sorrows and trials. But time, in dashing to pieces our most cherished
plans and brightest dreams, also brings us to many disappointments which
in turn disappear with the passage of years. While sagacity contrives,
patience matures, and labor industriously executes, disappointment
laughs at the curious fabric formed by so many efforts and gay with so
many brilliant colors, and when the artist imagines the work arrived at
the moment of completion, brushes away the beautiful fabric, and leaves
nothing behind.
We thus see that life is, indeed, a variegated scene, full of trials and
full of joys—bright dreams, some fulfilled, more disappointed. What is
the lesson for us to learn from this? Perhaps the truest philosophy is
not to expect much, to be moderate in our plans and hopes. In youth
especially are we apt to be over sanguine. Reflect that life is full of
disappointments, that it is vain for you to expect to escape them. But
also learn to go forward with a brave face. You may fail, but from this
failure you can organize future success. Because disappointed in one
particular plan, it is no reason why you should abandon all plans, and
settle down to the conviction that life itself is a failure. Show
yourself a man, and rise superior to misfortune, and you will be
rewarded by a final victory made more glorious by temporary
discouragement, just as the sun bursting from behind the clouds lights
up the landscape with a more glorious light because of the storms of the
morning.
[Illustration: FAILURE.]
[Illustration]
It is a mistake to suppose that men succeed through success; they much
oftener succeed through failure. By far the best experience of men,
experience from which they gain the most of lasting value, is gathered
from their failures in their dealings with others in the affairs of
life. Such failures, for sensible men, incite to better self-management
and greater tact and self-control, as a means of avoiding them in the
future. Ask the successful business man, and he will tell you that he
learned the secret of success through being baffled, defeated, thwarted,
and circumvented, far more than from his successes. Precept, study,
advice, and example could never have taught them so well as failure has
done. It has disciplined and taught them what to do as well as what
_not_ to do. And this latter is often of more importance than the
former.
Many have to make up their minds to encounter failure again and again
before they finally succeed; but if they have pluck, the failure will
only serve to rouse their energies, and stimulate them to renewed
efforts. Failure in one direction has sometimes had the effect of
forcing the far-seeing student to apply himself in another, which latter
application has in many instances proven to be in just the line that
they were fitted for. No one can tell how many of the world's most
brilliant geniuses have succeeded because of their first failures.
Failures in many instances are only means that Providence takes to work
an otherwise too pliable disposition into one fitted to confront the
stern duties of life. Even as steel is tempered by heat, and, through
much hammering and changing of original form, is at last wrought into
useful articles, so in the history of many men do we find that they were
attempered in the furnace of trials and affliction, and only through
failures in first attempts were at length fitted for the ultimate
success that crowned their efforts.
They are doubly in error who suffer themselves to give up the battle at
one, or even two successive, failures. As in the military field he is
the greater general who from defeat organizes ultimate victory, so in
the battle of life he is the true hero who, even while smarting under
the sting of present failure, lays his plans and summons his forces for
a triumphant victory. We must not allow our jaundiced views to prevail
over our knowledge of men and affairs. The world is not coming to an
end, nor society going to destruction, because our petty plans have
miscarried. The present failure should only teach you to be more wary in
the future, and thus will you gather a rich harvest as the final outcome
of your efforts.
Above all, do not sink into apathy and despair. Rouse yourself, and do
not allow your best years to slip past because you have not succeeded as
you thought you would. Is not the sun as bright, nature as smiling as
before? Why, then, do you go about as if all hope had fled? Know you not
that
"In the reproof of chance
Lies the true proof of men."
As in the physical world, disease is but the effort nature makes to
remove some pressing evil, so failure should be but the methods whereby
we are enabled to eliminate those traits of character which are a
hindrance to our lasting success. As the inventor subjects his
production to the most rigorous tests in order that inherent defects may
become known and, if possible, remedied, even so does Providence, in
subjecting us to great trials, discover to us by our failures wherein we
lack; and we are remiss in duty to ourselves do we not most earnestly
endeavor to improve by these tests?
The man who never failed is a myth. Such a one never lived, and is never
likely to. All success is a series of efforts in which, when closely
viewed, are to be seen more or less failures. These efforts are ofttimes
not visible to the naked eye, but each individual heart is painfully
conscious of how many of its most cherished plans ended only in
failures. If you fail now and then, do not be discouraged; bear in mind
that it is only the part and experience of every successful man. We
might even go farther, and say that the most successful men often have
the most failures. These failures, which to the feeble are mere
stumbling-blocks, to the strong serve to remove the scales from their
eyes, so that they now see clearer, and go on their way with a firmer
tread and a more determined mien, and compel life to yield to them its
most enduring trophies.
The weakling goes no farther than his first failure; he lags behind, and
subsides into a life of discontent and vain regrets; and so by this
winnowing process the number of the athletes is restricted to few, and
there is clear space in the arena for those who determinedly press on.
There can hardly be found a successful man who will not admit that he
was made so by failure, and that what he once thought his hard fate was
in reality his good fortune. Success can not be gained by a hop, skip,
and a jump, but by arduous passages of gallant perseverance, toilsome
efforts long sustained, and, most of all, by repeated failure; for the
failures are but stepping-stones, or, at the worst, non-attainment of
the desired end before the time.
If success were to crown your efforts now, where would be the great
success of the future? It is the brave resolution to do better next time
that lays the substrata of all real greatness. Many a prominent
reputation has been destroyed by early success. Too often the effect of
such success is to sap the energies. Imagining fame or fortune to be
won, future efforts are remitted; relying on the fame of past
achievements, the fact is overlooked that it is labor alone that renders
any success certain; and so by the remission of labor and energy,
disgrace or failure awakens him from his delusive dreams; but, alas! in
how many instances the awakening comes too late!
There is no more prolific source of repining and discontent in life than
that found in looking back upon past mistakes. We are fond of persuading
ourselves and others that had others acted differently our whole course
in life would have been one of unmixed success instead of the partial
failure that it so often appears. If we would only look on past mistakes
in the right spirit—in the spirit of humility, and with a desire to
learn from past errors—it would be well; but the error men make in this
review is in attributing the failures to circumstances instead of to
character. They see the mistakes which lie on the surface, but fail to
trace them back to the source from whence they spring. The truth is,
that even trifling circumstances are the occasions for bringing out the
predominant traits of character. They are tests of the nature and
quality of the man rather than the causes of future success or failure.
None can tell how weighty may be the results of even trivial actions,
nor how much of the future is bound up in our every-day decisions.
Chances are lost, opportunities wasted, advisers ill-chosen, and
disastrous speculations undertaken, but there is nothing properly
accidental in these steps. They are to be regarded as the results of
unbalanced characters, as much as the cause of future misery. The
disposition of mind that led to these errors would certainly, under
other circumstances, have led to different, but not less lamentable
results.
We see clearly in judging others. We attribute their mischances without
compunction to the faults we see in them, and sometimes even make cruel
mistakes in our investigation; but in reviewing our own course self
draws a veil over our imperfections, and we persuade ourselves that
mistakes or unfortunate circumstances are the entire cause of all our
misfortunes. It is true that no circumstances are always favorable, no
training perfectly judicious, no friend wholly wise, yet he who is
always shifting the blame of his failures upon these external causes is
the very man who has the most reason to trace them to his own inherent
weakness or demerits.
It is questionable whether the habit of looking much at mistakes, even
of our own, is a very profitable one. It might be rendered of use were
we only to do so in the proper spirit. Certainly the practice of
mourning over and bewailing them, and charging upon them all the evils
that afflict us, is the most injurious to our future course, and the
greatest hindrance to any real improvement of character. Acting from
impulse, and not from reason, is one of the chief causes of these
mistakes; and if any would avoid them in the future they must test all
their sudden impulses by the searching and penetrating ordeal of their
best judgment before acting upon them. Above all, the steady formation
of virtuous habits, the subjection of all actions to principles rather
than to policy, the firm and unyielding adherence to duty, as far as it
is known, are the best safeguards against mistakes in life.
Who lives that has not, during his life, aspired to something that he
was unable to reach? The sorrows of mankind may all be traced to
blighted hopes; like frost upon the green leaves comes the chilling
conviction that our hopes are forever dead. We may live, but he who has
placed his whole mind on the attainment of some object and fails to
reach it, life to him seems a burden—a weary burden. To youth blighted
hopes come like the cold dew of evening upon the flowers. The sun next
morning banishes the dew, and the flower is brighter and purer from its
momentary affliction. Sorrow purifies the heart of youth as the rain
purifies the growing plant. But to the man of mature years the blighting
of cherished hopes falls with a chilling effect. 'T is hard to proceed
as though nothing had happened—to cheerfully take up life's load, yet
such is the course of true manhood; this is the inheritance of life—the
test of character.
Our world presents a strangely different aspect according to the
different moods in which it is viewed. To him whose efforts have been
crowned with success it is superlatively beautiful; to him whose life
has known no care it appears to be filled with all manner of comfortable
things; to those who pine in sickness and suffering, the unfortunate,
and those whose efforts have ended only in failure, it most truthfully
seems to be "a vale of tears," and human life itself a bubble raised
from those tears and inflated with sighs, which, after floating a little
while, decked, it may be, with a few gaudy colors from the hand of
fortune, is at last touched by the hand of death, and dissolves.
He who has a stout heart will do stout-hearted actions—actions which,
however unconscious the doer may be of the fact, can not fail to have
something of immortality in their essence—something that in all coming
time will preserve alive their memory long after the valiant doer has
lain in dust. Such a man will not be daunted by difficulties. Opposition
will but serve as fuel to the fire which feeds the spirit of
self-reliance within him, stimulating him to still greater efforts, and,
in fact, creating opportunities for them. And though, in the nature of
things, failure must often be his portion, still they will nerve him
anew for the struggles of active life, and endow him with courage to
meet the further disappointments which past experience will have taught
him are likely to be his lot.
Neither will he, in his efforts to attain some great end, to bring to
happy accomplishment some noble work, be daunted by the reflection that
he can never be sure of success even in enterprises springing from the
highest motives and steadfastly pursued at the cost of all that is
dearest. To him it will suffice that the end he has in view is the right
one, and that if he is not destined to accomplish it eventually it must
triumph. With prophetic eye he looks forward to the dawning of the time
when, long after he has been called hence, posterity shall enter into
his labor and eat of the fruit of the tree that he has planted.
[Illustration: DESPONDENCY.]
"The darkest day,
Live till to-morrow, will have passed away."
[Illustration]
There are dark hours that mark the history of the brightest years. For
not a whole month in any one of the thousand of the past, perhaps, has
the sun shone brilliantly all the time. And there have been cold and
stormy days in every year, and yet the mists and shadows of the darkest
hours were dissipated and flitted heedlessly away. In the wide world
also we have the overshadowing of dark hours. There were hours of
despondency when Shakespeare thought himself no poet and Raphael no
painter, when the greatest wits doubted the excellence of their happiest
efforts.
But we have also bright days to offset the sad ones. Though there are
the dark ones, when the fire will neither burn on our hearths nor our
hearts, and all without and within is dismal and dark, there come days
when we rejoice in the brightness of hope and prosperity. It is human
nature to look upon only the bright and cheery scenes of life, to forget
its trials and storms in the light of the present. But let us not forget
that there will come other moments, when the eye will be less calm, the
cheek less bright, and the tongue less silent; the brain will be full of
imaginings, pensive and sad, its inmost springs less elastic and
buoyant.
Despondency too long continued gives place to despair. No calamity can
produce such a paralysis of the mind. It is the capstone of the climax
of human misery. The mental powers are frozen with indifference, the
heart becomes ossified with melancholy, the soul is shrouded in a cloud
of gloom. No words of consolation, no cheerful repartee can break the
death-like calm; no love can warm the pent-up heart, no sunbeam dispel
the dark cloud. Time may effect a change; death will break the monotony.
We can extend our kindness, but can not relieve the victim. We may trace
the cause of this awful disease; God only can effect a cure. We may
speculate upon its nature, but can not feel its force until its iron
hand is laid upon us. We may call it weakness, but can not prove or
demonstrate the proposition. We may call it folly, but can point to no
frivolity to sustain our position. We may call it madness, but can
discover no maniac action. We may call it stubborness, but can see no
exhibition of indocility. We may call it lunacy, but can not perceive
the incoherence of that unfortunate condition. We can properly call it
nothing but dark, gloomy despair, an inexpressible numbness of all the
sensibilities rendering a man happy.
It is, indeed, a happy providence that has given to mankind the bright,
shining sun of hope to dispel the gloom of despondency. We have all seen
the sun burst from behind the clouds and light up a storm-swept
landscape. Even so, when the hand of misfortune has darkened our
brightest prospects and swept away our sunlit dreams of future
happiness, has some unseen monitor inspired our drooping spirit with
hope and bid us struggle on; and as we look forward into the future
fancy points us to a brighter day's dawning. When the soul is often
bowed down with the weight of its own sorrows and the heart is well-nigh
crushed, even then some faint glimmering of a happier future steals upon
it like a rainbow of light.
It is to be feared that many do not as resolutely fight against fits of
despondency as they might. Many fits of the blues need but to be
resolutely contended against, and they will disappear; harbored, they
will grow into despondency and despair. It is worth while to remember
that fortune is like the skies in April, sometimes clouded and sometimes
clear and favorable, and it would be folly to despair of again seeing
the sun because to-day is stormy. So it is equally unwise to sink into
despondency when fortune frowns, since in the common course of things
she may be surely expected to smile again.
Life is a warfare, and he who easily desponds deserts a double duty—he
betrays the noblest property of man, his dauntless resolution, and he
rejects the providence of God, who guides and rules the universe. There
is but one way of looking at fate—whatever that may be, whether
blessings or afflictions—to behave with dignity under both. We must not
lose heart, or it will be the worse, both for ourselves and for those
whom we love. To struggle, and again and again to renew the
conflict—_this_ is life's inheritance.
Do not, then, allow yourself to sink into despondency. Man is born a
hero, and it is only by darkness and storms that heroism gains its
greatest and best development and illustrations; then it kindles the
black cloud into a blaze of glory, and the storm bears it to its
destiny. Despair not, then. Mortifying failures may attend this effort
and that one, but only be honest and struggle on, and it will all work
out right in the end. Do not make the mistake, either, of supposing that
despondency is a state of humility; on the contrary, it is the vexation
and despair of a cowardly pride; nothing is worse; whether we stumble or
whether we fall, we must only think of rising again, and going on in our
course.
Do your work, then; only let it be a noble one. Be faithful to your
trust. If you have but one talent improve it; do not bury it in the
earth because you have not ten. Toil steadily and hopefully on, for life
is too short to admit of delay or despondency. Let those who are in
sorrow remember that deliverance may be coming, though they see it not.
Your days may wear more gold in the morning, and more at night, though
the midday be full of snow. God may be gracious, though he comes to us
robed in darkness and clothed in storms. It is a journey of release
towards the Spring when Winter is coldest and darkest. Despondency is
but the shadow of too much happiness thrown by our spirits upon the
sunshiny side of life. Look up, and God will give you a song in your
heart instead of a tear in your eye.
Causeless depression of spirits is not to be reasoned with, nor can even
David's harp charm it away by sweet discoursings. As well fight with the
mists as with this shapeless, undefinable, yet all-beclouding,
hopelessness. Yet we are familiar with many such instances in practical,
every-day life. Many who have much to be thankful for are full of
complaint. Such disposition is no less unfortunate than it is
reprehensible. They make miserable not only their own life, but also the
lives of those with whom they are in daily contact. No doubt the one
given over to causeless melancholy feels a full weight of sorrow, and
those who laugh at his grief, could they but experience it, would
quickly be sobered into compassion. What is wanted is a firm reliance on
Providence, and a determination to do your duty; then go forward bravely
and cheerfully, resolutely fight against this disposition. Your life
will be much happier.
The trouble is, that many of us, when we are under any affliction, are
troubled with a certain malicious melancholy. We only dwell and pore
upon the sad and dark occurrences of Providence, but never take notice
of the more benign and bright ones. Our way in this world is, like a
walk under a row of trees, checkered with light and shade, and, because
we can not all along walk in the sunshine, we, therefore, perversely fix
upon the darker passages, and so lose all the comfort of the cheering
ones. We are like froward children, who, if you take one of their
playthings from them, throw away all the rest in spite. What a pitiable
confession is this of human weakness! Let us, then, strive against such
a spirit of despondency. Even when the way before us is both dark and
dreary it still is worse than useless to give way to despondency. Think
not that you are forsaken; you have much still to make life enjoyable.
Energy and proper application may recover what you have lost; take
heart; pluck up courage; give not over to despondency; by resolutely
confronting the evils of life they will lose their force.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: FAITH.]
"Faith is the subtle chain
That binds us to the infinite; the voice
Of a deep life within, that will remain
Until we crowd it thence."
[Illustration]
Faith is the true prophet of the soul, and ever beholds a spiritual
life, spiritual relations, labors, and joys. Its office is to teach man
that he is a spiritual being, that he has an inward life enshrined in
this material encasement—an immortal gem set now in an earthly casket.
It assures man that he lives not for this life alone, but for another
superior to this, more glorious and real. It teaches that God is a
spirit, and seeks to worship him as such. It dignifies humanity with
immortality. It dwells ever upon an unseen world, announcing always that
unseen realities are eternal.
A living, active faith is not only a necessity, if we would reap great
good, but it is so founded on the nature of things that it is natural
for men to have a faith in the promises of others. It is only from
experience that the little child learns to distrust others. Then, there
is the faith in one's own powers. This is as necessary a form of faith
as any, and where not allowed to degenerate into egotism is a most
beneficent form of faith. Its true foundation is the same as any faith;
that is, reliance on God's promises. "As ye sow, so shall ye reap."
Hence, relying on this, and putting forth the necessary exertions, why
not confidently expect a fulfillment of the promise? This is the germ of
all true self-reliance.
A true faith we can somehow reach all through life, and it will bring to
the soul a rich meed of consolation, even in the shades of life. We can
cherish a sure hope about our future and the future of those that belong
to us—a sunny, eager onlooking toward the fulfillment of all the
promises God has written on our nature. We should have faith in the
ultimate triumph of the good and the true. It is quite the fashion of
the times to lament over the degeneracy of the present, and to think of
the palmy day long since past. We have indeed read history to but little
account do we not realize that the world is growing better, and feel
confident of the ultimate triumph of the forces of good.
Life grows darker as we go on, till only one pure light is left shining
on it, and that is faith. Old age, like solitude and sorrow, has its
revelations. It is then that we perceive the hollowness and emptiness of
many of the bubbles we have been pursuing. Fortunate is he who in that
hour can rest down on the promise of God with a steadfast faith. When in
your last hour all faculty in your broken spirit shall fade away, and
sink into inanity—imagination, thought, effort, enjoyment, all fade
away—then will the flower of belief, which blossoms even in the night,
remain to refresh you with its fragrance in the last darkness.