great man preach. The sermon had such an effect upon him that his
conscience became very uneasy, and he felt keen remorse for the evil of
his life, and determined to stop it all and begin again in a different
way. He first went to see a neighbour who scoffed at religious things,
and who, the moment he went in, began to ask him about the great
preacher, and to make fun of him for paying much attention to what was
"absurd, and all a lie." The man replied: "Never mind the preacher just
now; I want to tell you about a very serious matter. Four years ago you
lost two fine sheep out of your flock, and though you searched
everywhere you could not find them. Those sheep came into my pasture
field, and I caught them, and marked my brand on top of yours, and so
they were not discovered. But I have now come to tell you of the matter,
and to put myself in your hands. You can, if you like, have me arrested,
or I will pay you whatever you ask." The neighbour was astonished, but
at last said he would take the value of the sheep, with interest on the
money from the time they were stolen. The man paid this down, and then
doubled the amount. After he had gone his neighbour began to think that
the sort of religion which made a man confess a sin long past, and which
no one could ever find out, must have some reality about it, and he
scoffed no more. That is a case of genuine Repentance.
Happy is the man who repents while there is yet the opportunity to undo,
to some extent, the evil he has done. Some men repent when it is too
late to undo the mischief. Henry II., King of England, rode from London
to Canterbury in the night, and when he came to the gates he dismounted,
and walked barefooted to the shrine of the martyr. He there made public
confession of his sin, and was scourged with a knotted cord before the
people, though he was then king. Imagine the Emperor of Germany being
publicly scourged! Though Henry repented, he could not bring Becket back
to life again. Henry Ward Beecher told the story of a young man who came
to Indianapolis, when Mr. Beecher was minister there, on his way to
settle in the west. While there he was robbed in a gambling saloon of
fifteen hundred dollars, all that he had. It led to his suicide. "I know
the man who committed the foul deed; he used to walk up and down the
street. Now, suppose this man should repent? Can he ever call back that
suicide? Can he ever wipe off the taint and disgrace that he has brought
on the escutcheon of that young man's family?"
Everybody has need of practising Repentance, because no one can live a
perfect life. Goldsmith said: "Our greatest glory consists not in never
falling, but in rising every time we fall." If we rise again every time
we fall, there is but little danger that we ever fall so low that we
cannot rise at all, or of doing that which we cannot, to some extent,
put right.
"Confess yourself to Heaven;
Repent what's past, avoid what is to come."
It is unwise to put off Repentance. It should be done now. The
opportunity may slip away from us altogether. As a wise man once said:
"I know that a man, going--swept down that great Niagara--if his little
skiff be driven near to one shore, he can make one great bound and reach
the solid ground--I know _he may be saved_ from destruction: but it is
an awful risk to run."
We can best learn the value of Repentance by practising it in little
things. If a boy is guilty of rudeness to any one, and especially to a
lady, he should go at once and, in a manly way, acknowledge it. The fact
that he has begged her pardon will keep him from committing the same
offence again. If we practise Repentance in the small matters of daily
life, it will be easier for us to practise it in things of great and
serious moment.
No. XXIII.
CHARACTER
+The word Character comes from a Greek word meaning to cut, or engrave.
By Character we mean the peculiar qualities impressed by Nature or Habit
on a person; in other words, what he really is.+
Character is the crown of life; to the evil it is a crown of infamy; to
the good, a crown of glory. Some scientists believe that all the facts
of knowledge which we acquire are stamped upon the brain, making many
grooves and creases upon its surface. Our actions and thoughts and words
and habits being impressed upon the soul form its Character. The
formation of good Character takes many years, and is a very gradual
process; but every action has its part in the final result, and every
habit binds the parts together. Bad Character is developed in the same
way as good character; but the process is easy and rapid. A boy begins
by stealing something; soon he is led on to lie about it. One lie leads
to another, and the success of the bad experiment leads to another theft
and more lying. Bad companions soon gather round him, and the sprouting
plant of evil grows like a weed. Ere long it has fastened its thousand
roots in the depths of his soul.
Gibbon said: "Every man has two educations--one which he receives from
others, and one, more important, which he gives himself." In the
business world, the men of highest reputation value their Character
above everything else, because no one can take it from them, unless they
deliberately yield it. It is valued highly, because it has been earned
by never-wavering effort through long years. They have educated
themselves by unceasing practice to put Truth and Honour, Chastity and
Courtesy, Industry and Temperance, Self-Reliance and Self-Control,
Modesty and Charity, Justice and Benevolence above Cleverness and Love
of Gain, which so often make a man unscrupulous in dealing with his
fellows.
In the studies which have gone before, we have seen what these qualities
mean. They go to make up Character. But Character cannot be produced by
learning lessons about it in books. Character is the education which a
man gives himself. In reading the lives of great men, we see very
clearly that they began to acquire the qualities which afterwards
distinguished them when they were boys. A great writer has said that
Conduct is three-fourths of life. If we wish to be distinguished for
Character, we must begin to practise those things which produce it while
we are schoolboys.
The grand thing about Character is that it is independent of
circumstances. The man who values Honour above all things cannot be put
into any position where there is any real danger of losing it. After the
great battle of Assaye, the native prince sent his prime minister to the
Duke of Wellington to find out privately what territory and other
advantages would be secured to his master in the treaty with the Indian
nabobs. They offered Wellington five hundred thousand dollars for the
secret information. The great general looked at him quietly for a few
seconds, and then said: "It appears, then, that you are capable of
keeping a secret." "Yes, certainly," replied the minister. "_Then, so am
I_," said Wellington, smiling, and bowed him out of the room. Take
another instance, in humble life. Once, when the Adige was in flood, the
bridge of Verona was carried away, only the centre arch standing. On
this was a house whose inmates called loudly for help, as this arch was
slowly giving way. A nobleman called out, "I will give a hundred French
louis to any one who will go to the rescue." A young peasant seized a
boat, managed with great difficulty to reach the pier, and, at the risk
of his life, rescued the family just in time. When they reached the
shore, the count handed the promised money to the young man. "No," said
he, "I do not sell my life; give the money to these poor people, who
need it."
The man of noble Character values, above all other things, these: Truth,
personal Honour, Moral Courage, Unselfishness, the Voice of Conscience.
Chaucer, the father of English poetry, said:
"Truth is the highest thing that man may keep."
In the days of chivalry, the noble-hearted soldier sang to her who wept
at his going:
"I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honour more."
Of Courage, Addison said:
"Unbounded courage and compassion joined,
Tempting each other in the victor's mind,
Alternately proclaim him good and great,
And make the hero and the man complete."
Of Selfishness, Shelley said:
"How vainly seek
The selfish for that happiness denied
To aught but virtue!"
The voice of Conscience is the voice of God, That voice was never yet
disregarded without suffering; to reject Conscience is to incur
retribution. The wise man cultivates his Conscience; that is, he
listens for its warnings and suggestions, and yields his desires at its
call. The man of Character seeks its advice at every important movement
of his life.
It is impossible to build up a noble Character without a model. Before
beginning to erect a magnificent building, the architect must provide a
plan for the workman to follow. The shipbuilder requires a model for the
construction of a beautiful racing yacht. Before making a new and
intricate machine, the craftsman must have a working model. In the
building of Character, the working model is Jesus of Nazareth. He is the
example to the human race of all the traits of true manliness which men
admire. He is the model of willing Obedience, of undaunted Courage, of
absolute Truthfulness, of Generosity, of Gentleness to the weak and
suffering. He is the model of all the virtues. An old poet said of
Jesus, with the greatest reverence, that He was
"The first true gentleman that ever lived."
He who sincerely wishes to build up his life into noble Character will
be helped by nothing so much as by the study of the actions and words of
Jesus, the model of nobleness to all men, in all ages, since He came
into the world.
No. XXIV.
CONSCIENCE
+Conscience is that faculty of the mind which teaches us to distinguish
between right and wrong. It often warns us when we are about to do
wrong, and reproaches us for the wrong we have done.+
A great man once said that when he was a small boy he was walking one
day by the side of a pond, when he saw a turtle creeping out of the
water. He had never yet killed anything, and he felt a great temptation
to kill it with his stick, when some one seemed to whisper to him: "It
is wrong." He went home and asked his mother what it was. She told him
that men called it Conscience; but she called it the voice of God,
speaking in his heart. He said that he often afterwards tried to listen
for the voice, and it kept him from much wrong that he would otherwise
have done.
Conscience has been compared to the needle in the sailor's compass; by
its means the ship is kept upon her proper course. If we consult
Conscience, we cannot go far astray. A boy is about to steal some money
for the first time. Just as his hand is upon it, he fancies he hears
steps approaching. He hastily drops the money, and turns away with a
beating heart. But he finds he is mistaken, and, perhaps, thinks it was
only imagination. He is wrong; the beating heart and the imaginary
noises are Conscience warning him that he is about to do wrong. If he is
an unthinking boy, he merely laughs at his fears, and next day goes back
again. This time he _listens for the sound of steps_, but he does not
hear them. The fact that he listened shows that Conscience has been at
him again; but this time the warning is fainter, and he commits the
theft. It is possible to stifle Conscience altogether.
According to an Eastern tale, a great magician presented his prince with
a ring of great value. Its value did not consist in the precious stones
it contained, but in a peculiar property of the metal. Whenever the
prince had a bad or lustful thought, or meditated a bad action, or was
about to say a wicked, or cruel, or unjust thing, the ring contracted,
and the pain caused by the pressure on the finger warned him against the
evil. The poorest person may possess and wear such a ring as that, for
the ring of the fable is just that Conscience which is the voice of God
in our hearts.
When Macbeth was on his way to murder King Duncan, he had a frightful
vision of what he was about to do, and he saw an imaginary dagger
beckoning him the way that he was going; the handle was towards his
hand, and had gouts of blood upon it. That was Conscience calling upon
him to stop before it was too late. Conscience sometimes speaks to us
while we are actually doing evil.
While Conscience speaks to us about what are, for us, great wrongs, it
seldom does so about little wrongs until they are over and passed away.
A boy says: "I do many things of which I am ashamed, and which I would
not have done had Conscience warned me." That shows us very plainly that
Conscience is a thing we must cultivate if it is to be of any real
service to us in the way of preventing us from the doing of evil. A.
says to B.: "I am going across to the corner store for some candy. If
that master over there should see me, you tell him I have just gone over
the fence after something." B. thinks for a moment, and says: "Can't do
it; it's not straight." A. then asks C., who agrees to do it. B.
consults Conscience; C. does not. If they go on thus, in a few years B.
will meet some great temptation and overcome it; C. will meet some great
temptation, and fall under it.
If we do not form the habit of looking to Conscience for guidance, the
time will come when its voice will be heard reproaching us for the evil
that we have done, and that we can never undo. So common is it for men
to think of Conscience only when the harm is done that it has been
called "the awful compulsion to think." Half the grief that people
suffer is through their own sins in the past, and it is Conscience
pricking them that causes the grief. Sometimes this grief is so terrible
that men, and even women, are led to take their own lives. He who
listens to Conscience will never leave this world with the red blot of
"suicide" staining his character.
Dr. Johnson said: "Conscience is the sentinel of virtue." The wise
captain never lets his men sleep on the field without posting one or
more sentinels. The young man going out into the world is going on to
the battlefield of his life, and to be caught napping is to fall into
the enemy's hands. He needs all his forces, and, above all, the
sentinel, Conscience, to keep guard when the enemy is lying in ambush,
and danger seems far away. St. Paul tells us that if we wish to war a
good warfare we must have two things, "Faith, and a good Conscience."
"No whip cuts so sharply as the lash of Conscience."
"The voice of Conscience is so delicate that it is easy to stifle it;
but it is also so clear that it is impossible to mistake it."
End of Project Gutenberg's Short Studies in Ethics, by John Ormsby Miller