SUCCESS
One of the most important lessons that experience teaches is that on the
whole, and in the great majority of cases, success in life depends more
on character than on either intellect or fortune. Many brilliant
exceptions, no doubt, tend to obscure the rule, and some of the
qualities of character that succeed the best may be united with grave
vices or defects; but on the whole the law is one that cannot be
questioned, and it becomes more and more apparent as civilisation
advances. Temperance, industry, integrity, frugality, self-reliance, and
self-restraint are the means by which the great masses of men rise from
penury to comfort, and it is the nations in which these qualities are
most diffused that in the long run are the most prosperous. Chance and
circumstance may do much. A happy climate, a fortunate annexation, a
favourable vicissitude in the course of commerce, may vastly influence
the prosperity of nations; anarchy, agitation, unjust laws, and
fraudulent enterprise may offer many opportunities of individual or even
of class gains; but ultimately it will be found that the nations in
which the solid industrial virtues are most diffused and most respected
pass all others in the race. The moral basis of character was the true
foundation of the greatness of ancient Rome, and when that foundation
was sapped the period of her decadence began. The solid, parsimonious,
and industrious qualities of the French peasantry have given their
country the recuperative force which has enabled its greatness to
survive the countless follies and extravagances of its rulers.
Character, it may be added, is especially pre-eminent in those kinds and
degrees of success that affect the greatest numbers of men and influence
most largely their real happiness--in the success which secures a high
level of material comfort; which makes domestic life stable and happy;
which wins for a man the respect and confidence of his neighbours. If we
have melancholy examples that very different qualities often gain
splendid prizes, it is still true that there are few walks in life in
which a character that inspires complete confidence is not a leading
element of success.
In the paths of ambition that can only be pursued by the few,
intellectual qualities bear a larger part, and there are, of course,
many works of genius that are in their own nature essentially
intellectual. Yet even the most splendid successes of life will often be
found to be due much less to extraordinary intellectual gifts than to an
extraordinary strength and tenacity of will, to the abnormal courage,
perseverance, and work-power that spring from it, or to the tact and
judgment which make men skilful in seizing opportunities, and which, of
all intellectual qualities, are most closely allied with character.
Strength of will and tact are not necessarily, perhaps not generally,
conjoined, and often the first seems somewhat to impair the second. The
strong passion, the intense conviction, the commanding and imperious
nature overriding obstacles and defying opposition, that often goes with
a will of abnormal strength, does not naturally harmonise with the
reticence of expression, the delicacy of touch and management that
characterise a man who possesses in a high degree the gift of tact.
There are circumstances and times when each of these two things is more
important than the other, and the success of each man will mainly depend
upon the suitability of his peculiar gift to the work he has to do. 'The
daring pilot in extremity' is often by no means the best navigator in a
quiet sea; and men who have shown themselves supremely great in moments
of crisis and appalling danger, who have built up mighty nations,
subdued savage tribes, guided the bark of the State with skill and
courage amid the storms of revolution or civil war, and written their
names in indelible letters on the page of history, have sometimes proved
far less successful than men of inferior powers in the art of managing
assemblies, satisfying rival interests or assuaging by judicious
compromise old hatreds and prejudices. We have had at least one
conspicuous example of the difference of these two types in our own day
in the life of the great founder of German Unity.
Sometimes, however, men of great strength of will and purpose possess
also in a high degree the gift of tact; and when this is combined with
soundness of judgment it usually leads to a success in life out of all
proportion to their purely intellectual qualities. In nearly all
administrative posts, in all the many fields of labour where the task of
man is to govern, manage, or influence others, to adjust or harmonise
antagonisms of race or interests or prejudices, to carry through
difficult business without friction and by skilful co-operation, this
combination of gifts is supremely valuable. It is much more valuable
than brilliancy, eloquence, or originality. I remember the comment of a
good judge of men on the administration of a great governor who was
pre-eminently remarkable for this combination. 'He always seemed to gain
his point, yet he never appeared to be in antagonism with anyone.' The
steady pressure of a firm and consistent will was scarcely felt when it
was accompanied by the ready recognition of everything that was good in
the argument of another, and by a charm of manner and of temper which
seldom failed to disarm opposition and win personal affection.
The combination of qualities which, though not absolutely incompatible,
are very usually disconnected, is the secret of many successful lives.
Thus, to take one of the most homely, but one of the most useful and
most pleasing of all qualities--good-nature--it will too often be found
that when it is the marked and leading feature of a character it is
accompanied by some want of firmness, energy, and judgment. Sometimes,
however, this is not the case, and there are then few greater elements
of success. It is curious to observe the subtle, magnetic sympathy by
which men feel whether their neighbour is a harsh or a kind judge of
others, and how generally those who judge harshly are themselves harshly
judged, while those who judge others rather by their merits than by
their defects, and perhaps a little above their merits, win popularity.
No one, indeed, can fail to notice the effect of good-nature in
conciliating opposition, securing attachment, smoothing the various
paths of life, and, it must be added, concealing grave faults. Laxities
of conduct that might well blast the reputation of a man or a woman are
constantly forgotten, or at least forgiven, in those who lead a life of
tactful good-nature, and in the eyes of the world this quality is more
valued than others of far higher and more solid worth. It is not
unusual, for example, to see a lady in society, who is living wholly or
almost wholly for her pleasures, who has no high purpose in life, no
real sense of duty, no capacity for genuine and serious self-sacrifice,
but who at the same time never says an unkind thing of her neighbours,
sets up no severe standard of conduct either for herself or for others,
and by an innate amiability of temperament tries, successfully and
without effort, to make all around her cheerful and happy. She will
probably be more admired, she will almost certainly be more popular,
than her neighbour whose whole life is one of self-denial for the good
of others, who sacrifices to her duties her dearest pleasures, her time,
her money, and her talents, but who through some unhappy turn of temper,
strengthened perhaps by a narrow and austere education, is a harsh and
censorious judge of the frailties of her fellows.
It is also a curious thing to observe how often, when the saving gift of
tact is wanting, the brilliant, the witty, the ambitious, and the
energetic are passed in the race of life by men who in intellectual
qualities are greatly their inferiors. They dazzle, agitate, and in a
measure influence, and they easily win places in the second rank; but
something in the very exercise of their talents continually trammels
them, while judgment, tact, and good-nature, with comparatively little
brilliancy, quietly and unobtrusively take the helm. There is the
excellent talker who, by his talents and his acquirements, is eminently
fitted to delight and to instruct, yet he is so unable to repress some
unseemly jest or some pointed sarcasm or some humorous paradox that he
continually leaves a sting behind him, creates enemies, destroys his
reputation for sobriety of thought, and makes himself impossible in
posts of administration and trust. There is the parliamentary speaker
who, amid shouts of applause, pursues his adversary with scathing
invective or merciless ridicule, and who all the time is accumulating
animosities against himself, shutting the door against combinations that
would be all important to his career, and destroying his chances of
party leadership. There is the advocate who can state his case with
consummate power, but who, by an aggressive manner or a too evident
contempt for his adversary, or by the over-statement of a good cause,
habitually throws the minds of his hearers into an attitude of
opposition. There are the many men who, by ill-timed or too frequent
levity, lose all credit for their serious qualities, or who by
pretentiousness or self-assertion or restless efforts to distinguish
themselves, make themselves universally disliked, or who by their
egotism or their repetitions or their persistence, or their incapacity
of distinguishing essentials from details, or understanding the
dispositions of others, or appreciating times and seasons, make their
wearied and exasperated hearers blind to the most substantial merits. By
faults of tact men of really moderate opinions get the reputation of
extremists; men of substantially kindly natures sow animosities
wherever they go; men of real patriotism are regarded as mere jesters or
party gamblers; men who possess great talents and have rendered great
services to the world sink into inveterate bores and never obtain from
their contemporaries a tithe of the success which is their due. Tact is
not merely shown in saying the right thing at the right time and to the
right people; it is shown quite as much in the many things that are left
unsaid and apparently unnoticed, or are only lightly and evasively
touched.
It is certainly not the highest of human endowments, but it is as
certainly one of the most valuable, for it is that which chiefly enables
a man to use his other gifts to advantage, and which most effectually
supplies the place of those that are wanting. It lies on the borderland
of character and intellect. It implies self-restraint, good temper,
quick and kindly sympathy with the feelings of others. It implies also a
perception of the finer shadings of character and expression, the
intellectual gift which enables a man to place himself in touch with
great varieties of disposition, and to catch those more delicate notes
of feeling to which a coarser nature is insensible.
It is perhaps in most cases more developed among women than among men,
and it does not necessarily imply any other remarkable gift. It is
sometimes found among both men and women of very small general
intellectual powers; and in numerous cases it serves only to add to the
charm of private life and to secure social success. Where it is united
with real talents it not only enables its possessor to use these talents
to the greatest advantage; it also often leads those about him greatly
to magnify their amount. The presence or absence of this gift is one of
the chief causes why the relative value of different men is often so
differently judged by contemporaries and by posterity; by those who have
come in direct personal contact with them, and by those who judge them
from without, and by the broad results of their lives. Real tact, like
good manners, is or becomes a spontaneous and natural thing. The man of
perfectly refined manners does not consciously and deliberately on each
occasion observe the courtesies and amenities of good society. They have
become to him a second nature, and he observes them as by a kind of
instinct, without thought or effort. In the same way true tact is
something wholly different from the elaborate and artificial attempts to
conciliate and attract which may often be seen, and which usually bring
with them the impression of manoeuvre and insincerity.
Though it may be found in men of very different characters and grades of
intellect, tact has its natural affinities. Seeking beyond all things to
avoid unnecessary friction, and therefore with a strong leaning towards
compromise, it does not generally or naturally go with intense
convictions, with strong enthusiasms, with an ardently impulsive or
emotional temperament. Nor is it commonly found among men of deep and
concentrated genius, intensely absorbed in some special subject. Such
men are often among the most unobservant of the social sides of life,
and very bad judges of character, though there will frequently be found
among them an almost childlike unworldliness and simplicity of nature,
and an essential moderation of temperament which, combined with their
superiority of intellect, gives them a charm peculiarly their own.
Tact, however, has a natural affinity to a calm, equable, and
good-natured temper. It allies itself with a quick sense of opportunity,
proportion, and degree; with the power of distinguishing readily and
truly between the essential and the unimportant; with that soundness of
judgment which not only guides men among the varied events of life, and
in their estimate of those about them, but also enables them to take a
true measure of their own capacities, of the tasks that are most fitted
for them, of the objects of ambition that are and are not within their
reach.
Though in its higher degrees it is essentially a natural gift, and is
sometimes conspicuous in perfectly uneducated men, it may be largely
cultivated and improved; and in this respect the education of good
society is especially valuable. Such an education, whatever else it may
do, at least removes many jarring notes from the rhythm of life. It
tends to correct faults of manner, demeanour, or pronunciation which
tell against men to a degree altogether disproportioned to their real
importance, and on which, it is hardly too much to say, the casual
judgments of the world are mainly formed; and it also fosters moral
qualities which are essentially of the nature of tact.
We can hardly have a better picture of a really tactful man than in some
sentences taken from the admirable pages in which Cardinal Newman has
painted the character of the perfect gentleman.
'It is almost a definition of a gentleman to say he is one who never
inflicts pain.... He carefully avoids whatever may cause a jar or a jolt
in the minds of those with whom he is cast--all clashing of opinion or
collision of feeling, all restraint or suspicion or gloom or resentment;
his great concern being to make everyone at ease and at home. He has his
eyes on all his company; he is tender towards the bashful, gentle
towards the distant, and merciful towards the absurd; he can recollect
to whom he is speaking; he guards against unreasonable allusions or
topics that may irritate; he is seldom prominent in conversation, and
never wearisome. He makes light of favours while he does them, and seems
to be receiving when he is conferring. He never speaks of himself except
when compelled, never defends himself by a mere retort; he has no ears
for slander or gossip, is scrupulous in imputing motives to those who
interfere with him, and interprets everything for the best. He is never
mean or little in his disputes, never takes an unfair advantage, never
mistakes personalities or sharp sayings for arguments, or insinuates
evil which he dare not say out.... He has too much good sense to be
affronted at insult; he is too busy to remember injuries, and too
indolent to bear malice.... If he engages in controversy of any kind his
disciplined intellect preserves him from the blundering discourtesy of
better though less educated minds, who, like blunt weapons, tear and
hack instead of cutting clean.... He may be right or wrong in his
opinion, but he is too clear-headed to be unjust; he is as simple as he
is forcible, and as brief as he is decisive. Nowhere shall we find
greater candour, consideration, indulgence. He throws himself into the
minds of his opponents, he accounts for their mistakes. He knows the
weakness of human nature as well as its strength, its province, and its
limits.'[73]
I have said at the beginning of this chapter that character bears, on
the whole, a larger part in promoting success than any other things, and
that a steady perseverance in the industrial virtues seldom fails to
bring some reward in the directions that are most conducive to human
happiness. At the same time it is only too evident that success in life
is by no means measured by merit, either moral or intellectual. Life is
a great lottery, in which chance and opportunity play an enormous part.
The higher qualities are often less successful than the medium and the
lower ones. They are often most successful when they are blended with
other and inferior elements, and a large share of the great prizes fall
to the unscrupulous, the selfish, and the cunning. Probably, however,
the disparity between merit and success diminishes if we take the larger
averages, and the fortunes of nations correspond with their real worth
much more nearly than the fortunes of individuals. Success, too, is far
from being a synonym for happiness, and while the desire for happiness
is inherent in all human nature, the desire for success--at least beyond
what is needed for obtaining a fair share of the comforts of life--is
much less universal. The force of habit, the desire for a tranquil
domestic life, the love of country and of home, are often, among really
able men, stronger than the impulse of ambition; and a distaste for the
competitions and contentions of life, for the increasing
responsibilities of greatness, and for the envy and jealousies that
seldom fail to follow in its trail, may be found among men who, if they
chose to enter the arena, seem to have every requisite for success. The
strongest man is not always the most ardent climber, and the tranquil
valleys have to many a greater charm than the lofty pinnacles of life.
FOOTNOTE:
[73] Newman's _Scope and Nature of University Education_, Discourse IX.