No one can disgrace us but ourselves.--J. G. Holland
Self-distrust is the cause of most of our failures.--Bovee
Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control, these three alone lead
life to sovereign power.--Tennyson
To thine own self be true; and it will follow, as night the day, thou
canst not then be false to any man.--Shakespeare
There is around every man or woman, every boy or girl, a certain
atmosphere that keeps him or her separate and distinct from all other
persons. We realize the truth of this statement very early in life; and
unless we can learn to respect and rely upon our own distinctive
self-hood, our lives will never reach their largest possibilities.
There is, however, a real difference between self-reliance and
self-respect, though each partakes of the nature of the other.
Self-respect is the root of which self-reliance is the growth in
various acts or plans. It is the general tone and spirit running through
our view of life, of our nature, of our friends, of our privileges, of
our personal gifts. It is the basis on which we build self-reliant
conduct and self-reliant convictions.
It is generally the man who thinks well of himself who comes to be
thought well of. But it is also true that when a man becomes perfectly
satisfied with himself and his worldly surroundings, he has reached the
first stage of decline. Self-confidence, backed by good common sense, is
one of the most important of human attributes. But we must be careful
not to exaggerate ourselves, or rate ourselves too highly. There are
dangers attending every virtue. Pushed to excess, even conscience,
justice, and earnestness, may become injurious. Self-respect must be
guarded by common sense, love of humanity, and the spirit of reverence.
But nothing can make good an absence of this quality.
Even the Chinese say, "It never pays to respect a man who does not
respect himself." If the world sees that you do not honor yourself, it
has a right to reject you as an impostor; because you claim to be worthy
of the good opinion of others when you have not your own. Self-respect
is based upon the same principles as respect for others. The scales of
justice hang in every heart, and even the murderer respects the judge
who condemns him; for the still small voice within says, "That is
right."
Self-respect is a great aid to pure living. So long as a youth has true
self-respect, vice has little attraction for him. It is when this
sterling virtue is sacrificed, and the thoughtless or reckless one
ceases to care what is thought of him, that vice claims its victim. He
who cares not whether men think well or ill of him, does not possess
self-respect; and so he is easily lured into evil, becoming more and
more indifferent to the good-will of others, and more thoughtless and
abandoned in his daily life. With the loss of self-respect, he is
likely to lose all that makes manhood true and noble.
The key to John Bunyan's career is found in the self-respect which began
to govern his thoughts and acts in maturing youth, and which afterward
enabled him to meet persecution victoriously and to develop his peculiar
talent. If lie had been turned back by the scorn and contempt heaped
upon him on account of his low condition, or if he had listened to
critics who laughed at his simple, direct style in "Pilgrim's Progress";
or if he had lost courage because he belonged to a despised religious
sect; we should never have had his inspiring example.
The main business of life is not to do something great, but to become
great in ourselves. Any action has its finest and most enduring fruit in
character. Men of character are the conscience of the society to which
they belong. They, rather than the police, guarantee the execution of
the laws. Their influence is the bulwark of good government.
Character gravitates upward, while mere genius, without character,
gravitates downward. How often we see, in school or college, young men,
who are apparently dull and even stupid, rise gradually and surely above
others who are without character, merely because the former have an
upward tendency in their lives, a reaching-up principle, which gradually
but surely unfolds and elevates them to positions of honor and trust.
There is something which everybody admires in an aspiring soul, one
whose tendency is upward and onward, in spite of hindrances and in
defiance of obstacles.
As illustrating the mighty results of character based upon a
self-respecting love of honor, we may relate that when General Lee was
in conversation with one of his officers in regard to a movement of his
army, a plain farmer's boy overheard the general's remark that he had
decided to march upon Gettysburg instead of Harrisburg. The boy
telegraphed this fact to Governor Curtin. A special engine was sent for
the boy. "I would give my right hand," said the governor, "to know if
this boy tells the truth." A corporal replied, "Governor, I know that
boy; it is impossible for him to lie; there is not a drop of false blood
in his veins." In fifteen minutes the Union troops were marching to
Gettysburg, where they gained a glorious victory.
True self-respect challenges the admiration of others. No man has reason
to claim the regard of his fellows unless he first respects himself, for
this latter act is the outcome of the only elements of character that
can command the sincere esteem of men. A mean man, a dishonest man, a
niggardly man, a lazy man, or a conceited man, does not respect himself.
Unless he is living under the power of some strong delusion, he knows
that he is not worthy of regard.
A young man was invited by a friend to attend an entertainment which he
thought was objectionable. "I am not entirely clear that it is wrong,"
he said, "and when I am in doubt, I think the safer course is to
decline."
"Perhaps you are right," answered the friend; "but I think that people
will respect you as much as ever if you go."
"Possibly; but I want to respect myself," replied the young man. "I
should lose my self-respect by performing a doubtful act. My aim should
be higher than that."
Samuel Smiles expresses the truth well in this extract from "Character":
"It is the great lesson of biography to teach what man can be and can do
at his best. It may thus give each man renewed strength and confidence.
The humblest, in sight of even the greatest, may admire and hope and
take courage. These great brothers of ours in blood and lineage, who
live a universal life, still speak to us from their graves, and beckon
us on in the paths which they have trod."
One of the last things said by Sir Walter Scott, as he lay dying, was
this: "I have been, perhaps, the most voluminous author of my day, and
it is a comfort to me to think that I have tried to unsettle no man's
faith, to corrupt no man's principles, and that I have written nothing
which, on my deathbed, I would wish blotted out." To have lived such a
life as he lived is more than to have reigned over a kingdom.
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
We are glad to call special attention to Scott, because of his heroic
struggle to maintain his good name. He was born in Edinburgh, August 15,
1771. He was the son of Walter Scott, an attorney at law; and Anne
Rutherford, daughter of Dr. John Rutherford, professor of medicine in
the University of Edinburgh, and a lineal descendant from the ancient
chieftain Walter Scott, traditionally known as "Auld Walt of Harden."
As a schoolboy Walter was very popular. He made himself respected for
his courage and general ability to take care of himself. He was not
considered a very bright scholar, although, even then, he gave evidence
of his special delight in history, poetry, fairy tales, and fables. In
1783 he entered the university. He made little progress in the ancient
languages, but was more successful in other studies. His time, however,
was industriously employed in storing his mind with that great wealth
of knowledge which afterward made him famous as a writer.
Scott was educated for a lawyer, but all his natural tastes were in the
direction of literature. The greater part of his early life was an
unconscious preparation for writing. He had been writing prose romances
for several years with considerable success, when in January, 1805, he
published "The Lay of the Last Minstrel." It at once became extremely
popular. It sold more widely than any poem had ever sold before. This
led him to decide that literature was to be the main business of his
life. "Marmion," which appeared in 1808, and "The Lady of the Lake," in
1810, placed Scott among the greatest living poets. He touched then the
highest point of happiness and prosperity.
Soon after this he entered into a business partnership with a publishing
house, which resulted in his financial ruin. The failure left him
partner to a debt of over one hundred thousand pounds. At the age of
fifty-five, when all the freshness of youth was gone, he set himself the
task of paying this enormous claim and winning back his ancestral
estates. He went to work with a dogged determination to pay off his debt
of honor. The heaviest blow was to his pride; yet pride alone never
enabled any man to struggle so vigorously to meet the obligations he had
incurred. It was rather that high feeling of self-respect which nerved
his power to meet and try to overcome his great misfortune. His estates
were conveyed to trustees for the benefit of his creditors, until such
time as he could free them. Between January, 1826, and January, 1828, he
earned forty thousand pounds by unremitting toil. Then his health broke
down; yet he still struggled on with enfeebled constitution, but with an
unbroken will, to discharge, if possible, his obligations, and leave to
the world a respected name.
[Footnote: See Lockhart's "Life of Sir Walter Scott" (Houghton, Mifflin
& Co.); Hutton's "Sir Walter Scott;" and articles in encyclopedias.]
XX.
CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.
MEMORY GEMS.
Conscientiousness is the underlying granite of life.--Sir Walter Raleigh
When love of praise takes the place of praiseworthiness, the defect is
fatal.--S. Baring-Gould
When a man is dead to the sense of right, he is lost forever.
--James McCrie
Insincerity alienates love and rots away authority.--Bulwer
The value of conscientiousness is principally seen in the benefits of
civilization.--Charles Kingsley
"Conscientiousness is a scrupulous regard to the decisions of
conscience." When we say a duty was performed "religiously," it is the
same as a duty done conscientiously. Conscience does not _teach_ us
what is right; we learn that from experience, and in many other ways. It
simply tells us to do the best we know, and reproaches us when we do
otherwise.
Some one has well said: "We can train ourselves to be conscientious, to
be responsive to conscience, to obey it; but conscience itself cannot be
educated. It is like the sun. We may so arrange our house as to receive
the largest amount of sunlight; but the sun itself cannot be changed
either for our advantage or disadvantage. As a house with ample windows
is illuminated within by the rays of the sun, so is a well-trained life
filled with the light of conscience." We may therefore define
conscientiousness as the inborn desire to do that which is right and
just.
Conscientiousness, which is, as we have just seen, another name for
justice, is a trait to be cultivated among young people in their sports,
in family life, and in school. A boy is unjust who refuses to "play
fair"; a girl is unjust who deprives a friend of anything properly hers.
Young people may be unjust in their words, in their thoughts, or in
their actions; and the greatest watchfulness is needed to prevent us
from failing in this important matter.
One's sense of justice may be increased by thoughtfulness as to his duty
to himself, as well as to others; and by demanding very rigid observance
of every law of conduct which commends itself as needful to ideal
character. "There is only one real failure possible in life," said Canon
Farrar, "and that is, not to be true to the best one knows."
"I can remember when you blackened my father's shoes," said one member
of the British House of Commons to another in the heat of debate. "True
enough," was the prompt reply, "but did I not blacken them well?" The
sense of right-doing was sufficient to turn an intended insult into a
well-merited compliment, and to increase for him the esteem of his
fellow-members.
"Whatever is right to do," said an eminent writer, "should be done with
our best care, strength, and faithfulness of purpose."
Leonardo da Vinci would walk across Milan to change a single tint or the
slightest detail in his famous picture of "The Last Supper."
Rufus Choate would plead before a shoemaker justice of the peace, in a
petty case, with all the fervor and careful attention to detail with
which he addressed the United States Supreme Court.
"No, I can't do it, it is impossible," said Webster, when pressed to
speak on a question soon to come up, toward the close of a Congressional
session. "I am so pressed with other duties that I haven't time to
prepare myself to speak upon that theme." "Ah, but Mr. Webster, you
always speak well upon any subject. You never fail." "But that's the
very reason," said the orator, "because I never allow myself to speak
upon any subject without first making that subject thoroughly my own. I
haven't time to do that in this instance. Hence I must refuse."
Among the list of our great reformers, William Lloyd Garrison must
always hold a very prominent place. The work he did was that of
unselfish devotion to an overmastering sense of justice. He labored for
those in bonds, as bound with them. Faithful, as but few others were
faithful, he worked in season and out of season for human freedom.
After great effort, Mr. Garrison succeeded in establishing an
antislavery society, and he was made its agent to lecture for the cause.
He was sent to England to solicit funds for starting a manual-labor
school for the colored youth. But the whole tone of society was against
him. He was at the mercy of that prejudice which, at so many points,
was ready to adopt mob violence. The discussion of slavery was taken up
in educational institutions where, as in general society, but very few
were found who believed in universal freedom. But still he never swerved
from what he believed to be right. Justice was his plea; justice was his
battle cry; and it came to be said of him that "He was conscience
incarnated."
A beautiful illustration of justice, and fairness of treatment, occurred
at the opening of the great battle of Manila Bay, on May 1, 1898.
When the order was given to strip for action, one of the powder boys
tore his coat off hurriedly, and it fell from his hands and went over
the rail, down into the bay. A few moments before, he had been gazing on
his mother's photograph, and just before he took his coat off he had
kissed the picture and put it in his inside pocket. When the coat fell
overboard he turned to the captain and asked permission to jump over and
get it. Naturally the request was refused. The boy then went to the
other side of the ship and climbed down the ladder. He swam around to
the place where the coat had dropped and succeeded in getting it. When
he came back he was put in irons for disobedience. After the battle he
was tried by a court-martial for disobedience, and found guilty.
Commodore Dewey became interested in the case, for he could not
understand why the boy had risked his life and disobeyed orders for a
coat. The lad had never told his motives. But when the commodore talked
to him in a kindly way, and asked him why he had done such a strange
thing for an old coat, he burst into tears and told the commodore that
his mother's picture was in the coat. Dewey's eyes filled with tears as
he listened to the story. Then he picked up the boy and embraced him. He
ordered the little fellow to be instantly released and pardoned. "A boy
who loves his mother enough to risk his life for her picture, cannot be
kept in irons on this fleet," he said.
Examples by the score crowd in upon our minds as we think more deeply
into this subject, but space permits of only one more before passing to
our special illustration:
When troubled with deafness, the Duke of Wellington consulted a
celebrated physician, who put strong caustic into his ear, causing an
inflammation which threatened his life. The doctor apologized, expressed
great regrets, and said that the blunder would ruin him. "No," said
Wellington, "I will never mention it." "But will you allow me to attend
you, so that the people will not withdraw their confidence?" "No," said
the Iron Duke, "that would be lying."
Enough has perhaps been said to show that conscientiousness and justice
are not simply beautiful traits of character; but that they are
absolutely necessary to the fullest advancement of the individual and of
the race. We proceed to enforce this truth still more strongly, however,
by a closing reference to the career of one of our greatest statesmen.
CHARLES SUMNER.
In using Mr. Sumner as our special illustration of conscientiousness, it
is not because we lack other examples. On the contrary, they are all
about us; and doubtless we could all mention excellent cases in our own
homes, and among our own acquaintances, where conscientiousness has been
vividly illustrated. He was the eldest of nine children, and was born in
Boston, on the sixth day of January, 1811. His father was a lawyer, and
sheriff of Suffolk County, and was descended from the early colonists of
New England. Even in childhood and youth Charles Sumner evinced the
quiet, thoughtful, and serious temperament which was characteristic of
the Puritans. As a boy he took little interest in games and frolics. He
read much, and was reserved and awkward. Society to him, in early life,
possessed no attractions; and while he was always studious and patient
he never displayed any marked talent.
His progress in life was almost entirely due to his conscientious,
persistent, untiring application to the acquisition of knowledge and the
development of all his powers. He was in the highest sense a cultivated
man. His mind became, through conscientious and laborious study, a
great storehouse, filled with the richest materials and the power to use
them.
But he did not seek these treasures of learning and power for the simple
end of glorifying himself. His one great object in life was to benefit
mankind. He said in an address, delivered just after he had begun the
practice of law, speaking of conscience and charity: "They must become a
part of us and of our existence, as present, in season and out of
season, in all the amenities of life, in those daily offices of conduct
and manner which add so much to its charm, as also in those grander
duties whose performance evinces an ennobling self-sacrifice." It was
his own determined and unfaltering devotion to this lofty ideal, that
led directly to the success of his great public career.
Charles Sumner was first elected to the Senate in 1851. Throughout his
brilliant life his lofty character never forsook him; and if we will
carefully examine the measures which he advocated, voted for, or
opposed, from time to time, the discovery will be made that his
conscience was his inevitable guide.
While he dearly loved peace, he was always in the midst of warfare. He
constantly incurred the censure which arises from advocating unpopular
measures. Childlike in his personal friendships, he often spoke about
himself as he would speak of others,--revealing what others would have
concealed. Frank, sincere, and pledged from youth to principles, rather
than to persons, he was obliged to struggle against great obstacles. To
him the slave was a human being with a soul, entitled to every right
and privilege accorded to any American citizen. He devoted his energies
to the cause of freedom down to the very last, and died in Washington,
on March 11, 1874, exclaiming, "Don't let my Civil Rights Bill fail!"
[Footnote: See "Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner," by Edward L.
Pierce, (Boston, 1877), and many articles in the magazines, especially
noting the sketch in Appleton's Cyclopedia of American Biography, Vol.
V., page 744.]
XXI.
ENTHUSIASM.
MEMOBY GEMS.
Nothing is so contagious as enthusiasm.--Bulwer
Enthusiasm is the fundamental quality of strong souls.--Carlyle
The only conclusive evidence of a man's sincerity is that he gives
himself for a principle.--Phillips Brooks
Enthusiasm is the romance of the boy that becomes the heroism of the
man.--A. Bronson Alcott
Every great and commanding movement in the annals of the world is the
triumph of some enthusiasm.--Emerson
In the course of every life there are sure to be obstacles and
difficulties to be met. Prudence hesitates and examines them;
intelligence usually suggests some ingenious way of getting around them;
patience and perseverance deliberately go to work to dig under them; but
enthusiasm is the quality that boldly faces and leaps lightly over them.
By the power of enthusiasm the most extraordinary undertakings, that
seemed impossible of accomplishment, have been successfully carried out.
Enthusiasm makes weak men strong, and timid women courageous. Almost all
the great works of art have been produced when the artist was
intoxicated with a passion for beauty and form, which would not let him
rest until his thought was expressed in marble or on canvas.
A recent writer has said: "Enthusiasm is life lit up and shining. It is
the passion of the spirit pushing forward toward some noble activity. It
is one of the most powerful forces that go to the making of a noble and
heroic character."
In the Gallery of Fine Arts, in Paris, is a beautiful statue conceived
by a sculptor who was so poor that he lived and worked in a small
garret. When his clay model was nearly done, a heavy frost fell upon the
city. He knew that if the water in the interstices of the clay should
freeze, the beautiful lines would be distorted. So he wrapped his
bedclothes around the clay image to preserve it from destruction. In the
morning he was found dead; but his idea was saved, and other hands gave
it enduring form in marble.
Another instance of rare consecration to a great enterprise is found in
the work of the late Francis Parkman. While a student at Harvard, he
determined to write the history of the French and English in North
America. With a steadiness and devotion seldom equaled, he gave his
life, his fortune, his all, to this one great object. Although he had
ruined his health while among the Dakota Indians, collecting material
for his history, and could not use his eyes more than five minutes at a
time for fifty years, he did not swerve a hair's breadth from the high
purpose formed in his youth, until he gave to the world the best
history upon this subject ever written.
What a power there is in an enthusiastic adherence to an ideal! What are
hardships, ridicule, persecution, toil, or sickness, to a soul throbbing
with an overmastering purpose? Gladstone says that "what is really
wanted, is to light up the spirit that is within a boy." In some sense,
and in some degree, there is in every boy the material for doing good
work in the world; not only in those who are brilliant and quick, but
even in those who are stolid and dull.
A real enthusiasm makes men happy, keeps them fresh, hopeful, joyous.
Life never stagnates with them. They always keep sweet, anticipate a
"good time coming," and help to make it come.
Enthusiasm has been well called the "lever of the world"; for it sets in
motion, if it does not control, the grandest revolutions! Its influence
is immense. History bears frequent record of its contagiousness, showing
how vast multitudes have been roused into emotion by the enthusiasm of
one man; as was the case when the crowd of knights, and squires, and
men-at-arms, and quiet peasants, entered, at the bidding of St. Bernard,
upon the great Crusade.