SOCIAL GOVERNMENT.
Supposing, reader, that whether you are manufacturer, master-workman,
owner of land, or private individual, you are now thoroughly impressed
with the duty of attending to the welfare of your dependants; I proceed
to make some general reflections which may aid you in your outset, or
sustain you in the progress, of your endeavours.
* * * * *
And, first, let me implore you not to delay that outset. Make a
beginning at once, at least in investigating the matters to which I have
striven to draw your attention. It is no curious work of art that you
have to take up; it requires no nicety of apprehension; you can hardly
begin wrongly, I do not say in action, but in the preparation for action.
However little of each day you may be able to call your own for this
purpose, it is better to begin with that little than to wait for some
signal time of leisure. Routine encumbers us; our days are frittered
away by most minute employments that we cannot control; and, when spare
moments do occur, we are mostly unprepared with any pursuits of our own
to go on with. Hence it is, that the most obvious evils go on,
generation after generation, people not having time, as they would say,
to interfere. Men are for ever putting off the concerns which should be
dearest to them to a "more convenient season," when, as they hope, there
may be fewer trifles to distract their attention: but a great work, which
is to commence in the heart, requires not to have the first stone laid
for it, with pomp, upon some holiday. It. is good to have made a
beginning upon it at any time.
The wisdom, or the folly, of delay is in most instances like that of a
traveller coming to a stream, and wishing to ford it, yet continuing his
journey along its banks: and whether this is wise, or not, depends mainly
on the simple fact, of whether he is walking up to the source, or down to
the fall. The latter is apt to be the direction in the case of our
generous resolves: their difficulty widens as I we delay to act upon
them.
* * * * *
Throughout the progress of your work, there is nothing that you will have
more frequently to be mindful of than your views with respect to
self-advancement. To take one form of it, the acquisition of money.
Money, as Charles Lamb, a great despiser of cant, observed, is not dross,
but books, pictures, wines, and many pleasant things. Still I suspect
that money is more sought after to gratify vanity, than to possess the
means of enjoying any of the above named pleasant things. Money is so
much desired, because it is a measure of success; so much regretted,
because we fancy the loss of it leaves us powerless and contemptible.
That kind of satire, therefore, which delights to dwell upon the general
subserviency to wealth is not likely to make men less desirous of riches.
But a man would be likely to estimate more reasonably the possession of
money and of all kinds of self-advancement, if he did but perceive, that
even a man's worldly success is not to be measured by his success for
himself alone, but by the result of his endeavours for the great family
of man.
There is a source of contemplation which nature affords us, one, too,
that is open to the dweller in crowded cities as well as to the shepherd
on Salisbury plain, and which might sometimes suggest the foolishness of
an inordinate love of money. Consider the prospect which each unveiled
night affords us, telling of wonders such as we have hardly the units of
measurement to estimate; and then think how strange it is that we should
ever allow our petty personal possessions of to-day to render us blind to
the duties, which, alone, are the great realities of life. There was
some excuse, perhaps, for the men of olden time, who looked upon this
earth, the birth-place of their gods, as no mean territory. That they
should dote upon terrestrial things was not to be wondered at. But what
is to be said for us who know that this small planet is but a speck, as
it were, from which we look out upon the profusion of immensity. To
think that a man, who knows this, should nevertheless not hesitate to
soil his soul, lying here, cringing there, pursuing tortuous schemes of
most corrupt policy; or that he should ever suffer himself to be
immersed, innocently, if it may be so, in selfish, worldly pursuits,
forgetful of all else; when, at the best, it is but to win some acres of
this transitory earth, or to be noted as one who has been successful for
himself. The folly of the gambling savage, who stakes his liberty
against a handful of cowrie shells is nothing to it.
* * * * *
Perhaps the next thing that is likely to divert you from useful
endeavours for the benefit of others is fear of criticism: you do not
know what the world will say: indeed, they may pronounce you an
enthusiast, which word, of itself, is an icy blast of ridicule to a timid
mind. You shudder at doing anything unusual, and even hear by
anticipation the laugh of your particular friends. You are especially
ashamed at appearing to care for what those about you do not care for. A
laugh at your humanity, or your "theories," would disconcert you. You
are fearfully anxious that any project of benevolence you undertake
should succeed, not altogether on its own account, but because your
sagacity is embarked in it, and plentiful will be the gibes at its
failure, if it should fail. Put these fears aside. All that is
prominent, all that acts, must lay itself open to shallow criticism. It
has been said that in no case of old age, however extreme, has the
faculty for giving advice been known to decay; depend upon it, that of
criticism flourishes in the most indolent, the most feeble, the most
doting minds. Let not the wheels of your endeavour be stayed by
accumulated rubbish of this kind. We are afraid of responsibility,
afraid of what people may say of us, afraid of being alone in doing
right: in short, the courage which is allied to no passion--Christian
courage as it may be called--is in all ages and amongst all people, one
of the rarest possessions.
The fear of ridicule is the effeminacy of the soul.
Great enterprises--and for you this attempt to make your working men
happier is a great enterprise--great enterprises demand an habitual
self-sacrifice in little things: and, hard as it may be to keep fully in
mind the enterprise itself, it is often harder still to maintain a just
sense of the connection between it and these said trifling points of
conduct, which, perhaps, in any single instance, seem so slightly and so
remotely connected with it. But remember it is not always over great
impediments that men are liable to stumble most fatally.
* * * * *
You must not expect immediate and obvious gratitude to crown your
exertions. The benevolence that has not duty for its stem, but merely
springs from some affectionateness of nature, must often languish, I
fear, when it comes to count up its returns in the way of grateful
affection from those whom it has toiled for. And yet the fault is often
as much in the impatience and unreasonable expectation of the
benefactors, as in any ingratitude on the part of the persons benefited.
If you must look for gratitude, at any rate consider whether your
exertions are likely to be fully understood at present by those whom you
have served; and whether it is not a reversion, rather than an immediate
return, that you should look for--a reversion, too, in many cases to be
realized only on the death of the benefactor. Moreover, it is useless
and unreasonable to expect that any motives of gratitude will uniformly
modify for you the peculiar tempers and dispositions of those whom you
have served. Your benefits did not represent a permanent state of mind:
neither will their gratitude. The sense of obligation, even in most
faithful hearts, is often dormant; but evil tempers answer quickly to the
lightest summons.
* * * * *
In all your projects for the good of others, beware lest your benevolence
should have too much of a spirit of interference. Consider what it is
you want to produce. Not an outward, passive, conformity to your wishes,
but something vital which shall generate the feelings and habits you long
to see manifested. You can clip a tree into any form you please, but if
you wish it to bear fruit when it has been barren, you must attend to
what is beneath the surface, you must feed the roots. You must furnish
it with that nutriment, you must supply it with those opportunities of
sunshine, which will enable it to use its own energies. See how the
general course of the world is governed. How slowly are those great
improvements matured which our impatient nature might expect to have been
effected at a single stroke. What tyrannies have been under the sun,
things which we can hardly read of without longing for some direct divine
interference to have taken place. Indeed, if other testimony were
wanting, the cruelties permitted on earth present an awful idea of the
general freedom of action entrusted to mankind. And can you think that
it is left for you to drill men suddenly into your notions, or to produce
moral ends by mere mechanical means? You will avoid much of this foolish
spirit if you are really unselfish in your purposes; if, in dealing with
those whom you would benefit, you refer your operations to them as the
centre, and not to yourself, and the successes of your plans. There is a
noble passage in the history of the first great Douglas, the "good Lord
James," who, just before the battle of Bannockburn, seeing Randolph, his
rival in arms, with a small body of men, contending against a much
superior English force, rushed to his aid. "The little body of
Randolph," says Sir Walter Scott, "was seen emerging like a rock in the
waves, from which the English cavalry were retreating on every side with
broken ranks, like a repelled tide. 'Hold and halt!' said the Douglas to
his followers; 'we are come too late to aid them; let us not lessen the
victory they have won by affecting to claim a share in it.'" It is the
self-denying nature of this chivalrous deed that I would apply to far
other circumstances. The interfering spirit, which I deprecate, would
come, not to consummate the victory, but to hinder it.
For similar reasons I would have you take care that you do not adopt mere
rules, and seek to impress them rigidly upon others, as if they were
general principles, which must at once be suitable to all mankind. Do
not imagine that your individual threads of experience form a woven
garment of prudence, capable of fitting with exactness any member of the
whole human family.
* * * * *
There are several ungenerous motives, of some subtlety, which hide in the
dark corners of the heart, and stand in the way of benevolence. For
instance, even in good minds, there is apt to lurk some tinge of fear, or
of dislike, at the prospect of an undoubted amelioration of the lot of
others coming too fast, as these good people would say. Indeed, some
persons find it hard to reconcile themselves to the idea of others'
burdens being readily removed, even when they themselves are making
exertions to remove them.
Another feeling to beware of, is that of envy, which, strange as it
seems, may sometimes arise upon the view of that very prosperity, which
the person, feeling envy, has helped to create. The truth is, it is
comparatively easy to avoid being envious of the good fortune which was
established before our time, or which is out of our own sphere: but to be
quite pleased with the good fortune of those whom we recollect in other
circumstances, and who, perhaps, have been accustomed to ask advice or
assistance from us--that is the trial.
Another ungenerous sentiment, similar to the foregoing, and likely at
times to prove a hindrance to benevolent exertion, arises from the
comparison of our own past lot with that of the persons whose condition
is sought to be improved. Most of us have a little tendency to grudge
them this amelioration. We should shudder at the brutality of one, who,
having attained to power, is more cruel because he has suffered much
himself, ("_eo immitior quia toleraverat_"); but are we not of a like
spirit, if any dissatisfaction steals over our minds at seeing others
exempt from those sufferings, which in our own career fell heavily upon
us. It is difficult to dislodge this kind of selfishness from the heart.
Indeed, there can hardly be a surer symptom of sound benevolence in a
man, than his taking pleasure in those paths being smoothened which he
will never have to traverse again: I do not say in making them
smoother--it is much easier to reconcile himself to that--but in their
being made so without his interference.
It would be well, indeed, if selfishness came into play on those
occasions only where self is really concerned.
* * * * *
There is nothing which a wise employer will have more at heart than to
gain the confidence of those under him. The essential requisites on his
part are truth and kindness. These qualities may, however, belong in a
high degree to persons who fail to gain the confidence of their
dependents. In domestic life, confidence may be prevented by fits of
capricious passion on the part of the ruling powers; and a man who, in
all important matters, acts justly and kindly towards his family, may be
deprived of their confidence by his weakness of temper in little things.
For instance, you meet with persons who fall into a violent way of
talking about all that offends them in their dependents; and who express
themselves with as much anger about trivial inadvertencies as about
serious moral offences. In the course of the same day that they have
given way to some outbreak of temper, they may act with great self-denial
and watchful kindness; but they can hardly expect their subordinates to
be at ease with them. Another defect which prevents confidence, is a
certain sterility of character, which does not allow of sympathy with
other people's fancies and pursuits. A man of this character does not
understand any likings but his own. He will be kind to you, if you will
be happy in his way; but he has nothing but ridicule or coldness for any
thing which does not suit him. This imperfection of sympathy, which
prevents an equal from becoming a friend, may easily make a superior into
a despot. Indeed, I almost doubt whether the head of a family does not
do more mischief if he is unsympathetic, than even if he were unjust.
The triumph of domestic rule is for the master's presence not to be felt
as a restraint.
In a larger sphere than the domestic one, such as amongst the employers
of labour and their men, the same elements are required on the part of
the masters to produce confidence. Much frankness also and decisiveness
are required. The more uneducated people are, the more suspicious they
are likely to be: and the best way of meeting this suspiciousness is to
have as few concealments as possible; for instance, not to omit stating
any motives relating to your own interest as master, which may influence
your conduct towards your men.
There is a class of persons brought into contact with the employers of
labour and their men, who might often do good service to both, by
endeavouring, when it is deserved, to inspire the men with confidence in
the kindly intentions of their masters. This is a duty which belongs to
the clergy and professional men in manufacturing towns. There are many
things which a man cannot say for himself; and, as Bacon has observed, it
is one of the advantages of friendship, that it provides some person to
say these things for one. So, in this case, it must often have a very
good effect, when a bystander, as it were, explains to the men the kind
wishes and endeavours of a master manufacturer, which explanation would
come with much less force and grace from the master himself.
I now come to a subject bordering on the former, namely, the political
confidence of the operatives. I am afraid, that, at present, there is a
great distrust amongst them of public men. This is not to be wondered
at. Their distrust is much fostered by the practice of imputing bad
motives, and calling ill names, so much the fashion in political writing
of all kinds. It is not a vice peculiar to this age: indeed, I question
whether political writing has ever, upon the whole, been more well-bred
and considerate than it is now. But at all times the abusive style is
the easiest mode of writing, and the surest of sympathy. The skill to
make, and that to cure, a wound are different things; but the former is
the one which belongs to most people, and often attracts most attention
and encouragement. This, then, is one cause of the distrust of the
working classes, which will only be mitigated by a higher tone of moral
feeling on the part of the people generally. Another cause is to be
found in the unwise, if not dishonest, conduct of public men. Look at
the mode of proceeding at elections. I put aside bribery, intimidation,
and the like, the wrongfulness of which I hope we are all agreed upon;
and I come to the intellectual part of the business. Extreme opinions
are put forth by the candidates, often in violent and injurious language.
Each strives to keep studiously in the background any points of
difference between himself and the electing body. Electors are not
treated as rational beings; their prejudices and their antipathies are
petted as if they belonged to some despot whom it was treason to
contradict. Whereas, if ever there is a time in his life when a man
should weigh his words well, and when he should gird himself up to speak
with truth and courage, it is when he is soliciting the suffrages of an
electoral body. That is the way to anticipate inconsistency; the crime
of which is more often in the hastiness of the first-formed opinion, than
in the change from it. What is called the inconsistency, may be the
redeeming part of the transaction. The candidate is naturally tempted to
fall in with the exact opinions that are likely to ensure success, and to
express them without modification--in fact, for the sake of his present
purpose, to leave as little room for the exercise of his discretion as
possible. It is easy for him to make unconditional assertions, when
nothing is to be done upon them, but it is another thing when he has to
bring them into action. The direction which he may wish to give to
public affairs is likely to be met by many other impulses; and then he
may have to remain consistent and useless, or to link himself to some
friendly impulse which brings him, however, into opposition to some of
his former broad and careless declarations. He has left himself no room
for using his judgment. Indeed, one does not see very clearly why he
takes his seat amongst men who are met to deliberate. The evils that
must arise from rash promises at elections are so great, that it is
fortunate when the topics mooted on those occasions, form but a small
part of those which ultimately come under the consideration of the person
elected; and, as often happens, that important public matters come to be
discussed, which were not seen on the political horizon at the election
time.
In addition to the distrust of individual legislators, which is,
probably, frequent amongst the poorer classes, there is also, I suspect,
a great distrust amongst them of the leading parties in the state. They
perceive the evils of party, and see nothing on the other side. The
meaning and intent of party, the way in which by its means social good is
often worked out in a manner less harsh and abrupt, perhaps, than by any
other means that has hitherto been devised, are considerations probably
unknown to them. To address them upon such matters would be thought
absurd. It would be said, that philosophical disquisitions on government
are for the closet of the studious man, but not for common people coming
to perform a plain, practical, duty. Great principles, however, are at
the foundation of all good action. Look to the divine teaching. See how
the highest things are addressed to all classes. There is no esoteric
philosophy there--one thing to the initiated, and another to the outer
populace. And so I am persuaded in addressing the great masses of
mankind on other subjects, you can hardly be too profound, if you
contrive to express yourself without pedantry; you can hardly put motives
of too much generosity before them, if you do so with complete sincerity
and earnestness. All this is very difficult, but what social remedies
are not? They are things to be toiled and bled for; and what is far
more, you must run the risk of ridicule, endure want of sympathy, have
the courage to utter unpalatable truths, and not unfrequently resist the
temptation of saying such things as are sure to elicit immediate and
hearty approbation. When a statesman has a craving for present applause,
it is an evil spirit always by his side, but which springs up to its
utmost height, and overshadows him with its most baneful influence, at
some of the most critical periods of his career.
But, in addition to the want of confidence in public men caused by
malicious writing, or by their injudicious or dishonest conduct as
candidates, or by the ignorance amongst the operatives of the good uses
of party; is there not also a just want of confidence arising from the
mode in which party warfare has sometimes been carried on in the
legislative body? Remember that it is possible to intrigue with
"interests," as we call them, as well as with private persons. The nice
morality which would shudder at the revelations of petty intrigue
disclosed by the diary of a Bubb Doddington, may urge on, and ride
triumphantly, some popular cry, the justice of which it has never paused
to examine. There are also such things as a factious opposition to the
Government, a selfish desertion from it, or a slavish obedience to it;
which things, the people in general, are not slow to note, and often
prone to attribute, even when there is no sufficient cause for
attributing them. But of all the things which tend to separate the
operatives from the governing classes, the most effectual, perhaps, is
the suspicion (oh, that we could say that it was altogether an unjust
one!) that laws are framed, or maintained, which benefit those classes at
the expense of their poorer brethren. We think it a marvellous act of
malversation in a trustee, to benefit himself unjustly out of the funds
entrusted to his care. Wrongs of this kind may appear to be diluted when
the national prosperity is the trust-fund, and the legislative body is
the trustee. The largeness, however, of the transaction, does not
diminish the injustice of it, although it may soothe the conscience, or
partially excuse the conduct of any individual member of the governing
class. By governing class, I do not merely mean the legislative bodies,
but I include the electing body, who are of course equally guilty when
they clamour for what they deem their own peculiar interest, instead of
calling for just laws. And they may be sure, that when once the great
mass of the people are persuaded that the injustice which I have spoken
of, is a ruling principle in any government; that government, if it
lives, is henceforth based upon fear, and not upon affection.
* * * * *
I shall now put down a few points of practice, which, though they are
classed together, have no other link than that they all relate to our
conduct in a family and towards dependents.
* * * * *
In social government, no less than in legislating for a state, there
should be constant reference to great principles, if only from the
exceeding difficulty of foreseeing, or appreciating, the results in
detail of any measure.
* * * * *
It is a foolish thing when a man so guides himself, that it is generally
supposed in his family, and among his dependents, that no arguments of
theirs are likely to persuade him to alter his views. Such a one may
fancy that what he calls his firmness is the main stay of his authority:
but the obstinacy, which never listens, is not less fatal than the
facility which never listens but to yield. If your rule has the
reputation of not being amenable to reason, it is liable to sudden
convulsions and headstrong distempers, or to unreasonable cringings, in
which your welfare, and that of those whom you rule, are sacrificed to
the apprehension of provoking your self-will. Moreover, the fear of
irrational opposition on your part, often tempts those about you into
taking up courses, which, otherwise, they might have thrown aside upon
reflection, or after reasonable converse with you on the subject. You
may have, in the end, to oppose yourself sternly to the wishes of those
whom you would guide wisely; but at any rate give yourself the chance of
having, in the first instance, the full effect of any forces in their own
minds which may be on your side. You cannot expect to have these useful
allies, if your wont is to be blindly obstinate, and to carry things, on
all occasions, by heavy-handed authority. The way in which expected
opposition acts in determining the mind, is not always by creating
immediate wilfulness: but a man, knowing that there is sure to be
objection made, in any particular quarter, to his taking a course,
respecting which he has not made up his own mind, sets to work to put
aside that contingent obstacle to his freedom of action. In doing this,
however, he generates, as it were, a force in the opposite direction: in
arguing against contingent opposition, he is led to make assertions which
he is ashamed to draw back from; and so, in the end, he fails to exercise
an unbiassed judgment. I have gone minutely into this matter; but it
cannot be unimportant for those who rule, to consider well the latent
sources of human motive.
* * * * *
In addressing persons of inferior station, do not be prone to suppose
that there is much occasion for intellectual condescension on your part:
at any rate do not be careless in what you say, as if any thing would do
for them. Observe the almost infinite fleetness of your own powers of
thought, and then consider whether it is likely that education has much
to do with this. Use simple language, but do not fear to put substance
in it: choose, if you like, common materials, but make the best structure
that you can of them: and be assured that method and logical order are
not thrown away upon any one. The rudest audience, as well as the most
refined, soon grows weary, I suspect, of protracted, driftless,
tautology.
* * * * *
Do not dwell more than you can help, upon the differences of nature
between yourself and those with whom you live. Consider whether your own
vanity is not too requiring. See that others have not the same complaint
to make of your uncongeniality, that you are, perhaps, prone to make of
theirs. If you are, indeed, superior, reckon it as your constant duty,
to try and sympathize with those beneath you; to mix with their pursuits,
as far as you can, and thus, insensibly, to elevate them. Perhaps there
is no mind that will not yield some return for your labour: it seems the
dullest, bleakest, rock, not earth enough to feed a nettle; yet up grows,
with culture, the majestic pine.
A want of sympathy leads to the greatest ignorance in the intellect as
well as in the heart.
* * * * *
Remember that your dependents have seldom a full power of replying to
you; and let the recollection of that make you especially considerate in
your dealings with them.
* * * * *
When you find a lack of truth in those about you, consider whether it may
not arise from the furiousness of your own temper which scares truth away
from you: and reflect how fearful a part the angry man may have in the
sin of those falsehoods which immoderate fear of him gives rise to.
Such, I am afraid, is the tyrannous nature of the human heart that we not
only show, but really feel, more anger at offence given us by those under
our power, than at any other cause whatever.
* * * * *
It is a mistake to suppose that we necessarily become indifferent to the
faults and foibles of those with whom we live: on the contrary, we
sometimes grow more and more alive to them: they seem, as it were, to
create a corresponding soreness in ourselves: and, knowing that they
exist in the character, we are apt to fancy that we perceive them even on
occasions when they are not in the least brought into play.
* * * * *
Do not be fond of the display of authority, or think that there is
anything grand in being obeyed with abject fear. One certainly meets
with persons who are vain of their ill-temper, and of seeing how it keeps
the people about them in order; a species of vanity which they might
share with any wild animal at large.
* * * * *
In reasoning with your dependants, do not allow yourself to make broad
assertions and careless conclusions, merely because you are addressing
inferiors. "The Courts of Reason recognise no difference of persons."
And when you wish to disabuse the minds of those entrusted to your
guidance of any thing which you are convinced is erroneous, do not
attempt to do so by unmeasured condemnation. It is seldom that a secure
answer is given to any theory, or system, except by one who exhausts, and
lays before you, the good in it.
* * * * *
Let not your forgiveness be of that kind which may almost be set down as
forgetfulness.
* * * * *
You must not always expect to hear a good explanation of a man's reason
for his conduct. In the first place, he does not carry such things about
with him in a producible shape; some of them he has probably forgotten,
although their influence may still remain strongly upon his mind; and
such as he does give, are likely to be those which he thinks will have
most weight with the person to whom he is speaking.
* * * * *
In giving way to selfish persons, remember that you cannot sacrifice
yourself alone. Any relation in which you may be placed to them,
especially if you are the superior, is not a thing that concerns you
only; but is, as it were, a trust for society in general.
* * * * *
It is hard to judge about quarrels, for the points on which they openly
break out have often no more to do with the real grounds of difference
than the place of a battle with the cause of the war. Many a quarrel,
after running for a long time under ground, gushes forth with a vehemence
which seems unaccountable; and it is difficult to divine what lands it
has passed through in its hidden course. Any particular outbreak cannot
safely be taken as an index of the general conduct of the parties towards
each other.
* * * * *
Playfulness is a good means of softening social distances. A stiff,
grave, man is always in danger of being feared too much. On the other
hand, as the self-love of many people is suspicious in the extreme, you
must expect that your most innocent playfulness will often be mistaken
for ridicule.
* * * * *
It is a duty not to allow yourself to think of any living man, still less
to treat him, as if your hopes of his amendment were utterly dead and
gone.
* * * * *
You must not be much surprised at the ingratitude of those to whom you
have given nothing but money.
* * * * *
Once give your mind to suspicion, and there will be sure to be food
enough for it. In the stillest night, the air is filled with sounds for
the wakeful ear that is resolved to listen.
* * * * *
A misproud man resolves to abide by the evil words which he has spoken in
anger. This freezing of foam is wilfully unnatural; and turns a brief
madness into a settled insanity.
* * * * *
A man of any wisdom, in domestic authority, so far from making large
claims to the love of those whom he rules, and exacting all manner of
observance as his due, will often think with fear how unworthy he is of
the affection even of the dullest and least-gifted creature about him.
* * * * *
In commenting on any error of an agent or dependant, beware of making
your own vexation, and not the real offence, the measure of your blame.
This is a most frequent source of injustice, and one, moreover, which
tends to prevent anything like consistent training.
* * * * *
The poor, the humble, and your dependants, will often be afraid to ask
their due from you: be the more mindful of it yourself.
* * * * *
With what degree of satisfaction do you feel that you could meet those
persons in a future state over whom you have any influence now? Your
heart's answer to this question is somewhat of a test of your behaviour
towards them.
* * * * *
How ready we should often be to forgive those who are angry with us, if
we could only see how much of their anger arises from vexation with
themselves for having begun to be angry at all.
* * * * *
I am not sorry to introduce a maxim, like the above, which relates,
perhaps, rather more to dependants than to those in authority, and which
claims a place among precepts on social government, only as it may tend
to promote social harmony and peace. I have not attempted, throughout,
to give any account of the duties of dependants, which, however, are
easily inferred as supplementary to the duties of masters. It is not to
be supposed that any relation in life is one-sided, that kindness is to
be met by indifference, or that loyalty to those who lead us is not a
duty of the highest order. But, fortunately, the proneness of men to
regard with favour those put in authority over them is very strong; and I
have but little fear of finding any large body of thoughtful and kind
masters suffering from permanent indifference, or ingratitude, on the
part of their dependants.
* * * * *
I cannot close the chapter better than by entreating those, who are
endeavouring to carry on any system of benevolence, to be very watchful
in the management of details, and to strengthen themselves against any
feelings of disgust and weariness which may encroach upon them, when
their undertaking has lost the attraction of novelty. Details are like
the fibres at the root of a tree: without their aid the tree would have
but little hold against the wind: they are the channels for its
terrestrial nutriment; they are its ties to earth, its home and
birth-place; and, insignificant as they seem, it could live almost better
without light than without them. Here it is that practical wisdom comes
in--that faculty, without which, the greatest gifts may serve to make a
noise and a flame, and nothing more. It holds its object neither too
near, nor too far off; without exaggerating trifles, it can see that
small things may be essential to the successful application of great
principles; it is moderate in its expectations; does not imagine that all
men must be full of its projects; and holds its course with calmness,
with hope, and with humility.
You must not enter upon a career of usefulness without expecting
innumerable vexations and crosses to affect the details of any project or
system you may undertake. And when the novelty of your purpose has
somewhat worn off, and you have to meet with the honest opposition of
other minds, as well as to contend against their vanity, their
selfishness, and their unreasonableness, it requires a high and full
source for your benevolence to flow from, if it would bear down these
annoyances. Even when they cannot dry up the stream, or change its
current, if you are not watchful over yourself, they may make it flow
more feebly. The very prospect of success is to some minds a great
temptation to make them slacken their efforts. Throughout the course of
our pursuit, we are never, perhaps, so prone to be weary and to repine,
as when we begin to feel sure of ultimate success, but at the same time
to perceive, that a long and definite period must elapse before the
completion of our undertaking.
Against the many temptations that beset a man in such a career, I do not
believe that any good feeling, which stands upon no other than mere human
relations, will be found a sufficient support. No sentimental
benevolence will do; nor even, at all times, a warm and earnest
philanthropy: there must be the inexorable sense of duty arising from a
man's apprehension, if but in a feeble degree, of his relation towards
God, as well as to his fellow man.