Nor is it best we should. We must seek happiness in the right state of
mind, in the legitimate labors, duties, and pleasures of life, and then
we shall find what we seek, yet we may find it under very different
circumstances from what we expected. It is much more equally divided
than some of us imagine. One man may possess most of the materials, but
little of the thing; another may possess much of the thing, but few of
the materials. In this particular view happiness has been compared to
the manna in the desert—"he that gathered much had nothing over, and he
that gathered little had no lack." Therefore, to diminish envy, let us
consider not what others possess, but what they enjoy.
We may look for happiness in one direction, but find it in another, and
sometimes where we expect the least we may find the most, and where we
look for the most we shall find the least. We are shortsighted, and fail
to see the ends of things. A great deal of the misery of life comes from
this disposition to have things our own way, as though we could not be
happy under any circumstances except those we have framed to meet our
own wants. Circumstances are not half so essential to our happiness as
most people imagine. A cabin is often the seat of more true happiness
than a palace. Kings may bid higher for happiness than their subjects,
but it is more apt to fall to the lot of the private citizen than the
monarch. She sends to the palace her equipage, her pomp, and her train,
but she herself is traveling _incognita_ to keep a private appointment
with contentment, and to partake of a dinner of herbs in a cottage.
The disposition to make the best of life is what we want to make us
happy. Those who are so willful and seemingly perverse about their
outward circumstances are often intensely affected by the merest
trifles. A little thing shadows their life for days. The want of some
convenience, some personal gratification, some outward form or ornament
will blight a day's joy. They can often bear a great calamity better
than a small disappointment, because they nerve themselves to meet the
former, and yield to the latter without an effort to resist. Molehills
are magnified into mountains, and in the shadow of these mountains they
sit down and weep. The very things they ought to have sometimes come
unasked, and because they are not ready for them they will not enjoy
them, but rather make them the cause of misery. There is also a
disposition in such minds to multiply their troubles as well as magnify
them. They make troubles of many things which should really be regarded
as privileges, opportunities for self-sacrifice, for culture, for
improving effort. They make troubles of the ordinary allotments of life;
its duties, charities, changes, unavoidable accidents, reverses, and
experiences. This can be considered in no other light than morally
wrong, for these common allotments and experiences were, beyond all
question, ordained by infinite wisdom as a healthy discipline for the
soul of man.
Some spend life determined to be vastly happy at some future time, but
for the present put off all enjoyment even of passing pleasures,
seemingly for fear lest all such present comfort detracts from the sum
total of future enjoyments. They, indeed, acquire wealth or fame or the
outward surroundings of happiness; but, alas! too often the palmy days
of life are gone, and the acquisitions from which they fondly hoped to
gather much of human happiness form but the stately surroundings of real
and heart-felt wretchedness. Happiness, then, should be as a modest
mansion, which we can inhabit while we have our health and vigor to
enjoy it; not a fabric so vast and expensive that it has cost us the
best part of our lives to build it, and which we can enjoy only when we
have less occasion for a habitation than for a tomb.
Happiness is a mosaic composed of many small stones. Each taken apart
and viewed singly may be of little value; but when all are grouped
together, judiciously combined, and set they form a pleasing and
graceful whole, a costly jewel. Trample not under foot, then, the little
pleasures which a gracious Providence scatters in the daily path while
in search after some great and exciting joy. Happiness, after all, is a
state of the mind. It can not consist in things. It follows thence that
in the right discipline of the mind is the secret of true happiness. In
vain do they talk of happiness who never subdued an impulse in obedience
to a principle. He who never sacrificed a present to a future good, or a
personal to a general one, can speak of happiness only as the blind do
of colors.
The fountain of content must spring up in the mind, and he who seeks
happiness by changing any thing but his own disposition will waste his
life in fruitless efforts, and multiply the griefs which he seeks to
remove. The trouble often is, we are too selfish, too unyielding in our
arrangements for life's best good. Because we can not find happiness in
our own way we will not accept it in its appointed way, and so make
ourselves miserable. Some excellent people are very unhappy from a kind
of stubborn adherence to their settled convictions of just what they
must have and what they must do to be happy. They lose sight of the fact
that God rules above them, and a thousand influences work around them,
partly, at least, beyond their control. They have not determined to
accept life cheerfully in whatever form it may come, and seek for good
under all circumstances.
We must seek for happiness in heaven-appointed ways, in study, duty,
labor, exalted pleasures, with a constant effort to find it. We must
seek it in domestic and business life, in the relations we hold to our
fellow-men, and in the daily opportunities afforded us for discipline
and self-sacrifice. If, then, you would be happy, possessing at least
that measure of happiness which is vouchsafed to mortals, we must
_intelligently_ seek happiness, not by way of impulse, not seeking
selfishly our own good, but with a forgetfulness of self doing all the
good we can, and with a thorough consecration of soul to the good of
what we seek.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: TRUE NOBILITY.]
"Greatness, thou gaudy torment of our souls,
The wise man's fetters, and the rage of fools."
[Illustration]
There is so much in this world that is artificial, so much that glitters
in borrowed light, that it is not singular that moral greatness and
nobility are often counterfeited by some baser metal—so much so that it
is no slight task to discriminate rightly between the true and the
false, and to determine wherein true nobility doth consist. When we
carefully consider the nature of man we readily admit that it is in the
possession of moral and intellectual powers that his superiority over
the brute world consists.
In the society of his fellow-men man ought not to be rated by his
possessions, by his stores of gold, by his office of honor or trust;
these are but temporary and accidental advantages, and the next turn of
fortune may tear them from his grasp. The light of fame, though it
shines with ever so clear a light, is able to dispel the darkness of
death but a little ways. The greatest characters of antiquity are but
little known. Curiosity follows them in vain, for the veil of oblivion
successfully hides the greater portion of their lives.
The world ofttimes knows nothing of its greatest men. Their lives were
passed in obscurity, but real nobility of character was theirs, and this
is nearly always unseen and unknown. He who in tattered garments toils
on the way may, and often does, possess more real nobility of spirit
than he who is driven past in a chariot. It is the mind that makes the
heart rich; and as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor
peereth in the meanest habit. Public martyrdom of every shade has a
certain _éclat_ and popularity connected with it that will often bear
men up to endure its trials with courage; but those who suffer alone,
without sympathy, for truth or principle—those who, unnoticed by men,
maintain their part, and, in obscurity and amid discouragement,
patiently fulfill their trust—these are the real heroes of the age, and
the suffering they bear is real greatness.
It is refreshing to read the account of some of the truly great men and
women, whose lives of usefulness have done much for the alleviation of
the world's misery. And, after all, there is no true nobility except as
it displays itself in good deeds. Says Matthew Henry: "Nothing can make
a man truly great but being truly good, and partaking of God's
holiness." That which constitutes human goodness, human greatness, and
human nobleness is not the degree of enlightenment with which men pursue
their own advantages, but it is self-forgetfulness, self-sacrifice, and
the disregard of personal advantages, remote or contingent, because some
other line of conduct is nearer right. The greatest man is he who
chooses right with the most invincible resolution; who resists the
sorest temptations from within and without; who bears the heaviest
burdens cheerfully; who is calmest in storms, and most fearless under
menaces and frowns.
Some persons are great only in their ability to do evil. Such appears to
have constituted the greatness of many of those individuals who drenched
the world in blood that their ambition might be satisfied. They may
possess the most astonishing mental qualities, yet may be overruled for
evil instead of good. Men of the most brilliant qualities need only a
due admixture of pride, ambition, and selfishness to be great only in
evil ways. Energy without integrity of character and a soul of goodness
may only represent the embodied principle of evil. But when the elements
of character are brought into action by a determinate will, and
influenced by high purposes, man enters upon, and courageously
perseveres in, the path of duty at whatever cost of worldly interests,
he may be said to approach the summit of his being—to possess true
nobility of character; he is the embodiment of the highest idea of
manliness.
The life of such a man becomes repeated in the life and actions of
others. He is just and upright in his business dealings, in his public
actions, and in his family life. He will be honest in all things—in his
works and in his words. He will be generous and merciful to his
opponent—to those who are weaker as well as those stronger than
himself. "The man of noble spirit converts all occurrences into
experience, between which experience and his reason there is marriage,
and the issue are his actions. He moves by affection, not for affection;
he loves glory, scorns shame, and governeth and obeyeth with one
countenance, for it comes from one consideration. Knowing reason to be
no idle gift of nature he is the steersman of his own destiny. Truth is
his goddess, and he takes pains to get her, not to look like her. Unto
the society of men he is a sun whose clearness directs in a regular
motion. He is the wise man's friend, the example of the indifferent, the
medicine of the vicious. Thus time goeth not from him, but with him, and
he feels age more by the strength of his soul than by the weakness of
his body. Thus feels he no pain, but esteems all such things as friends
that desire to file off his fetters and help him out of prison."
True nobility of spirit is always modest in expression. The grace of an
action is gone as soon as we are convinced that it was done only that
third persons might applaud the act. But he who is truly great, and does
good because it is his duty, is not at all anxious that others should
witness his acts. His aim is to do good because it is right. His
nobility does not show itself in waiting and watching for some chance to
do a great good at once. Greatness can only be rightly estimated when
minuteness is justly reverenced. Greatness is the aggregation of
minuteness; nor can its sublimity be felt truthfully by any mind
unaccustomed to the watching of what is least. His nobility consists in
being great in little things. All the little details of life are
attended to, and thus the soul is prepared for great ones. There is more
true nobility in duty faithfully done than in any one great act when
others are looking on and signifying their approval, and thus by their
sympathy spurring the soul on to greater exertions.
It is impossible to conceive of a truly great character, and not think
of one imbued with the spirit of kindness. Nobility of spirit will not
dwell with the haughty in manner. It delights to take up its abode with
the generous and tender-hearted, those who seek to relieve the misery of
others as they would their own. If you contrast the career of Napoleon
Bonaparte and Florence Nightingale, though one filled all Europe with
the terror of his name, doubt not that in the scale of moral greatness
the latter far outweighs the former. Kindness is the most powerful
instrument in the world to move men's hearts, and a word in kindness
spoken will often do more for the furtherance of your cause than any
amount of angry reasoning. Therefore, it is not singular that one whose
whole life is spent in the exercise of kindness should possess a
peculiar power over the lives of others—in effect, wield such an
influence over them as marks him as one of the truly great.
Nobility of character is also reverential. The possession of this
quality marks the noblest and highest type of manhood and womanhood.
Reverence for things consecrated by the homage of generations, for high
objects, pure thoughts, and noble aims, for the great men of former
times and the high-minded workers among our contemporaries. Reverence is
alike indispensable to the happiness of individuals, of families, and of
nations. Without it there can be no trust, no faith, no confidence,
either in God or man—neither social peace nor social progress.
Reverence is but another name for love, which binds men to each other,
and all to God.
The rewards of a life of moral greatness rests with posterity. Great men
are like the oaks, under the branches of which men are happy in finding
a refuge in times of storm and rain. But when the danger is past they
take pleasure in cutting the bark and breaking the branches. As long as
human nature is such a mass of contradictions this is not to be wondered
at. But the influence of such men is ever working, and will sooner or
later show itself. Men such as these are the true life-blood of the
country to which they belong. They elevate and uphold it, fortify and
ennoble it, and shed a glory over it by the example of life and
character which they have bequeathed to it. "The names and manners of
great men," says an able writer, "are the dowry of a nation." Whenever
national life begins to quicken, the dead heroes rise in the memory of
men. These men of noble principles are the salt of the earth. In death,
as well as life, their example lives in their country, a stimulus and
encouragement to all who have the soul to adopt it.
Nobility of character is within the reach of all. It is the result of
patient endeavors after a life of goodness, and, when acquired, can not
be swept away unless by the consent of its possessor. Wealth may be lost
by no fault of its possessor, but greatness of soul is an abiding
quality. One may fail in his other aims; the many accidents of life may
bring to naught his most patient endeavors after worldly fame or
success; but he who strives for nobility of character will not fail of
reward, if he but diligently seek the same by earnest resolve and
patient labor. Is there not in this a lesson of patience for many who
are almost weary of striving for better things? If success does not
crown their ambitious efforts, will they not be sustained by the smile
of an approving conscience? Strong in this, they can wait with patience
till, in the fullness of time, their reward cometh.
[Illustration: A GOOD NAME.]
"He that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which ne'er enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed."
—SHAKESPEARE.
[Illustration]
A good name is the richest possession we have while living, and the best
legacy we leave behind us when dead. It survives when we are no more; it
endures when our bodies and the marbles which cover them have crumbled
into dust. How can we obtain it? What means will secure it to us with
the free consent of mankind and the acknowledged suffrages of the world?
It is won by virtue, by skill, by industry, by patience and
perseverance, and by humble and consistent trust and confidence in a
high and overruling power. It is lost by folly, by ignorance, by
ignominy and crime, by excessive ambition and avarice.
That good name, which is to be chosen rather than great riches, does not
depend on the variable and shifting wind of popular opinion. It is based
on permanent excellence, and is as immutable as virtue and truth. It
consists in a fair and unsullied reputation—a reputation formed under
the influence of virtuous principles, and awarded to us, not by the
ignorant and the vicious, but by the intelligent and the good.
In such a name we look first of all for integrity, or an unbending
regard to rectitude; we look for independence, or a determination to be
governed by an enlightened consideration of truth and duty; for
benevolence or a spirit of kindness and good-will toward men; and,
finally, for a reverent regard for all moral qualities. These are the
essential proper ties of a good character, the living, breathing
lineaments of that good name which commends itself to the careful
consideration of the truly good every-where.
It is ever to be kept in mind that a good name is in all cases the fruit
of personal exertions. It is not inherited from parents; it is not
created by external advantages. It is no necessary appendage of birth or
wealth or talents or station, but the result of one's own endeavors, the
fruit and reward of good principles manifested in a course of virtuous
and honorable actions. Hence the attainment of a good name, however
humble the station, is within the reach of all. No young man is excluded
from this invaluable boon. He has only to fix his eye on the prize, and
to press toward it in a course of virtuous and useful conduct, and it is
his. It may be said that in the formation of a good name personal
exertion is the first, the second, and the last virtue. Nothing great or
excellent can be acquired without it. All the virtues of which it is
composed are the result of untiring application and industry. Nothing
can be more fatal to the attainment of a good character than a
confidence in external advantages. These, if not seconded by your own
endeavors, will drop you midway, or perhaps you will not have started
when the diligent traveler will have won the race.
Life will inevitably take much of its shape and coloring from the
plastic powers that operate in youth. Much will depend on taking a
proper course at the outset of life. The principles then adopted and the
habits then formed, whether good or bad, become a kind of second nature,
fixed and permanent. The most critical period of life is that which
elapses from fourteen to twenty-one years of age. More is done during
this period to mold and settle the character of the future man than in
all the other years of life. If a young man passes this period with pure
morals and a fair reputation, a good name is almost sure to crown his
years and to descend with him to the close of his days. On the other
hand, if a young man in the Spring season of life neglects his mind and
heart, if he indulges himself in vicious courses, and forms habits of
inefficiency and slothfulness, he inflicts an injury on his good name
which time will not efface, and brings a stain upon his character which
no tears can wash away.
The two most precious things this side the grave are our reputation and
our life. But it is to be lamented that the most contemptible whisper
may deprive us of the one and the weakest weapon of the other. A wise
man, therefore, will be more anxious to deserve a fair reputation than
to possess it; and this will teach him so to live as not to be afraid to
die. A fair reputation, it should be remembered, is a plant delicate in
its growth. It will not shoot up in a night, like the gourd that
sheltered the prophet's head; but, like that gourd, it may perish in a
night. A name which it has cost many years to establish is often
destroyed in a single hour. A good name, like good-will, is gained by
many actions, but lost by one.
One of the most essential elements of a good name is the possession of
good moral principles. Such principles fill the soul with the noblest
views and the purest sentiments, and direct all the energies, desires,
and purposes to their proper use and end. Such principles impart new
light and vigor to the mind, and secure to its possessor a safe passage
through all the temptations of the world to the abodes of eternal purity
and blessedness. A character without fixed moral principles has
impressed on it the deformity of a great and palpable defect. Whatever
virtues it does not possess are like flowers planted in the snow or
withered by the drought—wanting the life vigor and beauty which
principles alone can impart. Lacking such principles one would in vain
seek to acquire a good name. As well expect a vessel to traverse broad
oceans to a destined harbor with no rudder whereby to control its
course.
Though a good name is won only by a life of constant activity and
exertion, by self-denial, and an outflow of charity, yet its rewards are
great and enduring, and to fail of its possession is to be without the
best thing on earth. Without it gold has no value, birth no distinction,
station no dignity, beauty no charms, age no reverence. Without it every
treasure impoverishes, every grace deforms, every dignity degrades, and
all the arts, the decorations, and accomplishments of life stand like
the beacon blaze upon a rock, warning that its approach is dangerous,
that its contact is death. He who has it not is under eternal
quarantine—no friend to greet him, no home to harbor him. And in the
midst of all that ambition can achieve, or avarice amass, or rapacity
plunder, he feels himself alone, destitute of the sympathy of others.
A good character is a sure protection against suspicion and evil
reports. A man of bad or doubtful character is suspected of a thousand
acts of which he may not be guilty. And if he does a good deed it is apt
to be ascribed to a bad motive. He has lost the confidence of his
fellow-men. They know him to be unprincipled and hollow-hearted, and are
therefore ready to believe all the evil that is thought or said of him,
but none of the good. On the other hand, a man of fair character, of
tried and established reputation, stands out to the eyes of the public
as one who is above suspicion, and above reproach. The envious may
attempt to tarnish his fair name, but their efforts recoil upon their
own heads. He is conscious of acting from correct principles, and being
known to the public as a man of integrity and worth he need never give
himself much concern as to any unfavorable reports that may be
circulated respecting him. They acquit him without trial, and believe
his innocence without the judgment of a court. Slander may, indeed, for
a moment, fix its fangs on a spotless character, but such a character
has within itself an antidote to the poison, and emerges from the
temporary shadow with invigorated strength and heightened beauty.
While a good name will secure for you the esteem and confidence of your
fellow-men, how will it increase your capacity and extend the sphere of
your usefulness! Who are the men whose friendship is most highly valued,
whose opinions have greatest weight, whose patronage is most eagerly
sought, and whose influence is most extensively sought in the country?
Are they not men of principle—men of known worth and established
reputation? A good name draws round its possessor warm friends, and
opens for him a sure and easy way to wealth, to honor, and happiness.
Reverse the picture, and think of the direful evils of a ruined
character. It will expose you to a thousand painful suspicions and
blasting reports; it will deprive you of all self-respect and peace of
mind; it will exclude you from the confidence and esteem of your
fellow-men, and bring upon you their neglect and contempt; it will cut
you off from all means of usefulness, and degrade you to a mere cipher
in society, rendering your ultimate success impossible.