Keep not standing fix’d and rooted,
Briskly venture, briskly roam!
Hand and heart, where’er thou foot it,
And stout heart are still at home.
In each land the sun does visit
We are gay, whate’er betide;
To give space for wand’ring is it
That the world was made so wide.
_Wilhelm Meister:_ Carlyle.
We know of no more fertile source of crime than Idleness. It is the want
of a due impression of the importance and legitimate employment of time,
which is one of the main occasions of the luxury and profligacy of one
order of society; and it is the same cause which vitiates and defiles
the manners of another, and a subordinate rank, in the scale. It is
inquired by an ancient poet, who was a keen and accurate observer of
human character, why Ægisthus so grievously and wantonly deviated from
the path of virtue? and he immediately rejoins the reply, “The cause is
obvious,—he was idle!” And it is a circumstance worthy of remark, that
when Hogarth wished to give a portrait of a veteran criminal, he made
him commence his career as a boy lolling on the tombstones of the
churchyard on a Sunday.
Mr. Ruskin has written these beautiful words of encouragement: “God
appoints to every one of His creatures a separate mission; and if they
discharge it honourably—if they quit themselves like men, and faithfully
follow that light which is in them, withdrawing from it all cold and
quenching influence—there will assuredly come of it such burning as, in
its appointed mode and measure, shall shine before men, and be of
service, constant and holy. Degrees infinite of lustre there must always
be; but the weakest among us has a gift, however seemingly trivial,
which is peculiar to him, and which, worthily used, will be a gift also
to his race for ever.”
‘Know thyself’ is an old precept; yet it is surprising how few are
sufficiently acquainted with themselves to see distinctly what their own
motives actually are. It is a rare thing, as well as a great advantage,
for a man to know his own mind.
Were but a tithe of the time and the thought usually spent in learning
the commonest accomplishments bestowed upon regulating our lives, how
many evils would be avoided or lessened; how many pleasures would be
created or increased!
In one of Steele’s papers, No. 173 of the _Tatler_, are some admirable
remarks upon the time lost by boys in learning that which, in
after-life, is of little service to them. “The truth of it is,” says
Steele, “the first rudiments of education are given very indiscreetly by
most parents. Whatever children are designed for, and whatever prospects
the fortune or interest of their parents may give them in their future
lives, they are all promiscuously instructed in the same way; and Horace
and Virgil must be thumbed by a boy as well before he goes to an
apprenticeship as to the university.... This is the natural effect of a
certain vanity in the minds of parents, who are wonderfully delighted
with the thought of breeding their children to accomplishments, which
they believe nothing but the want of the same care in their own fathers
prevented them being masters of. Thus it is that the part of life most
fit for improvement is generally employed against the bent of nature;
and a lad of such parts as are fit for an occupation where there can be
no calls out of the beaten path, is two or three years of his time
wholly taken up in knowing how well Ovid’s mistress became such a dress,
&c.... However, still the humour goes on from one generation to another;
and the pastrycook here in the lane, the other night, told me ‘he would
not take away his son from his learning; but has resolved, as soon as he
has had a little smattering in the Greek, to put him apprentice to a
soap-boiler.’ These wrong beginnings determine our success in the world;
and when our thoughts are originally falsely biassed, their agility and
force do but carry us the farther out of our way, in proportion to our
speed. But we are half-way on our journey when we have got into the
right road. If all our ways were usefully employed, and we did not set
out impertinently, we should not have so many grotesque professors in
all the arts of life; but every man would be in a proper and becoming
method of distinguishing or entertaining himself, suitably to what
nature designed him. As they go on now, our parents do not only force
upon us what is against our talents, but our teachers are also as
injudicious in what they put us to learn.”
The practice of the irresolute in deliberating without deciding is
another parlous error. “What I cannot resolve upon in half an hour,”
said the Duc de Guise, “I cannot resolve upon at all.”
Bacon has well described this irresolution in his complaint, “that some
men object too much, consult too long, adventure too little, repent too
soon, and seldom drive business home.”
The strongest incentive to decision is self-dependence. Mr. Sharp writes
to a young friend at college:
I have confidence in your capacity. However, my favourable
anticipations arise chiefly from your being aware that your station
in society must depend entirely on your own exertions. Luckily, you
have not to overcome the disadvantage of expecting to inherit from
your father an income equal to your reasonable desires; for, though
it may have the air of a paradox, yet it is truly a serious
disadvantage when a young man going to the bar is sufficiently
provided for.
Vitam facit beatiorem
Res non parta, sed relicta,
says Martial, but not wisely; and no young man should believe him.
The necessity for instant decision in life renders it often prudent
to take the chance of being right or wrong, without waiting to
balance reasons very nicely. In such cases, and sometimes even in
speculation, this kind of credulity is more philosophical than
scepticism; though authority in abstruse investigations should
usually do little more than excite attention, while in practice it
must guide our conduct.
It is unfortunate when a man’s intellectual and his moral character
are not suited to each other. The horses in a carriage should go the
same pace and draw in the same direction, or the motion will be
neither pleasant nor safe.
Bonaparte has remarked of one of his marshals, that “he had a
military genius, but had not intrepidity enough in the field to
execute his own plans;” and of another he said, “he is as brave as
his sword, but he wants judgment and resources: neither,” he added,
“is to be trusted with a great command.”
This want of harmony between the talents and the temperament is
often found in private life; and, wherever found, is the fruitful
source of faults and sufferings. Perhaps there are few less happy
than those who are ambitious without industry; who pant for the
prize, but will not run the race; who thirst for truth, but are too
slothful to draw it up from the well.
Now this defect, whether arising from indolence or from timidity, is
far from being incurable. It may, at least in part, be remedied by
frequently reflecting on the endless encouragements to exertion held
out by our own experience and by example:
C’est des difficultés que naissent les miracles.
It is not every calamity that is a curse, and _early_ adversity
especially is often a blessing. Perhaps Madame de Maintenon would
never have mounted a throne had not her cradle been rocked in a
prison. Surmounted obstacles not only teach, but hearten us in our
future struggles; for virtue must be learnt, though unfortunately
some of the vices come, as it were, by inspiration. The austerities
of our northern climate are thought to be the cause of our abundant
comforts; as our wintry nights and our stormy seas have given us a
race of seamen perhaps unequalled, and certainly not surpassed, by
any in the world.
“Mother,” said a Spartan lad going to battle, “my sword is too
short.” “Add a step to it,” she replied; but it must be owned that
this advice was to be given only to a Spartan boy. They should not
be thrown into the water who cannot swim: I know your buoyancy, and
I have no fears of your being drowned.
----------------------------