a man's abilities in accordance with his success in whatever business or
profession he may engage. The true gentleman is known by his strict
sense of honor; by his sympathy, his gentleness, his forbearance, and
his generosity. He is essentially a man of truth, speaking and doing
rightly, not merely in the sight of men, but in his secret and private
behavior. Truthfulness is moral transparency. Hence the gentleman
promises nothing that he has not the means of performing. The Duke of
Wellington proudly declared that truth was the characteristic of an
English officer, that when he was bound by a parole he would not break
his word; for the gentleman scorns to lie, in word or deed; and is ready
to brave all consequences rather than debase himself by falsehood.
When any one complains, as Diogenes did, that he has to hunt the streets
with candles at noonday to find an honest man, we are apt to think that
his nearest neighbor would have quite as much difficulty in making such
a discovery. If you think there is not a true man living, you had
better, for appearance's sake, not say so until you are dead yourself.
A few years since, a manly boy about nine years old stepped up to a
gentleman in the Grand Central Depot, New York, and asked, "Shine,
sir?" "Yes I want my shoes blacked," said the gentleman. "Then I would
be glad to shine them, sir," said the boy. "Have I time to catch the
Hudson River train?" "No time to lose, sir; but I can give you a good
job before it pulls out. Shall I?" "Yes, my boy; but don't let me be
left."
In two seconds the bootblack was on his knees and hard at work. "The
train is going, sir," said the boy, as he gave the last touch. The
gentleman gave the boy a half dollar, and started for the train. The boy
counted out the change and ran after the gentleman, but was too late,
for the train was gone.
Two years later the same gentleman, coming to New York, met the
bootblack, but had forgotten him. The boy remembered the gentleman, and
asked him, "Didn't I shine your shoes once in the Grand Central Depot?"
"Some boy did," said the man. "I am the boy, and here is your change,
sir." The gentleman was so pleased with the lad's honesty, that he went
with him to see his mother, and offered to adopt him, as he needed such
a boy. The mother consented, and the honest bootblack had after that a
good home. He was given a good education, and, when a man, became a
partner in the gentleman's large business.
GEORGE PEABODY.
At eleven years of age George Peabody had to go out into the world to
earn his living. His promptness and honesty won for him the esteem of
his employer. At the age of fifteen he was left fatherless, without a
dollar in the world. An uncle in Georgetown, D. C., hearing that the boy
needed work, sent for him and gave him employment. His genial manner and
respectful bearing gained him many friends. He never wounded the
feelings of the buyer of goods, never seemed impatient, and was strictly
honest in all his dealings. His energy, perseverance, and honesty made
him a partner in the business when only nineteen years of age. At the
age of thirty-five he became the head of a large and wealthy business,
which his own industry had helped to build. He had bent his life to one
purpose, to make his business a success.
Having visited London several times in matters of trade, he determined
to make that city his place of residence. In 1837, there came a great
business panic in the United States. Many banks suspended specie
payments. Many mercantile houses went to the wall, and thousands more
were in great distress. Faith in the credit of the United States was
almost lost. Probably not one half dozen men in Europe would have been
listened to for a moment in the Bank of England upon the subject of
American securities, but George Peabody was one of them.
He became a wealthy man, honored at home and abroad. He loved his
fellow-men and set himself the task of relieving their wants. He gave
ten thousand dollars to help fit out the second expedition for the
relief of Sir John Franklin. The same year, his native town of Danvers,
Massachusetts, celebrated its centennial. The rich London banker was of
course invited. He was too busy to be present but sent a letter. The
seal was broken at dinner, and this was the toast it contained:
"Education--a debt due from present to future generations." In the same
envelope was a check for twenty thousand dollars for a town library and
institute. At another banquet given in his honor at Danvers, years
afterward, he gave two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to the same
institute. Edward Everett, and others, made eloquent addresses, and then
the kind-faced, great-hearted man responded.
"There is not a youth within the sound of my voice whose early
opportunities and advantages are not very much better than were mine. I
have achieved nothing that is impossible to the most humble boy among
you. Steadfast and undeviating _truth_, fearless and straight forward
integrity, and an honor ever unsullied by an unworthy word or action,
make their possessor greater than worldly success."
[Footnote: See the life of George Peabody, by Phebe A. Hanaford (Boston,
1882), and numerous articles in the cyclopedias and magazines.]
XVII.
COURTESY.
MEMORY GEMS.
Conduct is three fourths of life.--Matthew Arnold
There is no policy like politeness.--Magoon
Life is not so short but there is time enough for courtesy.--Emerson
Men, like bullets, go farthest when they are smoothest.--Richter
Nothing can constitute good breeding that has not good-nature for its
foundation.--Bulwer
True courtesy consists in that gentle refinement and grace of manner
displayed toward others, which springs not so much from polite culture
as from a genuine goodness of heart. It is the honor due to man as man,
and especially to woman. It is a grace which is too often unrecognized
and undervalued; but, when of the true order, it is a jewel of great
price.
It is to be found in all lands, and in every grade or order of society,
as shown by the following examples:
A Chinaman was rudely pushed into the mud by an American. He picked
himself up very calmly, shook off some of the mud, bowed very politely,
and said in a mild, reproving tone of voice, "You Christian; me heathen;
alle samee, good-bye." Courtesy, as a Christian duty, has been sorely
neglected by Americans. "If a civil word or two will make a man happy,"
said a French king, "he must be wretched indeed who will not give them
to him."
The first Duke of Marlborough "wrote English badly and spelled it
worse," yet he swayed the destinies of empires. The charm of his manner
was irresistible and influenced all Europe. His fascinating smile and
winning speech disarmed the fiercest hatred, and made friends of the
bitterest enemies.
A habit of courtesy is like a delicate wrapping, preventing one
personality from rubbing and chafing against another. It is perhaps most
of all proper from the young toward those who are older than themselves.
There is too little of this in our day. Boys and girls speak to their
elders, perhaps even to their parents, with rude familiarity, such as
would be hardly proper among playmates.
One should also show courtesy to his companions. Boys, even in their
play, should be courteous to one another. One who is always pushing for
the best, without regard to others, shows his ill breeding. A "thank
you" and a "please" on proper occasions, are not out of place even among
the closest companions.
Perhaps in the family, courtesy is more important than anywhere else.
There people are thrown more closely together; and, thus, nowhere do
they need more the protection of courtesy. From all this, it appears
that courtesy is simply an expression of thoughtfulness for others; and
that rudeness and boorishness, though sometimes they spring from
ignorance, are more often the expression of selfishness, which forgets
the feelings and the tastes of others.
When Edward Everett took a professor's chair at Harvard, after five
years of study in Europe, he was almost worshiped by the students. His
manner seemed touched by that exquisite grace seldom found except in
women of rare culture. His great popularity lay in a courteous and
magnetic atmosphere which every one felt, but no one could fully
describe, and which never left him throughout his long and useful life.
Courtesy, then, may be defined as "good manners." At present we use the
word "manners," simply to express the outward relations of life. We
speak of "good manners" or "bad manners," meaning by the words that a
person conforms more or less perfectly to what are called the "usages of
good society." Thus a man may have good morals and bad manners, or he
may have good manners and bad morals, or both his manners and his morals
may be either good or bad.
Etiquette originally meant the ticket or tag tied to a bag to indicate
its contents. If a bag had this ticket it was not examined. From this
the word passed to cards upon which were printed certain rules to be
observed by guests. These rules were "the ticket" or the etiquette. To
be "the ticket," or, as it was sometimes expressed, "to act or talk by
the card," became the thing with the better classes.
A fine manner more than compensates for all the defects of nature. The
most fascinating person is always the one of most winning manners, not
the one of greatest physical beauty. The Greeks thought beauty was a
proof of the peculiar favor of the gods, and considered that beauty
only worth adorning and transmitting which was unmarred by outward
manifestations of hard and haughty feeling. According to their ideal,
beauty must be the expression of attractive qualities within--such as
cheerfulness, benignity, contentment, and love.
On a certain occasion, Queen Victoria sent for Thomas Carlyle, who was
a Scotch peasant, offering him the title of nobleman, which he declined,
feeling that he had always been a nobleman in his own right. He
understood so little of the manners at court that, when presented to the
queen, after speaking to her a few minutes, being tired, he said, "Let
us sit down, madam, and talk it over;" whereat the courtiers were ready
to faint. But the queen was equal to the occasion and gave a gesture
that seated all her attendants in a moment.
Courtesy is not, however, always found in high places. Even royal courts
furnish many examples of bad manners. At an entertainment given by the
Prince of Wales, to which, of course, only the very cream of society was
admitted, there was such pushing and struggling to see the Princess, who
was then but recently married, that, as she passed through the reception
rooms, a bust of the princess Eoyal was thrown from its pedestal and
damaged, and the pedestal upset; and the ladies, in their eagerness to
see the princess, actually stood upon it.
Courtesy does not necessarily conflict with sincerity. It is a great
mistake to suppose that righteousness is bound up with bluntness and
criticism. Perfect courtesy and perfect honesty are often combined in
the same person. We can be amiable without being weak. We are able to
criticise errors and wrongs by holding up what is right and true, which
is the most forcible way; and still, through it all, our gentleness and
courtesy may remain unstained.
Where this course is departed from, we are very apt to fall into
trouble. A New York lady had just taken her seat in a car on a train
bound for Philadelphia, when a somewhat stout man sitting just ahead of
her lighted a cigar. She coughed and moved uneasily; but the hints had
no effect, so she said tartly: "You probably are a foreigner, and do not
know that there is a smoking-car attached to the train. Smoking is not
permitted here." The man made no reply, but threw his cigar out of the
window. What was her astonishment when the conductor told her, a moment
after, that she had entered the private car of General Grant. She
withdrew in confusion, but the same line courtesy which led him to give
up his cigar, was shown again as he spared her the mortification of
even a questioning glance, still less of a look of amusement, although
she watched his dumb, immovable figure with apprehension until she
reached the door.
Let us not be so busy as to forget the gracious acts and delicate
courtesies of everyday life. As Dr. Bartol says: "These friendly
good-mornings, these ownings of mutual ties, take on, in their mass, a
character of the sublime. The young owe respect to their elders. There
is a great deal of affection shown in our day, but the expression of
reverence is not so common. Good manners are not simply 'a fortune' to
a young person; they are more. They constitute the proof of a noble
character."
RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
In selecting Ralph Waldo Emerson as our special example, we are sure of
an admirable illustration. He was born in Boston, Massachusetts, on the
25th of May, 1803, the second of five sons. His father was the Rev.
William Emerson, minister of the First Church, in Boston. One of his
schoolmates says that as a youth, "it was impossible that there should
be any feeling about him but of regard and affection." His course and
graduation at Harvard College are remembered by his friends as marked
chiefly by amiability, meditation, and faultless conduct. He taught
school a short time and "made all the boys love him"; holding perfect
control beneath courteous manners.
Later on Emerson entered the ministry and became pastor of a church in
Boston. He was greatly beloved by all who knew him. The cause of this
universal affection was not solely in the books he produced, but in the
wonderful courtesy of his character, as it faced toward life in every
relation.
His son, Edward W. Emerson, says: "My father's honor for humanity, and
respect for humble people and for labor, were strong characteristics. To
servants, he was kindly and delicately considerate; always fearful lest
their feelings might be wounded. He built his own fires, going to the
woodpile in the yard in all weather for armfuls of wood as occasion
required." He then adds, "Nothing could be better than his manner to
children and young people; affectionate, and with a marked respect for
their personality."
Never patronizing, always appreciative, he touched everybody with
courtesy, and was, as Matthew Arnold said, "The friend of those who live
in the spirit of high, generous standards." We see in his example what
deep, real courtesy is. Courtesy, to him, was sincerity, and fairness,
and good-will, all round. He welcomed shy merit, encouraged clumsyyouth,
and smiled on good intentions, however poorly expressed. He did
all this day after day at the cost of time and patience and strength. As
a scholar, he might have secluded himself and simply written great
books; but the power he is, and is to be, could not have been obtained
that way.
[Footnote: See "Ralph Waldo Emerson," by O. W. Holmes (Boston, 1884);
"Emerson at Home and Abroad," by H. D. Conway; and F. B. Sanborn's
"Homes and Haunts of Emerson."]
XVIII.
SELF-DENIAL.
MEMORY GEMS.
Self-denial is the essence of heroism.--Emerson
True self-denial involves personal sacrifice for the good of others.
--Dr. Momerie
To give up interest for duty is the alphabet of morals.--James Hinton
A man of self-denial has the true ring which distinguishes the genuine
from the counterfeit.--Prof. Seeley
The worst education which teaches self-denial is better than the best
which teaches everything else, and not that.--John Sterling
It is a mistake to imagine that self-sacrifice and self-denial are
precisely the same. Many persons seem to think that because
self-sacrifice is a noble thing, everything in which self is given up
must be noble. Self may sometimes be sacrificed when it ought to be
maintained; and sometimes we sacrifice our interest to save ourselves a
little trouble, or to get rid of some petty annoyance. We say, "Well, I
have a right to do this, but, let it go;" and then we fancy that we have
performed a noble deed, whereas, we have really been serving our own
selfishness and love of ease.
True self-denial is the result of a calm and deliberate attachment to
the highest good, and consists in the giving up of everything which
stands in the way of its attainment, no matter what it may cost us
either in suffering or loss.
In our earliest years we must train ourselves to forego little things
for the sake of others. If we do so, we shall find it much easier to
bear the heavier disappointments of maturer years. It will greatly help
us if we try to practice at least one distinct act of self-denial every
day; and we must not forget that these acts must be both voluntary and
cheerful if they are to be of real benefit either to ourselves or to
others.
The burdens which boyhood and girlhood must bear in acquiring an
education, learning a trade, resisting temptations, and building
spotless characters, demand the constant exercise of self-denial. Many
people, young and old, know what duty is, but fail to do it for the want
of decision. They know very well what labors and self-denials are
necessary to obtain an education, master a trade, or attain to
excellence in any pursuit; but their ignoble indecision, which is a sort
of mental and moral debility, disqualifies them for the undertaking.
"The will, which is the central force of character, must be trained to
habits of decision; otherwise, it will neither be able to resist evil,
nor to follow good."
Our subject brings to mind many heroes of all kinds, to whose lives we
would gladly refer, if our space permitted. They are found in all
stations of life. There have been railway engineers, who, when they saw
that a collision could not be avoided, have stood at their place to
lighten, if possible, the shock, and have been killed; sea captains, who
have remained at their posts till all others had left, and have gone
down with their ships; physicians and nurses, and sisters of charity,
who have not shrunk from pestilence in order to save life, or to
comfort the dying. There was Father Damien, a Catholic priest, who so
pitied the lepers that were confined to an island, deprived alike of
the comforts of this world and of the consolations of religion, that he
went and lived with them. He knew that when he once joined them he
would probably take their disease, and, in any case, could never leave
them. But he went, shared their lot, lived and died among them; seeking
to do them good.
Historic illustrations of self-denial, still fresh in the memories of
many citizens, are to the point here. General Grant had been for several
months in front of Petersburg, apparently accomplishing nothing, while
General Sherman had captured Atlanta, and completed his grand "march to
the sea." Then arose a strong cry to promote Sherman to Grant's position
as lieutenant-general. Hearing of it, Sherman wrote to Grant:
"I have written to John Sherman [his brother] to stop it. I would rather
have you in command than any one else. I should emphatically decline any
commission calculated to bring us into rivalry."
General Grant replied:
"No one would be more pleased with your advancement than I; and if you
should be placed in my position, and I put subordinate, it would not
change our relations in the least. I would make the same exertions to
support you, that you have done to support me; and I would do all in my
power to make our cause win."
Two great souls striving to be equally magnanimous! Could anything be
more beautiful or noble in public life, where jealousy, and selfishness
and double-dealing appear to rule the hour?
One or two other illustrations must suffice us. The captain of a ship
was absent from it one day, being on board another vessel. While he was
gone, a storm arose, which in a short time made an entire wreck of his
own ship, to which it had not been possible for him to return. He had
left on board two little boys, the one four years old and the other six,
under the care of a young colored servant. The people struggled to get
out of the sinking ship into a large boat; and the poor servant took the
captain's two little children, tied them in a sack, and put them into
the boat, which was by this time quite full. He was stepping into it
himself, but was told by the officer that there was no room forhim,--
that either he or the children must perish, for the weight of all
would sink the boat. The heroic servant did not hesitate a moment.
"Very well," said he; "give my love to my master, and tell him I beg
pardon for all my faults;" and then he went to the bottom, never to rise
again till the sea shall give up its dead.
The power and influence of self-denial are well set forth in the
following incident:
At a time of great scarcity in Germany, a certain rich man invited
twenty poor children to his house, and said to them, "In this basket
there is a loaf of bread for each of you; take it, and come again every
day at this hour until the coming of better times."
The children seized upon the basket, wrangled and fought for the bread,
as each wished to get the best and largest loaf; and at last they went
away without even thanking him.
Frances alone, a poor but neatly dressed child, stood modestly at a
distance, took the smallest loaf that was left in the basket, thanked
the gentleman, and went home in a quiet and orderly manner.
On the following day the children were just as ill-behaved; and poor
Frances this time received a loaf which was scarcely half the size of
the rest; but when she came home, and her mother began to cut the bread,
there fell out of it a number of bright new silver coins.
Her mother was perplexed and said, "Take back the money this instant;
for it has no doubt, got into the bread through some mistake."
Frances carried it back. But the benevolent man said, "No, no! it was no
mistake. I had the money baked in the smallest loaf in order to reward
you, my dear child. Remember that the person who is contented with the
smallest loaf, rather than quarrel for the largest one, will find
blessings still more valuable than money baked in bread."
All these incidents reveal the value of this trait in real life; and
also serve to show how it is regarded by others than ourselves. It will
more than repay us for its cultivation, both by the increase of our own
happiness, and in the large amount of enjoyment it will put into the
lives of those about us.
CHARLES LAMB.
Charles Lamb was a writer of charming essays, full of wit and fancy.
He seemed to the world as far as possible from a hero; yet his life
washeroic in an unusual degree.
He was the son of a clerk in the London Law Courts, and the youngest
child in a family of three. He had a brother, John, who was twelve
years, and a sister Mary, ten years older than himself. At the age of
seventeen he became a clerk in the Accountant's Office of the East
India Company. There was a kind of insanity in the family, and in
September, 1796, Charles Lamb came home from his office-work to find
that his sister had wounded her father in the forehead and had stabbed
her mother to the heart. The inquest on the mother, held next day, was
closed with a verdict of insanity, and Mary Lamb was placed in a
lunatic asylum.
John Lamb, the elder brother, offered no aid to the family. Charles
loved his sister, and cared for her with a beautiful devotion. The
combined earnings of Charles and his father were less than two hundred
pounds a year, but Charles so arranged matters that sixty pounds a year
was devoted to her support. Others of the family, especially her brother
John, opposed Mary's discharge from the asylum; but Charles obtained her
release by solemnly promising that he would take care of her.
Although he was engaged to be married to a woman whom he tenderly loved,
he gave up all for Mary's sake, and literally filled her life with his
love. First he placed her in a lodging at Hackney, and spent all his
Sundays and holidays with her. Then they lived together; he watching the
moods that foreshadowed a mad fit, and taking her when needful, a
willing patient, to the Hoxton asylum till the fit was over. It was a
sad sight to see the brother and sister walking across the fields to
the hospital together, when she felt that the trouble was coming on;
but through the long period of forty years his love never once failed,
and his devotion increased to the very end.
His whole life developed into one of singular kindness and
self-sacrifice. He is known to have worn a coat six months longer than
he otherwise would have done, in order that he might spare a little
money to help some one less fortunate than himself. One of his many
friends, speaking of him said, "Of all the men of genius I ever knew,
the one most intensely and universally to be loved was Charles Lamb."
[Footnote: See Hazlitt's "Mary and Charles Lamb" (1874); "Biography of
Charles Lamb," T. N. Talfourd (1840); and "Final Memoirs," T. N.
Talfourd (1848).]
XIX.
SELF-RESPECT.
MEMORY GEMS.