WE are advised to leave off contention before it be meddled with, by
one usually accounted a very wise man. Had he never given the world any
other evidence of superior wisdom, this admonition alone would have been
sufficient to have established his claims thereto. It shows that he had
power to penetrate to the very root of a large share of human
misery. For what is the great evil in our condition here? Is it not
misunderstanding, disagreement, alienation, contention, and the passions
and results flowing from these? Are not contempt, and hatred, and
strife, and alteration, and slander, and evil-speaking, the things
hardest to bear, and most prolific of suffering, in the lot of human
life? The worst woes of life are such as spring from, these sources.
Is there any cure for these maladies? Is there anything to prevent or
abate these exquisite sufferings? The wise man directs our attention to
a remedial preventive in the advice above referred to. His counsel to
those whose lot unites them in the same local habitations and name
to those who are leagued in friendship or business, in the changes
of sympathy and the chances of collision, is, to suppress anger or
dissatisfaction, to be candid and charitable in judging, and, by all
means, to leave off contention before it be meddled with. His counsel to
all is to endure injury meekly, not to give expression to the sense of
wrong, even when we might seem justified in resistance or complaint. His
counsel is to yield something we might fairly claim, to pardon when we
might punish, to sacrifice somewhat of our rights for the sake of peace
and friendly affection. His counsel is not to fire at every provocation,
not to return evil for evil, not to cherish any fires of revenge,
burning to be even with the injurious person. His counsel is to curb
our imperiousness, to repress our impatience, to pause in the burst of
another's feeling, to pour water upon the kindling flames, or, at the
very least, to abstain from adding any fresh fuel thereto.
One proof of the superior wisdom of this counsel is, that few seem to
appreciate or perceive it. To many it seems no great virtue or wisdom,
no great and splendid thing, in some small issue of feeling or opinion,
in the family or among friends, to withhold a little, to tighten
the rein upon some headlong propensity, and await a calm for fair
adjustment. Such a course is not usually held to be a proof of wisdom
or virtue; and men are much more ready to praise and think well of
smartness, and spirit, and readiness for an encounter. To leave off
contention before it is meddled with does not command any very general
admiration; it is too quiet a virtue, with no striking attitudes, and
with lips which answer nothing. This is too often mistaken for dullness,
and want of proper spirit. It requires discernment and superior wisdom
to see a beauty in such repose and self-control, beyond the explosions
of anger and retaliation. With the multitude, self-restraining meekness
under provocation is a virtue which stands quite low in the catalogue.
It is very frequently set down as pusillanimity and cravenness
of spirit. But it is not so; for there is a self-restraint under
provocation which is far from being cowardice, or want of feeling, or
shrinking from consequences; there is a victory over passionate impulses
which is more difficult and more meritorious than a victory on the
bloody battle-field. It requires more power, more self-command, often,
to leave off contention, when provocation and passion are causing the
blood to boil, than to rush into it.
Were this virtue more duly appreciated, and the admonition of the Wise
Man more extensively heeded, what a change would be effected in human
life! How many of its keenest sufferings would be annihilated! The spark
which kindles many great fires would be withheld; and, great as are the
evils and sufferings caused by war, they are not as great, probably, as
those originating in impatience and want of temper. The fretfulness
of human life, it seems not hard to believe, is a greater evil,
and destroys more happiness, than all the bloody scenes of the
battle-field. The evils of war have generally something to lighten the
burden of them in a sense of necessity, or of rights or honour invaded;
but there is nothing of like importance to alleviate the sufferings
caused by fretfulness, impatience, want of temper. The excitable
peevishness which kindles at trifles, that roughens the daily experience
of a million families, that scatters its little stings at the table and
by the hearth-stone, what does this but unmixed harm? What ingredient
does it furnish but of gall? Its fine wounding may be of petty
consequence in any given case, and its tiny darts easily extracted; but,
when habitually carried into the whole texture of life, it destroys more
peace than plague and famine and the sword. It is a deeper anguish
than grief; it is a sharper pang than the afflicted moan with; it is
a heavier pressure from human hands than when affliction lays her hand
upon you. All this deduction from human comfort, all this addition to
human suffering, may be saved, by heeding the admonition of wisdom given
by one of her sons. When provoked by the follies or the passions,
the offences or neglects, the angry words or evil-speaking of others,
restrain your propensity to complain or contend; leave off contention
before you take the first step towards it. You will then be greater than
he that taketh a city. You will be a genial companion in your family and
among your neighbours. You will be loved at home and blessed abroad.
You will be a source of comfort to others, and carry a consciousness
of praiseworthiness in your own bosom. On the contrary, an acrid
disposition, a readiness to enter into contention, is like vinegar to
the teeth, like caustic to an open sore. It eats out all the beauty,
tenderness, and affection of domestic and social life. For all this the
remedy is simple. Put a restraint upon your feelings; give up a little;
take less than belongs to you; endure more than should be put upon you;
make allowance for another's judgment or educational defects; consider
circumstances and constitution; leave off contention before it
be meddled with. If you do otherwise, quick resentment and stiff
maintenance of your position will breed endless disputes and bitterness.
But happy will be the results of the opposite course, accomplished every
day and every hour in the family, with friends, with companions, with
all with whom you have any dealings or any commerce in life.
Let any one set himself to the cultivation of this virtue of meekness
and self-restraint, and he will find that it cannot be secured by one or
a few efforts, however resolute; by a few struggles, however severe. It
requires industrious culture; it requires that he improve every little
occasion to quench strife and fan concord, till a constant sweetness
smooths the face of domestic life, and kindness and tenderness become
the very expression of the countenance. This virtue of self-control
must grow by degrees. It must grow by a succession of abstinences from
returning evil for evil, by a succession of leaving off contention
before the first angry word escapes.
It may help to cultivate this virtue, to practise some forethought. When
tempted to irritable, censorious speech, one might with advantage call
to recollection the times, perhaps frequent, when words uttered in haste
have caused sorrow or repentance. Then, again, the fact might be called
to mind, that when we lose a friend, every harsh word we may have spoken
rises to condemn us. There is a resurrection, not for the dead only, but
for the injuries we have fixed in their hearts--in hearts, it may be,
bound to our own, and to which we owed gentleness instead of harshness.
The shafts of reproach, which come from the graves of those who have
been wounded by our fretfulness and irritability, are often hard to
bear. Let meek forbearance and self-control prevent such suffering, and
guard us against the condemnations of the tribunal within.
There is another tribunal, also, which it were wise to think of. The
rule of that tribunal is, that if we forgive not those who trespass
against us, we ourselves shall not be forgiven. “He shall have judgment
without mercy that hath showed no mercy.” Only, then, if we do not
need, and expect never to beg the mercy of the Lord to ourselves, may we
withhold our mercy from our fellow-men.
“ALL THE DAY IDLE.”
WHEREFORE idle?--when the harvest beckoning,
Nods its ripe tassels to the brightening sky?
Arise and labour ere the time of reckoning,
Ere the long shadows and the night draw night.
Wherefore idle?--Swing the sickle stoutly!
Bind thy rich sheaves exultingly and fast!
Nothing dismayed, do thy great task devoutly--
Patient and strong, and hopeful to the last!
Wherefore idle?--Labour, not inaction,
Is the soul's birthright, and its truest rest;
Up to thy work!--It is Nature's fit exaction--
He who toils humblest, bravest, toils the best.
Wherefore idle?--God himself is working;
His great thought wearieth not, nor standeth still,
In every throb of his vast heart is lurking
Some mighty purpose of his mightier will.
Wherefore idle?--Not a leaf's slight rustle
But chides thee in thy vain, inglorious rest;
Be a strong actor in the great world,--bustle,--
Not a, weak minion or a pampered guest!
Wherefore idle?--Oh I _my_ faint soul, wherefore?
Shake first from thine own powers dull sloth's control;
Then lift thy voice with an exulting “Therefore
Thou, too, shalt conquer, oh, thou striving soul!”