a man to enjoy true repose and happiness in marriage, he must have in his wife a soul- mate as well as ahelpmate. But it is not requisite that she should bemerely a pale copy of himself. Aman no more desires inhis wife a manly woman, than the woman desires in herhusband a womanly man. Awoman's best qualities donot reside in her intellect, but in her affections. Shegives refreshment by her sympathies, rather than by herknowledge. " The brain-women," says Oliver WendellCHAP. XI. ] Brain-women and Heart- women. 311Holmes,66 "" 1never interest us like the heart-women.'Men are often so wearied with themselves, that theyare rather predisposed to admire qualities and tastes inothers different from their own. "If I were suddenlyasked," says Mr. Helps, " to give a proof of the goodness of God to us, I think I should say that it is mostmanifest in the exquisite difference He has made between the souls of men and women, so as to create thepossibility of the most comforting and charming companionship that the mind of man can imagine. " 2Butthough no man may love a woman for her understanding, it is not the less necessary for her to cultivateit on that account.3 There may be difference incharacter, but there must be harmony of mind andsentiment—two intelligent souls as well as two lovinghearts:"Two heads in council, two beside the hearth,Two in the tangled business of the world,Two in the liberal offices of life."There are few men who have written so wisely onthe subject of marriage as Sir Henry Taylor. What he1 "The red heart sends all itsinstincts up to the white brain, to be analysed, chilled, blanched, and so become pure reason-which is just exactly what we do not want of women as women. The currentshould run the other way. The nice, calm, cold thought, which,in women, shapes itself so rapidly that they hardly know it as thought, should always travel to the lips via the heart. It does soin those women whom all love and admire. The brainwomen never interest us like the heart-women; white roses please less than red." -The Professor atthe Breakfast Table, by Oliver Wendell Holmes.• •2 The War and General Culture,' 1871.3 "Depend upon it, men set more value onthe cultivated minds thanon the accomplishments of women,which they are rarely able to ap- preciate. It is a common error,but it is an error, that literatureunfits women for the everyday business of life. It is not so with men. You see those of the mostcultivated minds constantly devot- ing their time and attention to the most homely objects. Literaturegives women a real and proper weight in society, butthen they must use it with discretion."-TheRev. Sydney Smith.312 Qualities ofthe True Wife. [ CHAP. XI.says about the influence of a happy union in its relationto successful statesmanship, applies to all conditions oflife. The true wife, he says, should possess such qualities as will tend to make home as much as may be aplace of repose. To this end, she should have senseenough or worth enough to exempt her husband asmuch as possible from the troubles of family management, and more especially from all possibility of debt."She should be pleasing to his eyes and to his taste:the taste goes deep into the nature of all men-love ishardly apart from it; and in a life of care and excitement, that home which is not the seat of love cannotbe a place of repose; rest for the brain, and peace forthe spirit, being only to be had through the softening ofthe affections. He should look for a clear understanding, cheerfulness, and alacrity of mind, rather thangaiety and brilliancy, and for a gentle tenderness ofdisposition in preference to an impassioned nature.Lively talents are too stimulating in a tired man'shouse-passion is too disturbing."Her love should be Alove that clings not, nor is exigent,Encumbers not the active purposes,Nor drains their source; but profers with free gracePleasure at pleasure touched, at pleasure waived,A washing of the weary traveller's feet,A quenching of his thirst, a sweet repose,Alternate and preparative; in grovesWhere, loving much the flower that loves the shade,And loving much the shade that that flower loves,'He yet is unbewildered, unenslaved,Thence starting light, and pleasantly let go When serious service calls ." 1Some persons are disappointed in marriage, becausethey expect too much from it; but many more, becausethey do not bring into the co-partnership their fair share1 ' The Statesman, ' pp. 73–75.CHAP. XI. ] The Golden Rule in Marriage.sense.313of cheerfulness, kindliness, forbearance, and commonTheir imagination has perhaps pictured acondition never experienced on this side Heaven; andwhen real life comes, with its troubles and cares, thereis a sudden waking-up as from a dream. Or they lookfor something approaching perfection in their chosencompanion, and discover by experience that the fairestof characters have their weaknesses. Yet it is oftenthe very imperfection of human nature, rather than itsperfection, that makes the strongest claims on the forbearance and sympathy of others, and, in affectionateand sensible natures, tends to produce the closest unions.The golden rule of married life is, " Bear and forbear. " Marriage, like government, is a series ofcompromises. One must give and take, refrain andrestrain, endure and be patient. One may not be blindto another's failings, but they may at least be bornewith goodnatured forbearance. Of all qualities, goodtemper is the one that wears and works the best inmarried life. Conjoined with self-control, it givespatience the patience to bear and forbear, to listenwithout retort, to refrain until the angry flash haspassed. Howtrue it is in marriage, that " the soft answerturneth away wrath!"Burns the poet, in speaking of the qualities of agood wife, divided them into ten parts. Four of thesehe gave to good temper, two to good sense, one towit, one to beauty-such as a sweet face, eloquent eyes,a fine person, a graceful carriage; and the other twoparts he divided amongst the other qualities belongingto or attending on a wife—such as fortune, connections,education (that is, of a higher standard than ordinary) ,family blood, &c.; but he said: " Divide those twodegrees as you please, only. remember that all theseinnor proportions must be expressed by fractions, for314 Marryingfor Beauty.[CHAP. XI.there is not any one of them that is entitled to thedignity of an integer."It has been said that girls are very good at makingnets, but that it would be better still if they wouldlearn to make cages. Men are often as easily caughtas birds, but as difficult to keep. If the wife cannotmake her home bright and happy, so that it shall bethe cleanest, sweetest, cheerfulest place that her husbandcan find refuge in-a retreat from the toils and troublesof the outer world-then God help the poor man, for heis virtually homeless!No wise person will marry for beauty mainly. Itmay exercise a powerful attraction in the first place,but it is found to be of comparatively little consequenceafterwards. Not that beauty of person is to be underestimated, for, other things being equal, handsomeness ofform and beauty of features are the outward manifestations of health. But to marry a handsome figure withoutcharacter, fine features unbeautified by sentiment orgood-nature, is the most deplorable of mistakes. Aseven the finest landscape, seen daily, becomesmonotonous, so does the most beautiful face, unless abeautiful nature shines through it. The beauty ofto-day becomes commonplace to-morrow; whereasgoodness, displayed through the most ordinary features,is perennially lovely. Moreover, this kind of beautyimproves with age, and time ripens rather than destroysit. After the first year, married people rarely thinkof each other's features, and whether they be classicallybeautiful or otherwise. But they never fail to be cognisant of each other's temper. "When I see a man,"says Addison, " with a sour rivelled face, I cannot forbear pitying his wife; and when I meet with an openingenuous countenance, I think of the happiness of hisfriends, his family, and his relations."""CHAP. XI. ] Moral Influence ofthe Wife.· •315We have given the views of the poet Burns as tothe qualities necessary in a good wife. Let us add theadvice given by Lord Burleigh to his son, embodyingthe experience of a wise statesman and practised manof the world. "When it shall please God," said he,"to bring thee to man's estate, use great providence andcirc*mspection in choosing thy wife; for from thencewill spring all thy future good or evil. And it is anaction of thy life, like unto a stratagem of war, whereina man can err but once. Enquire diligently of herdisposition, and how her parents have been inclined intheir youth. Let her not be poor, how generous(well-born) soever; for a man can buy nothing in themarket with gentility. Nor choose a base and uncomelycreature altogether for wealth; for it will cause contempt in others, and loathing in thee. Neither makechoice of a dwarf, or a fool; for by the one thou shaltbeget a race of pigmies, while the other will be thycontinual disgrace, and it will yirke (irk) thee to hearher talk. For thou shalt find it to thy great grief, thatthere is nothing more fulsome (disgusting) than a shefool."A man's moral character is, necessarily, powerfullyinfluenced by his wife. A lower nature will drag himdown, as a higher will lift him up. The former willdeaden his sympathies, dissipate his energies, anddistort his life; while the latter, by satisfying his affections, will strengthen his moral nature, and by givinghim repose, tend to energise his intellect. Not onlyso, but a woman of high principles will insensiblyelevate the aims and purposes of her husband, as oneof low principles will unconsciously degrade them. De1 Fuller, the Church historian, | said briefly, " Take the daughter with his usual homely mother-wit, of a good mother."speaking of the choice of a wife,316[CHAP. XI.Tocqueville was profoundlyimpressedby this truth.He entertained the opinionthat man could have nosuch mainstayin life as the companionshipof a wife ofgood temperand high principle. He says that in thecourse of his life, he had seen even weak men displayreal public virtue, becausethey had by their side awoman of noble character, who sustained them in theircareer, and exercised a fortifying influence on theirviews of public duty; whilst, on the contrary, he hadstill oftener seen men of great and generousinstincts transformedinto vulgarself-seekers, by contact withwomenof narrow natures, devotedto an imbecile loveof pleasure, and from whose minds the grand motive ofDuty was altogether absent.De Tocqueville on Marriage.De Tocqueville himself had the good fortune to beblessed with an admirable wife:¹ and in his letters tohis intimate friends, he spoke most gratefully of thecomfort and support he derived from her sustainingcourage, her equanimity of temper, and her nobility ofcharacter. The more, indeed, that De Tocqueville sawof the world and of practical life, the more convinced hebecame of the necessity of healthy domestic conditionsfor a man's growth in virtue and goodness.2 Especiallydid he regard marriage as of inestimable importance inregard to a man's true happiness; and he was accustomed to speak of his own as the wisest action of hislife. "Many external circ*mstances of happiness," hesaid, " have been granted to me. But more than all , Ihave to thank Heaven for having bestowed on me true¹ She was an Englishwoman-aMiss Motley. It may be mentioned that amongst other distinguished Frenchmen who have married English wives, were Sismondi,Alfred de Vigny, and Lamartine.2 "Plus je roule dans ce monde,et plus je suis amené à penser qu'il n'y a que le bonheur domes- tique qui signifie quelque chose."Euvres et Correspondence.CHAP. XI.] De Tocqueville's Wife. 317domestic happiness, the first of human blessings. As Igrow older, the portion of my life which in my youth Iused to look down upon, every day becomes more important in my eyes, and would now easily console mefor the loss of all the rest. " And again, writing to hisbosom-friend, De Kergorlay, he said: " Of all theblessings which God has given to me, the greatest ofall in my eyes is to have lighted on Marie. You cannot imagine what she is in great trials. Usually sogentle, she then becomes strong and energetic. Shewatches me without my knowing it; she softens, calms,and strengthens me in difficulties which disturb me, butleave her serene. '"" 1 In another letter he " I cannot describe to you the happiness yielded in the longrun by the habitual society of a woman in whose soulall that is good in your own is reflected naturally, andeven improved. When I say or do a thing which seemsto me to be perfectly right, I read immediately inMarie's countenance an expression of proud satisfactionwhich elevates me. And so, when my conscience reproaches me, her face instantly clouds over. AlthoughI have great power over her mind, I see with pleasurethat she awes me; and so long as I love her as I donow, I am sure that I shall never allow myself to bedrawn into anything that is wrong."says:In the retired life which De Tocqueville led as aliterary man-political life being closed against him bythe inflexible independence of his character-his healthfailed, and he became ill, irritable, and querulous.While proceeding with his last work, ' L'Ancien Régimeet la Révolution,' he wrote: " After sitting at my deskfor five or six hours, I can write no longer; the machinerefuses to act. I am in great want of rest, and of a' De Tocqueville's ' Memoir and Remains,' vol. i. p. 408.318Guizot's Courtship.[CHAP. XI.long rest. If you add all the perplexitiesthat besiegean authortowardsthe end of his work, you will be ableto imaginea very wretchedlife. I couldnot go onwith my task if it were not for the refreshingcalm ofMarie'scompanionship. It wouldbe impossibleto finda dispositionforminga happiercontrastto my own. Inmy perpetualirritabilityof body and mind, she is aprovidentialresourcethat neverfails me." ¹M. Guizot was, in like manner, sustained and encouraged, amidst his many vicissitudes and disappointments,by his noble wife. If he was treated with harshness byhis political enemies, his consolation was in the tenderaffection which filled his home with sunshine. Thoughhis public life was bracing and stimulating, he felt,nevertheless, that it was cold and calculating, andneither filled the soul nor elevated the character. " Manlongs for a happiness, " he says in his ' Mémoires,'"more complete and more tender than that which all thelabours and triumphs of active exertion and publicimportance can bestow. What I know to-day, at theend of my race, I have felt when it began, and duringits continuance. Even in the midst of great undertakings, domestic affections form the basis of life; andthe most brilliant career has only superficial and incomplete enjoyments, if a stranger to the happy ties offamily and friendship. """The circ*mstances connected with M. Guizot's courtship and marriage are curious and interesting. Whilea young man living by his pen in Paris, writing books,reviews, and translations, he formed a casual acquaintance with Mademoiselle Pauline de Meulan, a lady ofgreat ability, then editor of the Publiciste. A severedomestic calamity having befallen her, she fell ill, and¹ De Tocqueville's ' Memoir and Remains,' vol. ii. p. 48.CHAP. XI.] Guizot's Married Life. 319was unable for a time to carry on the heavy literarywork connected with her journal. At this juncture aletter without any signature reached her one day, offering a supply of articles, which the writer hoped wouldbe worthy the reputation of the Publiciste. The articlesduly arrived, were accepted, and published. They dealtwith a great variety of subjects-art, literature, theatricals, and general criticism. When the editor at lengthrecovered from her illness, the writer of the articles disclosed himself: it was M. Guizot. An intimacy sprangup between them, which ripened into mutual affection,and before long Mademoiselle de Meulan became hiswife.From that time forward, she shared in all her husband's joys and sorrows, as well as in many of hislabours. Before they became united, he asked her ifshe thought she should ever become dismayed at thevicissitudes of his destiny, which he then saw loomingbefore him. She replied that he might assure himselfthat she would always passionately enjoy his triumphs,but never heave a sigh over his defeats. When M.Guizot became first minister of Louis Philippe, shewrote to a friend: " I now see my husband much lessthan I desire, but still I see him. . . . If God spares usto each other, I shall always be, in the midst of everytrial and apprehension, the happiest of beings. " Littlemore than six months after these words were written,the devoted wife was laid in her grave; and her sorrowing husband was left thenceforth to tread the journey oflife alone.Burke was especially happy in his union with MissNugent, a beautiful, affectionate, and highmindedwoman. The agitation and anxiety of his public lifewas more than compensated by his domestic happiness,which seems to have been complete. It was a saying320 Burke's Portrait ofhis Wife. [CHAP. XI.of Burke, thoroughly illustrative of his character, that"to love the little platoon we belong to in society is thegerm of all public affections." His description of hiswife, in her youth, is probably one of the finest wordportraits in the language:—"She is handsome; but it is a beauty not arising fromfeatures, from complexion, or from shape. She has allthree in a high degree, but it is not by these she touchesthe heart; it is all that sweetness of temper, benevolence, innocence, and sensibility, which a face canexpress, that forms her beauty. She has a face thatjust raises your attention at first sight; it grows on youevery moment, and you wonder it did no more thanraise your attention at first."Her eyes have a mild light, but they awe when shepleases; they command, like a good man out of office,not by authority, but by virtue.66 Her stature is not tall; she is not made to bethe admiration of everybody, but the happiness of.one."She has all the firmness that does not excludedelicacy; she has all the softness that does not implyweakness."Her voice is a soft low music-not formed to rulein public assemblies, but to charm those who can distinguish a company from a crowd; it has this advantage-you must come close to her to hear it."To describe her body describes her mind-one isthe transcript of the other; her understanding is notshown in the variety of matters it exerts itself on, butin the goodness of the choice she makes."She does not display it so much in saying or doingstriking things, as in avoiding such as she ought not to say or do.CHAP. XI.] Mrs. Hutchinson's, ofher Husband. 321"No person of so few years can know the worldbetter; no person was ever less corrupted by the knowledge of it."Her politeness flows rather from a natural disposition to oblige, than from any rules on that subject, andtherefore never fails to strike those who understandgood breeding and those who do not."She has a steady and firm mind, which takes nomore from the solidity of the female character than thesolidity of marble does from its polish and lustre. Shehas such virtues as make us value the truly great ofour own sex. She has all the winning graces that makeus love even the faults we see in the weak and beautiful,in hers."Let us give, as a companion picture, the not less beautiful delineation of a husband, -that of Colonel Hutchinson, the Commonwealth man, by his widow. Shortlybefore his death, he enjoined her " not to grieve at the common rate of desolate women." And, faithful to hisinjunction, instead of lamenting his loss, she indulgedher noble sorrow in depicting her husband as he had lived."They who dote on mortal excellences, " she says, inher Introduction to the ' Life," " when, bythe inevitablefate of all things frail, their adored idols are taken fromthem, may let loose the winds of passion to bring in aflood of sorrow, whose ebbing tides carry away the dearmemory of what they have lost; and when comfort isessayed to such mourners, commonly all objects areremoved out of their viewwhich may with their remembrance renew the grief; and in time these remediessucceed, and oblivion's curtain is by degrees drawn overthe dead face; and things less lovely are liked, whilethey are not viewed together with that which was mostexcellent. But I, that am under a command not to Y322 Portrait ofColonel Hutchinson. [CHAP. XI.grieve at the common rate of desolate women, ' while Iam studying which way to moderate my woe, and if itwere possible to augment my love, I can for the presentfind out none more just to your dear father, nor consolatory to myself, than the preservation of his memory,which I need not gild with such flattering commendations as hired preachers do equally give to the trulyand titularly honourable. A naked undressed narrative, speaking the simple truth of him, will deck himwith more substantial glory, than all the panegyrics the best pens could ever consecrate to the virtues of thebest men."The following is the wife's portrait of ColonelHutchinson as a husband:-"For conjugal affection to his wife, it was such inhim as whosoever would draw out a rule of honour,kindness, and religion, to be practised in that estate,need no more but exactly draw out his example. Neverman had a greater passion for a woman, nor a morehonourable esteem of a wife; yet he was not uxorious,nor remitted he that just rule which it was her honourto obey, but managed the reins of government with suchprudence and affection, that she who could not delightin such an honourable and advantageable subjection,must have wanted a reasonable soul,1 Colonel Hutchinson was anuncompromising republican, tho- roughly brave, highminded, and pious. At the Restoration, he was discharged from Parliament, and from all offices of state for ever.He retired to his estate at Owthorp,near Nottingham, but was shortly after arrested and imprisoned in the Tower. From thence he was re- movedtoSandown Castle, near Deal,where he lay for eleven months,and died on September 11th, 1664.The wife petitioned for leave toshare his prison, but was refused.When he felt himself dying, know- ing the deep sorrow which his death would occasion to his wife,he left this message, which was conveyed to her: "Let her, as sheis above other women, show herself on this occasion a good Chris- tian, and above the pitch of ordi- nary women." Hence the, wife's allusion to her husband's "command " in the above passage."9CHAP. XI. ] Lady Rachel Russell. 323"He governed by persuasion, which he never employed but to things honourable and profitable to herself; he loved her soul and her honour more than heroutside, and yet he had ever for her person a constantindulgence, exceeding the common temporary passionof the most uxorious fools. If he esteemed her at ahigher rate than she in herself could have deserved, hewas the author of that virtue he doated on, while sheonly reflected his own glories upon him. All that shewas, was him, while he was here, and all that she is now,at best, is but his pale shade."So liberal was he to her, and of so generous atemper, that he hated the mention of severed purses,his estate being so much at her disposal that he neverwould receive an account of anything she expended.So constant was he in his love, that when she ceased tobe young and lovely he began to show most fondness.He loved her at such a kind and generous rate as wordscannot express. Yet even this, which was the highestlove he or any man could have, was bounded by asuperior: he loved her in the Lord as his fellowcreature, not his idol; but in such a manner as showedthat an affection, founded on the just rules of duty, farexceeds every way all the irregular passions in theworld. He loved God above her, and all the otherdear pledges of his heart, and for his glory cheerfullyresigned them .""" 1Lady Rachel Russell is another of the women ofhistory celebrated for her devotion and faithfulness asa wife. She laboured and pleaded for her husband'srelease so long as she could do so with honour; butwhen she saw that all was in vain, she collected her1 Mrs. Lucy Hutchinson to her | 'Memoirs of the Life of Col. Hut- children concerning their father: | chinson ' (Bohn's Ed. ), pp. 29–30.Y 2[CHAP. XI.324 Moral Influence ofa Wife.courage, and strove by her example to strengthen theresolution of her dear lord. And when his last hourhad nearly come, and his wife and children waited toreceive his parting embrace, she, brave to the end, thatishe might not add to his distress, concealed the agonyof her grief under a seeming composure; and theyparted, after a tender adieu, in silence. After she hadgone, Lord William said, " Now the bitterness of deathis passed! "1We have spoken of the influence of a wife upon aman's character. There are few men strong enough toresist the influence of a lower character in a wife.If she do not sustain and elevate what is highest in hisnature, she will speedily reduce him to her own level.Thus a wife may be the making or the unmaking of the best of men. An illustration of this power is furnishedin the life of Bunyan. The profligate tinker had thegood fortune to marry, in early life, a worthy youngwoman of good parentage. "My mercy," he himselfsays, was to light upon a wife whose father andmother were accounted godly. This woman and I,though we came together as poor as poor might be(not having so much household stuff as a dish or aspoon betwixt us both), yet she had for her part, The661 On the Declaration of Ameri- find herself in the situation ofcan Independence, the first John Lady Russell, her husband with- Adams, afterwards President of out a head." Speaking of histhe United States, bought a copy wife in connection with the fact,of the ' Life and Letters of Lady Mr. Adams added: " Like Lady Russell,' and presented it to his Russell, she never, by word or wife, " with an express intent and look, discouraged me from running desire "(as stated by himself) " that all hazards for the salvation of my she should consider it a mirror in country's liberties. She was will- which to contemplate herself; for, ing to share with me, and that her at that time, I thought it extremely children should share with us both,probable, from the daring and in all the dangerous consequences dangerous career I was determined we had to hazard."to run, that she would one dayCHAP. XI. ] Bunyan and Baxter.325Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven,' and ' The Practice ofPiety,' which her father had left her when he died. ”And by reading these and other good books, helped bythe kindly influence of his wife, Bunyan was graduallyreclaimed from his evil ways, and led gently into thepaths of peace.66Richard Baxter, the Nonconformist divine, was faradvanced in life before he met the excellent womanwho eventually became his wife. He was too laboriouslyoccupied in his vocation of minister to have any timeto spare for courtship; and his marriage was, as in thecase of Calvin, as much a matter of convenience as oflove. Miss Charlton, the lady of his choice, was theowner of property in her own right; but lest it shouldbe thought that Baxter married her for " covetousness," he requested, first, that she should give over toher relatives the principal part of her fortune, and thathe should have nothing that before her marriage washers;" secondly, that she should so arrange her affairs"as that he might be entangled in no lawsuits; " and,thirdly, " that she should expect none of the time thathis ministerial work might require. " These severalconditions the bride having complied with, the marriagetook place, and proved a happy one. "We lived," saidBaxter, "in inviolated love and mutual complacency,sensible of the benefit of mutual help, nearly nineteenyears. ' Yet the life of Baxter was one of great trialsand troubles, arising from the unsettled state of thetimes in which he lived. He was hunted about fromone part of the country to another, and for severalyears he had no settled dwelling-place. " The women,"he gently remarks in his ' Life, ' " have most of that sortof trouble, but my wife easily bore it all." In thesixth year of his marriage Baxter was brought beforethe magistrates at Brentford, for holding a conventicle at""326 Count Zinzendorf.[ CHAP. XI .Acton, and was sentenced by them to be confined inClerkenwell Gaol. There he was joined by his wife,who affectionately nursed him during his imprisonment."She was never so cheerful a companion to me, ” hesays, " as in prison, and was very much against meseeking to be released." At length he was set atliberty by the judges of the Court of Common Pleas, towhom he had appealed against the sentence of themagistrates. At the death of Mrs. Baxter, after a verytroubled yet happy and cheerful life, her husband lefta touching portrait of the graces, virtues, and Christiancharacter of this excellent woman-one of the mostcharming things to be found in his works.The noble Count Zinzendorf was united to anequally noble woman, who bore him up through life byher great spirit, and sustained him in all his labours byher unfailing courage. " Twenty-four years' experiencehas shown me," he said, "that just the helpmate whomI have is the only one that could suit my vocation.Who else could have so carried through my familyaffairs?—who lived so spotlessly before the world?Who so wisely aided me in my rejection of a drymorality? Who would, like she, without amurmur, have seen her husband encounter such dangersby land and sea?—who undertaken with him, and sustained, such astonishing pilgrimages? Who, amid suchdifficulties, could have held up her head and supportedme? . . . . And finally, who, of all human beings, couldso well understand and interpret to others myinner andouter being as this one, of such nobleness in her wayof thinking, such great intellectual capacity, and freefrom the theological perplexities that so often envelopedme?"·One of the brave Dr. Livingstone's greatest trialsduring his travels in South Africa was the death of hisCHAP. XI.] Livingstone and Romilly. 327affectionate wife, who had shared his dangers, andaccompanied him in so many of his wanderings. Incommunicating the intelligence of her decease atShupanga, on the River Zambesi, to his friend SirRoderick Murchison, Dr. Livingstone said: "I must confess that this heavy stroke quite takes the heart out ofme. Everything else that has happened only made memore determined to overcome all difficulties; but afterthis sad stroke I feel crushed and void of strength.Only three short months of her society, after four years'separation! I married her for love, and the longer Ilived with her I loved her the more. A good wife, anda good, brave, kindhearted mother was she, deservingall the praises you bestowed upon her at our partingdinner, for teaching her own and the native children,too, at Kolobeng. I try to bow to the blow as from ourHeavenly Father, who orders all things for us. ·I shall do my duty still, but it is with a darkenedhorizon that I again set about it.”Sir Samuel Romilly left behind him, in his Autobiography, a touching picture of his wife, to whom heattributed no small measure of the success and happinessthat accompanied him through life. " For the lastfifteen years, " he said, " my happiness has been theconstant study of the most excellent of wives: a womanin whom a strong understanding, the noblest and mostelevated sentiments, and the most courageous virtue,are united to the warmest affection, and to the utmostdelicacy of mind and heart; and all these intellectualperfections are graced by the most splendid beauty thathuman eyes ever beheld . " ¹ Romilly's affection andadmiration for this noble woman endured to the end;and when she died, the shock proved greater than his1 ' Memoirs of the Life of Sir Samuel Romilly, ' vol. i . p. 41.328Sir Thomas Graham. [CHAP. XI.sensitive naturecould bear. Sleep left his eyelids, hismind becameunhinged, and three days after her deaththe sad event occurredwhich broughthis own valuedlife to a close.¹Sir Francis Burdett, to whom Romilly had been oftenpolitically opposed, fell into such a state of profoundmelancholy on the death of his wife, that he persistentlyrefused nourishment of any kind, and died before theremoval of her remains from the house; and husbandand wife were laid side by side in the same grave.It was grief for the loss of his wife that sent SirThomas Graham into the army at the age of fortythree. Every one knows the picture of the newlywedded pair by Gainsborough-one of the mostexquisite of that painter's works. They lived happilytogether for eighteen years, and then she died, leavinghim inconsolable. To forget his sorrow-and, as somethought, to get rid of the weariness of his life withouther-Graham joined Lord Hood as a volunteer, anddistinguished himself by the recklessness of his braveryat the siege of Toulon. He served all through thePeninsular War, first under Sir John Moore, and afterwards under Wellington; rising through the variousgrades of the service, until he rose to be second in command. He was commonly known as the "hero ofBarossa," because of his famous victory at that place;and he was eventually raised to the peerage as LordLynedoch, ending his days peacefully at a veryadvanced age. But to the last he tenderly cherished the memory of his dead wife, to the love of whom he1 It is a singular circ*mstance | Romilly, F.R.S., who died in 1759,that in the parish church of St. of a broken heart, seven days after Bride, Fleet Street, there is a the decease of a beloved wife.- tablet on the wall with an inscrip- Chambers' Book of Days, vol. ii.tion to the memory of Isaac p. 539.CHAP. XI. ] Wives of Scientific Men. 329may be said to have owed all his glory. "Never,"said Sheridan of him, when pronouncing his eulogy inthe House of Commons-" never was there seated aloftier spirit in a braver heart. ”And so have noble wives cherished the memory oftheir husbands. There is a celebrated monument inVienna, erected to the memory of one of the bestgenerals of the Austrian army, on which there is aninscription, setting forth his great services during theSeven Years' War, concluding with the words, " Nonpatria, nec Imperator, sed conjux posuit." When SirAlbert Morton died, his wife's grief was such that sheshortly followed him, and was laid by his side. Wotton'stwo lines on the event have been celebrated as containing a volume in seventeen words:" He first deceased; she for a little triedTo live without him, liked it not, and died."So, when Washington's wife was informed that herdearlord had suffered his last agony-had drawn his lastbreath, and departed-she said: " "Tis well; all is nowover. I shall soon follow him; I have no more trials topass through."Not only have women been the best companions,friends, and consolers, but they have in many casesbeen the most effective helpers of their husbands intheir special lines of work. Galvani was especiallyhappy in his wife. She was the daughter of ProfessorGaleazzi; and it is said to have been through her quickobservation of the circ*mstance of the leg of a frog,placed near an electrical machine, becoming convulsedwhen touched by a knife, that her husband was first ledto investigate the science which has since become identified with his name. Lavoisier's wife also was a woman330 Buckland and Huber. [ CHAP. XI.o real scientific ability, who not only shared in herhusband's pursuits, but even undertook the task ofengraving the plates that accompanied his Elements.'6The late Dr. Buckland had another true helper inhis wife, who assisted him with her pen, prepared andmended his fossils, and furnished many of the drawingsand illustrations of his published works. " Notwithstanding her devotion to her husband's pursuits," saysher son, Frank Buckland, in the preface to one of hisfather's works, " she did not neglect the education ofher children, but occupied her mornings in superintending their instruction in sound and useful knowledge. The sterling value of her labours they now, inafter-life, fully appreciate, and feel most thankful thatthey were blessed with so good a mother. "" 1A still more remarkable instance of helpfulness in awife is presented in the case of Huber, the Genevanaturalist. Huber was blind from his seventeenth year,and yet he found means to study and master a branchof natural history demanding the closest observationand the keenest eyesight. It was through the eyes ofhis wife that his mind worked as if they had been hisown. She encouraged her husband's studies as a meansof alleviating his privation, which at length he came to¹ Mr. Frank Buckland says:-| ance, but her natural talent in the "During the long period that Dr. use of her pencil enabled her to Buckland was engaged in writing give accurate illustrations and the book which I now have the finished drawings, many of which honour of editing, my mother sat are perpetuated in Dr. Buckland's up night after night, for weeks and works. She was also particularly months consecutively, writing to clever and neat in mending broken my father's dictation; and this fossils; and there are many speci- often till the sun's rays, shining mens in the Oxford Museum, nowthrough the shutters at early exhibiting their natural forms and morn, warned the husband to cease beauty, which were restored by her from thinking, and the wife to rest perseverance to shape from a mass her weary hand. Not only with her of broken and almost comminuted pen did she render material assist- fragments."CHAP. XI.] Wives as Helpers. 331forget; and his life was as prolonged and happy asis usual with most naturalists. He even went so far asto declare that he should be miserable were he toregain his eyesight. " I should not know," he said ,"to what extent a person in my situation could bebeloved; besides, to me my wife is always young, fresh,and pretty, which is no light matter." Huber's greatwork on 'Bees ' is still regarded as a masterpiece, embodying a vast amount of original observation on theirhabits and natural history. Indeed, while reading hisdescriptions, one would suppose that they were the workof a singularly keensighted man, rather than of one whohad been entirely blind for twenty-five years at the timeat which he wrote them.Not less touching was the devotion of Lady Hamiltonto the service of her husband, the late Sir WilliamHamilton, Professor of Logic and Metaphysics in theUniversity of Edinburgh. After he had been strickenby paralysis through overwork at the age of fifty-six,she became hands, eyes, mind, and everything to him.She identified herself with his work, read and consultedbooks for him, copied out and corrected his lectures,and relieved him of all business which she felt herselfcompetent to undertake. Indeed, her conduct as a wifewas nothing short of heroic; and it is probable that butfor her devoted and more than wifely help, and her rarepractical ability, the greatest of her husband's workswould never have seen the light. He was by natureunmethodical and disorderly, and she supplied himwith method and orderliness. His temperament wasstudious but indolent, while she was active and energetic. She abounded in the qualities which he mostlacked. He had the genius, to which her vigorousnature gave the force and impulse.When Sir William Hamilton was elected to his332 Sir William and Lady Homilton. [ CHAP. XI.Professorship, after a severe and even bitter contest, hisopponents, professing to regard him as a visionary,predicted that he could never teach a class of students,and that his appointment would prove a total failure.He determined, with the help of his wife, to justify thechoice of his supporters, and to prove that his enemieswere false prophets. Having no stock of lectures onhand, each lecture of the first course was written outday by day, as it was to be delivered on the followingmorning. His wife sat up with him night after night,to write out a fair copy of the lectures from the roughsheets, which he drafted in the adjoining room. " Onsome occasions," says his biographer, " the subject ofthe lectures would prove less easily managed than onothers; and then Sir William would be found writing aslate as nine o'clock in the morning, while his faithfulbut wearied amanuensis had fallen asleep on a sofa. ” ¹Sometimes the finishing touches to the lecture wereleft to be given just before the class-hour. Thus helped,Sir William completed his course; his reputation as alecturer was established; and he eventually becamerecognised throughout Europe as one of the leadingintellects of his time.21 Veitch's ' Memoirs of Sir William Hamilton.'? The following extract from Mr. Veitch's biography will give one an idea of the extraordinary labours of Lady Hamilton, to whose unfailing devotion to the service of her husband the world of intellect has been so much indebted: "The number of pages in her handwriting," says Mr. Veitch,-"filled with abstruse metaphy- sical matter, original and quoted,bristling with proportional and syllogistic formula-that are stillpreserved, is perfectly marvellous.Everything that was sent to thepress, and all the courses of lec- tures, were written by her, either to dictation, or from a copy. This work she did in the truest spirit of love and devotion. She had apower, moreover, of keeping her husband up to what he had to do.She contended wisely against asort of energetic indolence which characterised him, and which ,while he was always labouring,made him apt to put aside the task actually before him-some-CHAP. XI. ] Woman as a Fellow- worker.66333The woman who soothes anxiety by her presence,who charms and allays irritability by her sweetness oftemper, is a consoler as well as a true helper. Niebuhralways spoke of his wife as a fellow-worker with him inthis sense. Without the peace and consolation whichhe found in her society, his nature would have frettedin comparative uselessness. 'Her sweetness of temperand her love," said he, " raise me above the earth,and in a manner separate me from this life." Butshe was a helper in another and more direct way.Niebuhr was accustomed to discuss with his wife everyhistorical discovery, every political event, every noveltyin literature; and it was mainly for her pleasure andapprobation, in the first instance, that he laboured whilepreparing himself for the instruction of the world at large.The wife of John Stuart Mill was another worthyhelper of her husband, though in a more abstruse department of study, as we learn from his touchingdedication of the treatise On Liberty ':-"To thebeloved and deplored memory of her who was thetimes diverted by subjects of inquiry suggested in the course of study on the matter in hand, some- times discouraged by the difficulty of reducing to order the immense mass of materials he had accumu- lated in connection with it. Then her resolution and cheerful dispo- sition sustained and refreshed him,and never more so than when,during the last twelve years of his life, his bodily strength was broken,and his spirit, though languid, yet ceased not from mental toil. The truth is , that Sir William's marriage, his comparatively limited circ*mstances, and the character of his wife, supplied to a nature that would have been contented to spend its mighty energies in work6that brought no reward but in thedoing of it, and that might never have been made publicly known or available, the practical forcé and impulse which enabled him to ac- complish what he actually did in literature and philosophy. It was this influence, without doubt, which saved him from utter absorption in his world of rare, noble, andelevated, but ever-increasingly un- attainable ideas. But for it, theserene sea of abstract thought might have held him becalmed for life; and in the absence of all utterance of definite knowledge of his conclusions, the world might have been left to an ignorant and mys- terious wonder about the unprofit- able scholar."334 Prof. Faraday's Married Life. [CHAP. XI.inspirer, and in part the author, of all that is best inmy writings-the friend and wife, whose exalted senseof truth and right was my strongest incitement, andwhose approbation was my chief reward, I dedicate thisvolume." Not less touching is the testimony borneby another great living writer to the character of hiswife, in the inscription upon the tombstone of Mrs.Carlyle in Haddington Churchyard, where are inscribedthese words: " In her bright existence, she had moresorrows than are common, but also a soft amiability,a capacity of discernment, and a noble loyalty of heart,which are rare. For forty years she was the true andloving helpmate of her husband, and by act and wordunweariedly forwarded him as none else could, in all ofworthy that he did or attempted. "The married life of Faraday was eminently happy.In his wife he found, at the same time, a true helpmate and soul- mate. She supported, cheered, andstrengthened him on his way through life, giving him"the clear contentment of a heart at ease." In hisdiary he speaks of his marriage as " a source of honourand happiness far exceeding all the rest." After twentyeight years' experience, he spoke of it as " an event- which, more than any other, had contributed to hisearthly happiness and healthy state of mind. . . Theunion (said he) has in nowise changed, except only inthe depth and strength of its character." And for sixand-forty years did the union continue unbroken; the' love of the old man remaining as fresh, as earnest, asheart-whole, as in the days of his impetuous youth. Inthis case, marriage was as―"A golden chain let down from heaven,Whose links are bright and even;That falls like sleep on lovers, and combines The soft and sweetest mindsIn equal knots."·CHAP. XI. ] Woman as a Consoler. - 335Besides being a helper, woman is emphatically aconsoler. Her sympathy is unfailing. She soothes,cheers, and comforts. Never was this more true thanin the case of the wife of Tom Hood, whose tenderdevotion to him, during a life that was a prolongedillness, is one of the most affecting things in biography.A woman of excellent good sense, she appreciated herhusband's genius, and, by encouragement and sympathy,cheered and heartened him to renewed effort in manya weary struggle for life. She created about him anatmosphere of hope and cheerfulness, and nowhere didthe sunshine of her love seem so bright as when lightingup the couch of her invalid husband.Nor was he unconscious of her worth. In one of hisletters to her, when absent from his side, Hood said:"I never was anything, Dearest, till I knew you; and Ihave been a better, happier, and more prosperous manever since. Lay by that truth in lavender, Sweetest,and remind me of it when I fail. I am writing warmlyand fondly, but not without good cause. First, yourown affectionate letter, lately received; next, theremembrance of our dear children, pledges—what darling ones!-of our old familiar love; then, a deliciousimpulse to pour out the overflowings of my heart intoyours; and last, not least, the knowledge that your deareyes will read what my hand is now writing. Perhapsthere is an afterthought that, whatever may befall me,the wife of my bosom will have the acknowledgment ofher tenderness, worth, excellence-all that is wifely orwomanly, from my pen." In another letter, also writtento his wife during a brief absence, there is a naturaltouch, showing his deep affection for her: " I went andretraced our walk in the park, and sat down on the sameseat, and felt happier and better."But not only was Mrs. Hood a consoler, she was also336Wives as Literary Helpers. [CHAP. XI.a helper of her husband in his special work, He hadsuch confidence in her judgment, that he read, andre-read, and corrected with her assistance all that hewrote. Many of his pieces were first dedicated to her;and her ready memory often supplied him with thenecessary references and quotations. Thus, in the rollof noble wives of men of genius, Mrs. Hood will alwaysbe entitled to take a foremost place.Not less effective as a literary helper was LadyNapier, the wife of Sir William Napier, historian of thePeninsular War. She encouraged him to undertake thework, and without her help he would have experiencedgreat difficulty in completing it. She translated andepitomized the immense mass of original documents,many of them in cipher, on which it was in a greatmeasure founded. When the Duke of Wellington wastold of the art and industry she had displayed indeciphering King Joseph's portfolio, and the immensemass of correspondence taken at Vittoria, he at firstwould hardly believe it, adding—" I would have given20,000l. to any person who could have done this for mein the Peninsula." Sir William Napier's handwritingbeing almost illegible, Lady Napier made out his roughinterlined manuscript, which he himself could scarcelyread, and wrote out a full fair copy for the printer; andall this vast labour she undertook and accomplished,according to the testimony of her husband, withouthaving for a moment neglected the care and educationof a large family. When Sir William lay on his deathbed, Lady Napier was at the same time dangerously ill;but she was wheeled into his room on a sofa, and the twotook their silent farewell of each other. The husbanddied first; in a few weeks the wife followed him, andthey sleep side by side in the same grave.Many other similar truehearted wives rise up in theCHAP. XI. ] A Galaxy ofNoble Wives. 337memory, to recite whose praises would more than fillup our remaining space-such as Flaxman's wife, AnnDenham, who cheered and encouraged her husbandthrough life in the prosecution of his art, accompanyinghim to Rome, sharing in his labours and anxieties, andfinally in his triumphs, and to whom Flaxman, in thefortieth year of their married life, dedicated his beautiful designs illustrative of Faith, Hope, and Charity,in token of his deep and undimmed affection; --suchas Katherine Boutcher, " dark-eyed Kate," the wife ofWilliam Blake, who believed her husband to be thefirst genius on earth, worked off the impressions ofhis plates and coloured them beautifully with her ownhand, bore with him in all his erratic ways, sympathisedwith him in his sorrows and joys for forty-five years, andcomforted him until his dying hour-his last sketch,made in his seventy-first year, being a likeness of himself, before making which, seeing his wife crying by hisside, he said, " Stay, Kate! just keep as you are; I willdraw your portrait, for you have ever been an angel tome; "--such again as Lady Franklin, the true and noblewoman, who never rested in her endeavours to penetratethe secret of the Polar Sea and prosecute the search forher long-lost husband-undaunted by failure, and persevering in her determination with a devotion and singleness of purpose altogether unparalleled; -or such againas the wife of Zimmermann, whose intense melancholyshe strove in vain to assuage, sympathizing with him,listening to him, and endeavouring to understand himand to whom, when on her deathbed, about to leavehim for ever, she addressed the touching words, " Mypoor Zimmermann! who will now understand thee? "Wives have actively helped their husbands in otherways. Before Weinsberg surrendered to its besiegers,the women of the place asked permission of the captors Z338Devotion ofGrotius' Wife. [ CHAP. XI.to remove their valuables. The permission was granted,and shortly after, the women were seen issuing from thegates carrying their husbands on their shoulders. LordNithsdale owed his escape from prison to the address ofhis wife, who changed garments with him, sending himforth in her stead, and herself remaining prisoner, -anexample which was successfully repeated by Madamede Lavalette.But the most remarkable instance of the release of ahusband through the devotion of a wife, was that of thecelebrated Grotius. He had lain for nearly twentymonths in the strong fortress of Loevestein, near Gorcum, having been condemned by the government of theUnited Provinces to perpetual imprisonment. His wife,having been allowed to share his cell, greatly relievedhis solitude. She was permitted to go into the towntwice a week, and bring her husband books, of which herequired a large number to enable him to prosecute hisstudies. At length a large chest was required to holdthem. This the sentries at first examined with greatstrictness, but, finding that it only contained books(amongst others Arminian books) and linen, they atlength gave up the search, and it was allowed to passout and in as a matter of course. This led Grotius'wife to conceive the idea of releasing him; and shepersuaded him one day to deposit himself in the chestinstead of the outgoing books. When the two soldiersappointed to remove it took it up, they felt it to beconsiderably heavier than usual, and one of them asked,jestingly, "Have we got the Arminian himself here? "to which the ready-witted wife replied, " Yes, perhapssome Arminian books." The chest reached Gorcum insafety; the captive was released; and Grotius escapedacross the frontier into Brabant, and afterwards intoFrance, where he was rejoined by his wife.CHAP. XI.] Heine's Wife. 339Trial and suffering are the tests of married life . Theybring out the real character, and often tend to producethe closest union. They may even be the spring of thepurest happiness. Uninterrupted joy, like uninterruptedsuccess, is not good for either man or woman. When .Heine's wife died, he began to reflect upon the loss hehad sustained. They had both known poverty, andstruggled through it hand-in-hand; and it was hisgreatest sorrow that she was taken from him at themoment when fortune was beginning to smile upon him,but too late for her to share in his prosperity. " Alas!"said he, “ amongst my griefs must I reckon even herlove-the strongest, truest, that ever inspired the heartof woman—which made me the happiest of mortals,and yet was to me a fountain of a thousand distresses,inquietudes, and cares? To entire cheerfulness, perhaps,she never attained; but for what unspeakable sweetness,what exalted, enrapturing joys, is not love indebtedto sorrow! Amidst growing anxieties, with the tortureof anguish in my heart, I have been made, even by theloss which caused me this anguish and these anxieties,inexpressibly happy! When tears flowed over ourcheeks, did not a nameless, seldom-felt delight streamthrough my breast, oppressed equally by joy and sorrow!"There is a degree of sentiment in German love whichseems strange to English readers, such as we finddepicted in the lives of Novalis, Jung Stilling, Fichte,Jean Paul, and others that might be named. TheGerman betrothal is a ceremony of almost equal importance to the marriage itself; and in that state thesentiments are allowed free play, whilst English loversare restrained, shy, and as if ashamed of their feelings.Take, for instance, the case of Herder, whom his futurewife first saw in the pulpit. "I heard," she says, " thevoice of an angel, and soul's words such as I had neverz 2340 Fichte's Courtship. [CHAP. XI .heard before. In the afternoon I saw him, and stammered out my thanks to him; from this time forth oursouls were one." They were betrothed long before theirmeans would permit them to marry; but at length theywere united. "We were married," says Caroline, thewife, " by the rose-light of a beautiful evening. Wewere one heart, one soul." Herder was equally ecstaticin his language. " I have a wife," he wrote to Jacobi,"that is the tree, the consolation, and the happiness ofmy life. Even in flying transient thoughts (which oftensurprise us), we are one! "Take, again, the case of Fichte, in whose historyhis courtship and marriage form a beautiful episode.He was a poor German student, living with a family atZurich in the capacity of tutor, when he first made theacquaintance of Johanna Maria Rahn, a niece of Klopstock. Her position in life was higher than that ofFichte; nevertheless, she regarded him with sincereadmiration. When Fichte was about to leave Zurich,his troth plighted to her, she, knowing him to be verypoor, offered him a gift of money before setting out.He was inexpressibly hurt by the offer, and, at first,even doubted whether she could really love him; but,on second thoughts, he wrote to her, expressing hisdeep thanks, but, at the same time, the impossibility ofhis accepting such a gift from her. He succeeded inreaching his destination, though entirely destitute ofmeans. After a long and hard struggle with the world,extending over many years, Fichte was at lengthearning money enough to enable him to marry. Inone of his charming letters to his betrothed he said:" And so, dearest, I solemnly devote myself to thee,and thank thee that thou hast thought me not unworthyto be thy companion on the journey of life.There is no land of happiness here below-I know it•CHAP. XI. ] Fichte and Cobbett.341now-but a land of toil, where every joy but strengthensus for greater labour. Hand-in-hand we shall traverseit, and encourage and strengthen each other, until ourspirits-oh, may it be together!-shall rise to theeternal fountain of all peace.The married life of Fichte was very happy. Hiswife proved a true and highminded helpmate. Duringthe War of Liberation she was assiduous in her attentionto the wounded in the hospitals, where she caught amalignant fever, which nearly carried her off. Fichtehimself caught the same disease, and was for a timecompletely prostrated; but he lived for a few more yearsand died at the early age of fifty-two, consumed by hisown fire.What a contrast does the courtship and married life ofthe blunt and practical William Cobbett present to theæsthetical and sentimental love of these highly refinedGermans! Not less honest, not less true, but, as somewould think, comparatively coarse and vulgar. WhenCobbett first set eyes upon the girl that was afterwardsto become his wife, she was only thirteen years old, andhe was twenty-one-a sergeant-major in a foot regimentstationed at St. John's in New Brunswick. He was passing the door of her father's house one day in winter, andsaw the girl out in the snow, scrubbing a washing-tub. Hesaid at once to himself, " That's the girl for me." He madeher acquaintance, and resolved that she should be his wifeso soon as he could get discharged from the army.On the eve of the girl's return to Woolwich with herfather, who was a sergeant-major in the artillery,Cobbett sent her a hundred and fifty guineas which hehad saved, in order that she might be able to live without hard work until his return to England. The girldeparted, taking with her the money; and five yearslater Cobbett obtained his discharge. On reaching342 Cobbett and his Wife. [CHAP. XI .London, he made haste to call upon the sergeantmajor's daughter. " I found, " he says, " my little girla servant-of-all- work (and hard work it was), at fivepounds a year, in the house of a Captain Brisac; and,without hardly saying a word about the matter, she putinto my hands the whole of my hundred and fiftyguineas, unbroken. " Admiration of her conduct wasnow added to love of her person, and Cobbett shortlyafter married the girl, who proved an excellent wife.He was, indeed, never tired of speaking her praises, andit was his pride to attribute to her all the comfort andmuch of the success of his after-life,Though Cobbett was regarded by many in his lifetime as a coarse, hard, practical man, full of prejudices,there was yet a strong undercurrent of poetry in hisnature; and, while he declaimed against sentiment,there were few men more thoroughly imbued with sentiment of the best kind. He had the tenderest regardfor the character of woman, He respected her purityand her virtue, and in his ' Advice to Young Men,' hehas painted the true womanly woman—the helpful,cheerful, affectionate wife-with a vividness and brightness, and, at the same time, a force of good sense,that have never been surpassed by any English writer.Cobbett was anything but refined, in the conventionalsense of the word; but he was pure, temperate, selfdenying, industrious, vigorous, and energetic, in aneminent degree. Many of his views were, no doubt,wrong, but they were his own, for he insisted on thinking for himself in everything. Though few men took afirmer grasp of the real than he did, perhaps still fewerwere more swayed by the ideal. In word- pictures ofhis own emotions, he is unsurpassed. Indeed, Cobbettmight almost be regarded as one of the greatest prosepoets of English real life.CHAP. XII.] The Discipline ofExperience. 343CHAPTER XIITHE DISCIPLINE OF EXPERIENCE."I would the great would grow like thee,Who grewest not alone in power And knowledge, but by year and hour In reverence and in charity."-Tennyson "Not to be unhappy is unhappinesse,And misery not t' have known miserie;For the best way unto discretion is The way that leades us by adversitie;And men are better shew'd what is amisse,By th' expert finger of calamitie,Than they can be with all that fortune brings,Who never shewes them the true face of things."-Daniel."A lump of wo affliction is,Yet thence I borrow lumps of bliss;Though few can see a blessing in 't,It is my furnace and my mint."-Erskine's Gospel Sonnets."Crosses grow anchors, bear as thou shouldst so Thy cross, and that cross grows an anchor too. "-Donne." Bethe day weary, or be the day long,At length it ringeth to Evensong."-Ancient Couplet.PRACTICAL wisdom is only to be learnt in the school ofexperience. Precepts and instructions are useful so faras they go, but, without the discipline of real life, theyremain of the nature of theory only. The hard facts ofexistence have to be faced, to give that touch of truth tocharacter which can never be imparted by reading ortuition, but only by contact with the broad instincts ofcommon men and women.To be worth anything, character must be capable ofstanding firm upon its feet in the world of daily work,temptation, and trial; and able to bear the wear-andtear of actual life. Cloistered virtues do not count formuch. The life that rejoices in solitude may be only344 Evils of Seclusion.[CHAP. XII.rejoicing in selfishness. Seclusion may indicate contempt for others; though more usually it means indolence,cowardice, or self- indulgence. To every human beingbelongs his fair share of manful toil and human duty;and it cannot be shirked without loss to the individualhimself, as well as to the community to which he belongs. It is only by mixing in the daily life of theworld, and taking part in its affairs, that practical knowledge can be acquired, and wisdom learnt. It is therethat we find our chief sphere of duty, that we learn thediscipline of work, and that we educate ourselves inthat patience, diligence, and endurance which shapeand consolidate the character. There we encounterthe difficulties, trials, and temptations which, according as we deal with them, give a colour to our entireafter-life; and there, too, we become subject to thegreat discipline of suffering, from which we learn farmore than from the safe seclusion of the study or thecloister.Contact with others is also requisite to enable a manto know himself. It is only by mixing freely in theworld that one can form a proper estimate of his owncapacity. Without such experience, one is apt tobecome conceited, puffed-up, and arrogant; at allevents, he will remain ignorant of himself, though hemay heretofore have enjoyed no other company.Swift once said: " It is an uncontroverted truth, thatno man ever made an ill- figure who understood his owntalents, nor a good one who mistook them." Manypersons, however, are readier to take measure of thecapacity of others than of themselves. " Bring him tome," said a certain Dr. Tronchin, of Geneva, speakingof Rousseau- " bring him to me, that I may seewhether he has got anything in him! "-the probability being that Rousseau, who knew himself better,CHAP. XII. ] The School of Experience. 345was much more likely to take measure of Tronchin thanTronchin was to take measure of him.A due amount of self-knowledge is, therefore, necessary for those who would be anything or do anything inthe world. It is also one of the first essentials to theformation of distinct personal convictions. FredericPerthes once said to a young friend: " You know onlytoo well what you can do; but till you have learnedwhat you cannot do, you will neither accomplish anything of moment, nor know inward peace. 'Any one who would profit by experience will neverbe above asking help. He who thinks himself alreadytoo wise to learn of others, will never succeed in doinganything either good or great. We have to keep ourminds and hearts open, and never be ashamed to learn,with the assistance of those who are wiser and moreexperienced than ourselves.The man made wise by experience endeavours tojudge correctly of the things which come under hisobservation, and form the subject of his daily life.What we call common sense is, for the most part, butthe result of common experience wisely improved.Nor is great ability necessary to acquire it, so much aspatience, accuracy, and watchfulness. Hazlitt thoughtthe most sensible people to be met with are intelligentmen of business and of the world, who argue from whatthey see and know, instead of spinning cobweb distinctions of what things ought to be.For the same reason, women often display more goodsense than men, having fewer pretensions, and judgingof things naturally, by the involuntary impression theymake on the mind. Their intuitive powers are quicker,their perceptions more acute, their sympathies morelively, and their manners more adaptive to particularends. Hence their greater tact as displayed in the346The School of Life. [CHAP. XII.management of others, women of apparently slenderintellectual powers often contriving to control andregulate the conduct of men of even the most impracticable nature. Pope paid a high compliment to thetact and good sense of Mary, Queen of William III.,when he described her as possessing, not a science, but(what was worth all else) prudence.The whole of life may be regarded as a great schoolof experience, in which men and women are the pupils.As in a school, many of the lessons learnt there mustneeds be taken on trust. We may not understand them,and may possibly think it hard that we have to learnthem, especially where the teachers are trials, sorrows,temptations, and difficulties; and yet we must not onlyaccept their lessons, but recognise them as beingdivinely appointed.To what extent have the pupils profited by theirexperience in the school of life? What advantage havethey taken of their opportunities for learning? Whathave they gained in discipline of heart and mind?—how much in growth of wisdom, courage, self-control?Have they preserved their integrity amidst prosperity,and enjoyed life in temperance and moderation? Or,has life been with them a mere feast of selfishness,without care or thought for others? What have theylearnt from trial and adversity? Have they learntpatience, submission, and trust in God?—or have theylearnt nothing but impatience, querulousness, and discontent?The results of experience are, of course, only to beachieved by living; and living is a question of time.The man of experience learns to rely upon Time as hishelper. " Time and I against any two," was a maximof Cardinal Mazarin. Time has been described as abeautifier and as a consoler; but it is also a teacher. ItCHAP. XII. ] Youthful Ardour. 347is the food of experience, the soil of wisdom. It maybe the friend or the enemy of youth; and Time will sitbeside the old as a consoler or as a tormentor, accordingas it has been used or misused, and the past life hasbeen well or ill spent.66 Time," says George Herbert, " is the rider thatbreaks youth. " To the young, how bright the newworld looks! -how full of novelty, of enjoyment, ofpleasure! But as years pass, we find the world to be aplace of sorrow as well as ofjoy. As we proceed throughlife, many dark vistas open upon us-of toil , suffering,difficulty, perhaps misfortune and failure. Happy theywho can pass through and amidst such trials with afirm mind and pure heart, encountering trials with cheerfulness, and standing erect beneath even the heaviestburden!A little youthful ardour is a great help in life, and isuseful as an energetic motive power. It is graduallycooled down by Time, no matter how glowing it hasbeen, while it is trained and subdued by experience.But it is a healthy and hopeful indication of character,-to be encouraged in a right direction, and not to besneered down and repressed. It is a sign of a vigorousunselfish nature, as egotism is of a narrow and selfishone; and to begin life with egotism and self- sufficiencyis fatal to all breadth and vigour of character. Life, insuch a case, would be like a year in which there was nospring. Without a generous seedtime, there will be anunflowering summer and an unproductive harvest. Andyouth is the springtime of life, in which, if there benot a fair share of enthusiam, little will be attempted,and still less done. It also considerably helps theworking quality, inspiring confidence and hope, andcarrying one through the dry details of business andduty with cheerfulness and joy.348Romance and Reality.· •[CHAP. XII." It is the due admixture of romance and reality,"said Sir Henry Lawrence, "that best carries a manthrough life. The quality of romance orenthusiasm is to be valued as an energy imparted tothe human mind to prompt and sustain its noblestefforts." Sir Henry always urged upon young men, notthat they should repress enthusiasm, but sedulouslycultivate and direct the feeling, as one implanted forwise and noble purposes. "When the two faculties ofromance and reality," he said, " are duly blended,reality pursues a straight rough path to a desirableand practicable result; while romance beguiles the roadby pointing out its beauties-by bestowing a deep andpractical conviction that, even in this dark andmaterial existence, there may be found a joy with whicha stranger intermeddleth not-a light that shineth moreand more unto the perfect day." 1•It was characteristic of Joseph Lancaster, when a boyof only fourteen years of age, after reading ' Clarksonon the Slave Trade,' to form the resolution of leavinghis home and going out to the West Indies to teach thepoor blacks to read the Bible. And he actually set outwith a Bible and Pilgrim's Progress ' in his bundle,and only a few shillings in his purse. He even succeeded in reaching the West Indies, doubtless verymuch at a loss how to set about his proposed work;but in the meantime his distressed parents, having discovered whither he had gone, had him speedily broughtback, yet with his enthusiasm unabated; and from thattime forward he unceasingly devoted himself to thetruly philanthropic work of educating the destitutepoor.21 'Calcutta Review,' article on" Romance and Reality of Indian Life.'2 Joseph Lancaster was only twenty years of age when (in 1798)he opened his first school in a spareCHAP. XII .] Enthusiasm and Perseverance. 349There needs all the force that enthusiasm can giveto enable a man to succeed in any great enterprise oflife. Without it, the obstruction and difficulty he hasto encounter on every side might compel him to succumb; but with courage and perseverance, inspired byenthusiasm, a man feels strong enough to face anydanger, to grapple with any difficulty. What an enthusiasm was that of Columbus, who, believing in theexistence of a new world, braved the dangers of unknownseas; and when those about him despaired and rose upagainst him, threatening to cast him into the sea, stillstood firm upon his hope and courage until the greatnew world at length rose upon the horizon!The brave man will not be baffled, but tries and triesagain until he succeeds. The tree does not fall at thefirst stroke, but only by repeated strokes and after greatlabour. We may see the visible success at which aman has arrived, but forget the toil and suffering andperil through which it has been achieved. When afriend of Marshal Lefevre was complimenting him onhis possessions and good fortune, the Marshal said:"You envy me, do you? Well, you shall have thesethings at a better bargain than I had. Come into thecourt: I'll fire at you with a gun twenty times at thirtypaces, and if I don't kill you, all shall be your own.What! you won't! Very well; recollect, then, that Ihave been shot at more than a thousand times, androom in his father's house, which was soon filled with the destitute children of the neighbourhood .The room was shortly found too small for the numbers seeking admission, and one place after another was hired, until at length Lan- caster had a special building erected, capable of accommodat- ing a thousand pupils; outside ofwhich was placed the following notice:-" All that will, may send their children here, and have them educated freely; and those that do not wish to have education fornothing, may pay for it if they please." Thus Joseph Lancasterwas the precursor of our present system of National Education.350 The Apprenticeship ofDifficulty. [CHAP. XII.much nearer, before I arrived at the state in which younow find me!"The apprenticeship of difficulty is one which thegreatest of men have had to serve. It is usually the best stimulus and discipline of character. It oftenevokes powers of action that, but for it, would haveremained dormant. As comets are sometimes revealedby eclipses, so heroes are brought to light by suddencalamity. It seems as if, in certain cases, genius, likeiron struck by the flint, needed the sharp and suddenblow of adversity to bring out the divine spark. Thereare natures which blossom and ripen amidst trials,which would only wither and decay in an atmosphere of ease and comfort.Thus it is good for men to be roused into action andstiffened into self- reliance by difficulty, rather than toslumber away their lives in useless apathy and indolence. It is the struggle that is the condition ofvictory. If there were no difficulties, there would be noneed of efforts; if there were no temptations, therewould be no training in self-control, and but little meritin virtue; if there were no trial and suffering, therewould be no education in patience and resignation.Thus difficulty, adversity, and suffering are not all evil,but often the best source of strength, discipline, andvirtue.For the same reason, it is often of advantage for aman to be under the necessity of having to strugglewith poverty and conquer it. "He who has battled,"! A great musician once said of marry her; I would maltreat her;a promising but passionless can- I would break her heart; and in tatrice-"She sings well, but she six months she would be the wants something, and in that greatest singer in Europe! ".something everything. If I were Blackwood's Magazine.single, I would court her; I wouldCHAP. XII.] Poverty a Stimulus. 35Isays Carlyle, " were it only with poverty and hard toil,will be found stronger and more expert than he whocould stay at home from the battle, concealed amongthe provision waggons, or even rest unwatchfully ' abiding by the stuff.'999Scholars have found poverty tolerable compared withthe privation of intellectual food. Riches weigh muchmore heavily upon the mind. " I cannot but choosesay to Poverty," said Richter, " Be welcome! so thatthou come not too late in life. " Poverty, Horace tellsus, drove him to poetry, and poetry introduced him toVarus and Virgil and Mæcenas. "Obstacles," saysMichelet, " are great incentives.years upon a Virgil, and found myself well off. An oddvolume of Racine, purchased by chance at a stall onthe quay, created the poet of Toulon."I lived for wholeThe Spaniards are even said to have meanly rejoicedin the poverty of Cervantes, but for which they supposedthe production of his great works might have been prevented. When the Archbishop of Toledo visited theFrench ambassador at Madrid, the gentlemen in thesuite of the latter expressed their high admiration ofthe writings of the author of Don Quixote,' and intimated their desire of becoming acquainted with onewho had given them so much pleasure. The answerthey received was, that Cervantes had borne arms inthe service of his country, and was now old and poor. ,"What!" exclaimed one of the Frenchmen, " is notSeñor Cervantes in good circ*mstances? Why is henot maintained, then, out of the public treasury?”Heaven forbid!" was the reply, " that his necessitiesshould be ever relieved, if it is those which make himwrite; since it is his poverty that makes the world rich!" ¹66¹ Prescott's Essays,' art. Cervantes.352 The Lessons ofFailure.[ CHAP. XII .It is not prosperity so much as adversity, not wealthso much as poverty, that stimulates the perseverance ofstrong and healthy natures, rouses their energy anddevelopes their character. Burke said of himself: "Iwas not rocked, and swaddled, and dandled into a legislator. ' Nitor in adversum ' is the motto for a man likeyou." Some men only require a great difficulty set intheir way to exhibit the force of their character andgenius; and that difficulty once conquered becomes oneof the greatest incentives to their further progress.It is a mistake to suppose that men succeed throughsuccess; they much oftener succeed through failure. Byfar the best experience of men is made up of theirremembered failures in dealing with others in theaffairs of life. Such failures, in sensible men, incite tobetter self-management, and greater tact and self- control, as a means of avoiding them in the future. Askthe diplomatist, and he will tell you that he has learnedhis art through being baffled, defeated, thwarted, andcircumvented, far more than from having succeeded.Precept, study, advice, and example could never havetaught them so well as failure has done. It has disciplined them experimentally, and taught them what todo as well as what not to do-which is often still moreimportant in diplomacy.Many have to make up their minds to encounterfailure again and again before they succeed; but ifthey have pluck, the failure will only serve to rousetheir courage, and stimulate them to renewed efforts .Talma, the greatest of actors, was hissed off the stagewhen he first appeared on it. Lacordaire, one of thegreatest preachers of modern times, only acquired celebrity after repeated failures. Montalen: bert said of hisfirst public appearance in the Church of St. Roch: " Hefailed completely, and on coming out every one said,6CHAP. XII. ] First Failures of Great Men. 353Though he may be a man of talent, he will never be apreacher.' " Again and again he tried until he succeeded; and only two years after his debut, Lacordairewas preaching in Nôtre Dame to audiences such as fewFrench orators have addressed since the time of Bossuetand Massillon.When Mr. Cobden first appeared as a speaker, at apublic meeting in Manchester, he completely brokedown, and the chairman apologized for his failure. SirJames Graham and Mr. Disraeli failed and were deridedat first, and only succeeded by dint of great labour andapplication. At one time Sir James Graham had almostgiven up public speaking in despair. He said to hisfriend Sir Francis Baring: " I have tried it every way—extempore, from notes, and committing all to memoryand I can't do it. I don't know why it is, but I am afraidI shall never succeed. " Yet, by dint of perseverance,Graham, like Disraeli, lived to become one of the mosteffective and impressive of parliamentary speakers.Failures in one direction have sometimes had theeffect of forcing the far-seeing student to apply himselfin another. Thus Prideaux's failure as a candidate forthe post of parish-clerk of Ugboro, in Devon, led tohis applying himself to learning, and to his eventualelevation to the bishopric of Worcester. When Boileau,educated for the bar, pleaded his first cause, he brokedown amidst shouts of laughter. He next tried thepulpit, and failed there too. And then he tried poetry,and succeeded . Fontenelle and Voltaire both failed atthe bar. So Cowper, through his diffidence and shyness,broke down when pleading his first cause, though helived to revive the poetic art in England. Montesquieuand Bentham both failed as lawyers, and forsook thebar for more congenial pursuits the latter leaving behind him a treasury of legislative procedure for all2 A354 Struggles ofGenius. [CHAP. XII.time. Goldsmith failed in passing as a surgeon; but hewrote the Deserted Village ' and the Vicar of Wakefield; ' whilst Addison failed as a speaker, but succeededin writing ' Sir Roger de Coverley,' and his many famouspapers in the ' Spectator.'Even the privation of some important bodily sense,such as sight or hearing, has not been sufficient to detercourageous men from zealously pursuing the struggleof life. Milton, when struck by blindness, " still boreup and steered right onward." His greatest works wereproduced during that period of his life in which hesuffered most-when he was poor, sick, old, blind, slandered, and persecuted.The lives of some of the greatest men have beena continuous struggle with difficulty and apparentdefeat. Dante produced his greatest work in penuryand exile. Banished from his native city by the localfaction to which he was opposed, his house was givenup to plunder, and he was sentenced in his absence tobe burnt alive. When informed by a friend that hemight return to Florence, if he would consent to ask forpardon and absolution, he replied: "No! This is notthe way that shall lead me back to my country. I willreturn with hasty steps if you, or any other, can open tome a way that shall not derogate from the fame or thehonour of Dante; but if by no such way Florence canbe entered, then to Florence I shall never return." Hisenemies remaining implacable, Dante, after a banishment of twenty years, died in exile. They even pursuedhim after death, when his book, ' De Monarchia,' waspublicly burnt at Bologna by order of the Papal Legate.Camoens also wrote his great poems mostly in banishment. Tired of solitude at Santarem, he joined anexpedition against the Moors, in which he distinguishedhimself by his bravery. He lost an eye when boardingCHAP. XII . ] Camoens and Michael Angelo. 355an enemy's ship in a sea-fight. At Goa, in the EastIndies, he witnessed with indignation the cruelty practised bythe Portuguese on the natives, and expostulatedwith the governor against it. He was in consequencebanished from the settlement, and sent to China. In thecourse of his subsequent adventures and misfortunes,Camoens suffered shipwreck, escaping only with hislife and the manuscript of his ' Lusiad.' Persecutionand hardship seemed everywhere to pursue him. AtMacao he was thrown into prison. Escaping from it,he set sail for Lisbon, where he arrived, after sixteenyears' absence, poor and friendless. His ' Lusiad,' whichwas shortly after published, brought him much fame,but no money. But for his old Indian slave Antonio,who begged for his master in the streets, Camoensmust have perished. ' As it was, he died in a publicalmshouse, worn out by disease and hardship. Aninscription was placed over his grave:-" Here lies Luisde Camoens: he excelled all the poets of his time: helived poor and miserable; and he died so, MDLXXIX."This record, disgraceful but truthful, has since beenremoved; and a lying and pompous epitaph, in honourof the great national poet of Portugal, has been substituted in its stead.Even Michael Angelo was exposed, during the greaterpart of his life, to the persecutions of the envious-vulgar1 A cavalier, named Ruy de my poor Antonio, vainly suppliCamera, having called upon cating fourpence to purchase aCamoens to furnish a poetical ver- little coals. I have not them tosion ofthe seven penitential psalms, give him!" The cavalier, Sousathe poet, raising his head from his quaintly relates, in his Life ofmiserable pallet, and pointing to his Camoens, ' closed his heart and hisfaithful slave, exclaimed: "Alas! purse, and quitted the room. Suchwhen I was a poet, I was young, and were the grandees of Portugal!—happy, and blest with the love of Lord Strangford's Remarksladies; but now, I am a forlorn de- the Life and Writings of Camoens,serted wretch! See-there stands 1824.on2 A. 2356Revenges ofTime. [ CHAP. XII .nobles, vulgar priests, and sordid men of every degree,who could neither sympathise with him, nor comprehendhis genius. When Paul IV. condemned some of hiswork in The Last Judgment,' the artist observed that"The Pope would do better to occupy himself withcorrecting the disorders and indecencies which disgracethe world, than with any such hypercriticisms upon hisart."Tasso also was the victim of almost continual persecution and calumny. After lying in a madhouse forseven years, he became a wanderer over Italy; andwhen on his deathbed, he wrote: " I will not complainof the malignity of fortune, because I do not choose tospeak of the ingratitude of men who have succeeded indragging me to the tomb of a mendicant."But Time brings about strange revenges. The persecutors and the persecuted often change places; it isthe latter who are great—the former who are infamous.Even the names of the persecutors would probably longago have been forgotten, but for their connection withthe history of the men whom they have persecuted.Thus, who would now have known of Duke Alfonso ofFerrara, but for his imprisonment of Tasso? Or, whowould have heard of the existence of the Grand Dukeof Wurtemburg of some ninety years back, but for hispetty persecution of Schiller?Science also has had its martyrs, who have foughttheir way to light through difficulty, persecution, andsuffering. We need not refer again to the cases ofBruno, Galileo, and others, ' persecuted because ofthe supposed heterodoxy of their views. But therehave been other unfortunates amongst men of science,whose genius has been unable to save them from the¹ See Chapter v. p. 125.CHAP. XII. ] Sufferings ofGreat Men. 357fury of their enemies. Thus Bailly, the celebratedFrench astronomer (who had been mayor of Paris), andLavoisier, the great chemist, were both guillotined inthe first French Revolution. When the latter, afterbeing sentenced to death by the Commune, asked for afew days' respite, to enable him to ascertain the resultof some experiments he had made during his confinement, the tribunal refused his appeal, and ordered himfor immediate execution-one of the judges saying, that"the Republic had no need of philosophers. " In Englandalso, about the same time, Dr. Priestley, the father ofmodern chemistry, had his house burnt over his head,and his library destroyed, amidst shouts of " No philosophers! " and he fled from his native country to layhis bones in a foreign land.The work of some of the greatest discoverers hasbeen done in the midst of persecution, difficulty, andsuffering. Columbus, who discovered the New Worldand gave it as a heritage to the Old, was in his lifetimepersecuted, maligned, and plundered by those whom hehad enriched. Mungo Park's drowning agony in theAfrican river he had discovered, but which he was notto live to describe; Clapperton's perishing of fever onthe banks of the great lake, in the heart of the samecontinent, which was afterwards to be rediscovered anddescribed by other explorers; Franklin's perishing inthe snow-it might be after he had solved the longsought problem of the North-west Passage-are amongthe most melancholy events in the history of enterpriseand genius.The case of Flinders the navigator, who suffered asix years' imprisonment in the Isle of France, was one ofpeculiar hardship. In 1801, he set sail from England inthe Investigator, on a voyage of discovery and survey, provided with a French pass, requiring all French governors358Vicissitudes ofFlinders. [CHAP. XII.(notwithstanding that England and France were at war)to give him protection and succour in the sacred nameof science. In the course of his voyage he surveyedgreat part of Australia, Van Diemen's Land, and theneighbouring islands. The Investigator, being foundleaky and rotten, was condemned, and the navigatorembarked as passenger in the Porpoise for England,to lay the results of his three years' labours before theAdmiralty. On the voyage home the Porpoise waswrecked on a reef in the South Seas, and Flinders,with part of the crew, in an open boat, made for PortJackson, which they safely reached, though distant fromthe scene of the wreck not less than 750 miles. Therehe procured a small schooner, the Cumberland, no largerthan a Gravesend sailing-boat, and returned for theremainder of the crew, who had been left on the reef.Having rescued them, he set sail for England, makingfor the Isle of France, which the Cumberland reachedin a sinking condition, being a wretched little craftbadly found. To his surprise, he was made a prisonerwith all his crew, and thrown into prison, where he wastreated with brutal harshness, his French pass provingno protection to him. What aggravated the horrors ofFlinders' confinement was, that he knew that Baudin,the French navigator, whom he had encountered whilemaking his survey of the Australian coasts, would reachEurope first, and claim the merit of all the discoverieshe had made. It turned out as he had expected; andwhile Flinders was still imprisoned in the Isle of France,the French Atlas of the new discoveries was published,all the points named by Flinders and his precursorsbeing named afresh. Flinders was at length liberated,after six years' imprisonment, his health completelybroken; but he continued correcting his maps, andwriting out his descriptions to the last. He only livedCHAP. XII.] Prison Workers.359long enough to correct his final sheet for the press, anddied on the very day that his work was published!Courageous men have often turned enforced solitudeto account in executing works of great pith and moment.It is in solitude that the passion for spiritual perfectionbest nurses itself. The soul communes with itself inloneliness until its energy often becomes intense. Butwhether a man profits by solitude or not will mainlydepend upon his own temperament, training, andcharacter. While, in a large-natured man, solitudewill make the pure heart purer, in the small-naturedman it will only serve to make the hard heart stillharder for though solitude may be the nurse of greatspirits, it is the torment of small ones.It was in prison that Boetius wrote his Consolationsof Philosophy,' and Grotius his ' Commentary on St.Matthew,' regarded as his masterwork in Biblical Criticism. Buchanan composed his beautiful ' Paraphraseson the Psalms' while imprisoned in the cell of aPortuguese monastery. Campanella, the Italian patriotmonk, suspected of treason, was immured for twentyseven years in a Neapolitan dungeon, during which,deprived of the sun's light, he sought higher light, andthere created his ' Civitas Solis,' which has been so oftenreprinted and reproduced in translations in most European languages. During his thirteen years' imprisonment in the Tower, Raleigh wrote his History of theWorld,' a project of vast extent, of which he was onlyable to finish the first five books . Luther occupied hisprison hours in the Castle of Wartburg in translatingthe Bible, and in writing the famous tracts and treatiseswith which he inundated all Germany.It was to the circ*mstance of John Bunyan havingbeen cast into gaol that we probably owe the ' Pilgrim'sProgress.' He was thus driven in upon himself; having350 Illustrious Prison Writers. [CHAP. XII.no opportunity for action, his active mind found ventin earnest thinking and meditation; and indeed, afterhis enlargement, his life as an author virtually ceased.His Grace Abounding ' and the ' Holy War' werealso written in prison. Bunyan lay in Bedford Gaol,with a few intervals of precarious liberty, during notless than twelve years; and it was most probably tohis prolonged imprisonment that we owe what Macaulay has characterised as the finest allegory in the world.1All the political parties of the times in which Bunyanlived, imprisoned their opponents when they had the opportunity and the power. Bunyan's prison experiences.were principally in the time of Charles II. But inthe preceding reign of Charles I., as well as duringthe Commonwealth, illustrious prisoners were verynumerous. The prisoners of the former included SirJohn Eliot, Hampden, Selden, Prynne² ( a most volu- minous prison-writer), and many more. It was whileunder strict confinement in the Tower, that Eliot composed his noble treatise, The Monarchy of Man.'George Wither, the poet, was another prisoner of Charlesthe First, and it was while confined in the MarshalseaA Quaker called on Bunyan one day with a message from theLord," saying he had been to half the gaols of England, and was glad at last to have found him.To which Bunyan replied: " If the Lord sent thee, you would not have needed to take so muchtrouble to find me out, for He knew that I have been in Bedford Gaol these seven years past."2 Prynne, besides standing inthe pillory and having his ears cutoff, was imprisoned by turns in the Tower, Mont Orgueil (Jersey),6Dunster Castle, Taunton Castle,and Pendennis Castle. He afterwards pleaded zealously for the Restoration, and was made Keeper of the Records by Charles II. It has been computed that Prynne wrote, compiled, and printed about eight quarto pages for every work- ing-day of his life, from his reach- ing man's estate to the day of his death. Though his books were forthe most part appropriated by the trunkmakers, they now command almost fabulous prices, chiefly be- cause of their rarity.CHAP. XII. ] Illustrious Prison Writers.6361that he wrote his famous Satire to the King.' At theRestoration he was again imprisoned in Newgate, fromwhich he was transferred to the Tower, and he issupposed by some to have died there.The Commonwealth also had its prisoners.William Davenant, because of his loyalty, was for sometime confined a prisoner in Cowes Castle, where hewrote the greater part of his poem of ' Gondibert ': andit is said that his life was saved principally through thegenerous intercession of Milton. He lived to repay thedebt, and to save Milton's life when " Charles enjoyedhis own again." Lovelace, the poet and cavalier, wasalso imprisoned by the Roundheads, and was onlyliberated from the Gatehouse on giving an enormousbail. Though he suffered and lost all for the Stuarts,he was forgotten by them at the Restoration, and diedin extreme poverty.Besides Wither and Bunyan, Charles II. imprisonedBaxter, Harrington (the author of Oceana " ) , Penn, andmany more. All these men solaced their prison hourswith writing. Baxter wrote some of the most remarkable passages of his Life and Times ' while lying inthe King's Bench Prison; and Penn wrote his ' NoCross no Crown ' while imprisoned in the Tower. Inthe reign of Queen Anne, Matthew Prior was in confinement on a vamped-up charge of treason for twoyears, during which he wrote his Alma, or Progress ofthe Soul.'6Since then, political prisoners of eminence in Englandhave been comparatively few in number. Among themost illustrious were De Foe, who, besides standingthree times in the pillory, spent much of his time inprison, writing Robinson Crusoe ' there, and many ofhis best political pamphlets. There also he wrote hisHymn to the Pillory, ' and corrected for the press a6362 Prison Literature [CHAP. XII.collection of his voluminous writings.¹ Smollett wrotehis ' Sir Lancelot Greaves ' in prison, while undergoingconfinement for libel. Of recent prison- writers inEngland, the best known are James Montgomery, whowrote his first volume of poems while a prisoner in YorkCastle; and Thomas Cooper, the Chartist, who wrotehis Purgatory of Suicide ' in Stafford Gaol."Silvio Pellico was one of the latest and most illustrious of the prison writers of Italy. He lay confinedin Austrian gaols for ten years, eight of which he passedin the Castle of Spielberg in Moravia. It was there thathe composed his charming ' Memoirs,' the only materialsfor which were furnished by his fresh living habit ofobservation; and out of even the transient visits of hisgaoler's daughter, and the colourless events of hismonotonous daily life, he contrived to make for himselfa little world of thought and healthy human interest.Kazinsky, the great reviver of Hungarian literature,spent seven years of his life in the dungeons of Buda,Brunne, Kufstein, and Munkacs, during which he wrotea ' Diary of his Imprisonment,' and amongst otherthings translated Sterne's ' Sentimental Journey;' whilstKossuth beguiled his two years' imprisonment at Budain studying English, so as to be able to read Shakspearein the original.Men who, like these, suffer the penalty of law, andseem to fail, at least for a time, do not really fail. Many,who have seemed to fail utterly, have often exercised amore potent and enduring influence upon their race,than those whose career has been a course of uninter-¹ Healso projected his ' Review in prison-the first periodical of the kind, which pointed the way to the host of Tatlers,' ' Guardians, 'and ' Spectators, ' which followed it.The 'Review' consisted of 102numbers, forming nine quarto volumes, all of which were written by De Foe himself, while engaged in other and various labours.Sacrifice not Loss.363 CHAP. XII.]rupted success. The character of a man does notdepend on whether his efforts are immediately followedby failure or by success. The martyr is not a failure ifthe truth for which he suffered acquires a fresh lustrethrough his sacrifice.¹ The patriot who lays down hislife for his cause, may thereby hasten its triumph;and those who seem to throw their lives away in thevan of a great movement, often open a way for thosewho follow them, and pass over their dead bodies tovictory. The triumph of a just cause may come late;but when it does come, it is due as much to those whofailed in their first efforts, as to those who succeeded intheir last.The example of a great death may be an inspirationto others, as well as the example of a good life. A greatact does not perish with the life of him who performs it,but lives and grows up into like acts in those who survive the doer thereof and cherish his memory. Ofsome great men, it might almost be said that they havenot begun to live until they have died.The names of the men who have suffered in the causeof religion, of science, and of truth, are the men of allothers whose memories are held in the greatest esteem andreverence by mankind. They perished, but their truthsurvived. They seemed to fail, and yet they eventuallysucceeded.² Prisons may have held them, but theirthoughts were not to be confined by prison-walls. They"A passage in the Earl of became a rich vein of thought, in Carlisle's Lecture on Pope- which I often quarried, especially" Heaven was made for those who when the sentence was interpreted have failed in this world " -struck by the Cross, which was failureme very forcibly several years ago apparently." -Life and Letters of when read it in a newspaper, and Robertson (of Brighton), ii. 94.2 "Not all who seem to fail, have failed indeed;Not all who fail have therefore worked in vain:For all our acts to many issues lead;And out of earnest purpose, pure and plain,Enforced by honest toil of hand or brain,364 Adversity a Touchstone. [ CHAP. XII.have burst through, and defied the power of their persecutors. It was Lovelace, a prisoner, who wrote:"Stone walls do not a prison make,Nor iron bars a cage;Minds innocent and quiet take That for a hermitage."It was a saying of Milton that, " who best can sufferbest can do." The work of many of the greatest men,inspired by duty, has been done amidst suffering andtrial and difficulty. They have struggled against thetide, and reached the shore exhausted, only to graspthe sand and expire. They have done their duty, andbeen content to die. But death hath no power over suchmen; their hallowed memories still survive, to sootheand purify and bless us. " Life," said Goethe, "to usall is suffering. Who save God alone shall call us toour reckoning? Let not reproaches fall on the departed.Notwhatthey have failed in, nor what they have suffered,but what they have done, ought to occupy the survivors. "Thus, it is not ease and facility that tries men, andbrings out the good that is in them, so much as trial anddifficulty. Adversity is the touchstone of character.As some herbs need to be crushed to give forth theirsweetest odour, so some natures need to be tried bysuffering to evoke the excellence that is in them. Hencetrials often unmask virtues, and bring to light hiddengraces. Men apparently useless and purposeless, whenplaced in positions of difficulty and responsibility, haveexhibited powers of character before unsuspected; andThe Lord will fashion, in His own good time,(Be this the labourer's proudly humble creed,)Such ends as, to His wisdom, fitliest chime With His vast love's eternal harmonies.There is no failure for the good and wise:What though thy seed should fall by the wayside And the birds snatch it; -yet the birds are fed;Or they may bear it far across the tide,To give rich harvests after thou art dead."-Politics forthe People, 1848-CHAP. XII .] Trials and Blessings. 365where we before saw only pliancy and self-indulgence, wenow see strength, valour, and self-denial.As there are no blessings which may not be pervertedinto evils, so there are no trials which may not be converted into blessings. All depends on the manner inwhich we profit by them or otherwise. Perfect happiness is not to be looked for in this world. If it couldbe secured, it would be found profitless. The hollowestof all gospels is the gospel of ease and comfort. Difficulty, and even failure, are far better teachers. SirHumphry Davy said: " Even in private life, too muchprosperity either injures the moral man, and occasionsconduct which ends in suffering; or it is accompaniedby the workings of envy, calumny, and malevolence ofothers."Failure improves, tempers, and strengthens the nature. Even sorrow is in some mysterious way linkedwith joy and associated with tenderness. John Bunyanonce said how, " if it were lawful, he could even prayfor greater trouble, for the greater comfort's sake."When surprise was expressed at the patience of a poorArabian woman under heavy affliction, she said, “ Whenwe look on God's face we do not feel His hand."Suffering is doubtless as divinely appointed as joy,while it is much more influential as a discipline ofcharacter. It chastens and sweetens the nature, teachespatience and resignation, and promotes the deepest aswell as the most exalted thought.¹" What is it, ” says Mr. Helps,"that promotes the most and the deepest thought in the human race? It is not learning; it is not the conduct of business; it is noteven the impulse of the affections.It is suffering; and that, perhaps,is the reason why there is so muchsuffering in the world. The angel who went down to trouble the waters and to make them healing,was not, perhaps, entrusted with so great a boon as the angel whobenevolently inflicted upon the sufferers the disease from which they suffered.” —Brevia.366The Discipline of Suffering. [ CHAP. XII."The best of menThat e'er wore earth about Him was a sufferer;Asoft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit;The first true gentleman that ever breathed." ¹Suffering may be the appointed means by which thehighest nature of man is to be disciplined and developed. Assuming happiness to be the end of being,sorrow may be the indispensable condition throughwhich it is to be reached. Hence St. Paul's nobleparadox descriptive ofthe Christian life, -"as chastened,and not killed; as sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing; aspoor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yetpossessing all things."Even pain is not all painful. On one side it is relatedto suffering, and on the other to happiness. For pain isremedial as well as sorrowful. Suffering is a misfortuneas viewed from the one side, and a discipline as viewedfrom the other. But for suffering, the best part ofmany men's nature would sleep a deep sleep. Indeed,it might almost be said that pain and sorrow were theindispensable conditions of some men's success, and thenecessary means to evoke the highest development oftheir genius. Shelley has said of poets:" Most wretched men are cradled into poetry by wrong,They learn in suffering what they teach in song."Does any one suppose that Burns would have sung as hedid, had he been rich, respectable, and " kept a gig;"or Byron, if he had been a prosperous, happily-marriedLord Privy Seal or Postmaster-General?Sometimes a heartbreak rouses an impassive natureto life. "What does he know, " said a sage, " who has notsuffered?" When Dumas asked Reboul, " What made1 These lines were written byDeckar, in a spirit of boldness equal to its piety. Hazlitt has said of them, that they " ought toembalm his memory to every one who has a sense either of religion,or philosophy, or humanity, or true genius."CHAP. XII. ] Suffering and Work. 367you a poet? " his answer was, " Suffering!" It was thedeath, first of his wife, and then of his child, that drovehim into solitude for the indulgence of his grief, andeventually led him to seek and find relief in verse.¹ Itwas also to a domestic affliction that we owe the beautiful writings of Mrs. Gaskell. "It was as a recreation,in the highest sense of the word," says a recent writer,speaking from personal knowledge, " as an escape fromthe great void of a life from which a cherished presencehad been taken, that she began that series of exquisitecreations which has served to multiply the number ofour acquaintances, and to enlarge even the circle of ourfriendships.'" 2Much of the best and most useful work done bymen and women has been done amidst affliction—sometimes as a relief from it, sometimes from a senseof duty overpowering personal sorrow."If I had notbeen so great an invalid," said Dr. Darwin to a friend,"I should not have done nearly so much work as Ihave been able to accomplish." So Dr. Donne, speaking of his illnesses, once said: " This advantage you andmy other friends have by my frequent fevers is, that Iam so much the oftener at the gates of Heaven; andby the solitude and close imprisonment they reduce meto, I am so much the oftener at my prayers, in whichyou and my other dear friends are not forgotten. "Schiller produced his greatest tragedies in the midstof physical suffering almost amounting to torture.Handel was never greater than when, warned by palsyof the approach of death, and struggling with distress2 Cornhill Magazine,' vol. xvi.1 Reboul, originally a baker of entitled ' The Angel and the Nismes, was the author of many Child. 'beautiful poems-amongst others,of the exquisite piece known in this p. 322.country by its English translation,368The Resignationof Affliction. [CHAP. XII.and suffering, he sat down to composethe great workswhichhave made his name immortalin music. Mozartcomposedhis great operas, and last of all his ' Requiem,'whenoppressedby debt, and strugglingwith a fataldisease. Beethovenproducedhis greatestworks amidstgloomysorrow, when oppressedby almosttotal deafness.And poor Schubert, after his short but brilliantlife, laidit down at the early age of thirty-two; his sole propertyat his deathconsistingof his manuscripts, the clotheshe wore, and sixty-threeflorinsin money. Some ofLamb'sfinestwritingswere producedamidstdeepsorrow, and Hood'sapparentgaietyoften sprangfroma sufferingheart. As he himselfwrote,"There's not a string attuned to mirth,But has its chord in melancholy."Again, in science, we have the noble instance of thesuffering Wollaston, even in the last stages of the mortaldisease which afflicted him, devoting his numberedhours to putting on record, by dictation, the variousdiscoveries and improvements he had made, so that anyknowledge he had acquired, calculated to benefit hisfellow-creatures, might not be lost.Afflictions often prove but blessings in disguise. " Fearnot the darkness, " said the Persian sage; " it concealsperhaps the springs of the waters of life. " Experienceis often bitter, but wholesome; only by its teachingcan we learn to suffer and be strong. Character, in itshighest forms, is disciplined by trial, and " made perfectthrough suffering." Even from the deepest sorrow, thepatient and thoughtful mind will gather richer wisdomthan pleasure ever yielded.•The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decayed,Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made.""Consider," said Jeremy Taylor, " that sad accidents,CHAP. XII.] Is Happiness an Illusion? 369and a state of afflictions, is a school of virtue. Itreduces our spirits to soberness, and our counsels tomoderation; it corrects levity, and interrupts the confi- dence of sinning.God, who in mercy andwisdom governs the world, would never have suffered somany sadnesses, and have sent them, especially, to themost virtuous and the wisest men, but that He intendsthey should be the seminary of comfort, the nursery ofvirtue, the exercise of wisdom, the trial of patience, theventuring for a crown, and the gate of glory."" 1And again:- "No man is more miserable than hethat hath no adversity. That man is not tried, whetherhe be good or bad; and God never crowns those virtueswhich are only faculties and dispositions; but every actof virtue is an ingredient unto reward."2Prosperity and success of themselves do not conferhappiness; indeed, it not unfrequently happens thatthe least successful in life have the greatest share oftrue joy in it. No man could have been more successful than Goethe-possessed of splendid health, honour,power, and sufficiency of this world's goods-and yet heconfessed that he had not, in the course of his life,enjoyed five weeks of genuine pleasure. So the CaliphAbdalrahman, in surveying his successful reign of fiftyyears, found that he had enjoyed only fourteen days ofpure and genuine happiness. After this, might it notbe said that the pursuit of mere happiness is an illusion?3Life, all sunshine without shade, all happiness withoutsorrow, all pleasure without pain, were not life at allat least not human life . Take the lot of the happiest—it is a tangled yarn. It is made up of sorrows and1.'HolyLiving and Dying,' ch. ji.sect. 6.2 Ibid. , ch. iii. sect. 6.3 Gibbon's ' Decline and Falof the Roman Empire, ' vcl. x.p. 40.12 B370 True Wisdom. [CHAP. XII.joys; and the joys are all the sweeter because of thesorrows; bereavements and blessings, one followinganother, making us sad and blessed by turns. Evendeath itself makes life more loving; it binds us moreclosely together while here. Dr. Thomas Brown hasargued that death is one of the necessary conditionsof human happiness; and he supports his argumentwith great force and eloquence. But when deathcomes into a household, we do not philosophise—weonly feel. The eyes that are full of tears do not see;though in course of time they come to see more clearlyand brightly than those that have never known sorrow.The wise person gradually learns not to expect toomuch from life. While he strives for success by worthymethods, he will be prepared for failures. He will keephis mind open to enjoyment, but submit patiently tosuffering. Wailings and complainings of life are never ofany use; only cheerful and continuous working in rightpaths are of real avail.Nor will the wise man expect too much from thoseabout him. If he would live at peace with others, hewill bear and forbear. And even the best have oftenfoibles of character which have to be endured, sympathised with, and perhaps pitied. Who is perfect?Who does not suffer from some thorn in the flesh?Who does not stand in need of toleration, of forbearance,of forgiveness? What the poor imprisoned QueenCaroline Matilda of Denmark wrote on her chapelwindow ought to be the prayer of all, -" Oh! keep meinnocent! make others great."Then, how much does the disposition of every humanbeing depend upon their innate constitution and theirearly surroundings; the comfort or discomfort of thehomes in which they have been brought up; theirinherited characteristics; and the examples, good or"•CHAP. XII. ] The Mystery ofLife. 371bad, to which they have been exposed through life!Regard for such considerations should teach charity and forbearance to all men.At the same time, life will always be to a largeextent what we ourselves make it. Each mind makesits own little world. The cheerful mind makes itpleasant, and the discontented mind makes it miserable."My mind to me a kingdom is," applies alike to thepeasant as to the monarch. The one may be in hisheart a king, as the other may be a slave. Life is forthe most part but the mirror of our own individualselves. Our mind gives to all situations, to all fortunes,high or low, their real characters. To the good, theworld is good; to the bad, it is bad. If our viewsof life be elevated-if we regard it as a sphere ofuseful effort, of high living and high thinking, of working for others' good as well as our own-it will be joyful,hopeful, and blessed. If, on the contrary, we regard itmerely as affording opportunities for self-seeking, pleasure, and aggrandisem*nt, it will be full of toil, anxiety,and disappointment.There is much in life that, while in this state, we cannever comprehend. There is, indeed, a great deal ofmystery in life-much that we see "as in a glassdarkly. " But though we may not apprehend the fullmeaning of the discipline of trial through which thebest have to pass, we must have faith in the completeness of the design of which our little individual livesform a part.We have each to do our duty in that sphere of life inwhich we have been placed. Duty alone is true; thereis no true action but in its accomplishment. Duty isthe end and aim of the highest life; the truest pleasureof all is that derived from the consciousness of its fulfilment. Of all others, it is the one that is most thoroughly2 B 2372 Duty the Aim and End ofLife. [ CHAP. XII .satisfying, and the least accompanied by regret anddisappointment. In the words of George Herbert, theconsciousness of duty performed " gives us music atmidnight.”And when we have done our work on earth-of necessity, of labour, of love, or of duty, -like the silkwormthat spins its little cocoon and dies, we too depart. But,short though our stay in life may be, it is the appointedsphere in which each has to work out the great aim andend of his being to the best of his power; and whenthat is done, the accidents of the flesh , will affect but.little the immortality we shall at last put on:"Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust Halfthat we have Unto an honest faithful grave;Making our pillows either down or dust!"INDEX.ABAUZIT, his patience, 223 Abbot, Dr., on the character ofSackville, 2Abdalrahman, the Caliph, and happiness, 369Ability, speculative and practical,115Accident, greatness sometimes de- veloped by, 276Adams, President, and Washing- ton, 18; his mother, 47; andcharacter of Lady Rachel Rus- sell, 324 (note)Adanson, French botanist, 224 Addison, Secretary of State, 109;onthe character of authors, 278;on temper, 314; his failure as aspeaker, 354 Admiration of the great and good,21, 74, 78, 148, 363Adversity, uses of, 133, 352,362,364 Affliction, uses of, 363, 368 African women and Mungo Park,303Albert, Prince, and the chief prize at Wellington College, 11; his admiration of noble deeds, 78;his shyness, 250 Alexander the Great,-on pleasureand toil, 89; on hope, 233 Alfieri, his admiration of Plutarch,

• 272

Alfred, King, his patience and good fortune, 233 American colonization, 256Ancillon, on disrespect for others,240Angelo, Michael, and Francis deMedicis, 83; and self-help, 144;and Vittoria Colonna, 191; andhis persecutors, 355Anne, Queen, literary men in reign of, 109Anquetil (historian), self- denial of, 169 Antisthenes and Diogenes, 143Ariosto, and Leo X., 83; his geniusfor business, 110; his admira- tion of Vittoria Colonna, 191 Aristotle, portrait of the magnanimousman, 148; hisapocryphal history, 286 Arnold, Dr., on French history,27; on personal example, 69;his influence, 76; on admiration,78; on truthfulness, 208; his cordiality, 222 Arnold, Matthew, 112 Art, and nationality, 259; and history, 261 Askew, Anne, martyr, 129 Association, influence of good, 67 Athens, cause of its decline, 29;art in its decay, 261 Attica, its smallness and great- ness, 28 Audley (Court of Wards) on dis- honesty in office, 1846Augustine, St. , his boyhood, 38;on force of habit, 40 (note); his Confessions,' 279; his favourite books, 296Autobiography, 279BACON, Lord: his mother, 46; amanof business, 108; on practi- cal wisdom, 109; on leisure,117; his ' Novum Organon ' de- nounced, 126; on deformity,277Bacon, Roger, his persecution , 125 Bailey, Samuel, literary man and374 Index.banker, 114; on speculative and practical ability, 115 (note)Bailly, French astronomer, guil- lotined, 357Bankers, literary, 113 Bannockburn, Douglas and Ran- dolph at, 145 Barry, painter, and Edmund Burke,176Barton, Bernard, and C. Lamb, 98 Baudin and Flinders, the navi- gators, 358 Baxter: on leaving his books at death, 296; his wife, 325; in prison, 361 Beaumont, Sir C., admiration of Claude, 85 Beautiful, worship of the, 258 Beauty, marrying for, 314 Beethoven, and Handel, &c. , 84;his composition under bodily sufferings, 368 Behnes, sculptor, 243 Bell, Sir C., on example, 64; ad- miration of, 85; his discoveries,127; his biography unwritten,287 (note)Bentham, Jeremy: description of a Liberal, 139; on happy think- ing, 162; on self-control, 171;on happiness, 226; influence of "Telemachus' on his mind, 294;his failure at the bar, 353 Béranger, his songs, 178 Bernard, St., on self-injury, 11 Bible, a series of biographies, 269 Bicknell, husband of Sabrina Sidney, 105 Bigness not greatness, 28 Biography, lesson of, 86, 269; interest of, 267, 281; art of, 273,283; unwritten, 286 Biot, Laplace's generous conduct.to, 146 ' Birkenhead,' loss of the, 159, 198Black Prince, The, his courtesy, 145 Blake, Wm. (artist) , his wife, 337 Blucher, Marshal: his promise to Wellington, 206; his favourite book, 291 Bluntness of manner, 244, 248Boccaccio, a diplomatist, 110Boetius, his ' Consolations of Philo- sophy,' 359 Boileau, his failure at the bar, 353 Bolingbroke, on Marlborogh's cha- racter, 82 Boniface, St., and work, 96 Books companionship of, 264;Hazlitt on, 265, 297; immortalityof, 266; society of, 267, 295;favourite, of great men, 272, 287;inspirers of youth, 292, 295;makers of revolutions, 297Bossuet, on love of truth, 93 (note);his industry, 101; C. Bossuet,and Fontenelle's ' Eloges,' 292Boswell, and Johnson, 79; his ' Life of Johnson,' 284 Brain-work, 122; G. Wilson's, ex- cessive, 209Bremer, Miss, on the power of evil words, 171 Broderip, Mr., naturalist, 113 Brooke, Lord, on the character ofSir P, Sidney, 73 Brougham, Lord, on the educationof the child, 33; his maternal grandmother, 46; his industry,106; on hobbies, 118 Brown, Capt. John, on character, 71 Brown, Dr. Thos. , on death, 370Browne, Sir T., his profession, 108;on truthfulness, 206Brunel, Mr. (engineer), on illnature,239Bruno, martyrdom of, 125 Bruyère, La, his memoirs, 281 Buchanan, George, his prison- work, 359 Buckland, Dr., assailed because ofhis views of geology, 127; his wife as a helper, 330 Buffon, admiration of Sir I. New- ton, 85; on enthusiasm in theyoung, 228 Bunyan, influence of his wife, 324;his prison-works, 359; on the discipline of suffering, 365 Buonaparte (see Napoleon)Burdett, Sir F., loss of his wife,328Burke, Edmund, on superfine vir- tues, 2; on the power of virtue,Index.8; his infirmity of temper, 9,177 (note); on example, 64;Fox's admiration of, 74; advice to Barry, 176; his cheerfulness,225; favourite books, 288; his married life, 310; description ofhis wife, 319; on adversity, 352 Burleigh, Lord, on the qualities of a wife, 315Burns, the poet, on manliness, 5;his want of self-control, 177; onthe qualities of a wife, 313; his songs, 178; his character developed by difficulty, 366 Burton, on indolence, 29; causesof melancholy, 90 Business habits, 101; necessary forwomen, 53, 102; and genius,105; and literature, 107; and discipline, 162 Byron, Lord, on Dante, 23, 77; his mother, 51; on Sheridan, 183;on hope, 234; his shyness, 251 ,253; his deformity, 277CÆSAR, JULIUS, power of his name after death, 20; his authorshipand generalship, 104, 118; his intrepidity, 142 Calderon, a soldier, 111 Callistratus, the inspirer of Demos- thenes, 82Calvin, energy of, 22, 143; mar- riage of, 325 Calvinism, and Knox, 22; and Cromwell, 166 Camoens, a soldier, 111; his diffi- culties and sufferings, 354Campan, Madame, Napoleon and,31 (motto)Campanella, his prison-work, 359 Campbell, Lord, his ' Lives,' 278 Canada, French colonization in,257 Canning, his mother, 46; admiration of Pitt, 85; and literature,119Captiousness, 247Carew, Lady E., on noble scorn,173Carlyle, on great men, 22; on Knox, ib.: on Boswell's ' John375son,' 79; on control of speech,171; on biography, 264, 268;his wife, 334Caroline Matilda, Queen of Den- mark, her prayer, 370 Carpenter, Miss Mary, 154 Casaubon, his industry, 98 Cervantes, a soldier, 111; hisgenius, 297; his poverty, 351 Chamfort, on autobiography, 279 Character, influence of, 1; forma- tion of, 9, 36, 43; and will, 12;and reverence, 15, 21; immortality of, 21; national, 25; and the home, 31, 308; and popularity, 137; energy of, 140; thebest protection, 151; and disci- pline, 159; and truthfulness,204; and manner, 236; andmarriage, 299; and adversity,343, 364, 368Charity, practical, 41, 128, 174, 370 Charles I., literary men employedby, 108; imprisoned by, 360 Charles V. (of Spain), magnanimity of, 147 Chateaubriandand Washington, 73 Chatham, Earl of, his inspiringenergy, 18; his public honesty,184; his favourite books, 288 Chaucer, a man of business, 107 Cheerfulness, 216-34 Chesterfield, Earl of, on truthful- ness, 204; on hardening of the heart with age, 221Child, the, and the home, 33 Chisholm, Mrs., 154Christianity, and work, 96; and Epictetus, 194 Cicero, influence of his works, 296 Circ*mstances, and character, 10,41, 176, 370Civilization, home the school of,32; and mothers, 37 Clapperton, traveller, his obscuredeath, 357Clarendon, his character of Hamp- den, 106, 164, 204Clarkson, and anti-slavery, 142 Classical studies, uses of, 119, 235(note)Claude Lorraine and Constable, 85376 Index.Cleanliness and self-respect, 240,263 Clyde, Lord, on the character ofSir J. Outram, 170 Cobbett, Wm. , his first book, 291;courtship and marriage, 341 Cobden, R., Mr. Disraeli on, 86; his laboriousness, 106; an antago- nistic man, 142; his first failureas a speaker, 353 co*ckburn, Lord, on the personal influence of Dugald Stewart, 71 Colbert, on the character of the Dutch, 29 Coleridge, S. T., on idleness and methodical industry, 101; on literature and business, 110;on the influence of the Bible,270 (note); his favourite books,288, 290Coligny, Admiral, 201; his grand- daughter, Charlotte de la Trémouille, 152Collingwood, Admiral, and duty,197 Colonizers, English and Germans the best, 256 Colonna, Vittoria, 191 Colt, Jane, Sir T. More's first wife,130 (note)Columbus, his courage, 134; his enthusiasm, 349; his persecutors,357Common sense, 8, 174 , 343, 345,370 Commonwealth, literary men employed by, 108; men imprisoned by, 361 Companionship, 63, 65; of books,264; in marriage, 299 Congreve, man of business, 109 Conscience and duty, 14, 190 Consoler, woman as, 335 Constable, R. A., and Claude Lorraine, 85; on inferior portraiture,283Constant, B., on Napoleon I., 13 (note)Contagiousness of energy and genius, 17, 76, 82, 142 Control of self, 158, 170, 193, 239Cooke, Mr. Secretary, and Earl of Strafford, 165Cooper, Thos., his prison-work, 362 Copernicus, followers of, perse- cuted, 126 Cornwall, Barry (Mr. Proctor), 112 Cornwallis, Lord, and Col. Napier,184Correggio, and Raphael, 85; no portrait of, 285 Courage, 123; common, 134; in women, 149; and character, 192 Courtesy, 145, 236 Cowardice, moral, 136, 180, 192 Cowley, on the influence of exam- ple, 36; employed by Charles I. ,108; his favourite book, 293 Cowper, poet, failure at the bar,353Credit system, its tendency to im- morality, 182 Cromwell, O., and men of conscience, 14; his mother, 45; his strength of temper, 166; his warts, 277 Cumberland, Duke of, and Gibbon,247Cunningham, Allan, his admira- tion of Scott, 80Curran, his mother, 47; on Burns,179; his favourite book, 288 Custom and habit, 40, 65, 218Cuvier, on Adanson , 225DANIEL, poet, on self- elevation of character, 12; on difficulty, 343 (motto)Dante, his influence on history, 23,77; a man of business, 110; his favourite books, 288; admirersof, 289; his persecution and sufferings, 354 Daru, Napoleon I. and, 116 Darwin, Dr., an invalid worker, 367 Davenant, Sir W., in prison, 361Davy, Sir H., on prosperity, 365 Death, Sir John Eliot on, 133 (note);Abbé de St.- Pierre on, 204;Keats' fear of, 212 (note); George Wilson waiting for, 215; ex- ample of a great, 363; necessary to happiness, 370Debt, immorality of, 180 Decision and indecision, 134, 192Index.Deckar, poet, on the great sufferer,366 Decline of nations, causes of, 29,199De Foe, D., a man of business, 111;his genius, 282; in prison, 361Deformity, a stimulus to effort, 277 Delpini and Sheridan, 9Demosthenes, fired by Callistratus,82Denmark, Queen of, Caroline Matilda, 370 Derby, Earl of, his translation of the 'Iliad,' 121; (Lord Stanley)on work, 94 Descartes, a soldier, 111; his views denounced as irreligious, 127De Tocqueville, on literature, 119;on duty, 201; on marriage, 316 Dettingen, incident at Battle of,147Difficulty, uses of, 149 , 350 , 364 Diogenes and Antisthenes, 143 Diplomatists and diplomacy, 110,206Discipline, value of, 159, 193; of experience, 343; of suffering and difficulty, 343-64 Discontent, 229 Dishonest living, 180, 181 ( note)Disraeli, Benjamin, M.P. , on Cobden, 86; as a literary man, 121;his first failure as a speaker,353Disraeli, Isaac, and Dr. Johnson,80; on biography, 271 Domestic training, 33, 161; life,307Domitian, his hobby, 117 Donne, Dr., on illhealth, 367 Douglas, The; at Otterbourne, 20;at Bannockburn, 145; Catherine,her heroic conduct at Perth, 152Dowry, greatest, of a nation, 24 Drake, Sir F., his education by toil, 98 Drinking, vice of, 179 Dumas and Reboul, 366 Dutch, energy of the, 29 Duty, sphere of, 2 , 188; sustaining power of, 3, 13, 194; Washing- ton, Wellington, Nelson, and,377194; Baron Stoffel on, 200;George Wilson on, 214; the aim and end of life, 371Dyer, Mary, a New England mar- tyr, 129EAST INDIA HOUSE, eminent clerks in, 112 Edgeworth, Miss Maria, on busi- ness and genius, 105 Edgeworth, R. L., on popularity,140Education, of women, 56; in cou- rage, 149; for marriage, 311 Edward the Black Prince, hisCourtesy, 145 Edwardes, Sir H., and General Nicholson, 73 Egotism, 229Eliot, Sir J., his execution, 133;his prison-works, 360 Elizabeth, reign of, great men in,21, 108Elliott, Ebenezer, poet, a man of business, 112 Emerson, on civilization; 37; on imitation, 64; on books to be read, 266 (note); on biography,267; on history, 271; on love,3091Energy, its influence, 12, 14; con- tagiousness of, 17, 76, 82, 142;of will, 191English race, and duty, 198; and shyness, 247; and art, 259 Ennui, Helvetius on use of, 106 Enthusiasm , youthful, uses of, 228,317Envy of small minds, 81Epictetus, on principles, 7; on freedom and power of will, 193 Erasmus, on Socrates, 22 (note);on books, 296; on Sir T. More's domestic life, 309Etiquette, 237 Euler, mathematician, his cheer- fulness, 223 Example, influence of, 33; better than precept, 35, 72; of com- panions, 63; Dr. Arnold's, 70;of the great, 82; in death , 363Experience, discipline of, 343378 Index.FACILITY and difficulty, 352, 364 Factory labour, woman and, 60 Failure and success, 133, 352, 362,369 Fairfax, Sir T., at the Battle ofNaseby, 145 Faith, martyrs of, 128, 356 Faraday, inspiration of his friend- ship, 74; his resolution, 143;his temper, 168; his forbearance ,"176; his married life, 334 Farini, merchant, 110 Farrar's ' Seekers after God,' 7,194 (note)Favourite books of great men, 272,287, sqq.Fear, ignoble, 149 Fichte, on love, 306; his courtship and married life, 340 Fiction and biography, 268, 282 Fielding, Henry, his cheerfulness,220Fine art, English defective in tastefor, 259; and national decadence,261First impressions, 34 Flaxman, his wife, 337 Flinders, navigator, his misfor- tunes, 357 Fontenelle, influence of his books,292; his failure at the bar, 353 Food, women and the art of pre- paring, 61 Foote, Sam, and his mother, 52 Forbearance, in act, 162, 313, 370;in speech, 170Foreign workpeople, politeness of,241; art, 261 Formation of character, 9, 36, 43,159Fox, C. J., his spirit of honour, 14;his admiration of Burke, 74,177 (note); his love of literature,119; his favourite books, 288 France, Dr. Arnold on, 27; a mo- therless nation, 58; wanting in the spirit of duty, 199; BaronStoffel's report, 200; and fine art, 262Franklin, Benjamin, man of busi- ness, 111; Turgot's description of,

• 19; his discovery of the nature

of lightning, 126; his personal influence in a workshop, 241Franklin, Lady, 153, 337; Sir John, 357 Frederick the Great, his favourite books, 290 Freedom and freewill, 193 Freer, Edward, incident in life of,17 (note)French statesmen and literature,119; gallantry ofa French work- man, 146; of French officer atDettingen, 147; French greatmen of the past, 242; politeness of, 242; sociability of, 247; the French bad colonizers, and why,256; the French and fine art,262; Mémoires pour servir, 280 Fry, Mrs., 154 Fuller, on the character of Drake,98; on the qualities of a good wife, 315 (note)' GALILEANS,' Epictetus' notice of the, 194 (note)Galileo, his business pursuits, 110;his persecution, 125 Galvani, his business, 110; his wife, 329 Garrett, Miss, 154 Gaskell, Mrs., how she became an author, 367Gay, the dramatist, and business,109Generosity of great men, 145Genius, inspiring power of, 22, 77;not incompatible with ability inbusiness, 105; struggles of, 121,354Gentleman, Sir T. Overbury on the true, 15; Aristotle on the same 148Gerard, Stephen, on strong tempers, 165 Germany, Luther's influence on,22; and France, 200 (note); the German " Niemec," 255Gibbon, Duke of Cumberland and,247; and ' The Universal History,' 292 Gifford, on business and literature,109Index.Gladstone, W. E., on Lord Palm- erston's character, 16; his love of literature, 121 Goethe, his mother, 49; on human weakness, 174; on ' goody- goody'persons, 226; his favourite books,289, 293; on life and suffering,364; on happiness, 369 Goldoni, and business, 110 Goldsmith, and Johnson, 246; his failure as a surgeon, 354Goodness, diffusive, 71; inspiring,73Gotos, South American, 175 Government, and character, 26;origin of, 90 Grace of manner, 237Graham, Sir J., his failure at firstas a speaker, 353 Graham, Sir T. (Lord Lynedoch),effects of loss of his wife, 328Gray, poet, his mother, 49; his favourite book, 288 Great men, influences of, 18-25,77; homage of, 83; great French- men, 201; their cheerfulness,220; their favourite books, 272 Grecian art, 261Greece, influence of, in history,21, 28; in art, 261Gretry (musician), on good mo- thers, 40 Greuze, painter, on work, 98; oncontemporary men, 285 Greville, Fulke, his character ofSir P. Sidney, 145Grimaldi, and his physician, 231 Grote, G., historian and banker, 113 Grotius, his wife, 338; his prison- works, 359 Grumblers at fortune, 229 Grundy, Mrs., despotism of, 135 Guinea trader, his estimate of great men, 80 Guizot, and literature, 119; his courtship and marriage, 318 Gurney, Mr., on indolence, 90HABITS, force of, 40; training of,159; consolidation of, in character, 192; habits of business,107, 162379Hall, Captain Basil, and Sir Walter Scott, 185 (note) , 221 Hall, Dr. Marshall, his energy, 76;on indolence, 92; on truthful- ness, 208; on cheerfulness, 219 Hamilton, Sir W., and his wife, 331 Hampden, industry of, 106; Claren- don's character of, 164, 204Handel, admiration of, by great musicians, 84; his greatest work done in suffering, 367 Happiness, and temper, 216; in marriage, 310; a delusion, 365,369Hardenberg, F. von (Novalis) , 101 Harvey, Dr., and his discovery, 127 Hastings, Lady E., Steele's com- pliment to, 306 Havelock, at Vera, 17; and Outram,170 Hawick, Sir W. Scott mobbed at,196 (note)Hawthorne, Nathaniel, shyness of,254; on sexual affection, 307Haydn, and Porpora, 83; and Handel, 84 Haydon, and Sir J. Reynolds, 80 Hazlitt, on money and debt, 182;on the power of books, 265, 297 Heaven made for those who fail,363 (note)Heine, on free.utterance, 124; his wife, 339 Heinzelmann, on honourable living, 190 Helpers, wives as, 329, 335 Helps, Arthur, literature and business, 112; on honest utterance,138 (note); on ' respectful un- .easiness,' 249; and Hawthorne,255; onhousehold life, 308 (note);on men and women, 311; onsuffering, 365 Helvetius, on ennui, 106; maxim of, 255Herbert, George, his mother's home rule, 41; her saying about ex- ample, 63; George Herbert onthegoodpriest's life , 72; maxims of, 117, 172, 175, 181 , 207, 371Herder, his courtship and mar- riage, 339380Hereditary greatness, 27Index.Herodotus, the inspirer of Thucy- dides, 82Heroes of youth, 17, 80 Herschel, Sir J., as Master of theMint, 115 History, and great men, 22; andart, 261; and biography, 271 Hobbies, uses of, 117Holland, character of its people, 29 Holmes, O. W., on brain-women and heart-women, 310 (note)Home a school, of character, 31,40; of moral discipline, 160; ofmanners, 242; the kingdom of,30SHomer's ‘ Iliad ,' biographic, 282;Pope and Ogilvy's translationof, 294 Honesty, of purpose, 6; of speech,173; of living, 180 Honour, sense of, 191Hood, Tom, onthe influence of good books, 295; his wife, 335; his work amidst suffering, 368Hooker, Dr., on a good life, 72; ahardworking priest, 108 Hope, Thales on, 233; Alexanderthe Greatand, ib.; Byron on, 234;Shakspeare wanting in, 251 Horace and poverty, 351 Hortensius, Cicero's, 296Household management, and busi- ness habits, 53 Huber, naturalist, his wife, 330 Humboldt, the brothers, 115Hume, on moral principle, 6Hunter, John, and his discoveries,127Husband, character of a true, 321 Hutchinson, Col., his moral cour- age, 139; his truthfulness, 204;his courtesy, 236; his character described by his wife, 321 Hutten, on Luther's courage, 132 Hutton,Wm. (of Birmingham) , 111 Hypocrisy and timeserving, 138IDLENESS, its demoralising tendency, 29, 88, 90 " Iliad, The, its biographic interest,282Ill-temper, 229; Mr. Brunel on,239Imagination and fear, 149, 174,230 Imitation, in childhood, 33, 35;power of, 64 Impatience, 173 Indecision, evils of, 134, 192 Indignation, honest, 173 Individualism and socialism ,American and French, 256Industry, necessity of, 88; duty of,93; of Sir W. Scott, 99, 185; itspower, 105; of George Wilson,209Inquisition, persecutions by the,125Inspiration, of energy, 13–17; of goodness, 73; of genius, 82; of books , 292; of love, 306Institutions, made by great men,22; oflittle value compared with character, 26, 30 Intellect and character, 3Intrepidity, intellectual, 140 Irish sociability, 248; character- istics, 258 (note)Irving, Washington, and Sir W. Scott, 25, 222 Israel, influence of people of, 21 ,28, 270Italy, and Dante, 23; Pliny ou early rural condition of, 89;great literary men of, 110 1JAMES I. (England), great literaryactivity in reign of, 108 James II. (Scotland), courageous conduct of his court ladies, 152Jameson, Mrs., on duty, 189 Jefferson and Washington, 18Johnson, Dr., his regard for his mother, 44; on admiration ofothers, 79; his own young ad- mirers, 80; on Milton's industry,108; on self-control, 161; on temper, 164; his cheerfulness,220; his manner, 246; on biography, 269, 275, 279, 283; on Homer, 282 Jonson, Ben, and Charles I., 149;on a noble woman, 151 Justice and duty 189Index. 381KANE, Dr., on moral power, 209 Kaye, Sir John, 112 Kazinsky, his prison-work, 362 Keats, his death-warrant, 212;his favourite books, 293 Keightley, and ' Paradise Lost,'295 Kempis, Thomas à, and ' The Imi- tation of Christ,' 286 Kepler, denounced as a heretic, 126Kergorlay, and De Tocqueville,201, 317Kindness, power of, 226 Kingsley, Canon, on character ofSir S. Smith, 241 Knox, John, his influence onScotchhistory andcharacter, 22; energy of, 143; his want of courtesy, 244 Kossuth, his prison-work, 362LABOUR, necessity of, 88; a con- dition of enjoyment, 93; power and, 105; wholesomeness of, 122 Lacepede, favourite maxim of,100; a soldier, 111; inspiration of his books, 293 Lacordaire, on speech and silence,172; his first failure as аpreacher, 352 La Fontaine, and Malherbe, 292 Lalande, and Fontenelle's 6Plurality of Worlds,' 292 Lamark, a soldier, 111 Lamartine, his mother, 53; and literature, 119 Lamb, Charles, on relief from desk drudgery, 98; a clerk in the India House, 112; his work done amidst sorrow, 363Lame men, greatness of some, 276 Lancaster, Joseph, his youthful ardour, 348•Langdale, Lord, and Sir WilliamNapier's History,' 76 Laplace, and Napoleon, 116; and Biot, 146 Lathom House, gallant defence of,152Latimer, martyr, 129 Lavalette, Madame de, 338Lavoisier, his wife, 330; guillo- tined, 357Lawrence, Sir H., and The Happy Warrior,' 265; andyouthful enthusiasm, 348 Learning, and character, 3; clas- sical, 295 (note)Lefevre, Marshal, and the price of experience, 349 Leisure, enjoyment of, 93; of laborious men, 117Length of years not length of life,96Leon, De, his self- control, 172 Leonardo da Vinci, and Francis I. ,83Lessing, on the search for truth,93 (note)Lewis, Sir G. C., his love of lite- rature, 120 Life, and work, 96; and happi- ness, 369; is what we make it,371Lillo, a jeweller, 111 Literary, men and business, 107;statesmen, 118 Lives unwritten, 285Livingstone, Dr. , death of his wife,326Locke, on habit, 65; a man of business, 109: denounced as amaterialist, 127; on temper and disposition in a teacher, 235 Lockhart , and Sir W. Scott, 187 Longevity, Sir G. C. Lewis and,121; of naturalists, 224 Loo, manners of the great, 86 Lope de Vega, a soldier, 111 Louis XIV., why unable to con- quer the Dutch, 29; and toil,105; and the Abbé de St.- Pierre,. 202Love, sympathetic power of, 226;passion of, 304Lovelace, his lines to Lucusta,191; in prison, 361; his lines.on imprisonment, 364 Loyola, energy of, 143 Lubbock, Sir J., and business, 114 Lunatic asylums and only chil- dren, 161Luther, his poverty, 5; his in- trepid example, 13; his influence on German history, 22; his382Index.laboriousness, 96; his courage,131; his energy, 143; Charles V. at the tomb of, 147; his cheer- fulness, 219; his manners, 245;his happiness in marriage, 310;his prison-work, 359 Lying, meanness of, 206Lynedoch, Lord( see Graham, SirT.)Lytton, Lord, love of literature,121; on books, 266 (note)MACAULAY, Lord, on Boswell, 79;literature and business, 112M'Clintock, Sir L., and his search for Sir John Franklin, 153Maginn, his improvidence, 182 Magnanimous man, the, 147 Mahomet, energy of, 143 Maistre, De, on mother's influence,43Malcolm, Sir J., his cheerfulness,225Manner, importance of, 235Marathon, the battle of, 28 (note);Themistocles and, 82Marlborough, Lord Bolingbroke on, 82; his patience, 233 Marriage, companionship in, 299 Marten, Henry, on a well- spent life, 87 Martin, Sarah, her prison labours,155Martyn, Henry, early influence ofa companion on, 67; his temper,168; his favourite books, 294 Martyrs, of science, 125, 356; of faith, 123 Mason, on biography, 278 Maternal influence, 35 Mathew, Father, and the Tem- perance movement, 142 Mathews, Charles (actor), his shy- ness, 252 Maupertius, a soldier, 111 Maxims of men as to work, 100 Mazarin, Cardinal, on time as ahelper, 346 Mean natures, 81; cannot admire,148Melancholy, causes of, 90 Mémoires pour servir, French,280Memories of the great, 24, S6, 363 Michael Angelo (see Angelo)Michelet, his mother, 51; onpoverty, 351 Middleton, Alice, second wife of Sir T. More, 130 and note Middleton, Bishop, on manner,235Mill, J., on cause of the necessity for government, 90 Mill, J. S., his combination of literature with business, 112;on nonconformity, 136 (note);dedication to his wife, 353 Miltiades, his fame envied by Themistocles, 82 Milton, as a man of business,108; his cheerfulness, 220; his favourite books, 288; influence of his ' Paradise Lost,' 295; his difficulties, 354; and Davenant,361; on doing and suffering,

• 364

Mirabeau, on ' La petite morale,'181Miseries, self- indulged, 80, 149,175, 230Models, of character, 17, 24; im- portance of, for children, 35 Money and honest living, 180 Monica, mother of St. Augustine,38Montague, Lady M. W., on Fielding, 220; and Pope, 301 Montaigne, on philosophy and business, 114; on biography,272; on Plutarch, 274 Montesquieu, his failure at the bar, 353Montgomery (poet) , his prison- work, 362 -Moore, Sir J. , and the Napiers,17, 75Moral courage, 123. 141 Moral cowardice, 136, 180, 192 Morality, political and individual,26; public, 183 More, Sir T., his gentle nature,73; his martyrdom, 129; his life at home, 309 Morton, Regent, and John Knox,245Index.Morton, Sir A., and his wife, 329 Moseley, Canon, on the diffusiveness ofgood, 71 Mothers, influence of, 31 (motto),35, 37; of great men, 43 Motley, on the princes of the House of Nassau, 166Mozart, and Handel, 84; his la- bours in affliction, 368Murchison, Sir R., on Franklin, 153 LadyNAPIERS, The, their admiration of Sir J. Moore, 17, 175; their mother, 45; their tenderness,114; their honesty, 184; their love of Plutarch, 273; Sir W.,his wife, 336Napoleon I., his contempt for men, 13 (note); his opinion of mothers' influence, 31 (motto),42; his respect for labour, 97,and men of science, 116; his temper, 167; his favourite books,291Napoleon III. , on the cause of French decadence, 59; and literature, 119 Napoleonic dynasty, Béranger and Thiers, and the, 178 Naseby, Sir T. Fairfax at the Battle of, 145 Nassau, William of, 152; princes of the House of, 166 National character, 25, 255 Naturalists, longevity of, 224Nelson, Lord, an inspiration to his followers, 18; and duty, 197 Newton, Sir I., Buffon's admira- tion of, 85; and business, 115;denounced as irreligious, 126;his shyness, 250 Newton, of Olney, influence of his mother, 39 Nicholson, General, and Sir H.Edwardes, 73 Niebuhr, Perthes' estimate of, 73;and business, 116; his wife,333Niemec," the Germans known as, 25566 1Nightingale, Miss Florence, on383soldiers' bravery and self-denial,147; as hospital nurse, 154 Nil admirari, 78Nithsdale, Lady, and her hus- band, 338Norfolk, Duke of, and Sir T. More,129Normanby, Marquis of, and lite- rature, 121Norris, E., philology and business,112Novalis, on energy without good- ness, 13; his real name, 101 ' Novum Organon ' denounced,126Nurseries, the schools of civilization, 32OCKHAM, persecution of, 125 Omar, the Caliph, 20 Orange, William of, his power after death, 20 Outram, Sir J., his gentleness,144; his self- denial, 169 Overwork, 96, 122PAKINGTON, Sir J., on popularity,140 and notePaley, Dr., early influence of an associate on, 69Palmerston, Lord: his character,16; his laboriousness, 106; on Sir G. C. Lewis, 120; and Sheridan, 183; his cheerfulness.219; interview with Behnes, 243 Parental example and precept, 34,39, 42hisParis, Dr., and his book on ' Phi- losophy in Sport,' &c. , 112 Park, Mungo, and the African woman, 303 and note;drowning agony, 357 Parker, Theodore, on Socrates, 21 Patience, virtue of, 163, 173, 223 Patriotism, true and false, 27 Patteson, Sir J., on work, 93 (note)Paul, St., on duty, 189, 191; on the Christian life, 366 Paul IV. , and MichaelAngelo, 356 Peace, first apostle of, 202 Peaco*ck, Thos. L., authorof ' Headlong Hall,' 112384 Index.Pellico, Silvio, his prison- work, 362 Penn, Wm. , his prison-work, 361 Persecution, of scientific men, 124;of religious men and women,128; of great men, 351 Perseverance, 143 Personal influence of great men,18, 77Perthes, Caroline, on useful occu- pation, 97 Perthes, F., on learned men, 4;on Niebuhr, 73; on honest in- dignation, 173; on selfishness,181; on cheerfulness, 232 Pescara, Marquis of, and Vittoria Colonna, 191 Peter the Hermit, 20 Petrarch, man of business, 110Philanthropy, in woman, 154; of Abbé de St.-Pierre, 203 Physicians, eminent, in literatureand science, 110' Pilgrim's Progress,' Bunyan's,359Pitt, Wm., and Canning, 85; love of literature, 119; his patience,163; favourite books, 288Plato, on force of custom, 65; on the creation of the world, 128Pliny, on early Roman industry,89; his favourite maxim, 101 Plutarch, as a biographer, 272 Poictiers, the Black Prince afterthe Battle of, 145 Politeness, 237, 242; and art, 263 Politics, cowardice in, 136; secret ofsuccess in, 163; honesty in, 183 Pollock, Lord Chief Baron, 113Pompey, his personal influence,19; on duty, 194 Pope, as estimated by the Guineatrader, 80; his deformity, 277;his first reading of Ogilvy's ' Homer, ' 294; his estimate ofwoman, 301; his compliment to Queen Mary, 346 Popularity, pandering to, 137; Sir J. Pakington on, 140; Washing- ton's indifference to, 195 Porpora, and Haydn, 83 Portraiture of great and good men useful, 74Portugal, Wellington in, 196 Poverty, compatible with high character, 5, 181; and self-re- spect, 241; and self-culture, 350 Power resides in industry, 105Precept and example, 35, 72 Pretentiousness, 208, 239Prideaux, Bishop, his first failure,353Priestley, Dr., persecution of, 357 Prime Minister, quality most re- quisite in, 163 Principles and character, 6Prior, M., Under-secretary of State,109; his prison-work, 361 Prison, labours of Sarah Martin,155; works written in, 359Proctor, Mr. ( Barry Cornwall '),112Prosperity and adversity, 133, 352,362, 369Prussia, Baron Stoffel's report of character of the people, 200(note)Prynne's prison- works, 360 Purity of manhood as of woman- hood requisite, 304Pym, J., on courage in speaking the truth, 141Pythagoras, on silence, 172QUERULOUSNESS and discontent, 80,149, 175, 230Quincey, De, his favourite books,290Quincy, Josiah, on the manner of Washington, 254RABELAIS, physician, 111 Raleigh, Sir W., a man of business, 107; his prison-work, 359 Randolph, and Douglas at Bannockburn, 145 Randolph, John, on mother's influence, 39 Raphael, and Leo X., 83; andCorreggio, 85Reboul, how he became a poet, 366 Reformers, antagonistic men, 142 Reid, Dr. J., G. Wilson's lines on,215 Reliableness of character, 7Index.Religion and self- control, 162 Reserve and shyness, 247, 255 Reverence, quality of, 15; for great men, 21, 83 Reynolds, Sir J., his reverence for Pope, 80; and Burke, 226Ricardo, David, political econo- mist, 113Richardson, S. , and business, 111 Richter, on poverty, 351 Ridley, martyr, 129 Robertson, Dr.,maxim, 100his favouriteRobertson (of Brighton), on duty,192, 198Robertson (of Ellon) , on the great hope, 234 Robison, Professor, his cheerful- ness, 293 Rochefoucauld, De la, his maxim on friends, 81; a soldier, 111;on manner, 240Rogers, S., and Dr. Johnson, 80;anecdote of his power of love, 227 Roland, Madame, and Plutarch,272Rome, causes of its decline, 29;laboriousness of early, 89; art,and degradation of, 261 Romilly, Sir S., on indolence, 92;his wife, 327 Roper, Sir T. More's son-in-law,129; Margaret, Roper's wife, 130 Roscoe, historian and banker, 113 Rousseau, his Confessions,' 279;and Dr. Tronchin, 344 Roux, M., and Sir C. Bell, 85 Royal Society, establishment of,opposed, 126 Rudeness of manner, 236; Dr. Johnson ou, 239Rudyard, Sir B. , on honesty, 6Ruskin, on the power of circum stances, 10; on the diffusivenessof good and evil, 72; in search of fine art, 262 Russell, Lord, and literature, 121 Russell, Lady Rachel, 323 Rye, Miss, 154SAINTE-BEUVE, on admiration of others, 77; on domestic life 307385St.-Pierre, Abbé de, 202 Saint-Simon, his memoirs, 280 Sales, St. Francis de, on kind words, 172; on temper, 231; on politeness, 238Sand, George, on fluide Britan- nique, 248 'Sarah Sands,' burning of the, 159 Sarcasın, dangers of, 171, 177 Savage and Johnson, 246 Scarlatti and Handel, 84Scarron, his deformity, 277 Scheffer, Ary, his mother, 49; on womanly courage, 150 Schiller, his admiration of Shak- speare, 85; on mechanical employment, 98; a surgeon, 111;his favourite book, 288; and theDuke of Wurtemburg, 356; his sufferings amidst work, 367Schimmelpenninck, Mrs., on little things, 10; on association with the good, 67; on discipline, 161 Schubert, his bodily distress and poverty, 368 Science and its persecutors, 125, 356 Scotland, John Knox's influence on character of, 22Scott, Sir W., on literary talent, 4;his early taste nurtured, 34; onoccupation, 95; his industry, 99;his maxim, 100; on able men ofbusiness, 103; his honesty, 184;his unpopularity, 196; his cheer- fulness, 221; his greatness the result of accident, 276; on biography, 277 Seamanship a Teutonic quality, 259 Sebastopol, Miss F. Nightingale on life in the trenches at, 142 (note)Sedgwick, and Geology, 127 Self-control, 158, 170, 193, 239Self-denial, of Faraday, 168; of Anquetil, 169; of Sir J. Outram,169; want of, 177 Selfishness, self- punishment of, 95;of living, 180; miserable com- panionship of, 229 Self-knowledge, 344 Self-reliance, 12, 15, 162; in women,304Self-respect, 70, 159, 238, 2412 c386Index.Seneca, on vicious companionship,66 Sertorius, on honour, 191 Severus, last words of, 89 Sexual affection, 304 Shaftesbury, on the cause of immorality, 181 Shakspeare, and Schiller, 85; and business, 108; his shyness, 250;little known about his personality, 284; his favourite books,288 Sharpe, Granville, and antislavery, 142 Shelley, on suffering, 366 Sheridan, his want of reliableness,9; his gentlemanliness, 14; his indebtedness, 183 Shyness, characteristic of Teutonic race, 247; advantages of, 255 Sidney, Sir P., Lord Brooke's character of, 73, 145; as man of business, 107 Sincerity, 6, 204, 237, 240 Sjoberg (Vitalis), 101 Smith, the brothers ( Rejected Addresses ' ), 113Smith, Rev. Sydney, on honest living, 182; his cheerfulness,222; on women's cultivation,311Smith, Sir Sydney, character of,241Smollett, a dyspeptic, 231; hisprison-work, 362 Snobs and snobbism, 136, 148, 180 Sociability of French and Irish,247, 256Society, of the good, 66; tyranny of, 135; of books, 266Socrates, Theodore Parker on, 21;Erasmus on, 22; martyrdom of,124; on superfluities, 181 Soldiers, distinguished in litera- ture, 111Solicitors, literary men, 113 Solitude, great works done in, 359 Soult and Wellington, 19 Sour-natured critics, 81; and persons, 230 Southey, on early bias and educa- tion, 39; laboriousness of 100Speculative ability, 115 Speech and silence, 170 Speke, on African politeness, 238 Spenser, man of business, 107 Spinola, and the character of the Dutch, 29 Spinoza, persecutions of, 126; his Ethics,' 289 Stability of institutions, and character, 30 Stanley, Lord ( Earl of Derby) on work, 94 Statesmen, and toil, 105; hobbiesof, 118; French, and literature,119Steele, Sir R., on women's cha- racter, 150, 301; his fine compliment to Lady E. Hastings,306Stewart, Dugald, his elevating example, 71 Stoffel, Baron, report onthe French and German character, 199-201 Strafford, Earl of, his noble bearing, 133; his violent temper, 165 Stubbe, and the ' NovumOrganon,'126Success and failure, 352, 362, 369Suffering, its discipline, 363, 368 Sully, his literary leisure, 118 Swift, on self-knowledge, 344 Sycophancy, political, 136TACT, and talent, 243; in women,243, 345Talent, and character, 7; and tact,243Talleyrand, his lameness, 277 Talma (actor), his first failure, 352 Tasso, his persecutors, 356 Taste, good, an economist, 242 Taylor, Sir H., on practical wis- dom, 8; combination of litera- ture and business, 112; on interviews, 249; on marriage, 308,311Taylor, Isaac, 112 Taylor, Jeremy, on the providence of God, 227; on affliction, 368Taylor, Tom, 112 'Telemachus, ' influence of, 294,297Index.Temper, troubles of, 162; strength of, 164; government of, 216;in marriage, 313Temperament and manner, 240 Tenderness and courage, 144 Teutonic characteristics, 255 Thales, his skill in business, 114;on hope, 233 Themistocles, his envy of Mil- tiades, 82 Thiers, and literature, 119; his 'History,' 178 Thucydides, his mind fired by Herodotus, 82 Tickell, Under- secretary of State,109Tillotson, Archbishop, on decision of character, 135Time and experience, 346 Timidity to be avoided, 150 Titian and Charles V., 83Tocqueville (see De Tocqueville)Trafalgar, Nelson at, 198 Trémouille, Charlotte de la, 152 Trochu, on business habits, 103Trollope, Anthony, 112 Tronchin, Dr., and Rousseau, 344 Truth, martyrs for, 124 Truthfulness, essential to character, 7; in living, 181; in action, 204 Tufnell, Mr., on influence of mothers, 42 Turgot, his literary leisure, 119 Turner, Sharon, solicitor and his- torian, 112Tyndall, Professor, on Faraday, 74,143, 168, 176Tyranny of strong drink, 179UNMOVEABLE, The, Indian idea of,92 (note)Unpopularity, Washington's, 196;Wellington's and Scott's, ib.(note)VATTEL, 110 Veitch's 'Life of Sir W. Hamilton,'332Vera, incident at combat of, 17 Vesalius, his persecution, 125 Villani, 110Vitalis (Sjoberg), 101387Voltaire, his maxim, 100; on business and literature, 109; onautobiography, 279; his failure at the bar, 353 Votes, superstitious faith in, 61Wallenstein, his business habits,104Walton, Izaak, a draper, 111 War, Abbé de St.-Pierre and, 203 Warren, Samuel, 112 Wart, Gertrude Von der, 151Warwick, Sir P., on the sagacity of Hampden, 164 Washington, power of his name,18; a model man, 24; his mother, 44, 53; Chateaubriand'sinterview with, 73; his business qualities, 104; his self- control,167, 172; his sense of duty, 194;his shyness, 254; his wife, 329 Waterloo, Wellington at, 167 Weakness of purpose, 134 Wealth and character, 4Wedgwood, Miss J. , on patience,173Wellesley, and literature, 119 Wellington, Duke of, his personal influence, 19; his mother, 45;his business qualities, 103; his self- control, 167; on duty, 196;his unpopularity, 196 (note); his truthfulness, 205; his favourite books, 291Wesley family: Mrs. Wesley, 48;energy of John Wesley, 143;his favourite books, 289 Whately, Archbishop, his shyness,253Wilkes, John, his winning manner,244Will, and character, 12, 15; powerof, 134; energy of, 142; a divine gift, 191; freedom of, 65, 193,230 William the Silent, 166, 172Wilson, Professor George, 209 Wisdom, practical, 8, 174, 343, 370 Wither, George, a prisoner, 360 Wives -wife of Sir T. More, 129;Marquis of Pescara, 191; quali-388Indexties of a good wife, 312; wife of De Tocqueville, 316; Guizot,318; Burke, 319; Colonel Hutchinson, 321; Lord W. Russell,323; Bunyan, 324; Baxter, 325;Zinzendorf, 326; Livingstone,327; Romilly, 327; Burdett, 328;Graham, Sir T.(Lord Lynedoch),328; Sir Albert Morton, 329;Washington, 329; Galvani, 329;Lavoisier, 329; Buckland, 330;Huber, 330; Sir Wm. Hamilton,331; Niebuhr, 333; Mill, J. S.,333; Carlyle, 334; Faraday, 334;T. Hood, 335; Sir W. Napier,336; Flaxman, 337; Blake, 337;Sir J. Franklin, 337; Zimmer- mann, 337; Grotius, 338; Heine,339; Herder, 339; Fichte, 340;Cobbett, 341Wolcot, Dr., his saying on his deathbed, 40 Wollaston, Dr., his work amidstsuffering, 368 Women, business habits in, 53;eduration of, 57, 302; elevation of character of, 59; their competition with men, 60; as politi- cians, 61; ignorance of cookery,61; useful occupation necessary for, 97; tact in, 243, 345; wivesand marriage, 299 Words, rash and hasty, 170; power of, 298Wordsworth, and his sister, 75;his natural temper, 168; on Burns, 178 Work, as an educator, 88, 101;duty of, 93; wholesomeness of,97, 122Working-men and self-respect, 5,94, 179, 241 Worms, Luther at the Diet of, 131Worry, 122, 174-5 Wotton, Sir H., on diplomacy, 206XENOPHON, 118YARMOUTH GAOL, Sarah Martin's labours in, 154ZIMMERMANN, his wife, 337 Zinzendorf, Count, and his wife,326BIBLIOTECHOFE

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CHARACTER.་57855-AWorks bythe same Author.With 9 Portraits and nearly 400 Illustrations, 4 vols. 8vo. , 84s.LIVES OF BRITISH ENGINEERS; FROM THE EARLIEST PERIOD TO THE PRESENT TIME.Vol. I. VERMUYDEN MYDDelton: Perry; Brindley.II. SMEATON; RENNIE; Telford.III. TREVITHICK; GEORGE and Robert Stephenson.IV. MARQUIS of Worcester; PAPIN; SAvery and NEWCOMEN; BOULTON AND Watt.SELF-HELP.Popular Editions. Post 8vo. , 6s. each.INDUSTRIAL BIOGRAPHY: TOOLS AND TOOLMAKERS.BRINDLEY AND THE EARLY ENGINEERS.GEORGE AND ROBERT STEPHENSON.LIFE OF THOMAS TELFORD; WITH A HISTORY OF BRITISH Roads AND TRAVELLING.THE HUGUENOTS; THEIR SETTLEMENTS, CHURCHES, AND INDUS- TRIES IN ENGLAND AND Ireland.CHARACTER.BY SAMUEL SMILES,AUTHOR OF ' SELF-HELP.'" Man is his own star, and the soul that can Render an honest and a perfect man,Commands all light , all influence, all fate;Nothing to him falls early or too late.Our acts our angels are, or good or ill ,Our fatal shadows that walk by us still."BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.ELEVENTH THOUSAND.LONDON:JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.1872.The right of Translation is reserved.FBIBLIOWIEN*LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSSCONTENTS.CHAPTER I.INFLUENCE OF CHARACTER.-Character a great power in the world - Common duty- Character above learning and wealth- Character a property - Honesty ofcharacter-Principles-Reliableness-Practical wisdom - Sheridan and Burke - Character and circ*mstances -Formation of character -The late Prince Consort -Force of character -The conscientiousman-The quality of reverence -Intrepidity of character - LordPalmerston Contagiousness of energy -The Napiers and Sir John Moore - Washington, Wellington -Influence of personal character -Reverence for great men -Luther, Knox, Dante-Character agreat legacy - Character of nations Washington Irving and SirWalter Scott -Character and freedom -Nations strengthened by trials Noble and ignoble patriotism -Decline and fall of nations -Stability of character of nations Pages 1-30---..CHAPTER II.HOME POWER.Home makes the man- Domestic and social life - The child -Surroundings of children - Influence of the mother - Power of example -Civilization dependent on good women - Boyhood of St. Augustine - Influence of early impressions - Homes the best schools -The best nursery of character - Influence of women --Mothers of great and good men -Washington, Cromwell, Wel- lington, the Napiers -Mothers of great lawyers and statesmen -Curran and Adams - The Wesleys Mothers of poets - AryScheffer's mother -Michelet's tribute to his mother -Lord Byron The Footes - Lamartine -Women and business habits - Education of women -Nations and mothers -True sphere of women— Women and work-" Enfranchisem*nt " of women -Women andthe art of preparing foodCHAPTER III.COMPANIONSHIP AND EXAMPLE.――31-62Influence of companionship -Force of imitation -Companionship of the good - Power of associates -Boyhood of Henry Martyn and of3.--Contents.Dr. Paley - Dr. Arnold an exemplar - 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 noblyJohnson and Boswell -Young men's heroes The envy of small minds -Admiration and imitation -The great musicians - Mastersand disciples — Enduringness of good example -Consolations of awell-spent life Pages 63-87CHAPTER IV.WORK.Work the law of our being -The ancient Romans - Pliny on rural labour - The curse of idleness - Causes of melancholy -Excuses of indolence - Industry and leisure -Work a universal duty - Lord Stanley on work - Life and work - Dignity of work - Work and happiness - Scott and Southey - Work an educator of character Training to business -Business qualities -Wellington, Wallenstein,Washington-Working geniuses -Genius and business -Literature and business-The great men of Elizabeth's reign-The great Italians - Modern literary workers - Workers in leisure hours Businessvalue of culture - Speculative and practical ability -Napoleon and men of science -Hobbies -Literary statesmen - Sir G. C. Lewis- Consolations of literature-Work and overworkMoral courage-CHAPTER V.COURAGE.-.. 88-122- Martyrs of science -Persecution of great discoverersHostility to new views - Socrates, Bruno, Galileo, R. Bacon,Vesalius, and others - Martyrs of faith -Anne Askew, Mary Dyer,Sir Thomas More Fortitude of Luther - Strafford and EliotSuccess often won through failure -Common courage of Doing -Tyranny of " Society " -Moral cowardice -Pandering to popularity Intellectual intrepidity - Energetic courage. Courage and tenderness Generosity of the brave -The Douglas - Laplace -The magnanimous man - Education of women in courage Moralstrength of women -Heroism of women - Story of Sarah Martin and her ministrations in Yarmouth Gaol-CHAPTER VI.SELF- CONTROL...―-123-157Self-control the root of the virtues -Value of discipline -Supremacy of self- control - Domestic discipline Self-discipline - Virtue ofpatience -Character of Hampden - Evils of strong temper -Strai--Contents.ford, Cromwell, Princes of Nassau, Washington, Wellington, &c.Instances of self-control -Faraday, Anquetil, Outram-Forbearance of speech - Honest indignation -Forbearance in conduct -Faraday's practical philosophy Burns's want of self-control - Béranger Tyranny of appetite - Honesty of living -Dishonesty of improvi- dence Public honesty -Sir Walter Scott's heroic effort to pay his debts - Lockhart and Scott Pages 158-187CHAPTER VII.DUTY TRUTHFULNESS.-Upholding sense of duty -Conscience and will - Sense of honour Vittoria Colonna Sacredness of duty - Freedom of the individualEpictetus on duty - Washington's sense of duty - Wellington's ideal -Nelsonand Collingwood -Devotion to duty-Duty ofnations- Baron Stoffel's report on the causes of the decadence of France Great Frenchmen of the past -The Abbé de St.- Pierre truthfulness Wellington and his aurist -Truth the bond of society -Equivocation - Pretentiousness - The life of George Wilson: hislabours, sufferings, and death―..CHAPTER VIII.TEMPER.-Duty and188-215Cheerfulness of disposition —Jeremy Taylor - Cheerfulness a tonic A beam in the eye- Dr. Marshall Hall, Luther, Lord Palmerston Great men cheerful -Fielding, Johnson, Scott, Arnold, Sydney Smith - Cheerfulness of men of genius -Euler, Robison, Abauzit, Adan- son, Malcolm, Burke - Basis of cheerfulness -Beneficence and benevolence Power of kindness -Shallowness of discontentMorbidity of temper -Querulousness - St. Francis de Sales on the Little Virtues - Gentleness -Cheerfulness and hope 216-23466-CHAPTER IX.MANNER-ART...Manner the grace of character -Influence of manner-PolitenessEtiquette - True courtesy - Self-restraint -Practical unpolite- ness -Ease of manner - Indications of self-respect -Politeness of foreigners Good taste an economist - Instinctive tact of women- Superficiality of manner-Bluntmen - Knox and Luther-Johnson'sgruffness -Shyness and reserve- Shyness of Teutonic races - Shy Englishmen Shakspeare's shyness - Archbishop Whately andothers- Shy Americans . Shy men and colonization - Why the French fail as colonizers The English race inartistic- Art andcivilization .. 235-263-- -viii Contents.-CHAPTER X.COMPANIONSHIP OF BOOKS.-Men are known bythe books they read - Good books the best society Interest of biography The great lesson of biography - The Bookof Books - History and biography -Plutarch's Lives, ' their influence -Plutarch's art - Trifles in biography - Portraiture of characterAutobiography -French ' Mémoires pour servir ' -Saint-Simon and La Bruyère -Biography and fiction Great biographies rare- Boswell's Johnson '-Men and their contemporaries - Unrecorded lives -Favourite books of great men Books the inspirers of youth - Good books resemble good actions- Books necessaries of life- Moral influence of books Pages 264-298--CHAPTER XI.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 affectionateness -The sentiment of love -Lovean inspirer and purifier - Man in the home -A Christian house- hold -The woman's kingdom -Brain-women and heart-women Qualities of the true wife -The golden rule in marriage -Marrying for beauty - Moral influence of the wife - De Tocqueville, Guizot -Burke's portrait of his wife - Mrs. Hutchinson's portrait of her husband -Lady Rachel Russell -Wives of Bunyan, Baxter, Zin- zendorf, Livingstone, Romilly, Burdett, Graham-Wives as helpers of scientific men--Wives of Buckland, Huber, Sir W. Hamilton,Niebuhr, Mill, Carlyle, Faraday, Tom Hood, Sir W. Napier-A galaxy of noble women -- Wives of Grotius, Heine, Herder, Fichte, Cobbett -Character of Cobbett .. 299-342CHAPTER XII...THE DISCIPLINE OF EXPERIENCE.-Practical wisdom, how learnt -Evils of seclusion -The school of life the true school of experience— Youthful ardour - Romance and reality Enthusiasm and perseverance - The apprenticeship of difficulty - Poverty a stimulus - Cervantes - The lessons of failure -Failures of great men-Struggles of genius -Dante and Camoens -The revenges of time -Sufferings of great men - Flinders the navigator -Illustrious prisoners and prison-writers - Failure not always loss -Adversity a touchstone -Trials and blessings -Work amidst suffering -Resignation in affliction-Is happiness an illusion?-The mystery of life -Duty the aim and end of being .. *INDEX . ..343–372373-388CHARACTER.