Produced by Ryan D. Evans, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE TRUE CITIZEN, HOW TO BECOME ONE
BY
W. F. MARKWICK, D. D. AND W. A. SMITH, A. B.
PREFACE.
This book, intended as a supplementary reader for pupils in the seventh
and eighth grades of school, has been prepared with a view to meeting a
real need of the times. While there are a large number of text-books,
and several readers, dealing with citizenship from the political point
of view, the higher aspects of citizenship--the moral and ethical--have
been seriously overlooked.
The authors of this work have searched in vain for something which
would serve as an aid to the joint development of the natural faculties
and the moral instincts, so as to produce a well-rounded manhood, upon
which a higher type of citizenship might be built. The development of
character appears, to us, to be of far greater importance, in the
preparation of the youth for the discharge of the duties of public
life, than is mere political instruction; for only by introducing
loftier ethical standards can the grade and quality of our citizenship
be raised.
It is universally conceded that ethics and civics should go hand in
hand; and yet pupils pass through our schools by the thousand, without
having their attention definitely called to this important subject; and
only an honest desire to aid in improving this state of affairs, has
led to the preparation of these pages.
The plan of the book is simple in the extreme. It consists of
thirty-nine chapters,--one for each week of the school year;--to eachof
which has been prefixed five memory gems; one for each school day.
Especial care has been taken to use only such language as will be
perfectly intelligible to the pupils for whom it is intended.
The largest possible use has been made of anecdote and incident, so as
to quicken the interest and hold the attention to the end. These
anecdotes have been selected from every available quarter, and no claim
of originality is made concerning them or their use.
Into each of those chapters which have to do directly with the
development of the natural faculties, or the moral powers, a "special
illustration" has been introduced; this being clearly marked off by the
insertion of its title in bold-faced type. To these special
illustrations a brief bibliography has been added, in order that a
fuller study of the character presented may be readily pursued where
deemed desirable. It is hoped that these special illustrations will not
only serve to increase the general interest; but that, by thus bringing
the pupil into direct contact with these greater minds, ambitions and
aspirations may be aroused which shall prove helpful in the later life.
A careful presentation of each separate theme by the teacher, will not
only increase the interest in the work of the schoolroom; but, by
developing a higher type of citizenship, will be a real service to our
nation.
THE AUTHORS.
CONTENTS.
I. THE CHILD.
I. THE EDUCATION OF THE NATURAL FACULTIES
II. OBSERVATION
III. OBEDIENCE
IV. CANDOR
V. AFFECTION
VI. CHEERFULNESS
VII. LOVE OF THE BEAUTIFUL
VIII. LOVE OF KNOWLEDGE
II. THE YOUTH.
IX. THE FIRST TRANSITION PERIOD
X. INDUSTRY
XI. AMBITION
XII. CONCENTRATION
XIII. SELF-CONTROL
XIV. PERSEVERANCE
XV. PROMPTNESS
XVI. HONESTY
XVII. COURTESY
XVIII. SELF-DENIAL
XIX. SELF-RESPECT
XX. CONSCIENTIOUSNESS
XXI. ENTHUSIASM
XXII. COURAGE
XXIII. SELF-HELP
XXIV. HUMILITY
XXV. FAITHFULNESS
III. THE MAN.
XXVI. THE SECOND TRANSITION PERIOD
XXVII. ORDER
XXVIII. REVERENCE
XXIX. SENTIMENT
XXX. DUTY
XXXI. TEMPERANCE
XXXII. PATRIOTISM
XXXIII. INDEPENDENCE
XXXIV. THE IDEAL MAN
IV. THE CITIZEN.
XXXV. WHAT CONSTITUTES GOOD CITIZENSHIP?
XXXVI. THE CITIZEN AND THE HOME
XXXVII. THE CITIZEN AND THE COMMUNITY
XXXVIII. THE CITIZEN AND THE NATION
XXXIX. THE IDEAL CITIZEN
I.
EDUCATION OF THE NATURAL FACULTIES.
MEMORY GEMS.
Every man stamps his value on himself.--Schiller
No capital earns such interest as personal culture.--President Eliot
The end and aim of all education is the development of character.
--Francis W. Parker
One of the best effects of thorough intellectual training is a
knowledge of our own capacities.--Alexander Bain
Education is a growth toward intellectual and moral perfection.
--Nicholas Murray Butler
Education begins in the home, is continued through the public school
and college, and finds inviting and ever-widening opportunities and
possibilities throughout the entire course of life. The mere
acquisition of knowledge, or the simple development of the intellect
alone, may be of little value. Many who have received such imperfect or
one-sided education, have proved to be but ciphers in the world; while,
again, intellectual giants have sometimes been found to be but
intellectual demons. Indeed, some of the worst characters in history
have been men of scholarly ability and of rare academic attainments.
The true education embraces the symmetrical development of mind, body
and heart. An old and wise writer has said, "Cultivate the physical
exclusively, and you have an athlete or a savage; the moral only, and
you have an enthusiast or a maniac; the intellectual only, and you have
a diseased oddity,--it may be a monster. It is only by wisely training
all of them together that the complete man may be found."
To cultivate anything--be it a plant, an animal, or a mind--is to make
it grow. Nothing admits of culture but that which has a principle of
life capable of being expanded. He, therefore, who does what he can to
unfold all his powers and capacities, especially his nobler ones, so as
to become a well-proportioned, vigorous, excellent, happy being,
practices self-culture, and secures a true education.
It is a commonplace remark that "a man's faculties are strengthened by
use, and weakened by disuse." To change the form of statement, they
grow when they are fed and nourished, and decay when they are not fed
and nourished. Moreover, every faculty demands appropriate food. What
nourishes one will not always nourish another. Accordingly, one part of
man's nature may grow while another withers; and one part may be fed
and strengthened at the expense of another.
In Hawthorne's beautiful allegory, the "Great Stone Face," you remember
how the man Ernest, by daily and admiring contemplation of the face,
its dignity, its serenity, its benevolence, came, all unconsciously to
himself, to possess the same qualities, and to be transformed by them,
until at last he stood revealed to his neighbors as the long promised
one, who should be like the Great Stone Face. So in every human life,
the unrealized self is the unseen but all-powerful force that brings
into subjection the will, guides the conduct, and determines the
character.
"The early life of Washington is singularly transparent as to the
creation and influence of the ideal. We see how one quality after
another was added, until the character became complete. Manly strength,
athletic power and skill, appear first; then, courtesy and refined
manners; then, careful and exact business habits; then, military
qualities; then, devotion to public service."
Steadily, but rapidly, the transforming work went on, until the man was
complete; the ideal was realized. Henceforth, the character, the man,
appears under all the forms of occupation and office. Legislator,
commander, president; the man is in them all, though he is none of them.
Half the blunders of humanity come from not knowing one's self. If we
overrate our abilities, we attempt more than we can accomplish; if we
underrate our abilities we fail to accomplish much that we attempt. In
both cases the life loses just so much from its sum of power.
He who might wield the golden scepter of the pen, never gets beyond the
plow; or perhaps he who ought to be a shoemaker attempts the artistic
career of an Apelles. When a life-work presents itself we ought to be
able from our self-knowledge to say, "I am, or am not, fitted to be
useful in that sphere."
Sydney Smith represents the various parts in life by holes of different
shapes upon a table--some circular, some triangular, some square, some
oblong--and the persons acting these parts, by bits of wood of similar
shapes, and he says, "we generally find that the triangular person has
gotten into the square hole, the oblong into the triangular, and a
square fellow has squeezed into the round hole."
A fundamental need is to find out the elements of power within us, and
how they can be trained to good service and yoked to the chariot of
influence. We need to know exactly for what work or sphere we are best
fitted, so that when opportunities for service open before us, we may
invest our mental capital with success and profit.
Self-knowledge must not be confused with self-conceit; for it implies
no immodesty or egotism. Even if the faithful study of one's self
reveals a high order of natural gifts, it is not needful to imitate the
son of the Emerald Isle who always lifted his hat and made an
obsequious bow when he spoke of himself or mentioned his own name.
George Eliot hits off pompous self-conceit happily when she likens its
possessor to "a cock that thinks the sun rises in the morning to hear
him crow."
Margaret Fuller wrote: "I now know all the people in America worth
knowing, and I have found no intellect comparable with my own." Even if
she did not overrate herself, such self-estimate implied no little
boldness in expression. We also read in Greek history, how, when the
commanders of the allied fleets gave in, by request, a list of the
names of those who had shown the highest valor and skill at the battle
of Salamis, each put his own name first, graciously according to
Themistocles, the real hero of the day, the second rank.
Not a few come to know themselves only through failures and
disappointments. Strangers to their own defects--perhaps also to their
own powers--they see how they might have succeeded only when success is
finally forfeited. Their eyes open too late. A Southern orator tells of
a little colored lad who very much wished to have a kitten from a
newborn litter, and whose mistress promised that, as soon as they wer
old enough, he should take one. Too impatient to wait, he slyly carried
one off to his hut. Its eyes were not open, and, in disgust, he drowned
it. But, subsequently finding the kitten lying in the pail dead, but
with open eyes, he exclaimed, "Umph! When you's alive, you's blind. Now
you's dead, you see!" It will be a real calamity to us if our eyes only
open when it is too late to make our life of any use.
All true life-power has a basis of high _moral integrity_. Far higher in
the scale than any life of impulse, passion, or even opinion,
is the life regulated by principle. The end of life is something more
than pleasure. Man is not a piece of vitalized sponge, to absorb all
into himself. The essentials of happiness are something to love,
something to hope for, something to do--affection, aspiration, action.
We must also educate our dispositions. Some one has said: "Disposition
is a lens through which men and things are seen. A fiery temper, like a
red glass, gives to all objects a lurid glare; a melancholic temper,
like a blue lens, imparts its own hue; through the green spectacles of
jealousy every one else becomes an object of distrust and dislike; and
he who looks through the black glass of malice, finds others wearing the
aspect of his own malevolence. Only the cheerful and charitable soul
sees through a clear and colorless medium, whose transparency shows the
world as it is."
Disposition has also its concave and convex lenses, which magnify some
things and minify others. The self-satisfied man sees every one's
faults in giant proportions; and every one's virtues, but his own,
dwarfed into insignificance. To the fretful man others seem fretful; to
the envious man, envious; and so with the well-disposed, gentle, and
generous; sunshine prevails over shadows. The world is different to
different observers, largely because they have different media through
which they look at it.
Cheerful tempers manufacture solace and joy out of very unpromising
material. They are the magic alchemists who extract sweet essences out
of bitter herbs, like the old colored woman in the smoky hut, who was
"glad of anything to make a smoke with," and, though she had but two
teeth, thanked God they were "_opposite each other!_"
Goodness outranks even uprightness, because the good man aims to do
good to others. Uprightness is the beauty of integrity; goodness is the
loveliness of benevolence. The good man visits the hut of misery, the
hovel of poverty, leaving in a gentle and delicate way, a few comforts
for the table or wardrobe, dainties for the fevered palate of the sick,
or such other helps as the case may call for, as far as his means and
circumstances will allow.
A true education should cover all these points, and many others also;
but it must never be allowed to destroy the pupil's individuality. It
must teach that a person can be himself, and study all the models he
pleases. Webster studied the orations of Cicero so thoroughly that he
could repeat most of them by heart; but they did not destroy or
compromise his individuality, because he did not try to be Cicero. It
has been said that Michael Angelo, who was the most original of ancient
or modern artists, was more familiar with the model statues and
paintings of the world than any other man. He studied the excellences
of all the great works of art, not to copy or imitate them, but to
develop his powers. "As the food he consumed became bone and muscle by
assimilation; so, by mental assimilation, the knowledge he acquired by
art-models entered into the very composition of his mind."
The more thoroughly a man's nature is developed under the influences of
a good education, the more justly does he claim the liberty of thought
and action, and a suitable field whereon to think and act. The
materials of useful and honorable life--of life aiming at great and
noble ends--are within him. He feels it, he knows it to be so; and a
denial uttered by ten thousand voices would not check the ardor of his
pursuit, or induce him to surrender one atom of his claim. His claim
involves a right. He is as conscious of it as of his existence. His
mind has acquired the power of observing, reasoning, reflecting,
judging, and acting; and he feels that, like a pendulum, the action of
his mind is capable of giving activity, force, and value, to a large
body of well-compacted machinery, of which he is a part.
It is the mind that acts as the universal pendulum; and if its liberty
of action be circumscribed, and its vibrations consequently fall short
of the mark, then its power will be crippled, and the life, as a whole
will be imperfect and incomplete.
II.
OBSERVATION.
MEMORY GEMS.
We get out of Nature what we carry to her.--Katherine Hagar
Fools learn nothing from wise men, but wise men learn much from fools.
--Lavater
The non-observant man goes through the forest and sees no firewood.
--Russian Proverb
Some men will learn more in a country stage-ride than others in a tour
of Europe.--Dr. Johnson
The world is full of thoughts, and you will find them strewed
everywhere in your path.--Elihu Burritt
All conscious life begins in observation. We say of a baby, "See how he
_notices!_" By this statement we really call attention to the fact
that the child is beginning to be interested in things separate from and
outside of himself. Up to this time he has _seen_ but not
_observed_, for to observe is to "see with attention"; to "notice
with care"; to see with the mind as well as with the eye. There are many
persons who see almost everything but observe almost nothing. They are
forever fluttering over the surface of things, but put forth no real
effort to secure and preserve the ideas they ought to gather from the
scenes through which they pass.
Every boy and girl in the land, possessing a good pair of eyes, has the
means for acquiring a vast store of knowledge. As the child, long
before he can talk, obtains a pretty good idea of the little world that
lies within his vision; so may all bright, active boys and girls
obtain, by correct habits of observation, a knowledge that will the
better fit them for the active duties of manhood and womanhood.
The active, observing eye is the sign of intelligence; while the vacant,
listless stare of indifference betokens an empty brain. The eyes are
placed in an elevated position that they may better observe all that
comes within their range. These highways to the soul should always stand
wide open, ready to carry inward all such impressions as will add to our
knowledge.
No object the eye ever beholds, no sound, however slight, caught by the
ear, or anything once passing the turnstile of any of the senses, is
ever again let go. The eye is a perpetual camera, imprinting upon the
sensitive mental plates, and packing away in the brain for future use,
every face, every plant and flower, every scene upon the street, in
fact, everything which comes within its range. It should, therefore, be
easy to discern that since mere seeing may create false impressions in
the mind, and that only by careful observation can we gather for future
use such impressions as are thoroughly reliable, we cannot well
overestimate the importance of its cultivation.
It is beyond question that childhood and early youth are the most
favorable periods for the cultivation of this faculty. Not only is the
mind then more free from care, and, therefore, more at leisure to
observe, but it is also more easy to interest one's self in the common
things, which, while they lie nearest to us, make up by far the greater
portion of our lives. Experience also proves that a person is not a good
observer at the age of twenty, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred he
will never become one. "The student," says Hugh Miller, "should learn to
make a right use of his eyes; the commonest things are worth looking at;
even the stones and weeds, and the most familiar animals. Then in early
manhood he is prepared to study men and things in a way to make success
easy and sure."
Houdin, the magician, spent a month in cultivating the observing powers
of his son. Together they walked rapidly past the window of a large toy
store. Then each would write down the things that he had seen. The boy
soon became so expert that one glance at a show window would enable him
to write down the names of forty different objects. The boy could easily
outdo his father.
The power of observation in the American Indian would put many an
educated white man to shame. Returning home, an Indian discovered that
his venison, which had been hanging up to dry, had been stolen. After
careful observation he started to track the thief through the woods.
Meeting a man on the route, he asked him if he had seen a little, old,
white man, with a short gun, and with a small bob-tailed dog. The man
told him he had met such a man, but was surprised to find that the
Indian had not even seen the one he described. He asked the Indian how
he could give such a minute description of a man whom he had never seen.
"I knew the thief was a little man," said the Indian, "because he rolled
up a stone to stand on in order to reach the venison; I knew he was an
old man by his short steps; I knew he was a white man by his turning out
his toes in walking, which an Indian never does; I knew he had a short
gun by the mark it left on the tree where he had stood it up; I knew the
dog was small by his tracks and short steps, and that he had a bob-tail
by the mark it left in the dust where he sat."
The poet Longfellow has also dwelt upon the power of observation in the
early training of Hiawatha. You will perhaps recall the lines:
"Then the little Hiawatha
Learned of every bird its language,
Learned their names and all their secrets,
How they built their nests in summer,
Where they hid themselves in winter,
Talked with them whene'er he met them,
Called them 'Hiawatha's Chickens.'"
The most noted men of every land and age have acquired their fame by
carrying into effect ideas suggested by or obtained from observation.
The head of a large commercial firm was once asked why he employed such
an ignorant man for a buyer. He replied: "It is true that our buyer
cannot spell correctly; but when anything comes within the range of his
eyes, he sees all that there is to be seen. He buys over a million
dollars' worth a year for us, and I cannot recall any instance when he
failed to notice a defect in any line of goods or any feature that would
be likely to render them unsalable." This man's highly developed power
of observation was certainly of great value.
Careful observers become accurate thinkers. These are the men that are
needed everywhere and by everybody. By observation the scholar gets more
out of his books, the traveler more enjoyment from the beauties of
nature, and the young person who is quick to read human character avoids
companions that would be likely to lead him into the ways of vice and
folly, and perhaps cause his life to become a total wreck.
JOHN JAMES AUDUBON.
In 1828 a wonderful book, "The Birds of America," by John James Audubon,
was issued. It is a good illustration of what has been accomplished by
beginning in one's youth to use the powers of observation. Audubon loved
and studied birds. Even in his infancy, lying under the orange trees on
his father's plantation in Louisiana, he listened to the mocking bird's
song, watching and observing every motion as it flitted from bough to
bough. When he was older he began to sketch every bird that he saw, and
soon showed so much talent that he was taken to France to be educated.
He entered cheerfully and earnestly upon his studies, and more than a
year was devoted to mathematics; but whenever it was possible he rambled
about the country, using his eyes and fingers, collecting more
specimens, and sketching with such assiduity that when he left France,
only seventeen years old, he had finished two hundred drawings of French
birds. At this period he tells us that "it was not the desire of fame
which prompted to this devotion; it was simply the enjoyment of nature."
A story is told of his lying on his back in the woods with some moss for
his pillow, and looking through a telescopic microscope day after day to
watch a pair of little birds while they made their nest. Their peculiar
grey plumage harmonized with the color of the bark of the tree, so that
it was impossible to see the birds except by the most careful
observation. After three weeks of such patient labor, he felt that he
had been amply rewarded for the toil and sacrifice by the results he had
obtained.
His power of observation gave him great happiness, from the time he
rambled as a boy in the country in search of treasures of natural
history, till, in his old age, he rose with the sun and went straightway
to the woods near his home, enjoying still the beauties and wonders of
Nature. His strength of purpose and unwearied energy, combined with his
pure enthusiasm, made him successful in his work as a naturalist; but it
was all dependent on the habit formed in his boyhood,--this habit of
close and careful observation; and he not only had this habit of using
his eyes, but he looked at and studied things worth seeing, worth
remembering.
This brief sketch of Audubon's boyhood shows the predominant traits of
his character,--his power of observation, the training of the eye and
hand, that made him in manhood "the most distinguished of American
ornithologists," with so much scientific ardor and perseverance that no
expedition seemed dangerous, or solitude inaccessible, when he was
engaged in his favorite study.
He has left behind him, as the result of his labors, his great book on
"The Birds of America," in ten volumes; and illustrated with four
hundred and forty-eight colored plates of over one thousand species of
birds, all drawn by his own hand, and each bird being represented in its
natural size; also a "Biography of American Birds," in five large
volumes, in which he describes their habits and customs. He was
associated with Dr. Bachman of Philadelphia, in the preparation of a
work on "The Quadrupeds of America," in six large volumes, the drawings
for which were made by his two sons; and, later on, published his
"Biography of American Quadrupeds," a work similar to the "Biography of
the Birds." He died at what is known as "Audubon Park," on the Hudson,
now within the limits of New York city, in 1851, at the age of seventy.
[Footnote: For fuller information concerning Audubon, consult "Life and
Adventures of John J. Audubon," by Robert Buchanan (New York,
1869); Griswold's "Prose Writers of America" (Philadelphia, 1847); Mrs.
Horace St. John's "Audubon the Naturalist" (New York, 1856); Rev. C. C.
Adams's "Journal of the Life and Labors of J. J. Audubon" (Boston,
1860), and "Audubon and his Journals," by M. R. Audubon (New York,
1897).]
III.
OBEDIENCE.
MEMORY GEMS.
Love makes obedience easy.--T. Watson
The education of the will is the object of our existence.--Emerson
To learn obeying is the fundamental art of governing.--Carlyle
True obedience neither procrastinates nor questions.--Francis Quarles
If thou wouldst be obeyed as a father, be obedient as a son.
--William Penn
By obedience is meant submission to authority, and to proper restraint
and control. It is the doing of that which we are told to do; and the
refraining from that which is forbidden. At its very best it may be
defined as the habit of yielding willingly to command or restraint.
As observation forms the first step in the culture of the mind, so
obedience forms the first step in the building of the character. It is
as important to the life as is the foundation to the house. Thomas
Carlyle has well said that "Obedience is our universal duty and destiny,
wherein whosoever will not bend must break." It is impossible to escape
from it altogether, and it is therefore wise to learn to obey as early
in life as possible.
It does not take very long for a child to learn that it cannot do
everything that it would like to do. The wishes of others must be
regarded. These wishes spring from a knowledge of what is best.
Children, with their limited experiences, cannot always foresee the
consequences of their doings. For their own good they must not be
allowed to do anything that would result in harm to themselves or to
others. Some one must oversee and direct them until they can act
intelligently. Obedience is one of the principal laws of the family. The
harmony and peace of the entire household depend upon it.
True obedience does not argue nor dispute; neither does it delay nor
murmur. It goes directly to work to fulfil the commands laid upon us, or
to refrain from doing that which is forbidden. "Sir," said the Duke of
Wellington to an officer of engineers, who urged the impossibility of
executing his orders, "I did not ask your opinion. I gave you my orders,
and I expect them to be obeyed."
A story is told of a great captain, who, after a battle, was talking
over the events of the day with his officers. He asked them who had done
the best that day. Some spoke of one man who had fought very bravely,
and some of another. "No," said he, "you are all mistaken. The best man
in the field to-day was a soldier, who was just lifting his arm to
strike an enemy, but when he heard the trumpet sound a retreat, checked
himself, and dropped his arm without striking a blow. That perfect and
ready obedience to the will of his general, is the noblest thing that
has been done to-day."
The instant obedience of the child is as beautiful and as important as
that of the soldier. The unhesitating obedience which springs from a
loving confidence is beautifully illustrated in the following incident:
A switchman in Prussia was stationed at the junction of two lines of
railroad. His hand was on the lever for a train that was approaching.
The engine was within a few seconds of reaching his signal box when, on
turning his head, the switchman saw his little boy playing on the line
of rails over which the train was to pass. "Lie down!" he shouted to the
child; but, he himself, remained at his post. The train passed safely on
its way. The father rushed forward, expecting to take up a corpse; but
what was his joy on finding that the boy had obeyed his order so
promptly that the whole train had passed over him without injury. The
next day the king sent for the man and attached to his breast the medal
for civil courage.
A cheerful obedience is one of the strongest proofs of love. "Love is to
obedience like wings to the bird, or sails to the ship. It is the agency
that carries it forward to success. When love cools, obedience slackens;
and nothing is worthy of the name of love that leads to disobedience."
We remember the anecdote of a Roman commander, who forbade an engagement
with the enemy, and the first transgressor was his own son. He accepted
the challenge of the leader of the other host, slew and disrobed him,
and then in triumph carried the spoils to his father's tent. But the
Roman father refused to recognize the instinct which prompted this, as
deserving the name of love.
Many of the restraints laid upon us result from the love of those in
authority. If we were permitted to pursue our own inclinations, our
health might be destroyed, our minds run to waste, and we should be apt
to grow up slothful and selfish; a trouble to others and burdensome to
ourselves. It is far easier to obey our parents and friends when we
recall that we have experienced their goodness long enough to know that
they wish to make us happy, even when their commands seem most severe.
Let us, therefore, show our appreciation of their goodness by doing
cheerfully what they require.
The will is supported, strengthened, and perfected by obedience. There
are many who suppose that real strength of will is secured by giving it
free play. But we really weaken it in that way. Obedience to a
reasonable law is a source of moral strength and power. Obedience is not
weakness bowing to strength, but is rather submission to an authority
whose claims are already admitted. If a man is royal when he rules over
nature, and yet more royal when he rules his brother man, is he not most
royal when he so rules himself as to do the right even when it is
distasteful?
A man who had declared his aversion for what he called the dry facts of
political economy, was found one day knitting his brows over a book on
that subject. When a friend expressed surprise, the man replied: "I am
playing the schoolmaster with myself. I am reading this because I
dislike it."
Difficulties are often really helpful. They enlarge our experience and
incite us to do our best. "The head of Hercules," says Ruskin, "was
always represented as covered with a lion's skin, with the claws joining
under the chin, to show that when we had conquered our misfortunes they
became a help to us."
One of the greatest hindrances to obedience is a false pride. The
thought of living under the will and direction of another is exceedingly
unpleasant, and where such a pride bears rule in the heart, a cheerful
obedience is almost an impossibility. We often fail to obey simply
because we are unwilling to acknowledge ourselves in the wrong.
Obedience is also hindered by ignorance. One of our commonest errors is
that which teaches that authority is always pleasant, and submission
always painful. The actual experiences of life prove that the place of
command is usually a position of great anxiety, while the place of
obedience is generally one of ease and freedom from care.
Indolence also opposes obedience. In our selfish love of ease we allow
duties to go undone until the habit of disobedience becomes almost
unnoticeable; but when we find ourselves compelled to resist it, we then
discover that to break away from its power is one of the hardest tasks
we can be called upon to perform.
THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.
A very striking example of prompt and unquestioning obedience is
furnished us in that famous "Charge of the Light Brigade" at Balaclava,
during the Crimean War, of which you have all doubtless heard. A series
of engagements between the Russians on the one side, and the English and
their allies on the other side, took place near this little town, on
October 25, 1854. The Russians were for a time victorious, and at last
threatened the English port of Balaclava itself. The attack was diverted
by a brilliant charge of the Heavy Brigade, led by General Scarlett.
Then, through a misunderstanding of the orders of Lord Raglan, the
commander-in-chief, Lord Cardigan was directed to charge the Russian
artillery at the northern extremity of the Balaclava valley with the
Light Brigade, then under his command.
Lord Cardigan was an exceedingly unpopular officer, and greatly disliked
by all his men, But no sooner was the order given than, with a battery
in front of them, and one on either side, the Light Brigade hewed its
way past these deadly engines of war and routed the enemy's cavalry. Of
the six hundred and seventy horsemen who made the charge, only one
hundred and ninety-eight returned. As an act of war it was madness. In
the opinion of the most competent judges there was no good end to be
gained by it. But as an act of soldierly obedience it was sublime. The
deed has been immortalized by the poet Tennyson in the following verses:
I.
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
II.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Some one had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
III.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
IV.
Flash'd all their sabers bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke,
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the saber-stroke
Shattered and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
V.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
VI.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!
[Footnote: For the story of the Crimean War, consult "Encyclopedia
Britannica", Vol. VIII., p. 366; also Vol. XVII., pp. 228 and 486.]
IV.
CANDOR.
MEMORY GEMS.
Truth lies at the bottom of the well.--Old Proverb
Candor looks with equal fairness at both sides of a subject.
--Noah Webster
Daylight and truth meet us with clear dawn.--Milton
Perfect openness is the only principle on which a free people can be
governed.--C. B. Yonge
There is no fear for any child who is frank with his father and
mother.--Buskin
Candor and frankness are so closely akin to each other that we may
properly study them together. Each of these words has an interesting
origin. "Candor" comes from a Latin word meaning "_to be white_";
while "frankness" is derived from the name of the Franks, who were a
powerful German tribe honorably distinguished for their love of freedom
and their scorn of a lie. A candid man is one who is disposed to think
and judge according to truth and justice, and without partiality or
prejudice; while the one word _frank_ is used to express anything
that is generous, straightforward and free.
Candor is a virtue which is everywhere commended, though not quite so
prevalent in the world as might be expected. There are doctors who never
tell a patient they can make nothing of his case, or that it is one
which requires the attention of a specialist. There are lawyers who
never assure a client that it is hopeless for him to expect to gain his
suit. And so, in all trades and professions, candor is as rare as it is
good.
The lack of a simple and straightforward statement of such facts as are
in our possession, often leads to serious misunderstanding and sometimes
to serious loss.
Frankness is a combination of truthfulness and courage. Its usefulness
depends largely on its association with other qualities and
circumstances; but to be frank is simply to dare to be truthful. There
are many men who would scorn to tell a lie, who are destitute of
frankness because they hesitate to face the consequences of perfect
openness of speech or conduct.
An Irishman, who had neglected to thatch his cottage, was one day asked
by a gentleman with whom he was conversing, "Did it rain yesterday?"
Instead of making a direct and candid reply, he sought to hide his
fault, which he supposed had been discovered; and the conversation
proceeded as follows. "Did it rain yesterday?" asked his friend. "Is it
yesterday you mean?" was the reply. "Yes, yesterday." "Please your
honor, I wasn't at the bog at all yesterday,--wasn't I after setting my
potatoes?" "My good friend, I don't know what you mean about the bog; I
only asked you whether it rained yesterday?" "Please your honor, I
couldn't get a car and horse any way, to draw home my little straw, or
I'd have the house thatched long ago." "Cannot you give me a plain
answer to this plain question--Did it rain yesterday?" "Oh sure, I
wouldn't go to tell your honor a lie about the matter. Sorrah much it
rained yesterday after twelve o'clock, barring a few showers." Of course
there will be no difficulty in seeing that such a conversation could not
be entirely satisfactory to either party.
The virtue we are now recommending is in daily and hourly demand, and of
high and priceless value. But here also we must beware of counterfeits.
A smooth outward manner, a countenance clothed with perpetual smiles,
and an address distinguished by gentleness and insinuation, may be
assumed for selfish ends. A truly candid man is neither carried away by
ungenerous suspicion, nor by a weak acceptance of the views of others;
and the whole constitution of his mind must be entirely changed before
he can become capable of deceit.
Frankness has often been counterfeited by mere _bluster_. A couple
of striking examples of this fact are brought into view in the recently
published "Life and Letters of Charles Darwin," in which, speaking of
his childhood, Mr. Darwin says: "One little event has fixed itself very
firmly in my mind, and I hope it has done so from my conscience having
been afterward sorely troubled by it. It is curious as showing that
apparently I was interested at this early age in the variability of
plants! I told another little boy that I could produce variously colored
primroses by watering them with certain colored fluids, which was of
course a monstrous fable, and has never been tried by me. I may here
also confess that as a little boy I was much given to inventing
deliberate falsehoods, and this was always done for the sake of causing
excitement. For instance, I once gathered much valuable fruit from my
father's trees and hid it in the shrubbery, and then ran in breathless
haste to spread the news that I had discovered a hoard of stolen fruit."
Mr. Darwin also relates the following incident, as illustrating the lack
of truthfulness and candor on the part of another: "I must have been a
very simple fellow when I first went to school. A boy of the name of
Garnett took me into a cake shop one day, and bought some cakes for
which he did not pay, as the shopman trusted him. When we came out I
asked him why he did not pay for them, and he instantly answered, 'Why,
do you not know that my uncle left a great sum of money to the town on
condition that every tradesman should give whatever was wanted without
payment to any one who wore his old hat and moved it in a particular
manner?' He then showed me how to move the hat, and said, 'Now, if you
would like to go yourself into that cake shop, I will lend you my hat,
and you can get whatever you like if you move the hat on your head
properly.' I gladly accepted the generous offer, and went in and asked
for some cakes, moved the old hat, and was walking out of the shop, when
the shopman made a rush at me; so I dropped the cakes and ran for dear
life, and was astonished by being greeted with shouts of laughter by my
false friend Garnett." The same truth is illustrated in the case of an
affected young lady who, on being asked, in a large company, if she had
read Shakespeare, assumed a look of astonishment and replied: "Read
Shakespeare! Of course I have! I read that when it first came out!"
Frankness and candor will always win respect and friendship, and will
always retain them; and the consciousness of having such a treasure, and
of being worthy of it, is more than wealth and honors. A man quickly
finds when he is unworthy of public respect or private friendship; and
the leaden weight he carries ever in his heart, cannot be lightened by
any success or any gratification he may secure. But the man of upright
character, and proper self-respect, will never meet with such trials as
can deprive him of that higher happiness which rests in his own breast.
True candor is manly and leads directly to the development of nobility
both of principle and conduct. The late Hon. William P. Fessenden once
made a remark which was understood as an insult to Mr. Seward. When
informed of it, and seeing such a meaning could be given to his words,
he instantly went to Mr. Seward, and said, "Mr. Seward, I have insulted
you: I am sorry for it. I did not mean it." This apology, so prompt,
frank, and perfect, so delighted Mr. Seward, that, grasping him by the
hand, he exclaimed, "God bless you, Fessenden! I wish you would insult
me again!" Such an exhibition of real manliness as this may well be
cited as worthy of the imitation of the youth of the land.
DEAN STANLEY.
In "Tom Brown's Schooldays," that charming book, so dear to all
wide-awake boys, there is a scene in which little Arthur is introduced
in the act of kneeling beside his bed, on his first night at school, for
the purpose of saying his prayers according to the custom he had always
observed at his home. We are not so much concerned with the fact that he
was ridiculed and persecuted by the older boys, as with the further
factthat this boy Arthur is said to bear a remarkable resemblance to
Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, whose name is everywhere known as the late Dean
of Westminster Abbey, the most famous church in England, if not of the
world at large. Arthur Stanley was one of the first boys to go to Rugby
after the great Dr. Arnold took charge of the school, and an early
illustration of his candor and open-mindedness is shown in his immediate
and public appreciation of the splendid qualities of his master, at a
time when Dr. Arnold was so generally abused, and even branded as an
infidel. Dr. Arnold was indeed a noble teacher, and the very man to
develop the best faculties in young Arthur Stanley; for one of the
doctor's own strongest traits was this same open-mindedness.
The frankness and candor, the directness and fearlessness with which
Stanley ever gave expression to his views; the purity and "whiteness" of
his mind, and the sweetness and tenderness of his disposition,--all
these had a part in the building of his fame. But it was chiefly in his
power to free himself from prejudice and to look fairly at all sides of
the complex questions with which both he and the church to which he
belonged were so frequently brought face to face, that gave him his
great popular influence, and made him so great a champion of religious
liberty. Truth, simplicity and innocence are three jewels which many men
barter for worldly honor and success; but Stanley held to these as with
a grip of steel; and, through their influence, he succeeded where a
score of the great men of his day had already failed.
To tell of all that candor and frankness have done for humanity would be
to trace the beginnings of the overthrow of almost every wrong. Other
qualities are of course essential to all noble reformers--courage and
faith and enthusiasm; but open-mindedness, which grows out of candor and
frankness, is the one pioneer that recognizes the opportunity of the
hour and is willing to walk in the new light. Candor is the sign of a
noble mind. It is the pride of the true man, the charm of the noble
woman, the defeat and mockery of the hypocrite, and the rarest virtue of
society.
[Footnote: An admirable sketch of the career of Dean Stanley will be
found in Johnson's Universal Cyclopedia, Vol. VII., p. 697. See also
"Life of Dean Stanley," by R. E. Prothero (London and New York, 1894).]
V.
AFFECTION.
MEMORY GEMS.
Gratitude is the music of the heart.--Robert South.
The best way of recognizing a benefit is never to forget it.
--J. J. Barthelmey
The affection and the reason are both necessary factors in morality.
--Fowler
True love burns hottest when the weather is coldest.--Swinnock
The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.--F. W. Bourdillon
One of the most powerful forces in the building of character is
affection; and one of the most common forms of its manifestation is
gratitude. The exercise of affection makes us tender and loving toward
all living persons and creatures about us; while the exercise of
gratitude usually results in making them tender and loving toward us.
Every boy and girl should endeavor to cultivate this spirit of
affectionate consideration for the feelings of others, and should be
careful not to speak any word, or do any act, or even give any look
which can cause unnecessary pain. And yet there are many young people,
who have never been taught better, who take exceeding pleasure in
causing annoyance and even suffering to all with whom they have to do.
This is done with the simple idea of having a little fun; but it is one
of the worst habits we can possibly form, and should be carefully
avoided by all who would command the respect and esteem which every
young person should desire to possess.
Perhaps you have heard the story of the youth who, while walking out
with his tutor, saw a pair of shoes that a poor laborer had left under a
hedge while he was busied with his work. "What fun it would be,"
exclaimed the young man, "to hide these shoes, and then to conceal
ourselves behind the hedge, and see the man's surprise and excitement
when he cannot find them." "I will tell you what would be better sport,"
said the tutor; "put a piece of money into one of the shoes, and then
hide and watch his surprise when he finds it." This the young man did;
and the joy and wonder of the poor laborer when he found the money in
his shoe was as good fun as he wanted.
We all know what the feeling of gratitude is. We have said "Thank you,"
a great many times; and have often felt really grateful in our hearts
for gifts and favors received. But we are too apt to forget that we have
any one to thank for the most important benefits of our lives. When we
stop to think, we see that all we have done or can do for ourselves is
very little indeed in comparison with what has been done for us.
How much we owe to our parents! What other creature in the world is so
helpless as the human infant? Leave a little baby to take care of
itself, and how long do you suppose it would live? How many of us would
be alive to-day, if in our earliest years we had not been provided for
and watched over with tender care? But the outward benefits for which
children have to thank their parents are of less value than the lessons
of truth and goodness which are never so well taught as by the lips of
a faithful and devoted father and mother. To these lessons the greatest
and best men generally look back with the deepest gratitude.
A child's affection for his parents ought to make him tender toward them
when age or disease has made them irritable or complaining. A love that
only accepts, and never gives, is not worthy of the name.