is essential to our well-being. When Victor Hugo charges us to take all
reasonable advantage of that which the present offers, he reveals the true
character of opportunity. It lives only in the present tense, it knows no
to-morrows, and makes a record of the yesterdays only when it has found
lodgment in our lives.
Suppose DeWitt Clinton, denounced and ridiculed, had been led into the
belief that his idea was a mere phantom, a mystic nightmare, the Erie
Canal would not be a reality. Suppose Robert Fulton had accepted the
issuing vapor of the tea-kettle as a mere phenomenon without seeking in it
the opportunity for a mighty purpose; suppose that Cyrus W. Field or
Marconi, or Edison or Ericsson, or the hundreds of others who by their
inventive genius have been a blessing to mankind, had been contented with
simply dreaming of the stupendous undertakings which they achieved!
It is the man who knows his opportunities when he sees them, who grips
them as they pass, who stands at the door of his activities ready to
welcome and turn to good account each new opportunity that comes, that is
the typically successful man. Many young men have had noble ideas, backed
by strong convictions, but failing to "strike while the iron was hot,"
have let their convictions die, the mental picture of their ideals vanish,
and to their sorrow have seen them wrought by another into reality.
And below this class of men we will find a lower type--the man who is
always waiting for something to turn up, and always missing it when it
does. This is the man whom Dickens has immortalized in fiction in the
familiar figure of Micawber. This class, however, is unmistakably
diminishing in our day, but still there are many who seem to come just
short of the prizes of life. They are always just too late for the
opportunity that should have brought them fame and fortune.
Shakespeare has aptly portrayed that supreme moment in life which we call
opportunity:
"There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries."
And the annals of human experience are filled and overflowing with
achievements--examples of opportunities that were laid hold upon at just
the critical moment of the tide.
When the armies of Saul and Goliath were encamped in the valley of Elah,
an opportunity was given to every soldier in Israel to meet the Philistine
giant, but the youthful shepherd, David, alone accepted it, and his name
has been praised for thirty centuries.
An unlettered girl, a peasant in France, saw an opportunity to save the
glory of her country, and with a courage that baffles human understanding
Joan of Arc went forth to conquer.
When George III of England ascended the throne and began to oppress the
Colonists, an opportunity was created for the American people to act. With
sublime patriotism they arose to the occasion in defense of their rights,
and historians allude to the inspiring event as the opening scene in the
Revolution.
And when, by a stroke of diplomacy, Thomas Jefferson purchased from
Napoleon Bonaparte the Louisiana Territory, one million square miles,
or over six hundred millions of acres, for two cents and a half an
acre, an opportunity was seized whose benefit to the American Nation no
one can estimate.
But if you would know a grand hero in whose life opportunity shone like
Mars, read the life of Ulysses S. Grant--the man out of whose very
failures evolved a most brilliant success. When, standing with leaden
heart in the little store at Galena, the opportunity for a military life
came knocking at the door, he welcomed it. For when morning broke on the
12th of April, 1861, and the first guns of the Civil War roared upon
Sumter, Grant marched to the front, and soon became a brigadier-general
"The spur of disappointed hopes, the fire of his ambition, and the iron
will that lay back of many of his failures--all the qualities latent in
the man of coming greatness, sprang into mighty being."
A gigantic opportunity next confronted him, for yonder on the banks of
the Cumberland frowned the massive walls of Fort Donelson. Behind them
Buckner's gray legions stood ready for action. It was the hour of fate.
Grant pressed on, the Confederates surrendered the stronghold, and the
first Union victory was won. Shiloh and Vicksburg, Cold Harbor and
Petersburg, Richmond and Appomattox, and many other glorious victories
tell the story of opportunities masterfully grasped.
Our country is the land of "the golden fleece," and wherever you may be in
its vast domain, you are the one who must answer for yourself the
stupendous question--"To what height shall I attain?" You are like the man
in the "Arabian Nights" dropped into a valley filled with diamonds. It is
within your power to select that which is most valuable for your
enrichment. There are splendid opportunities on every hand, and whether
you shall grasp them or let them go, remains alone for you to determine.
The door of opportunity for the highest development of every individual,
in every phase of life, is ever open. Every golden moment holds something
of value for the earnest seeker, just as every flower holds in its bosom a
treasure for the thrifty bee. No one of us may ever have such splendid
opportunities as did the illustrious ones to whom we owe our present
inheritance. But at the threshold of our lives will ever come the veiled
figure with its gifts, and, however modest may be the treasures which it
brings, if we accept them and turn to good account all that they hold of
value to us, our reward will be truly great.
"Pull many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air."
IV
The Active Hand
"They Plied Their Oars With Vigor"
"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might."
"Count that day lost whose low descending sun
Views from thy hand no worthy action done."
The Individual Problem
With steady, even, and vigorous stroke the young heroes from Hellas ply
their oars, and the blue waters of the Euxine are flecked with foam. Here
is an ideal picture. A band of enterprising young men, alert, active,
ambitions--a scene typical of the highest conception of life. It has ever
been scenes like this that have challenged the admiration of the world.
And the plaudits of men and of angels attend the young man today who has a
worthy object in view, who believes in himself, and bends to the oars with
might and main.
An "active hand" symbolizes usefulness and thrift. Has it ever occurred
to you what a wonderful piece of mechanism is that hand with which Nature
has equipped you for seizing the oars of life's activities? Galen, the
famous anatomist, after a prolonged study of the human hand, conceiving
it to be the proximate instrument of the soul, was forced to renounce
atheism, to acknowledge the existence of a Supreme Being. Scientists
regard the human hand as being the most remarkable organ, not vital, in
the whole animal kingdom.
It is conceded to be, also, the most pronounced physical characteristic
differentiating man from the lower animals. The chimpanzee and the
gorilla, closely allied to the human species in many respects, are
noticeably deficient in the use of their modified hands; being able to
grasp things only in a cumbersome way. The squirrel handles a nut with
agility, the beaver builds his dam, and likewise do many other animals
accomplish much with certain deftness. But the grace, suppleness, and
precision, so characteristic of the human hand, are lacking. Only in man
does the organ attain perfection. He alone enjoys the distinction of being
able to manipulate thumb and forefinger in combination, enabling him to
attain a high degree of skill.
The hand is the organ of the fifth and last sense, and the only one of the
five which is active. When the other organs of sense fail it comes to
their rescue--the blind man reads with his hand and the dumb man speaks
with it. Being an active organ it gives expression to man's capabilities:
Put a sword into it and it will fight, a plow and it will till, a harp and
it will play, a brush and it will paint.
The invention of every machine conceives its first principles in the
structure of the human hand; and every working part of that machine bears
a relation in its function to a corresponding part in the mechanism of the
hand. In fact, physics teaches us that the hand is a combination of the
six mechanical powers--the lever, the wedge, the wheel and axle, the
pulley, the screw, and the inclined plane. But the mechanical effect is
always depreciated. In manufacture hand-made goods excel those made by
machine. In art the exquisite hand-painting surpasses the lithograph. No
mechanical device, however efficacious, can produce symphonies or pictures
or works of any kind with the high degree of excellence of which the hand
is capable.
But aside from its mechanical functions, this wonderful organ is a
revelation of the secrets of human nature. Graphology enables us to read
the character of a person in the hand-writing which he produces. Ages and
ages ago the Hindus read the hand itself as the physical expression of the
inner man; they read character by the science of palmistry as we read it
by that of physiognomy; and some profess to translate the delicate tracery
today into language that speaks clearly of both past and future. The hand
is the expression of dishonesty when it steals, of charity when it gives,
of anger when it smites, of love when it caresses. And one has called it
the key to that cabinet of character in which Nature conceals, not only
the motive power of every-day life, but those latent talents and energies
that, by the knowledge of self, we can bring to bear upon our lives.
So that this member of our physical organization holds an office of
supreme dignity and importance in the issues of our lives. It is this
marvel of mechanism, overruled and directed by the higher power of
intellect, which elevates man to his high position. And, whether it be the
hand of the galley slave, or the hand that sways the scepter over an
empire, the supreme purpose is revealed-they are alike designed to be the
instruments of usefulness and power.
Even the brain cannot ignore the relative importance of the hand. It
cannot say to the hand: "I have no need of thee." The captain cannot man
his ship without the aid of subordinates. Neither can the brain pilot us
through the activities of life without the aid of hands. A brilliant mind
is a priceless possession; but all the mental acumen of the universe is
not availing unless supplemented by those inferior officers--the hands.
The clothes which you wear once were on the back of a sheep grazing on
some distant hillside. The chair in which you sit once swayed in the
forest midst the soughing winds. The pen with which I am writing once was
imbedded deep in some far-away mountain range. But that occult genius--the
human brain, conceived the idea of creating that wool, and wood, and ore
into a higher state of usefulness, and at this juncture was compelled to
acknowledge the infinite necessity of a co-worker; hence, the brain
employs the hand as an external agent to put into force the impressions
which it--the brain--receives from the phenomena of nature.
Moreover, the law of your growth is contingent upon the exercise of these
faculties. The brain is the judicial function and the hand the executive.
Together these two powers qualify you for the master-workman. If you allow
them to exist in the passive sense, you become an apathetic segment in
the midst of a great world pulsing with life around you. You merely add
one to the population, instead of counting for a potential and energizing
influence. If you lift the weight of a clock the smallest fraction of an
inch, the mechanism will cease to operate. And the relaxation of your will
from the great obligation of life will cause your powers to atrophy and
improperly to perform their work. With Browning, "Man was made to grow,
not stop."
Activity and not atrophy is the law of life. Action is the expression of
that vital force called energy, and energy moves the world. The keynote of
the natural world is action: the earth revolves, the river moves in its
course, the tempest rages, the mountain acts from volcanic phenomena,
vegetation grows, etc. In every tiny seed lies concealed this mysterious
force--only a spark of life which, encouraged by nature, springs into a
waving harvest.
This very quality is synonymous with the reality of life. The human mind
ostensibly has an aversion to lifelessness. We turn instinctively from
the dead and withered branch to the blossoming flower; from the stagnant
pool to the dashing cataract, and every healthy mind finds delight in
such terms as vim, vigor, energy, and activity, which are the chief
natural characteristics of the human hand. Demosthenes on being asked
what is the first element in oratory, replied, "Action:" when asked to
state the second element, he replied "Action," and when questioned as to
the third, he made the same reply. Action, first, last, and all the time,
is the great principle of life and progress. Without it the most perfect
engine, gigantic in proportions and costly in equipment, is a dead
thing, valueless as the formless mass of ore it once was. But that
marvelous product of man's hand and brain, plus steam, becomes a
veritable giant of power.
Now this same law applies in relation to our bodies in general. Action is
an essential as seen in the beating heart, the throbbing pulse, the
coursing blood, and various other functions. In fact, the body is the
engine that runs the machinery of our lives. Generating energy and storing
it up, it gives impetus to all that we achieve. With all its mysteries,
beauty, and strength, this human organism is worthless, a burden to
society unless vitalized with that majestic force that makes man
industrious.
In the words of a great man, "Nature fits all her children with something
to do." The first man on earth was a gardener. Milton hears Adam
conversing with Eve thus:
"Man hath his daily work of body or mind
Appointed, which declares his dignity,
And the regard of Heaven on all his ways;
While other animals inactive range,
And of their doings God takes no account.
To-morrow ere fresh morning streaks the east
With first approach of light, we must be ris'n
And at our pleasant labor, to reform
Yon flowery arbors, yonder alleys green."
Work is the great law of life. "No man," says Lowell, "is born into the
world whose work is not born with him. There is always work and tools to
work withal, for those who will; and blessed are the horny hands of toil."
True work, the judicious employment of our powers for the accomplishment
of the noblest object in life, is the only thing that will satisfy the
waiting capacity of men and women. Neither gold nor scholarship nor any
other acquisition can meet the requirement like the application of one's
self to some kind of work. Work is a tonic which exuberates mentally,
morally, and physically the man who wisely adjusts himself to it. And he
who is able to work and refuses is out of harmony with nature.
The cardinal question of life is that of achievement. In every human
being there is the desire to rise to something great. The most
thoughtless boy on the street looks serious as the Presidential carriage
rolls past. In the deep recesses of his nature there is kindled by the
spectacle a momentary yearning for fame--he would like to be President
some day. Likewise does every man, when he seriously views the pageantry
of life's ideals and purposes, have aspiration, for such is the natural
state of man.
The allurements of a passive life are known to them only who have no
knowledge of the charms of an active life. Leisure is found only in the
dictionary of the slothful. Dionysius is asked if he is at leisure, and
rebukes the question, saying, "God forbid that it should ever befall me."
The indulgence in the activities of life comprises not only ultimate
accomplishment, but is productive of present enjoyment as well. And not
infrequently does the pursuit of an object give more pleasure than the
possession of it. Expectation often outshines experience. Therefore, all
should cultivate a taste for work, which, through the alchemy of
influence, transmutes duty into privilege.
Moreover, it is fundamental in the law of success that one's pursuit must
be congenial if he is to excel. On the contrary, however, lassitude can
not be condoned if we find ourselves engaged in uncongenial employment. No
kind of work, to the man who possesses dominion over his feelings and his
faculties, is painful but proceeds with pleasure when once the habit of
industry is acquired.
Our efforts should not be casual, but causal. He who does most and does it
well, becomes most. Horatius received as much land as he could plow around
in a day. And you and I get each day just as much as, by putting our hand
to the plow of activity, we are able to encompass by faithful plodding.
Hard work is the price of all that is valuable. All the great strides in
the world's achievements were made possible only by forced activity and
prolonged effort. Spontaneity is a foreign element in the process of
healthy and rugged development. The spider spins its web and the morning
bespangles it with dew, creating a thing of beauty, but valueless. It
would require the entire existence of several hundred silkworms to produce
an equal amount of silk fabric. The mushroom grows up in a night, and dies
in the glare of the morning sun; while the oak, struggling through the
years, battling with the elements, lives a perpetual blessing to man.
It is the intense struggle with the problems of life that produces in
men the sturdy qualities. The short cuts to fame are few and not
abiding. Success is not reached by a thornless path, but is attained by
the path of plain, hard work. All things come to him who waits. Such is
the very essence of an idle doctrine! All things come to him who works.
Walter Scott working tirelessly in the attic while his companions below
carouse the night away; Thoreau banishing himself into the lonely
forest that he might prepare for larger usefulness; Dryden, "thinking
on for a fortnight in a perfect frenzy;" Heyne, the German scholar,
allowing himself "no more than two nights of weekly rest" for six
months, that he might finish a course in Greek; Reynolds, the greatest
portrait painter of England, applying his brush for thirty-six hours
without stopping; Balzac, determined to be a king in literature,
fighting his way with eternal diligence; William Pitt spurning
difficulty and "trampling upon impossibility;" Elihu Burritt grappling
with mathematics at the forge; or Isaac Newton turning his back upon a
life of ease and setting off to college, where "the midnight wind swept
over his papers the ashes of his long extinguished fire." These
examples and thousands of others remind us that
"Heights by great men reached and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight;
But they while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night."
They had brains and hands too active, ambitions too aggressive,
aspirations too lofty for a quiet existence, and they pressed their way
onward and upward till they stood near the summit of a lofty ideal.
When Xerxes, that great Persian monarch, seated upon a throne of ivory and
gold, viewed for the last time the magnificent array of his armies and his
fleets, we read that he buried his face in his hands and wept, because he
had reached the zenith of his glory; his ambition had been spent, his work
had come to an end. And more desolate should be the man to-day who does
not feel the passion of an earnest life, who does not yearn for some noble
activity. He who sits with folded arms in the craft of civilization to be
borne idly along while others ply the oars, must soon part company with
the brave, loyal sons of activity to launch his idle bark in the dead
waters of life, where the currents never come and the winds of energy are
never felt.
"At the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
On its sounding anvil shaped,
Each burning deed and thought."
V
Ethics of Activity
"The busy world shoves angrily aside
The man who stands with arms akimbo set,
Till the occasion tells him what to do;
And he who waits to have his task marked out.
Shall die and leave his errand unfulfilled."
--James Russell Lowell.
A Man's Relation to Society
This question of activity is a twofold problem. In the preceding chapter
we viewed it from the standpoint of the individual--as if he were the sole
occupant of the boat, rowing toward a purely selfish end; going, as it
were, in quest of the prize of life for purely personal aggrandizement.
Whereas, strictly speaking, no man exists in a purely individualistic
sense. He can not regard himself as separable from a social whole. Every
individual is a vital element of an organized force working toward a
mutual end. You are an integral factor, so to speak, of the social
problem, but your value is determined by your relation to other quantifies
in the complex system with which you are identified. As a segregated unit,
you diminish in value.
A combination of diverse and multi-form contributions assimilated from a
complex human life, your being looks to many sources for its development;
from the lowest phase of experience to the highest. These influences you
must acknowledge as emanating from a social system--influences which you
are totally powerless, alone, to exert upon yourself. For instance, a man
can not be his own educator in all that the term implies--he can not make
his own books, print his own newspapers; if he could he would have to look
outside of himself for the data necessary for his use. In other words, no
man lives to himself alone. He can no more be separated from the social
order of things and retain character value, than any one of a hundred
square inches of canvas in an oil painting, separated from the rest, would
constitute a picture. A single note in a musical composition, however
exquisite the piece may be, has comparatively little value taken by
itself; only when it assumes relationship with other notes and becomes
governed by the law of harmony, does it fulfill its mission and become a
valuable factor.
Then, as units of a social whole, we have obligations other than those
affecting "individual" problems. Society has a rightful claim upon every
one of its members. "You are not your own, you are bought with a price,"
is true in a larger sense than a merely Scriptural one. For what one
becomes is really, as already stated, but the effect of combined
influences brought to bear upon one's life by the forces of human society.
Therefore, society expects us to reciprocate, and is just in its claim;
just as parents are entitled to the high esteem and reciprocation of their
offspring. It demands of each one of us all that we are capable of
producing, exacting the highest order of service as well. The paying of
taxes does not placate the demands which society makes upon you. It
demands yourself--body, mind, and soul--not in a passive sense, but in
active relationship to your environment. And every man is morally bound
to respect the claims thus made upon him.
The highest socialistic conception is not that which contemplates an
equitable distribution of property and labor. But assuming a more rational
ground, it believes in equal rights to all; is based upon a right
proportion of motives rather than upon the equalization of property
considerations. It is both humanitarian and utilitarian. It seeks its own
principally, yet is generous in the ulterior aim. This is the ideal
relation between the individual and the social order. The greatest duty
confronting each one in the world, and the one which all should earnestly
embrace, is the duty of making the most of one's self with the ulterior
view of contributing the largest measure of usefulness to his fellow-men.