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A MAN'S THOUGHTS
'Homo sum; humani nihil a. me alienum puto.' — Terence.
' Believe with Lord Monboddo that man sprang from an
ape, or with yon' learned divine that he descends from the
angels, he is still — a man.' — Mackenzie, 1781.
' If a company keeps a steam fire engine, the firemen need
not be straining themselves all day to squirt over the top of the
flagstaff. Let them wash some of their lower storey windows a
little.' — Oliver Wendell Holmes.
Man's Thoughts
BY
J? HAIN FRISWELL
t'
AUTHOR OF 'THE GENTLE LIFE
LONDON
Sampson Low, Marston, Low, & Searle
Crown Buildings, 188 Fleet Street
1872
All rights reserved
LONDON : PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
AND PARLIAMENT STREET
DEDICATED
TO THE
REV. CHARLES KINGSLEY, M.A.
CANON OF CHESTER
&c. &c. &c.
BY ONE WHO IS PROUD TO BE NUMBERED
AMONGST A GOOD MAN'S FRIENDS
AD VER TISEMENT.
A PORTION of this book has appeared in the
' Leader,' the ' London Review,' or in other
periodicals. The title under which these
Essays now appear has been chosen more on
account of its unobtrusive and negative character
than for any other reason. If an author has no
other recommendation, he may at least claim to
be A MAN.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION EGOTISM.
The Central Vowel and First Numeral — Egotism —Its Universality
— Belief in Self — Egotism of Great Men— Birth — Punishment of
Self-Pride — Difficulty in believing that we are Obnoxious or
Hateful — Self-Examination .... PAGE I
CHAPTER II.
THE SUBJECT CONTINUED.
I' — Self and its Importance — Conscience
19
CHAPTER III.
OF MANLY READINESS.
Valour — The Workers in Life — The Norse-Man — Hamlet on Readi-
ness — Procrastination — The Winning Moment — Making up
' Minds ' — Self-Help — Early Rising — Readiness . . 33
x CONTENTS.
CHAPTER IV.
THE HEROIC IN LIFE.
A Savage Young Couple — Love — The Heroic — Self-Delusion—
Effeminate Heroes— A Narrow Age — True Heroism page 47
CHAPTER V.
WHICH TREATS OF LARGE NATURES.
' School ' — The Manager — Lear and Hamlet — Money's True Power
— The Age of Elizabeth— Higher Levels — But One Man Wanted
—Large Minds Dominated by Small Ones — The Happy Wife —
Salt of the Earth . . . - . . .61
CHAPTER VI.
SELF-CULTURE, SELF-RESTRAINT, AND SELF-RESPECT.
The Tub of Diogenes — Conquerors not great — Byron's Dog — Culture
of Self— Prudence: its Value — Life, beautiful and free — Men are
not Machines — Self-respect — The Hermit of Hampole — Indul-
gence should be destroyed . . . . -75
CHAPTER VII.
A WORKING MAN'S PARLIAMENT.
Why Justice is blind — British Elections — Too much Talk— Right
will conquer — Advice of Mr. Ruskin — Nobility of Labour — De-
light in Work — Future of England — The Rights of Man — Few
real Wants — Money and its Worth . . . -89
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VIII.
GOOD OUT OF EVIL.
Voltaire — Mandeville's ' Fable of the Bees ' — The Lisbon Earth-
quake — Poisonous Remedies — Voltaire's Head and Heart —
Accidents not all Evil — Fate and Jupiter— Isaac Barrow — None
without Trials ..... PAGE 103
CHAPTER IX.
ON CONFIDENCES AND SECRETS.
Secrets illusive — Midas has Ears ! — Public Confessors — Plutarch's
Morals — The Athenian Mercury — Confession — The common
Character of Sin . . . . . • IX 7
CHAPTER X.
OF THE USE OF WORDS.
Modern Fun — Quiet Writers — The Use of Superlatives — Quintilian
— Cobbett — Simplicity — Comparison — Comic Singers — Unreality
of the Stage — Bombast to be avoided . . . 131
CHAPTER XL
AWKWARDNESS.
English Artists and Art— Chic— Lord Chesterfield— The English
accused of Want of Geist — Mr. Arnold — Art in Silver — Gerome
— Meissonnier — English Landscape — Want of London Manage-
ment ..'..... 142
xii CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XII.
SATIRE. ITS USE AND ABUSE.
A Great Want— Truth a Libel— Vulgar Satirists — The Bon Ton-
Swift — Hogarth — Modern Satire — Thackeray . page 149
CHAPTER XIII.
ON THE CULTIVATION OF VIRTUE.
Good to be grown — Examination — Cram — Modern Schoolboys —
Blunderers — Diplomacy — Successful Roguery — The True
Hero . . . . . . .161
CHAPTER XIV.
BRITISH PHILISTINISM.
A New Word — Philistia of Old — Milton's Samson — A shade more
Soul — The Barbarians — The People — Mr. Carlyle and the No-
bility — Trade — The World's Ideals . . .176
CHAPTER XV.
ILL-NATURED PHILOSOPHY.
Cynics — Timon — Modern Imitators — Young Cynics— Sneering —
Carlyle and Thackeray — True Love — Falseness of Cynicism —
Byron ....... 189
CONTENTS. xiii
CHAPTER XVI.
TOO-GOOD PEOPLE.
Saints — The Apostles not Saints in a modern sense — Hood's Lines
— The Religiosus — Narrowing Forms — Cowper — Confucius —
Buddha — Stylites — Self-sacrifice . . . page 203
CHAPTER XVII.
LITTLE TRIALS.
Small Trials — Tom Brown on Prosperity — Man really Dust — Eliza-
bethan Satirists — The Grand Style — Easy Trials — The Small Ones
that wear us out . . . . . .217
CHAPTER XVIII.
OF HARD WORK.
County Families — Pride — A Warrior Class — Dignity of Labour —
Non-workers unhappy — The Curse a Blessing — The Brave Man
— The Blessings of Work . . . . . 229
CHAPTER XIX.
AN EMPTY REWARD.
A Last Infirmity — Different Estimates — Washington — Elizabeth —
Raleigh's History — Fame merely Report — Its Emptiness —What
True Fame should be .... 243
xiv CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XX.
SELF-GODLINESS.
A Deep Sermon — The Habitations of Mammon — Seeking Salva-
tion — Theatrical Godliness — Pharisees — Eggs not to be laid on
the Sabbath — Selfishness of the Faith of some People — Humi-
lity . . ... . . . PAGE 257
CHAPTER XXI.
FLATTERY AND PLAIN SPEAKING.
A Courtier's Truth — Shade — Love Me, Love My Dog — Alcibiades
— Raleigh's Remains — The Worth of Traitors — Flattery — A Pre-
vailing Weakness — Whole Nations Misled^Peppering the People
— Judicious Praise ...... 269
CHAPTER XXII.
PEACE AND WAR.
The Cost of a Conqueror — Life sometimes well lost — London
Dangers — Firemen — Conquest a Fertilising Influence — Deaths
along the Coast — London Mortality — The Sword by Gold —
Worse than War — England at War — The Cankers of Peace 283
CHAPTER XXIII.
FAITH IN MAN.
Trust — Public Confidence — Religion — Society — Sweet Simplicity
— Little Actions — Anxiety — Distrust — Broken Friendships — A
Boy's Confidence — Credulity — True Faith — Misery of Doubt 295
CONTENTS. xv
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE GOOD NEWS.
Clergymen — Dreadful Assurances— Terrifying Words — Too Late — ■
Books of Punishments — The Cross — Agony — The Holy Office
— The Question — Wordsworth — -Suggestions — A Glad Philo-
sophy — Coleridge — A Death-Bed — The Miserere and Gloria
Patri . .... page 307
Errata.
Page 40, for is it not, read it is not.
,, 41, ,, sticking, ,, striking.
,, 92, ,, pronounced ,, pronounces.
For other and no doubt far graver errors the Aid/tor's severe and
long illness, during the passage of this book through the press, must
plead some excuse.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION— EGOTISM.
CHAPTER I.
The Central Vowel and First Numeral — Egotism — Its Uni-
versality — Belief in Self — Egotism of Great Men — Birth —
Punishment of Self Pride — Difficulty in believing that we are
Obnoxious or Hateful — Self Examination.
BEGIN my book with it ; it is the first letter
and the first word, and, with some unhappy-
men, the only thought through life.
But in reading, it changes its person,
and transfers itself from me to you.
I talk about it, though yet upon the threshold of this
book, because a wise friend objected to the title that * A
Man's Thoughts ' was somewhat egotistical. Why so
it is doubtful ; since an author, small though he may be,
is at least a man, and as for egotism he shows no more —
orneeds to showno more — in the projection of his thoughts
upon the public than a painter, an actor, or a preacher.
These, too, seek to instruct, or influence, or amuse the
B 2
4 A MAN'S THOUGHTS,
world ; some few even dream of reforming it, by throwing
their thoughts into the seething mass of opinion — ' casting
their bread upon the waters,' to use a misapplied and
sacred symbol, ajid hoping that after many days it may
return to them.
An author may, perhaps, in these days, be excused
for hoping in that way, His egotism is the least selfish,
since his returns, in a worldly point of view, are nearly
the least of all. And indeed my friend's suggestion
turned, in my particular case, my intention ' the seamy
side without/ for, by the title of this book, I desired to
get as far away from personal vanity and conceit as one
well could. And after all it is not much to claim to be
a Man ; at any rate that depends upon the estimate one
places upon the privilege of being the far-off-descended
creature modern naturalists make him out to be, My
intention, then, was merely to give a name to certain
thoughts and opinions here put forward. That I have
not placed upon my own any peculiar value will be seen
from the trouble I have taken to strengthen every propo-
sition by citations from better writers and from nobler
minds. If in this my purpose is mistaken for pedantry I
shall be grieved but not surprised.
We cannot escape this egotism ; it follows us through
life ; the prayer of the humble Publican is as close to it
as that of the proud Pharisee ; we drive self away with
earnest entreaties and humble prayers, with good reso-
'THE EGOISTS. 5
lutions and manly endeavour, but it fits too closely to us.
It is born with us, it exists with us — and some, vainly let
us hope, say that it does not die with us but will rise
again.
What we call egotism, the French, who have formed
their noun somewhat more closely than we, term 'ego'isme;
and speaking of an adept in this passion, of which their
nation furnishes brilliant examples, say, ' dont je connais-
sais V ego'isme renforce — of whose thorough selfishness I
was aware.' You see hereby that a whole nation places
to the account of egotism a passionate love and admira-
tion of self. It may not be always selfishness ; it has
even been reduced to a philosophical opinion. ' Des-
cartes,' says Reid, in his ' Essays on the Human Mind,
was uncertain of everything but his own existence, and
the existence and operations and ideas of his own mind.
Some of his disciples remained, it is said, at this stage of
his system, and got the name of egoists.'
Another author tells us that the gentlemen of Port
Royal banished from their method of speaking any
reference to the first person, and called anyone who
spoke that way an egotist. Editors are obliged to follow
this rule, and to banish the eternal reference to their own
opinions ; for egotism, if pleasing to oneself, is always
distasteful to others. The leader-writers of the news-
papers therefore say • we,' instead of ' I ; ' and certainly
that method of speaking to the public seems to be best
6 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
suited to the English and Americans, two nations of
egotists. We are of opinion that the Ministry has
signally failed, is more condemnatory and weighty than
the simple /, because it is less egotistic. One way of
depriving newspapers of their weight and force would be
to make the writers drop the anonymous and sign their
names. Actually an opinion is an opinion, and worth
what it is worth, whether it be of A or of B. Really the
opinion of the same writer in the ' Daily Universe ' will
cause more stir than the same theory put forward in the
' Morning World ; ' for office clings to a man and adorns
him. You combat the unfledged opinions of Brown at
your dinner-table, and yet his crude opinion clothed in
weighty words will ' damn ' a delicate author. When
Brown is thoroughly known, and the blind taken away
from the window, his naked egotism is seen, and the
world regards him not.
It was not without reason that the Oracles inhabited
the darkest recesses of the Temple, and that in the olden
Mythology the voice issued from the fissures of the rock
or from behind the veil.
A certain amount of egotism, that is, belief in self, is
natural to all men. It has been said that every man
thinks he can poke the fire better than any other man.
In shooting, fishing, novel-writing, riding, many men
believe they can surpass others ; and although women,
from their greater subjection to society, are less offensive
in their egotism, it is said they are as bad. We must do
BELIEF IN SELF. 7
them this justice, that they conceal it better ; and we
cannot doubt that they must be often punished by hearing
men talk of nothing but themselves : how / am going to
plough the ten acre lot and sow it with red wheat ; and 1
shall go shooting, and / shall have my bay mare clipped,
together with a thousand instances of my cigars, my port,
my claret, my tandem, my books, and my tailor, or the
fellow who ' built ' my hunting coat. People of fair
position and education talk like this ; of course they will
indignantly deny it when put thus plainly ; but let any-
one ask the ladies. Let them ask what barristers talk
about, what university men, club men, authors or artists
talk about. It is little else but an experience of self;
' each thinks his little set mankind.' Everybody believes
in his own circle, his friends, his native village, his school,
his college ; and the centre of that circle is self.
It is so hard to go out of the centre ; we play at puss
in the corner with ourselves, and keep to the corner as
long as we can ; and some people, sublime egotists, are
virtuous because it is comfortable, and religious because
thereby they please the world ; and by pleasing the
world they of course please themselves.
Happily this self-opinion is not an unmixed evil. It
may have caused half the troubles in the world ; but it
has certainly caused half the triumphs and more than
half the comforts and inventions. Unless Nelson had
believed in himself, we should not have been where we
are now. Unless Brindley had believed in his one im-
8 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
portant scheme, and had thought that ' God Almighty
made rivers to feed navigable canals,' we should not have
had the water-transit; and unless Watt and others had
believed in their own merits and inventions, our land-
transit would now have been pretty much as it was a
century ago. What belief in self must not Doctor Living-
stone, Captains Grant and Burton, Sir Samuel Baker, and
other travellers have, who go alone into a continent of
savages — alone, and to conquer all difficulties, discover
and open up new lands ? We can see this egotism plainly
enough in Bruce, the great Abyssinian traveller : he was
perpetually full of himself and what he had done. We
may reasonably suppose it in the others — no doubt 'toned
down ' by courtesy, religion, or philosophy ; but there it
is. How thoroughly every satirist must have it ! Let
us look at Juvenal condemning all Rome ; Horace sati-
rising all the weaker poets ; Persius abusing Bavius and
the whole Roman world, nay, mankind —
When I look round on Man, and find how vain
His passions —
as if he were not a man himself! Can there be anything
more pitiable than the picture which Pope gives of him-
self as persecuted by everybody, followed by poets who
begged his help —
No place is sacred ; not the church is free :
E'en Sunday shines no Sabbath Day to me.
Then from the Mint walks forth the man of rhyme,
Happy to catch me — just at dinner-time :
ACTORS, ARTISTS, AND AUTHORS. 9
— and the measure he dealt out to obscure scribblers in
the Dunciad? How could he write those lines in the
Universal Prayer — ' that mercy I to others show, that
mercy show to me,' when half his life had been spent in
mercilessly cutting and wounding others ?
All painters have much self-love : their imagination is
great, their reflection little; their success easily per-
ceived, and brilliant. All actors are of course immense
egotists. How else could they strut in kingly parts, and
believe themselves fit representatives of Hamlet, Ccesar,
Brutus, and King Cambyses? As the vanity of Sir
Godfrey Kneller, in an anecdote, throws a light upon his
class, so does one of Cooke, the actor, illuminate his
own. Kneller said to a sitter, ' Flatter me, my dear sir ;
I paint better when you flatter me ; ' and Pope, who says
he never before saw such vanity, tells us that when Sir
Godfrey lay dying, he spent his time contemplating his
own monument, and had a dream, in which he saw St.
Luke in Heaven, who welcomed him there, crying, ' Are
you the famous Sir Godfrey Kneller from England ? ' and
then embraced him, and paid him [ many pretty compli-
ments,' said Sir Godfrey, 'on the art we both had followed
while iti this world? Can egotism go further ? It would
seem impossible ; yet that exclamation of Farinelli's the
musician, exceeds it. ' What a divine air ! ' said an ad-
mirer to him, when he ceased playing. ' Yes,' said the
Italian, as he laid down his violin, 'one God, one
io A MANS THOUGH! S.
Farinelli ! ' After this, Cooke's vanity is small and
dwarfed. He and a great actor had been arranging a
season together, and had divided the even or equal parts,
such as Brutus and Cassius • when it came, however,
to ' Richard III./ Cooke broke off the engagement by
crying, ' What ! I, George Frederick Cooke, play Rich-
mond to your Richard ! I'll ' We need not finish
the sentence.
Doubtless this intense egotism, as it is found with all
artists, is necessary to the artistic nature. Without it
they would sink in the midst of their disappointments
and trials. Nor can a poet or an author attempt to
teach the world without a full belief in that which he
teaches, and in himself as a teacher. What is so dis-
tasteful to us all, is the egotism of a man who has really
done nothing in the world, who is as mean in his ap-
pearance as he is mediocre in his talents, and who will
yet presume upon his twopenny position to dictate to
others ; nay will often prove not only an enemy to merit,
but an obstructive to all true teaching and improvement.
The vainest of these men have generally the least to
recommend them ; and because they own nothing, are
proud of that nothing. They doat upon themselves, and
pet themselves, and treat themselves in the inverse ratio
of their merits, with an intense self-respect ; whereas it
is ordinarily found that the really meritorious man is dis-
tinguished by a retiring modesty.
PRIDE OF BIRTH. n
If one of these men happens to be born of a house
noble, or supposed to be noble, he will treat men of
merit, who are simply but later parallels of his good
ancestors, with contempt as new men. If, on the con-
trary, he is a new man himself, he will take pride in his
riches, and 'shove aside the worthy bidden guest.'
These men, like those who beat the walls in madhouses,
are a sufficient punishment to themselves ; but what we
want is a society that can correct them. Our education
is not finished when we leave school, and our whippings
should not end there. For this end satire has been re-
sorted to ; but in the public press and society in general
there is a great want of that wholesome ingredient. Men
snigger at but they do not scorn a foolish rich man now-
a-days ; they sneer at him behind his back and dine with
him next day; whereas, in the days of Elizabeth, when
the drama was a power, they showed him up on the stage,
hat, feather, trunk hose, and sword, and pointed the
moral thus : —
How purblind is the world that such a monster,
In a few dirty acres swaddled, should
Be mounted in opinion's empty scale,
Above the reach of virtues which adorn
Souls that make worth their centre, and to that
Draw all their lines of action !
We don't want now-a-days a freedom like that of the Greek
comedians ; but we do want a pungent and pure satire to
12 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
laugh at folly, and to extinguish and cover with ridicule
successful vice.
Egotism is of course, when it is a vice, accompanied
with its peculiar punishment. The man who is a vulgar
egotist, and obtrudes his misfortunes or experiences on
others, instead of wisely bearing them himself silent, y
and strongly, relieves his sorrows by giving tongue to
them, but is generally set down as a bore. ' It is a hard
and nice subject for a man to speak of himself : it grates
his own heart to say anything of disparagement, and the
listener's ears to hear anything in praise from him.' This
is Cowley's dictum, and a very true one. We are all so
selfish, that we suspect self-praise, and think it to be no
recommendation. Moreover, an egotist of this sort will
often relate the most absurd stories of himself rather than
be silent. Hence he blunders on, filling his hearers with
disgust, and himself reaping the mere tickling pleasure of
hearing his own feats chronicled by his own tongue.
People who are ill, and who have suffered misfortune, are
subject to this complaint. Poor women who gossip in
the street can always be overheard saying something
about themselves or their own misfortunes. ' So I goes
to Mrs. Jenkins merely to beg the loan of a few coals,
and ' ; and then the story begins, the listener only
awaiting her turn to pour her little chronicle of self into
her neighbour's ears. They are all like two authors, who,
EMPTINESS OF FAME. 13
not being rivals of each other, can afford to bepraise
each other's works.
The Scotch have a proverb, ' you scratch me, and I'll
tickle thee ; ' and so two or three egotists, by a natural
adhesion, seem to stick to one another, as certain cunning
old horses and cows will stand head and tail under a tree
to flap away the flies.
This passion of the mind takes some very curious forms,
and when indulged in, leads to madness, certainly often
to guilt. Can calm and quiet people, who know how
empty fame is, understand those who will commit a crime
to be talked about, or who will peril their lives in a dan-
gerous performance, because it pleases their egotism that
others should stare at them ? Can we comprehend the
twisted brain of the madman who, being born a grocer or
some obscure craftsman, goes mad on pride, and believes
himself a king, and that the very keepers bow down to
him ? Can we but wonder at the washer-woman, who, in
spite of rebuffs, trouble, non-payment of her due, and the
hard work of every day, is yet as self-opinioned, ay, and
more so, than the grandest duchess in the universe ? If
we probe men of the world, men of probity, men of po-
sition, and great givers of charity, we shall often find self
at the bottom of all. Self goes with us to bed ; it rises
with us in the morning ; we carry it to our counting
houses ; the priest puts it on with his vestments ; it kneels
with the layman at his prayers,
14 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
This obtrusion of self takes place at a very early age,
no one shall say at how early an age. That intense intro-
visionist, Jean Paul Richter, tells us, among the many
valuable things he lets us know, that one afternoon, when
a 'very young child,' he witnessed the birth of Self
Consciousness. ' I was standing in the outer door, and
looking leftward at the stack of the fuel-wood, when, all
at once, the internal vision "I am a Me {ich bin ein Ich)"
came like a flash of heaven before me, and in gleaming
light ever afterwards continued ; then had my Me, for
the first time, seen itself, and for ever. Deceptions of
memory are scarcely conceivable here, in regard to an
event occurring altogether within the veiled Holy-of-
Holies of man.' And what a me did Jean Paul awake
to ! and to such, as valuable, if not as brilliant, in genius,
more valuable to us-ward everyone awakes. Here, in
poverty and trial — which a ' comfortable ' Englishman
cannot realise, which is too like starvation for a work-
house child in England to experience — this Prince of
Thinkers first welcomed his Me. Here Egotism was a
psalm of joy. And why not? There is no crying over
a frozen and miserable youth in Jean Paul. ' On the
whole,' says his biographer, ' it is not by money, or
money's worth, that man lives and has his being. Is not
God's universe within our heads, whether there be a torn
skull-cap or a king's diadem without. Let no one ima-
gine that Paul's young years were unhappy ; still less that
self-examination, 15
he looks back on them in a lachrymose, sentimental
manner, with the smallest symptom either of boasting or
whining.'
Yet, universal as it is, we are not wise unless we con-
quer it. We must go out of self to judge self, or we shall
be ever bewitched by toys and gewgaws, and made blind
in our own despite. When Maria, in the 'Twelfth
Night' of Shakspeare, wishes to punish Malwlio, she gets
on his blind side by his egotism. And yet there can be
little doubt that Malvolio is a very wise and capable man
when his egotism is laid aside ; but with it he is ' an af-
fection'd (affected) ass, that cons state without book, and
utters it by great swarths ; the best persuaded of hinu^
so crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his
ground of faith, that all that look on him love him ; and on
that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to
work.'
We laugh at the comedy, but are ourselves guilty of the
motive which is its groundwork. Many of us being
young, still think, after many rebuffs, that we are pleasant
fellows, and are pretty sure to be welcomed in any com-
pany. There is not a man of us but believes in his heart
of hearts that he could win the affections of the best,
prettiest, and finest girl in the world, if he had fair chance
and time to propose to her. Tell B that A has really a
natural antipathy to him, and thinks him odious ; and he
says, ' Hate me ! Come, hang it, now, that is too absurd.'
1 6 A MAN'S THOUGHTS
Every man believes in his personal influence. The busi-
ness can never go on without him. The boys that are to
succeed him will overthrow all that he has built up ; ' the
mice will play when the cat's away ; ' there will be quite
a hole in the world when he falls through. But time
should gently wean us of all that : it should teach us the
best lesson, and the last — to distrust ourselves, to know
our own weaknesses, to be generous to the weaknesses of
others, and to praise and acknowledge their goodness and
wisdom. The whole task of life is to conquer self; the
whole wisdom is to know self. Finally, self-abasement
and self-judgment are so highly rated, that the remission
of all other judgment is awarded^ to them by St. Paul.
' Let a man examine himself,' he writes; ' for if we would
judge ourselves, we should not be judged.' It may be
that the last Great Judgment of all will be that made pos-
sible by true light and knowledge, and will be passed with
regard to ourselves upon ourselves.
CHAPTER II.
THE SUBJECT CONTINUED.
CHAPTER IT.
tr I r — Self and its Importance — Conscience,
T is the chief concern of each and of all of
us. With that personal pronoun for a title,
there is no knowing what the subject of an
essay may be ; it may be upon egotism,
selfishness, idiosyncrasy, the journal in which the article
appears, or upon the peculiarities of man or men. Hart-
ley Coleridge would have written the sweetest and most
heart-piercing of verses upon it ; and Hazlitt would have
given us a rare discourse respecting his own inner fee'-
ings upon personal peculiarities ; Montaigne would have
urged that he did not like roast pork, nor to say prayers
standing, or would have told a ridiculous story about the
strength of his father's thumbs. These might very well
come in as concerning ' I„ ; What we at present are
about to do is to write about the conscience, that king-
dom within our kingdom, the inner spiritual force,
c 2
2o A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
Now upon the conscience much has been written — a
great deal more than has been thought thoroughly out ;
and lately, Professor Maurice, of Cambridge, has, in a lec-
ture, emitted a sentence which has given us our key-note.
He strikes at once upon the fact that there are individual
existences ; that man is actually above the animals, not
only by Darwin and Huxley's natural selection, but by
an inner something. Here is his startling question : —
c Does the word I seem to you an unpractical word, one
which only concerns shadows ? You do not act as if this
were so. You do not speak as if this were so. You are
rather angry if reverence is withdrawn from the word.
In making your calculations about the doings of other
men or of your own, is it not your maxim thaf this / is
entitled to a primary consideration ? '
And then he shows — we have printed the above sen-
tence separately, so that you may read its simple words
over again — that the moralist takes hold of ' I,' and that,
having established the fact that there is an ' 1/ a fact we
all of us act upon, an internal business of mental action
and of responsibility is established, and that ' 1 ' has a
conscience, that it is, as Jean Paul proves, something
which exists within, which is pleased, satisfied, wounded,
excited, or deadened.
Now nobody will dispute that there is an 'I;' even
very modest persons find that out, although late in life.
When a boy, with a sad home and a severe father, who,
l P AN INNER FORCE. 21
as most fathers do, probably with an idea that it is the
right thing to do, snubbed his children severely, a writer
remembers now the pleasurable feeling with which the
conscious ' I ' reasserted itself. A dispute occurring, a
very timid remark from the boy settled it ; and, much
applauded, the thought burst upon him, l And so I am
not a blockhead after alL' So the Italian artist asserted
his personality by the exclamation, ' And I, too, am a
painter I '
It is astonishing how the ' I ' can be crushed out of a
person. There are some nations and peoples to whom
others have been so cruel, that the whole notion of a
distinctive existence seems to have died away from them;
and then comes the most cruel part of all history : their
very humiliation and subjection are pleaded as a cause
and excuse for further tyranny. But we cannot pursue
that part of the subject further, however interesting, save
to say that the ' I,' which is so crushed out of a people
that it will hug its fetters, and rejoice in its humiliation,
can be banished by sin from a man's heart, so that he
shall rejoice in being vicious and cruel ; and this may
happen to him very early in life. We remember at school
having heard a big lubberly blackguard of a boy say,
with some kind of remorse, ' Why, I have not made any
of the little beggars cry to-day ! ' He was the bully of
the schooL So Tiberius Caesar is said to have regretted
that the whole world had not but one neck, so that by
22 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
a stroke he could sever it. He was the bully of the
world.. In both these cases the conscience had become
thoroughly warped, seared, and misled ; so that, instead
of being a guide fit to be trusted, it became a misleader.
and, indeed, led its owner into destruction rather than
salvation.
But, after all, what is the conscience? some reader
may ask > and the question in this material age is not an
unnatural one. Some may deny that it exists at all ;
others may assert that it is so much modified by educa-
tion and civilization, that it may almost be said to be a
mere product of the latter. Some even assert that it is
the result of Christianity and of Christian teaching ; and
others, again, laugh at it as a thing easily dispensed with,
and sent to sleep if it makes us uncomfortable. It will
be well to answer these objections, and to state what
Conscience really is. It is a power given us whereby we
may judge our own actions, and by which each man may
condemn or acquit himself immediately, or shortly after,
an action on his part has taken place. Some persons
define it as the faculty by which we distinguish what is
right from what is wrong. Gessner says that it may be
derived from con, together wkh, and scire, to know ; so that
you at once know what you have done. Others piut it as
derived from scientia communis y the common or general
in-dwelling knowledge of man. Chaucer uses the word
so as> to- mean a soft and sweet feeling. Speaking of the
CONSCIENCE. 23
Prioresse in his Prologue, he says that she felt the loss
even of her dogs : —
But sore wept she if on of hem were dede,
Or if men smote it with a yerde smert ;
And all was conscience and tendre herte.
Can anything be prettier than this picture of sweet in-
ward feeling ? In Fabian we find the history of Cordelia,
on which Shakspeare founded his ' Lear,' and Cordelia
appealing to her father thus : ' Most reverend fader,
whereas my ii susters have dissynylyd with the, but I
may not speke to the otherwyse then my Conscyence
ledyth me.' ' Conscience,' says Dr. South, * is a Latin
word, although with an English termination, and, accord-
ing to the very notation of it, imports a double or joint
knowledge, — to wit, one of a Divine law or rule, the
other of a man's own action; and so is properly the
application of a general law to a particular instance of
practice.' Lastly, we may cite Sharp's 'Sermons': — 'Con-
science, taken in general, is nothing less than a man's
judgment or persuasion concerning moral good or evil,
or concerning what he ought to do, or what he ought not
to do, and what he lawfully may do.' Bishop Jeremy
Taylor ought, indeed, to be an authority on the * Con-
science,' for we have before us his celebrated folio,
1 Ductor Dubitantium, or the Rule of Conscience in all
her General Measures ' ; and therein he debates hundreds
of ' cases of conscience,' — cases, by the way, which we
24 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
should think ought, for the most part, never to be debated.
Indeed, when a man too easily makes a question of what
he should do, we may depend that, conscientiously, he
ought not to do it. When a man begins to ask himself
whether he should take another potato, another slice of
meat, or another glass of grog, we may depend upon it
that he has no need of the indulgence. People who
indulge in these questions are rightly called ' casuists ' ;
they put the case or cases (casus), and debate whether a
thing be right or wrong ; and with us the casuist has a
very bad name, almost as bad as a Jesuit. But this
should hardly be. A disciple of the society called by
the holy name of Jesus should be a good man ; one
whose conscience is so tender that he debates every little
point about his actions, should be good too. But the
world, especially the Protestant world, has found out,
with a rough-and-tumble logic, and a ready reason, that
these people who are always debating what is right and
what is wrong are the very people to go wrong. So also
even Catholic sovereigns, and the Popes themselves, have
found that the Jesuits are not wholly worthy of the
blessed name that they have assumed.
The truth is, if we begin to quarrel and to debate with
our conscience, we are sure to be in the wrong. ' God,'
says Jeremy Taylor, ' has given us Conscience, to be in
God's stead to us ; to give us laws, and to exact obedience
to those laws ; to punish them that prevaricate, and to
A SOLUTION. 25
reward the obedient. Therefore Conscience is called
the Household Guardian, the Domestick God, the Spirit
or Angel of the Place ; and when we call God to witness,
we only mean that our Conscience is right, and thai God
and God's vicar, our conscience, know it.' Here, then, is
the solution of the whole difficulty of priesthood ; here is
the final appeal ; here is the proof of the eternal truth
delivered by our Lord, ' The kingdom of God is within
you.' You and I, the universal I, all of us, have within
us a domestic God or Judge. He knows whether we do
right or wrong ; he is always with us. I cannot escape
him ; I carry him with me wherever I go, because it is
' I.' Finally, a modern poet tells us that we take this
vicar of God with us into judgment, and that it alone
condemns us. He gives a fearful picture of a guilty one
before God at the last day : —
He cannot plead, his throat is choked,
Sin holds him in her might ;
And, self-condemn'd, he slideth down
To an eternal night !
The ranged angels, great white throne,
The whole Almighty quire,
Fade out ; the Father's sapphire gaze
Grows molten in its ire.
It is quite possible that this visionary picture is a true
one, and that the condemnation which the wicked will
undergo may be self-pronounced.
26 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
In Hebrew there is no proper word for Conscience,
the heart signifying the same thing ; as, ' oft-times thine
own heart knoweth.' St. Paul refers us to it as to an
infallible guide : they who use the testimony of con-
science ' have the law written in their hearts ' ; and St.
John, divinely inspired, cries out, ' If our conscience
condemn us not, then have we confidence toward God.'
And why is this ? A holy father shall answer you with
an irrefragable truth : ' Because,' says Origen, ' no man
knows the things of a man but the spirit of a man that is
within him ; and that is the spirit of our conscience.'
Happily, too, not only do Christian writers, but heathens,
' benighted heathens,' as we ignorantly call them, appeal
to this. Socrates was guided, he tells us, by an inner
light — his Daemon, or small and special god — his con-
science, which told him what to do and when he did
wrong ; and he, perceiving this, did not worship the gods
with external show so much as others did, but sought
chiefly to obey the lead of this guide, which he did not
hesitate to say he always found right. Even when in
prison, escaping which he might have avoided a shameful
death, this greatest of all heathens remained true to the
inner guide, and waited for its promptings. As they came
not, he prepared to die. He did not reproach his judges :
' You,' he said, ' go on your ways, having unjustly con-
demned me ; I go to a prison, thence to die ; but which
is best, God only knows.' Probably no death-bed can
NOBLE HEATHENS. 27
be cited — and there are many that are historical in then-
interest — that is so full of calm philosophic courage, and
of the workings of conscience, as this of Socrates.
Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius are two other brilliant
examples of men who were not Christians, and who yet
constantly referred to an in-dwelling spirit — to the con-
science, in fact. You will find Marcus Aurelius, in his
meditations, continually solacing himself with such a
thought as ' Well, the world troubles me very much ;
there are a thousand hindrances to live a happy life ; life
itself is too short to be certain. No matter, we have in
us a guide and rule, which will always tell us whether we
be right or wrong. Let us satisfy that, and we shall be
happy.' Cicero also speaks of having a conscious inner
feeling, and being guided by it. Our latest writer on
this subject leads us irresistibly to the conclusion that we
have a conscience, and to a safer conclusion than ever
Roman Catholic casuist could arrive at, namely, that the
conscience does not need a priestly or tyrannical guide.
1 It asks for laws, not rules ; for freedom, not chains ; for
education, not suppression.' In fact, the conscience
being ' I,' needs a fatherly love to bring it into the full
light, not to be frightened by bugbears, nor to be tied
down by false laws and foolish restrictions.
Many amusing instances might be given of the curious
rules which men have set up for the governance of Con
science. Much as we venerate Bishop Taylor, one can
28 A MAN'S THOUGHTS,
hardly look with entire satisfaction on his great book.
In fact, there is not much to be said upon the subject.
If you think that any action is wrong, you may rely that
it is so. One hardly needs to put a case for this,
although of course one can imagine many in which an
innocent action would be guilty, or a guilty action
innocent. That may apply to the action, but not
to the actor. Thus A, who is a married man, saw a
beautiful young lady, veiled, and in the dusk ; he im-
mediately paid court to her and kissed her, not knowing
it was his own wife. Of course A is guilty here, although
in fact he is innocent : he does no harm to any one ; he
only debases himself. This simple consideration will
put an end to the delusive opinion of many untaught
people ; amongst others, of Burns, the poet, who says,
somewhere in his letters, that the consequence of an
action makes its guilt. If B does not harm anybody
by his thefts, his follies, his incontinency, and other
sins, B is to be held guiltless. Such is Burns' theory.
The fact is, B is still guilty. We bring him before a
superior Court. Within his heart sits a Judge, the
Vicar of the Great Spirit. He alone can accuse or
excuse.
One rule in Taylor's great book is very sound, and
that is, that 'all consciences are to walk by the same
rule, and that which is just to one is so to all in the like
circumstances. This makes it,' says the bishop, * that
THE DUCTOR DUBITANTIUM. 29
two men may be damned for doing two contradictions :
as a Jew may perish for not keeping of his Sabbath,
and a Christian for keeping it ; a thorough iconoclast
for breaking images, and another for worshipping them ;
for eating, and for not eating ; for coming to church, or
for staying at home.' You see all is referred to the one
judge. Taylor gives many amusing instances. We will
cite one, and then leave a most interesting subject to the
reader's consideration. 'Autolycus robbed the gardens
of Trebonius, a private citizen, who forgave him. Then
Trebonius was chosen consul, and Autolycus robbed
him again ; Trebonius thereon condemned him to the
gallows, because he could forgive an injury done to him-
self, but not one done to the State : she only could
forgive that.' It is only the other day that the same rule
obtained. A policeman, acting under Commissioner
Mayne's too sweeping and cruel order, seized a gentle-
man's dog ; the owner gave the policeman a thrashing,
and the magistrate said he was right, because being a
plain-clothes man (vulgarly called a detective) the gentle-
man had a right to suppose that he was a thief. Had,
however, the man been covered by the Queen's uniform,
the gentleman would have been severely punished.
Lastly, we have all heard of the phrase, ' When you are
at Rome do as Rome does.' Here is an instance and a
reason. ' He that fasted in Ionia and Smyrna,' says
Taylor, ' upon a Saturday was a schismatic ; and so was
3 o A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
he who did not fast upon that day at Milan and Rome,
both upon the same reason.
' Cum fueris Romse, Romano vivito more ;
Cum fueris alibi, vivito sicut ibi ;
(" When at Rome live after the Roman manner ; when
elsewhere, follow the custom which there prevails ; ")
because he was to conform to the custom of Smyrna as
well as Milan in their respective dioceses.' To conclude,
it is useless to load the conscience with vain rules, to
take oaths against eating meat or drinking wine, for
where we do so we only lay a trap for ourselves to fall in ;
but it is most useful to let conscience have free play, to
consider what the end of life is, and why above us, yet in
us, presides this mysterious judge, this secret spy which
knows all our ' evil and corrupt affections ; ' and yet,
blessed be God, knows our trials and our triumphs too.
CHAPTER III.
OF MANLY READINESS.
CHAPTER III.
Valour — The Workers in Life — The Norse- Man — Hamlet on
Readiness — Procrastination — The Winning Moment — Making
up ' Minds ' — Self-Help — Early Rising — Readiness.
[ALOUR, which some will spell after the
Roman fashion, ' Valor ' (obliterating that
which delicately marks the transition state
from that tongue, in which we received the
word), signifies worth. Actually, it is value, which was
once written ' valure,' and a valourous man was one who
would win his way by worth and readiness, capacity,
ability, boldness. A manly, ready man, first in war, first
in love, and equal to the occasion, was the man to be
esteemed. Not that fighting alone was ever to be solely
commended. ' There could not produce enough come
out of that ! ' says a quaint thinker. ' I suppose the right
good fighter was oftenest also the right good forest feller
D
34
A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
— the right good improver, discemer, doer, and worker
of every kind ; for the true valour, different enough from
ferocity, is the basis of all : a more legitimate kind of
valour, that showing itself against the untamed forests and
dark brute powers of Nature, to conquer Nature for us/
Truly, then, a valiant man is the true man, if we read
this rightly. He is, according to the sound heraldic
motto of a noble family, i Ready, aye ready/ Whether
to do or to die, it matters little to such a man, seeing that,
in the battle of human life, each moment a valiant man
goes forth, and lays down his life.
And this he does without thinking, in an honest
straightforward way, taking as his wages, for the most
part, hard work and hard living, and looking straight
into the future, without much hope of improvement.
That is the case with most of us. On this little angle-
land — this piece of earth rescued from the yeasty waves
of the Atlantic and German Oceans, blown over by
chilling winds from the north-east, and watered with
warm showers from the south-west — on this fragment,
split from the rest of Europe, and shaped much like a
scraggy leg of mutton, with Scotland for a knuckle end,,
there are, we will say, about nineteen millions of English
men and women, and three millions of Scots ; and of
these twenty-two millions, nineteen at least work from
day to day without much promise of making a fortune,
yet content to see others possess houses and lands,,
horses and fine clothes. There may be a million of
THE NORSE-MAN'S DEATH. 35
well-to-do land, fund, and property holders, who ' live at
home at ease,' and laugh at to-morrow ; but there are
certainly not more : and nous autres are obliged to be up
and doing, as busy as ants in their hill, bees in their hive,
or a moving mass of mites in a cheese, tumbling over
each other, and doing all in our power to do the best for
ourselves.
Now, just as much as a man drives out fear, marches
boldly on, says his say, does his act, so much is he a
valiant man. In the old Norse legends it was indis-
pensable to be brave. Odin cast out of his heaven, the
Valhalla, all who were tainted with cowardice ; and over
a battle-field, the priests taught, went the Valkyrs, or
choosers of the slain, heavenly messengers, or angels,
who took care only to admit the valiant. The kings,
when about to die, having missed, we will suppose, their
right opportunity of getting properly knocked on the
head in battle, lay down in a ship, which, with its sails
set, drifted out into the ocean, charged with fire, too, in
the hold, so that the king might blaze in his tomb, and
be delivered to the sky and ocean, Others cut them-
selves and marked their bodies with honourable wounds,
so that Odin might, peradventure, be deceived, and take
them in. So, too, they loved Thor as well as Odin ; and
Uhland finds it a trait of ' right honest strength, that the
old Norse heart finds its friend in the Thunder-God.'
There is a great deal more in Shakspere's notion of
$6 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
readiness, or a perpetual and ever-present spring of
valour, than even in the Norse suggestions. To the
philosophical Hamlet it is clear as light that a brave sub-
mission to the decrees of Providence is to be accounted
of equal value with righteousness itself. ' If it be now,
'tis not to come,' he says of death ; ' if it be not to come,
it will be now ; if it be not now, yet it will come : the
readiness is all'
It would be well if we all bore this grand truth in our
minds. If we did, the craning of our necks after impos-
sible altitudes, the straining of our consciences, and the
bent of our minds would be done away with. ' Be ye
ready, therefore,' is the constant injunction in the Bible.
There is in all well-bred animals an ease, readiness, and
cheerfulness in work that is superior to some men ; but
those men are little better than fools. There are whole
nations that have lain in the background, with regard to
others, grumbling, fretting, worrying, and going back-
wards, simply because they were never ready to face their
true position. Whereas the Scots, with about as poor a
land as they well could have, have by industry and valour
kept their heads not only above water, but have placed
themselves foremost in the world. Yet, what a small
people it is, multiplying fast truly, sending out colonists,
and fixing on a new Scotland, and settling themselves
readily to work, fighting in the middle ages, filling the
armies of France and Germany with the most trusted
WORLD- WAITERS. 3 7
guards, and ready in the present day to merge into
gardeners or farmers. In one state they are as good as
another — a shrewd, patient, hardy, brave nation ; a
people seldom to be enough praised, seeing that we are
plagued with others whom we have always to help, who
cry against their landlords, their land, their Church, their
climate, their position, and even against themselves ; who
perpetually grumble, but do not get on.
Readiness is not only manly, but generous. This, we
have said before, in pointing out with what vigour well-
bred horses work, and well-bred dogs hunt : ioxgenerosus,
which we read as an equivalent to liberality, means sim-
ply well-bred, of a good stock ; and the generous giver,
the liberal man, is ever the ready man. It is lucky that
it is so. There are so many hindrances, such coldness,
deadness, and delay everywhere, that, if it were not for
some forward and excellent spirits, the world would forget
itself to marble, and little or nothing would be done ; for
the unready, if not always close and mean, carry this kind
of reflection about them, — they are fond of putting things
off ; they find it convenient to wait; what they have to
do will be done quite as well to-morrow, and so oil
Such people no doubt have their use. They are the
dead weight which keeps the coach steady, the ballast
which trims the boat.; but, in another way, they are worse
than useless : they are dangerous in the extreme. When
Doctor Young wrote his poems there was a vile Latin
3 8 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
style prevalent, which made him use long foreign Latinised
words, instead of their equivalent in plain English. His
words, with these long-tailed terminations, have been
easily seized upon as very useful to pedantic writing-
masters : thus the capital line, —
Procrastination is the thief of time,
has been repeated so often, that it has almost lost its
meaning. Suppose anyone were to render the line in plain
English, and say, ' Putting things off till to-morrow steals
away our lives,' he would be thought to have said some-
thing original. The-putter-ofT-till-to-morrow, the next-day-
man, or the procrastinat&r, is truly an individual not at all
to be trusted. He rises late, and is always behind time;
yet he seems to imagine — only it is impossible that he
should do so — that he can run a race against time, and
overtake yesterday, so as to snatch back the two hours
he lost doing nothing. John Gaspar Lavater, the
great physiognomist, made a shrewd remark about such a
one. He said of him that, having prorogued to-day's
honesty till to-morrow, he would probably prorogue it till
next day, and so on until eternity. So Macbeth, when
thinking of the passage of time, cries out, in an agony of
doubt and scorn,^
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time ;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.
THE WINNING MOMENT. 39
Yes, truly ; and the majority of such fools are fools very
like ourselves, who were not ready, A great general is,
according to Napoleon, to be distinguished from an infe-
rior one by always being a quarter of an hour beforehand.
It is by that little quarter of an hour that the battles
have ever been won. When once the mind is made up,
the best way is to act at once. Promptitude, readiness,
quickness, is, after all, as efficient as anything, and should
always be urged as an essential to thorough efficiency.
When once anything has been brought to a proper and
a clearly defined shape, the best way is ' to go in and win.'
If you wait, you will find reflection come upon you, and
check your horse at the leap ; if you do the thing at once,
you will succeed. A well-known newspaper projector and
proprietor had an idea brought to him by a man who was
not rich enough to bring the paper out himself. It is the
rule of the world that almost all the discoverers and in-
ventors have not sufficient capital to float their discoveries;
and so it was with our poor projector, who urged his capital
idea on the capitalist with all the determination he could.
However, the man with the money required time to think
and to feel the pulse of the public. Would the public
care about a comic paper ? Would there be enough people
to buy it ? Would there be enough comic talent to sup-
port it ? All these questions took a long time to settle ;
but at last the gentleman made up his mind that the notion
was a capital one, and that he would embark in it He went
4 o A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
therefore in a hurry along the Strand to Stationers' Hall
to register the idea, and met a man carrying a placard,
announcing the publication of ' Punch, ' a new comic
serial, to be published every week ! That was the very
publication which he wished to register ; but it had passed
out of his hands for ever !
Rashness is of course not to be commended, but it is
better than perpetual unreadiness. ' Men first make up
their minds,' wrote Archbishop Whately (and the smaller
the mind, the sooner it is made up), ' and then seek for
the reasons.' The witticism is not a new one with the
archbishop ; nor of course is it not wholly true. There
is a class of mind considerably smaller than the readily
made up mind, and that is the vacillating, shifty, trembling,
hesitating mind, that is never made up at all. Decision of
character and promptitude are always signs of greatness.
It is the little fellow, the timid animal with a brain not so
big as that of a hen pheasant, that goes fluttering about
from one thing to another, and never decides for himself
until he lets death decide for him; and then, as a modern
writer has it, when the woodman's cry is heard, and we
know that where the tree falls it must lie, a dreadful voice
will thus shout in his ear, —
The dead past life has pass'd, and no more
Can you act the old foolishness o'er :
You've your tally — 'tis ten and threescore.
HELP YOURSELF. 41
So take up the dark lamp, — come on :
It don't matter : you now must be gone ;
And the fool and his folly are one.
We make the world we live in. If our young men
could, instead of hoping for some one to help them, tho-
roughly believe that, what an alteration world there be.
It is the men who are reduced to ' first principles,' who
begin with nothing, who are untrammelled by false hopes
— begot by falser friends — who make their way. Were
we to be as active here, and as ready to help ourselves as
the colonists of South Australia and America are, does
anyone suppose that we should have the mass of pauper-
ism that eats into our charities, blots our civilisation, and
hardens our hearts ? When you are learning to swim,
the teacher who may have given you some necessary
support, suddenly takes that away and bids you strike
out. You would have timidly clung to that support long
after it was needless, but for him. With a shrinking
timidity, and almost horror, you obey the impulse of his
voice, and strike out, and, oh what pleasure ! find that
you can swim. So, again, half the defeats in life are
occasioned by want of sticking out, by the disease of
unreadiness, rather than by adverse circumstance, and
more than half of the miserable regrets in life arise from
the bitterly remembered moments which were wasted
when so much might have been achieved.
42 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
One very common result of want of readiness is ill-
temper. This is not only produced upon others who
witness it, and are the victims of want of decision, but on
the unready persons themselves. A certain young lady
(and of how many can this be said which is so true of
one ! ) had a habit of debating whether she should rise or
not at eight o'clock in the morning, and generally carried
on this lazy unready debate so long that it was nine be-
fore she got down. A direct consequence of this was
that she was very angry with herself, and even if no word
was said, felt miserable and at a discount. The unreadi-
ness, begun in the morning, communicated itself to every
other hour in the day: too late for breakfast, too late for
dinner, too late for tea ; a miserable ten minutes or a
quarter of an hour behind time ; and upon this hung the
comfort, peace, and happiness of a whole family. In a
burlesque essay the ' Saturday Review,' some years ago,
insisted that early rising was a bad and an unchristian
thing, because it made a man so thoroughly well satisfied
with himself for all the day afterwards. He was too well
pleased, too happy, to be good. Perhaps no stronger
reason, and it is a very true and exact one, could be given
in favour of early rising.
The reverse holds good with lateness. Not to be ready
for church, not to be ready for dinner, not to sit down to
tea till all others are placed, — these seem small faults, but
BE UP TO TIME. 43
they make too many families essentially miserable. It is
little use if we say that a wife has no other fault but that
of never being up to time : that is enough to make any
household a miserable one ; and it is worse when the head
of the family is afflicted with a like disease. All mankind
is weak, afflicted with infirmities, has its fears, its cowar-
dices, its doubts, and thus it is easily led away from its
purpose. When a nation is afflicted with the disease, it
will very quickly fall into a certain want, desuetude, and
decay. When any great part of the nation is thus afflicted
— as our present House of Lords seems afflicted — it will
be well to cut and prune away that part, so that the other
be not poisoned by it. Speculation, doubt, a weighing of
matters over and over again, is not the chief end of man ;
it is prompt and energetic action. No proficiency in
knowledge, cultivation, poetry, or the fine arts, can give
a man anything like compensation for a want of decision,
■ — a want of command over himself and his faculties.
Reduce him to an aimless, actionless man, and you make
less than an automaton of him. He will dally with and
fritter away all the fine qualities he has, and become more
contemptible than the untaught man, who does his little
after his own small light. Readiness is especially a
Christian virtue. The highest Voice that ever spake has
cried out to us, ' Therefore be ye also ready,' and has, in
the beautiful Parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins,
44
A MAJSTS THOUGHTS.
urged with the greatest possible strength the folly of delay;
for while we are horrified at the blank despair of those
who were shut out in outer darkness, we read that l they
that were ready went in with Him/
CHAPTER IV.
THE HEROIC IN LIFE.
CHAPTER IV.
A Savage Young Couple — Love — The Heroic — Self -Delusion —
Effeminate Heroes— A Narrow Age— True Heroism.
N the Malay Archipelago, the pirates of
which that great, good, and tender-hearted
hero, Sir James Brooke, of Borneo, punished
with judicial severity, man-slaying is a proof
of greatness. In the island of Ceram no one is allowed
to marry till he has cut off one human head at least,
Angelina whispers to Edwin, ' Now you know we might
settle and be a briital and idolatrous young couple, only
you have not done that murder.' The head of a child
will do, that of a woman is better, because she can cry
out and kick and fight, or she is cunning enough to hide
herself; but the head of a man is the best, and the head
of a white man the most glorious trophy of all. On the
surf-beaten coast many a good British vessel has gone to
pieces, and the tired sailor, who has fought with the
waves for dear life, and has escaped the hungry sea, has
48 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
been brained by some lurking savage, and his head, with
his fair English curls dabbled in blood, has been carried
to some dark-skinned bride, or even worse, sold to some
savage ' swell,' whose coward heart would not permit him
to be a hero without it.
For, twisted, bent, refracted, contorted, and miserably
retorted, as this custom is by the baseless legends of the
cruel and lying process of a bloody idolatry, it in some
measure represents hero worship. Bad as the stupid
savage must be who knocks a baby on the head, and
fancies that he is doing a noble action, we may distil
some kind of goodness out of him. Action is better than
inaction ; to have done even that small amount of murder
is nobler in his opinion than to have done nothing. What
he selfishly desires is to be distinguished ; the blunder-
headed, greedy, blear-eyed, glittering shark-toothed, mur-
derous savage, he, too, would be a hero.
We all have heroes and heroines — of a sort. Some
pick out those who are distinguished from other men
solely by their good looks, platonically supposing that to
look good and to be good are the same ; others will
demand cleverness ; others will throw aside excellence of
form if they can get excellence of genius, capacity, or
goodness. ' I did not marry my husband,' said a lady,
'for beauty, but for brain.' — 'I would rather,' said
another, ' have a handsome fool than an ugly philosopher ;
I will please my eye, but I will plague my heart.' A
LOVE FOR LOVES SAKE. 49
third will follow out Goldsmith's excellent plan, which he
puts down at the beginning of the ' Vicar of Wakefield,'
' I chose my wife as she chose her wedding gown, not for
beauty of material, but because it would last a long time.'
But put it how people may, there are very few of the
young who marry who fall in love with the real, actual,
living person they see.
It may be exceedingly annoying to Jones, but it is
quite true that his little wife loves an ideal Jones, some
one whom her imagination dresses up as a far different
and far nobler being than Jones himself.
Amelia, in ' Vanity Fair,' thinks that there is no one
nobler, no one more clever, nobody handsomer than her
George Osborne ; and he is not wise enough to see (and
how happy are we who are not wise enough !) that the girl
dotes upon her beautiful, her pure, her noble ideal — that
all her heart has gone out to meet the big hero she has
tricked out with the rainbow colours of love, and that she
does not even know the selfish prig of a citizen's son, who
struts about in his bones, his flesh, his good looks, his
blue eyes, his curls, and his clothes.
Do any people love us solely for ourselves ? Have we
ever dared to strip off the mask of every-day actions, of
pretended piety, of honesty which was policy, of gene-
rosity which was advertisement, of firmness which arose
from stupidity, of activity which had root in fear ? Save
you, Mr. Smith : you are an Elder in your chapel and
E
50 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
Mayor of your town ; your name, the local paper tells us,
adorns the annals of the British merchant ; you are a
self-made man, a paragon of uprightness, industry, and
honour. How much of this is true ? — how much does it
differ from the character of that other Mr. Smith whom
you yourself and your Creator only know! From an
innate feeling of unworthiness we get the proverb, * No
man is a hero in the eyes of his valet ; ' an untrue
proverb of real heroes, who are more heroic the more
truly we know them, but a true one of most men, who
are best at a distance, and cannot be known intimately.
And what is said here of men may be applied to women
with even greater force. They live in a little world by
themselves. To the generous boy each one is a sacred
and beautiful thing, full of generosity and self-sacrifice,
existing as his mother, only to comfort him in sickness
and to dower him with love ; as his sister, only to shield
and to aid him, to cover his faults and to plead his
excuses ; as his sweetheart, as something more beautiful
than common humanity, some piece of Nature's handi-
work of the finest porcelain, while he is of common clay.
Too often marriage changes these heroines into mere
women, of common vulgar passions ; somewhat worse
because weaker than ourselves.
The worship of the heroic is a very pretty pastime, and
should be encouraged. We are best acquainted with it
in that which some have called its birthplace, Greece,
THE HEROIC. 51
where the heroes were gifted with almost divine honours,
and were said to have performed innumerable great
deeds. The twelve labours of Hercules and the deeds
of Orpheus were the wonder of the young men of Greece ;
and the most entrancing poet of antiquity has given in
his ' Iliad ' a gallery of heroes from the brave Achilles
and noble Hector, the reflecting and patient Ulysses, to
the terrible Ajax, and the aged essence of wisdom, Nestor,
It is well that in the youth of the world we find qualities
that are truly admirable placed among the heroic. As
time runs on, we find other story-tellers inventing other
heroes, but we never find them altogether untrue to that
which is noble. Bravery and strength, good fortune and
skill in man, are always worshipped in the rudest romances.
Sir Guy of Warwick, Sir Bevis of Hampton, and the
whole round of chivalric heroes, are always ready to
shield the weak, to punish the strong, to help distressed
damsels, and to fight giants. The mediaeval romances
which turned the brain of Don Quixote were good so far,
at least, or that noble gentleman would never have been
fired into madness by reading them. Each hero, like
Artegal, in Spenser's ' Faery Queen/ has a mission. His
main object is, as we know, to rescue Irena from the
tyranny of Grantosto ; but while on that mission he is
ever ready to turn aside from his way to repress violence,
to rescue innocence, and to punish the spirit of mischief,
folly, and cruelty. Such a determination would be heroic
52 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
at any time ; and happily we find the ideal hero of the
modern romance just as ready as Palladius or Musidorus,
or any of the noble heroes of Sidney's charming ' Arcadia.'
The fashions of these ideal beings, however, change
with the times. In this very ' Arcadia/ when any one
goes to fight, he is always not only equal but superior to
the occasion. We have been taunted with the fact that
in our nautical dramas we made our one sailor always
equal to three Frenchmen. One he killed with his
cutlass, another with his pistol, and a third he knocked
down with his quid of tobacco. So these very gentlemen,
Palladius and Musidorus, are gifted with enormous fight-
ing powers ; and even Shakspere, whose heroes are in
general nature itself, has made his Orlando, a mere
stripling, overthrow and nearly kill the * Duke's bony
prizer,' when he wrestles. It is not every young man
who can stand up against a prize-fighter and beat him ;
but that is little in the life of a hero.
After the grand romance in which the heroes had the
strength of gods, and the heroines a divine beauty,
troubled with superhuman sorrows, there came a time
when people sickened of great fighters and noble fellows,
and took to beaux and rakes as heroes. The hero of the
play or the book in those times dwindled down to an
effeminate creature, who had a woman's complexion and
more than a woman's vanity ; who warbled amorous
ditties, and was content to be made love to ; did not like
VICIOUS HEROES. 53
fighting, and was as feeble as he was effeminate There
are signs that we have returned to this sort of creature in
our plays and novels, and that such heroes are mostly
drawn by the women. 'Nothing is more apparent in
Mrs. 's novels/ said a reviewer, a few weeks ago,,
1 than the tendency that the women have to make love to
the men.' In the very popular play of ' Our American
Cousin/ an actor evolved out of his own brain a most
odious, although cleverly conceived character, Lord
Dundreary \ who could not speak, look, talk, or walk,;
who was selfish, stupid, cunning, and mean, as the women
say, ' to a degree ; ' who, in most matters of life, was no
better than a half-witted creature; and yet the ladies
accepted him at once as a hero. The prettiest girl in
the piece had to make love to him, and to be blunderingly
accepted ; and this whole reversal of all that is true and
noble, of all, in fact, that is heartily funny and laughable^
was accepted, and is accepted now, with considerable
applause, by the unthinking.
The vicious and effeminate heroes of Congreve's days,
men who are always plotting against some woman's
honour, some husband's peace, cheating some confiding
father or gentle wife, still retained a certain amount of
courage, that quality being always essential to man; but
beyond that, they had scarcely one human virtue.
Fielding, with a high scorn for what is effeminate in.mar^
54 A MAJSPS THOUGHTS.
makes his heroes strong as well as brave and generous,
and especially open, bold, and manly.
His Tom Jones has a good appetite, can drink, eat,
fight, make love, and enjoy himself, and is quite a
different being from a coxcomb. For a time his healthy
school prevailed, until we got into a more romantic and
sickly period, wherein every hero was bound to visit old
castles, to rescue damsels, to see ghosts, and to go
through much peril for the sake of a timid and shrinking
heroine, who never went to bed without gazing on the
moon and pouring out her complaints in a copy of verses*
The fashions of heroines had in the meantime under-
gone material but not such great changes. We are fond
of good women in England, and our heroines are all of
that excellent pattern which includes goodness ; but we
have had the arch, the hoydenish, the masculine,, and the
mawkish young lady. We have grown fond of those
who were always in trouble and always shedding tears.
At about this period of the history of romance the
heroine very often went mad; and, as Sheridan says,
when the chief lady went mad in white satin,, the faithful
attendant went mad' in white muslin. We have even for-
gotten how necessary it was for a heroine to have a faith-
ful attendant to whom she could pour out her sorrows,,
and who always at the right time brought the ladder of
ropes to enable her to escape from the cruel father.
Nay, our very fathers have ceased to be cruel m x such is
SENTIMENT AND ROMANCE. 55
fashion in romance : and, more wondrous change still,
our Frenchmen now are polite, generous, brave, and very
accomplished fellows. Formerly we only used Johnny
Crapaud to laugh at ; he was always starved, and priest
and king-ridden, as Hogarth coarsely wrote —
With lantern jaws and croaking guts
The braggart Frenchman proudly struts.
And yet our Plantagenet wars, and our wars under
Marlborough, ought to have made us respect that most
honourable, gallant, and brave nation that lives across
the Channel. Never had one nation a more constant
and gallant foe, always ready to fight, and always with
spirit and honour, than had England in the French.
After the romantic hero, there succeeded, led on by
Henry Mackenzie, the sentimental, soft, reflective, and
very good hero, the Man of Feeling, whose heart was
open as the day to melting charity, and who never did a
good action, or relieved a case, without quoting a fine
mouth-rounding sentiment, such as, * The man who will
see his humble brother starve while he has plenty is un-
worthy of/ &c. ; or if he defended a woman from a
ruffian, he would use the celebrated formula., * The man
who would raise his hand against a woman, save in the
way of kyindness, is unworthy of the name of a British
seaman.' But this sort of hero was altogether too good
for the British public, and did not last long. It is a cruel
$6 A MAJSTS THOUGHTS.
thing to say, but it is true, — the people, as a rule, do not
believe in good young men. The very way to be thought
really bad, is to appear to be good. These excellent
young heroes produced a revolution of feeling. With
something like a relief we turn from the sentimental
goodness of Joseph Surface to the downright raking
wickedness of Charles Surface. People could believe in
one, but not in the other. It will be some years yet
before the public really believes in the pattern hero.
After the sentimental hero came the utterly bad
villainous fellow, the Byronic person, 'linked with one
virtue and a thousand crimes/' the fellow eaten up with
murders and remorse. Women shed abundant tears
over this villainous puppet in black boots and blacker
ringlets, and he lasted for a time, till Walter Scott brought
back the pure and the noble ideal of a true, honest, able,
conscientious gentleman, whom a woman can love.
Counting one or two aberrations in favour of highway-
men, we have this pattern of hero now, except that some
of the best men writers have despaired of drawing a hero,
and have made their chief man but a negative personage,,
while the women have run wild with the notion that it is
the province of the hero to have love made to him, not
by him. Some great authors have been content to draw
heroes unutterably base, under the notion that they copy
from life ; but these are exceptions.
Can we admire anything pure ? A great noise deafens
LOOK HIGHER. 57
us, too much light blinds us, large excellence makes us
suspect, much goodness is all too exalted for us grovelling
earth-worms. Is not the bad boy in the family a hero to
his little sisters? and was not, after all, Master Tom
Jones inferior to what was seen of Master Blifil, and yet
preferred before him ? We admire that which is physi-
cally perfect, we fall to raptures over a statue, over a
living Antinous ; we are delighted with a horse or a bull
which is a model of beauty. Why should we not equally
love a noble good man and woman when we meet them ?
Why ostracise Aristides merely because he is called 'The
Just'? Norris of Bemerton, from whom Dr. Blair and
Mr. Thomas Campbell stole their ' angel-visits few and
far between,' gives the precise reason why we love faulty
rather than perfect heroes. It is not because they are
more like ourselves, nearer to our own weakness — as if a
vase with a crack could not love that which is whole —
but because of the weakness of our mortal nature. For
what he says of joys we may apply, without much vio-
lence, to heroes : —
Those who soonest take their flight,
Are the most exquisite and strong,
Like angel-visits short and bright ;
Mortality's too weak to bear them long.
Poor Human Nature ! Here, in this very quotation, is
her weakness discovered. The Campbell-Blair imitation
5 8 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
has not half the beauty of the original, but the world pre-
fers the paste, and rejects the diamond !
The Hero and Heroine fulfil in fiction very important
functions. The author should always paint from life,
but must add, of course, points which are noble, and
matter which exalts. While the imagination is young
and fresh, it feeds upon noble qualities ; it demands
truth, honesty, and bravery in its men ; purity and
devotion in its women. The very meanest of mankind
looks to something nobler than himself; the higher
natures look to something better still. The author who
has sufficient skill to paint from Nature need not fear to
make his hero too good, or his heroine too noble ; for
human nature, in every nation and in every time, while
too fertile in bad things, can show instances of the
grandest goodness, and of almost divine excellence.
CHAPTER V.
WHICH TREATS OF LARGE
NATURES.
CHAPTER V.
• School ' — The Manager — Lear and Hamlet — Money's True
Power — The Age of Elizabeth — Higher Levels — But One Man
Wanted — Large Minds Dominated by Small Ones — The
Happy Wife— Salt of the Earth.
^N a very pretty modern comedy, which is
admirably suited to its age and audience,
but which an after and a wider age may
perhaps look upon as feeble, if not foolish,
there are one or two sentences which cause reflection.
This is indeed to be wondered at, for wit and wisdom
have equally been, for a long time, almost banished from
our stage. - My dear sir,' said a manager, only the other
day, to an author, 'your piece is too good.' 'But you
have an educated audience?' 'Yes, pretty well; they are
first-rate families.' 'Well, then,' persisted the unfortunate
author, ' they can understand it.' 'Understand it ! — yes,'
62 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
cried the manager, ' but hang it, man, it won't do ; you
make the people think, — and you would empty my theatreV
The manager was wise in his generation. People do
not go to a theatre as they once did ; the newspaper, the
magazine, and the thoughtful essay furnish reflective
natures with enough food for the mind, and they do
their thinking at home. At a theatre they expect to be
amused ; and, as a rule, the poorer audience, so that you
do not reach the ' roughs ' and ' groundlings,' is by far
the wiser and better. Rich folk, who dine at seven or
eight, do not desire to sit out Shakspere, with those
enormous problems of his, which are so plentiful in
Hamlet or Lear. Take the reflection of the guilty king
at his prayers : —
May one be pardon'd, and retain the offence ?
In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice j
And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law : But 'tis not so above :
There is no shuffling ; there the action lies
In his true nature.
Or take some of the tremendous invectives of Lear
against lazy luxury. Would our wealthy do-nothing
classes sit and listen to them 1 No. Our modern plays
must please to live, or they will not live to please. It is
not often, therefore, that we come upon one line or
sentence worth remembering or repeating.
In the comedy referred to, a rich nobleman does what
WHAT MONEY DOES. 63
few rich noblemen have the brains or the pluck or the
good fortune to do : he falls in love with a pretty pupil-
teacher, who has abundance of everything in the world,
except money. She has beauty, health, sense, modesty,
form, learning, strength, good-nature, and sweet humility;
and yet when this young lord asks her whether she has a
lover, she says, 'No, my lord, because I am so poor;*
upon which comes, very appropriately, though the
audience hardly catches it — ' Poor ! How these great
natures do mistake themselves ! '
How they do indeed ! — and yet scarcely so. They
have all the world, or all the world that is worth having,
in themselves. Money, as the author elsewhere remarks,
can buy nothing that they have. ' Ten thousand a year
could not fight in the Crimea, could by itself not look well,
speak well, and eat well. Ten thousand a-year could not
put its arm round your waist, could it ? ' Money is the
most empty windbag in the world when you have it;
when you have it not, it appears a horse of a different
colour; and if 'great natures' mistake that fact, they
must indeed be mistaken. But do they? What are
these natures 1 Is one man so different from another
that there is a specific difference — a larger, wider utterance
— a nobler heart ?
We think that there is ; and not only in men, but in
ages ; although in no time does God leave himself with-
out witnesses in the world, who ' stand out,' as painters
64 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
say, up and above their fellow-men, as mountains do
above the plain.
Sometimes, when people are debased, we see the re-
mains of these men, of smaller growth it may be, but yet
great men, standing, like the solitary Round Towers of
Ireland, to remind us of a forgotten age. Sometimes
these large and beautiful natures are so unhappily born
and placed that they dwindle, and become narrow. One
might as well have tried to be publicly great in the days
of George I. and Walpole, as an ordinary standard foot-
soldier might to attain the stature of an Amalekite. The
whole nation was grovelling and mean. Hogarth's pic-
tures were sold literally dirt cheap/ Shakspere could not
draw an audience. An edition of him was looked at as a
curiosity ; and learned critics, when they did speak of
him, spoke of a rude and uncultivated fellow, a wild, un-
taught genius, who did not know how to write a play.
Cibber and Tate altered his ' Lear,' and brought Cordelia
to life again. Vice was publicly taught upon the stage
as a spirited thing. Everything was distraught. The
finest geniuses — probably the two men who, in a nobler
age, would have come nearest to Shakspere — William
Collins and Thomas Chatterton, were left to die ; one by
melancholy madness, and the latter (poor hasty, clever,
wicked boy) of the more furious and impatient madness,
suicide. As for the Church, it was about as narrow as it
could be, and the Nonconformists were yet worse. The
SPENSER'S PLATO NISM. 65
country gentlemen were mere sloths, the town inhabitants
so unwise as to bury in towns such numbers of people,
that the graveyards, as Evelyn remarks of Norwich in a
former age, rose above the churches, which seemed sunk
in holes, to the 'great detriment and poysoning,' says a
doctor, of the inhabitants who lived round them. In
history, and in memoirs of the time, one can see these
bad times coming on. One can mark the vice or the
folly, at first only obscurely condemned, then unnoticed,
and then welcomed. You may perceive, as you read,
the dying out of religion, poetry, and the fine arts. In
portraits of the day you see the people grow uglier, more
bovine, animal-like, and mindless. ' There is no fine
temple,' insists the Platonist Spenser, ' but a fine spirit
chooses it to dwell in.' We cannot go so far as to say
that ; but truly there never has been a fine or heroic age
or race, as regards form and feature, but we have had fine
minds and larger natures dwelling with man \ and this is
to be proved not only by paintings, but by books. Such
plays and poems as Massinger's ' Virgin Martyr,' Spenser's
' Faery Queen,' the poems of Robert Browning, the best
novels of Charles Kingsley, or, let us say, the social
writings of John Ruskin, could by no possibility have
been produced under the dull German king, who hated
1 boetry and bainting,' and loved only money and sensual
pleasure. The texture of the minds and of the times was
F
66 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
utterly different. People of the one age really could not
understand the other.
Where'er a noble deed is wrought,
Where'er a noble thought is thought,
Our hearts in glad surprise
To higher levels rise !
So sings the poet upon the quiet, unpretending goodness
of Miss Nightingale and the small band of lady nurses in
the Crimea. Unfortunately for humanity, we are forced
to own that the * higher levels ' that one age achieves are
often left high and dry by its succeeding age.
The larger natures amongst men and families are to be
met with under the most extraordinary and unforeseen
circumstances. To no one nation, family, or class does
Almighty wisdom allow a monopoly of goodness. So
much do children differ, that Shakspere makes one of his
characters attribute the fact to the influence of a sublime
and supernatural Power, rather than to education : —
It is the stars,
The stars above us, govern our conditions ;
Else one self mate and mate could not beget
Such different issues.
And although some tricks of face and limb may be here-
ditary, and capacity and talent are often inherited, we
may find many a father with a mean, grovelling, and
narrow mind succeeded by a son who is quite his opposite
— generous, or even profuse. The old miser, who has
ONE GREAT MAN 67
scraped all his life, and has starved himself to amass
money, seems to have taught his son to do exactly the
reverse ; the very meanness of his life has shown, by an
example more potent than any amount of preaching, the
folly of avarice; and the mean, penurious father pro-
duces a ' larger nature ' in a profuse son. Actually, how-
ever, the selfishness of the man who dissipates is often
just as great as that of him who accumulates ; both are
actuated by vanity, but show it in different ways. The
larger nature is not necessarily profuse, although it is
always generous, sometimes even to excess.
Nor does it always happen, notwithstanding the happi-
ness which the world receives from them, that those of
an expansive and generous mind are either successful
men or happy in themselves. The world hardly knows
where it misses them ; it is brought to a lower level ; it
is miserable in its results. One such man will insensibly
affect a whole age, just as a great general will establish or
uphold an empire. There is a French anecdote about
Marlborough which is here very much to the point.
After the battle at Hochstadt or of Blenheim, in which
Marlborough had so utterly and decisively beaten his
opponents, while taking note of the prisoners the General
saw a fine grenadier, stalwart, proud, and unbending,
even though beaten. ' Ah,' said he in French, ' if Louis
XIV. had a hundred thousand such men as you, he
would carry on the war a little differently.' ' 'Tis not,'
68 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
said the soldier, as he saluted him, ' 'tis not a hundred
thousand such as me that he wants, mon general, but one
such a man as you.' So, when the mean and subtle get
possession of the State, or of the direction of public
opinion, when financiers, political economists of the
worst class, mere speculators and traders, have the direc-
tion of public affairs, the whole tone of a nation's thoughts
and actions become petty, for
Honour sinks where Commerce long prevails.
Athens and Rome, raised by heroes, fell at last to huck-
sters. The throne of the empire of Rome was put up to
public auction, and sold to perhaps the meanest of
mortals ; for he who would dare to purchase a dignity
without having the inherent capacity for it, must be a
mean-souled hind, to be abominated and accursed with
all the comminations of Lent. Happily the poor wretch
was punished even by the honour he sought : the swords
of the Praetorians who had sold the dignity washed away
the stain in the blood of the purchaser.
The larger nature, wherever it is found, is very attrac-
tive. Smaller minds cling to it, as little particles of steel
fly towards a magnetised bar. As Plutarch well saw, Brutus,
who was of the breed of noble blood which Rome so
soon lost, was necessary for the success of the plot against
Caesar. The narrow soul of the mean and plotting
Cassius could not carry all the weight of the conspiracy.
NARROW VIEWS. 69
It was necessary to attach the nobler nature ; and then,
as Cassius saw, others would follow. But it is observable
that in that case, as in many others, the larger nature
was dominated by the narrower. Cassius governed
Brutus, even while he wondered at his goodness and
greatness ; but he did it by cunning. Generally, the
mean nature is utterly opposed to the wider, because it
really does not understand what the larger nature does.
A painter descanting enthusiastically upon the beauties
of the setting sun, turned round to his auditor, and saw
upon his face a contemptuous smile. Great natures do
not half so much mistake themselves as they are mis-
taken, and the confidence of ignorance plumply denies
what it cannot understand. The larger nature, which is
occupied with heavenly things, while all around it grope
after things of the earth, is treated as Hamlet is by his
mother in the ghost scene : —
Q. Alas, he's mad ! To whom do you speak this ?
H. Do you see nothing there 1
Q. Nothing at all ; yet all, thai is, I see.
H. Nor did you nothing hear ?
Q. No, nothing but ourselves.
We believe that we can see everything, and that the
genius or the larger nature is romantic, nighty, and not
to be trusted. We measure the world by the tape-yard we
carry with us, and refuse to trust in anything beyond the
rule of thumb. Very often the great nature is maddened
70 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
soured, and disappointed. He who would have made
all so happy is rendered miserable ; he who would have
discoursed music ' most eloquent ' is set to discord.
This narrowing of large views, this moral ossification of
the noble heart, is a process at first so slow and imper-
ceptible to the victim that it is very dangerous. Some-
times a great blow, a terrible loss, a sickness which makes
the patient rise a new man ; or a disappointment which
never can be got over, will awaken him or her who is
drifting towards the rapids. But ordinarily women sink
quietly to the lower level, and their nobler natures die
without a sign, ' what is fine within them growing coarse
to sympathise with clay.' For noble natures require food,
excitement, deeds, and thoughts to feed on. Do we
grow hot-house grapes on the north-east wall of a poor
cottage, or English pine-apples in the bare exercise yard
of a workhouse ? You must exercise your horses and use
dumb-bells to keep up your biceps, and will you let your
virtue starve ? Can you feel noble amongst those who
never utter a noble sentiment, or give birth to a fine
thought ? whose talk is of cattle, whose ambition is finer
company, whose god is their gold ? In our Sisterhoods,
in which there is much good no doubt mixed with follies
and failures, since they are human, the Principals find it
necessary to send the sisters back to comfortable houses
and good furniture, sound living, pictures, music, and the
world, so much are their spirits saddened and deadened
INNOCENT JOY. 71
by the sordid evils that they see. So, too, the soul of the
large nature demands its own music, or, like the sky-lark
that lives with sparrows, it becomes dumb-
And what shall a large nature do at home surrounded
by small ones, each with some small grievance, each with
a continuous grumble ? Simply bear all, and do better.
We find these people in every street ; broadly speaking,
there are such in every house. Too often we meet with
families before whom a noble sentiment is never uttered,
who never hear the voice of prayer, nor that of gene-
rosity or of compassion, except in a poem or a play.
To overreach others, to succeed in life, to make money,
to enjoy themselves — and even then to take a mean
enjoyment — is the whole life of some. To rejoice in
others' pain, to be glad when others fail, to believe that
their own lot is the dullest and least to be desired, to
envy all who are above them, and to take no present joy
in what they have, is too often the rule of life of these
poor creatures. Poor indeed ! They are narrowed by
their own vices, punished by their own sins ; they shut
their eyes and will not see, close their ears and will not
hear. But from among them comes one whose life is
joyous and free, and in whom not all the deadening
intercourse of common life can destroy or hurt the larger
nature. To her there exist all the virtues : she believes
in generosity, for she is generous ; in self-sacrifice, for
she will leny herself; in goodness, for she is good ; in
72 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
pity, for she will weep at the sorrows of others ; in smiles
and laughter, for the merriment of boys and girls, and
the gambols of children, will make her heart rejoice.
Happy is such a one ; happy as well as great are those
who refuse to take a narrow, cruel view, and who, out of
the expansive nature of their own hearts, find goodness
and wisdom in others. He whose example taught us to
bear with all and love all, also gave us this consolation :
that when we carry out His behests, we surely become
the salt of the earth, the salt that preserves our very
corruptible human nature from becoming corrupt, and
that makes a good man's soul like a looking-glass, which,
receiving the sunshine of heaven, reflects it to the dark
corners of the earth, lighting up what is obscure and
dismal, but losing no particle of the divine rays itself
CHAPTER VI.
SELF-CULTURE, SELF-RESTRAINT,
AND SELF-RESPECT.
CHAPTER VI.
The Tub of Diogenes — Conquerors not great — Byron! s Dog —
Culture of Self — Prudence: its Value — Life, beautiful and free
— Men are not Machines — Self respect — The Hermit of Ham-
pole — Indulgences should be, destroyed.
,N what kind of tub did Diogenes live ? Was
it an old washing-tub, shallow and broad, or
long and deep, like a wine cask? It is
more than two thousand two hundred and
eighty years since the ragged old philosopher lived. He
was not worth one penny ; he never applied his notions
of self-help to making money ; he despised, flouted, and
hated the merely rich men, the fig-merchants and oil-
merchants of Athens ; but his name lives, and it is plea-
sant to read, think, and talk of him, while not a name
among those of his ' bloated ' and purse-swollen contem-
76 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
poraries is familiar to any of us. How is this ? That
question we may be able to answer by and by.
In the meantime, what sort of tub did he live in ? for
we may be assured that the legend is a true one. At one
time the philosopher dwelt in a deserted dog-kennel at
the entrance of one of the temples ; at another time it
appears that he had found without an owner, and occu-
pied, one of those huge earthen jars in which the rich
Greek merchants stored their oil, and which, in that land
of sunshine and blue skies, must have formed a warm and
comfortable residence. Its mouth was some four feet in
diameter, and its depth quite sufficient for a man to stand
up in, like that of the jars of Hadgi Baba, in which the
Forty Thieves took refuge. As this ■ tub ' lay on its side,
the warm morning sun streaming down upon the opposite
one, and into its mouth, must have afforded a pleasant
warmth to the basking philosopher, and will explain that
immortal sentence of his in reply to Alexander the
Great, — that essence of self-respect which will fitly open
our Essay.
As we may be sure Diogenes would not go to see
Alexander, that great conqueror (and conquerors were
then much greater men than now, our philosophy placing
them at a very low figure,) went to see him, surrounded
by a glittering corps of courtiers, generals with short flat
clanking swords that struck against their mailed buskins
with a pleasant rattle, while figures of Pallas and her owl
OUT OF MY SUNSHINE. 77
adorned their helmets, from which streamed the blood-red
plumes, dreadful to the eyes of maidens, and to babes,
as we know from Homer's well-known verses. We can
fancy the noise and swagger of this Grecian hero, and the
little philosopher with bare shoulders peeping from his
ragged cloak as he looked out of his oil-cask and watched
the glittering train approach ; and we can almost see the
monarch stand before the tub, as well as hear the sounding
Greek of the question, ' What can Alexander of Macedon
do for Diogenes ? ' The reply was, ' Get out of my
sunshine ! '
How thoroughly answered must the conqueror have
been 1 How dumb-foundered must his courtiers have
felt ! There was really nothing else for the poor man to
do but to mouth that silly attempt at a quid pro quo — ' If
I were not Alexander, I would be Diogenes.' Diogenes
had shown that he was greater than Alexander, and re-
mained in his tub master of the situation. We have in
Winckelmann's engraved gems one from the antique of
Diogenes leaning out of this vast pipkin as we have de-
scribed it ; and what gives the" gem a great feature of
truth is the fact that the jar is useless as a jar, having a
large crack in its side, which has been fruitlessly mended
by dovetails of lead ; but finding that the oil or wine
still exuded, the merchants have thrown it away, and
Diogenes, obliged to no one, puts it to its world-
renowned use.
78 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
Diogenes is an extreme instance of the weight of self-
respect. He had reduced himself to first principles ; he
was nothing but skin, flesh, muscles and bone, for he
would have gone without clothes had the Athenians per-
mitted him ; but he was Diogenes. He had no money
wherewith to bribe any judge ; no great train of attend-
ants ; no rich clothing ; not a shred of gold as an orna-
ment ; no furniture. He had one cracked wooden
bowl, from which he drank; but seeing a boy drink
out of his hollowed hand, he threw his bowl away. How
many of the rich citizens of Athens would have given
half their fortunes for permission to feast Alexander !
But that conqueror did not come to see them ; they did
not respect themselves, for they had degraded their lives
with useless labour and selfish care ; they were to be
loved for their possessions, their feasts; but Diogenes
was respected for himself.
We would not hold the cynic up as an example to be
followed. The time for such extreme and feverish hatred
of mankind, as is exemplified in Shakspere's ' Timon of
Athens,' is gone by. Although almost all great men have
found the world ' but as the world/ a place of trial, in
which Summer friends follow Summer fortunes, and
the chilling Winter of disrespect accompanies poverty
and fallen greatness ; although History attests that kings
have died solitary, and that great ministers, when they
have fallen, have had hardly one of all those whom they
SELF-CULTURE. 79
have loaded with favours to attend them, yet the wise
man will endeavour to love those whom he finds so
fragile, fickle, and false.
People who rail against the world do neither it nor
themselves good. The satirist is hated, though he speaks
the truth ; the solitary is disliked —
I was a stricken deer, which left the herd,
says the poet ; but when he left the herd, the herd de-
serted him, and left him to lonely madness ; and if Lord
Byron has attested on the tombstone of a dog, that the
faithful animal was in his opinion a nobler animal than
Man, and worthier of friendship, Man has had his re-
venge on the noble poet, who died self-banished from the
society he scorned.
The wisest way in the conduct of life is to know what
Man is, and to endeavour to improve ourselves by the
lesson. That is the shortest way to attain self-culture ;
for culture does not consist in learning several languages,
nor in knowing how to order a dinner, or clearly to
express our hopes, fears, and prayers, in various tongues
— there are many tongues on earth, but only one in
Heaven, as the epigraph upon Messrs. Bagster's admi-
rable editions of the Scriptures tells us — nor in being
able to solve an equation, or calculate an eclipse \ but it
does consist in having so instructed the soul that it shall
be gentle in demeanour, affectionate but bold, ready to
80 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
bear success or non-success, and to walk this stage of life
with proper and decent composure, exhibiting due love
and respect for the good and the true, and no excessive
amount of scorn for the base. This is a very hard lesson
either for a man or a nation. For the young, who, as a
rule, have a strong natural impulse for what is good, it is
very difficult indeed not to despise the foolish and the
wrong. For the strong in moral force, it is again more
difficult not to despise the weak and tortuous. For the
humorous and satirical (and young people have almost
always an abundant supply of good humour and sound
satire) it is most difficult of all ^not to indulge in funny
hits, and sneers, and savage satire. Let us take two
great satirists, Swift and Pope, the first a much bolder
and nobler spirit than the second ; it is difficult to con-
ceive a more unhappy life than that which Swift spent ;
it is difficult to find any works more full than Swift's of
biting hits, sly innuendoes, satiric praise, and savage
satire ; and this humour culminated in that popular work,
' Gulliver's Travels,' wherein he makes horses nobler than
men, paints women as lascivious apes, and causes his
hero to retire to his stable, having learnt the language of
horses, to enjoy a respite from the baseness which sur-
rounded him. But does such satire do good ? When
they buried this great man (for we hold that he was a
great and a good man, and of an exceedingly tender
heart), they said of him in his epitaph that they had laid
POPE AND JUVENAL. 81
him where cruel indignation (sceva indignatio) could never
vex him more. Were men more base in his time than in
Shakspere's ? Hardly so ; and yet we find in the greater
poet and wiser intellect much more genial excuse for the
follies and wickedness of man, and even a love for the
erring brothers and sisters who drew their breath upon
the same planet, and were surrounded by the same
temptations and follies as himself As for Pope, it is
unfortunately the truth that every new life of that philo-
sophical and admirable poet reveals a greater amount of
the very cunning he despised, and the baseness he
satirized. And if these great men cannot escape the
common weakness of humanity, how shall the ordinary
type of mankind escape ? Self-culture will teach him his
own weakness ; and a knowledge of that should teach
him kindness ; which, after all, pays best, and is a proof
of the greatest wisdom.
From self- culture, by which a man (and of course we
here include the other sex, and if you like it the nobler
though they' are ' much of a muchness ') will learn his
weaknesses as well as his better qualities, he will also
learn self-restraint. It is well to know just what we can
do well, and what we cannot do ; what we can bear, and
where we must forbear ; where we are strong, and where
we are weak. A very weak man may appear a strong
one if he is only tried upon his good points. As Juvenal,
Sat. x. 365, says, with a sneer at Fortune —
G
82 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
Nullum numen habes, si sit prudentia : sed te
Nos facimus, Fortuna, Deam, cceloque locamus.
1 Even Fortune is no goddess if a man be only prudent ;
for, after all, it is we who make Fortune a goddess and
place her in Heaven.' That is, it is to our weakness that
our belief in luck is due, and that proper prudence will
supply it. So we may say that a man should never want
prudence if he attains self-restraint, based upon self-
knowledge.
Half the nostrums of the world, which wise men, or those
who deem themselves wise, put forward to cure the evils
of society, will be put out of course by self-restraint. No
one except the most ardent teetotallers would argue that
it is a sin to taste wine. The sin consists in the excess,
and although vegetarians have a much better cause, for
on the face of the question it seems cruel to kill animals
to feed on them, perhaps they might listen to reason
where moderation is exercised. Self-restraint will make
every kind of enjoyment lawful in its proper time and
place, will induce good 'health, and satisfaction in life ;
will make our work a pleasure, our exercise delightful,
our rest and sleep refreshing. In these, also, we should
be careful and moderate. In fact there is nothing in
life that can be indulged in to excess without hurt to soul
and body. In like manner there is hardly anything in
life that need be shunned as a sin or a folly if taken
properly — used and not abused.
LIFE SHOULD BE FREE. S3
From self-culture and self-restraint springs self-
respect. To attain this we must be moderate in work
as well as in enjoyment ; and this moderation in work —
and in grasping the results of work, pay, place, or
honour — one of the purest and best writers of this age,
Professor Ruskin, has been usefully prominent in recom-
mending. Man's life should be beautiful and free. He
has no right to degrade himself to the level of a machine,
and for the bare sake of living to waste and throw away
all that makes life worth having. Can we expect the
young to honour the old, or to respect the mystery of
life itself, if all that is presented to them in the life-
time of their elders be one dull round of work, business,
dining, and sleeping ? Is life worth having at the price
of a constant dull struggle with sordid matters, with
buying and selling, with attempted advancement by
getting over the heads of others, without the relief of one
noble or generous action or one wide-minded sentiment ?
Life was not given to be spent in a round of pleasure ;
but some pleasure, and of the higher sort, every life
should have. Parents, teachers, and thinkers should
look to this. The wild reaction of youth, yes, and of age
too, against the dull, cold religion, the sordid gains and
continual work around them, is a protest not to be dis-
regarded. What wonder is it that we are called shop-
keepers, ' a nation of shopkeepers/ buyers and sellers,
and Philistines, if all we think of is mere shopkeeping?
84 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
We do not say that every one of us is so given, but by
far the larger part of this nation is. The legislature seems
incapable of taking large, wise, and far-off views. It is
content to legislate merely for the present ; it is intent
upon saving a few pounds in its executive, while it lets
its army, its militia, and its general defences remain upon
a basis which is ridiculous for its insecurity. It allows
some of the best workmen in the world either to stand
idle or to emigrate in discontent, and then wonders that
other countries do not respect us. Great Britain must
first respect herself. Her history is glorious, her capacity
enormous, her industry prodigious ; and yet Prussia has
just told us in so many words that she will take the lead,
and cry, as Paracelsus, the German quack physician,
cried to the ancients, 'Get thee behind me, England,
France, Spain, and Italy, for I am the true leader of the
world.' It is clear that Germany does not lack self-
respect.
And with men and with nations this feeling is the one
great desideratum. A man must respect himself to be of
weight in life. Modesty and retirement are admirable
virtues, but they are not at all inconsistent with the fact
of a man's knowing that he has done his best ; that he
has been thoroughly honest, that he has used, and to the
best advantage, the talent that God has given him. Self-
respect will be the result of self-culture and self-restraint,
and the last will become more and more easy every time it
SELF-GOVERNMENT. 85
is practised. It is well for a man in reading, sleeping,
walking, eating, and drinking, sometimes to limit himself,
sometimes to indulge ; to take care that he at no time
becomes a slave to one passion, or to one habit, by
rigorously repressing any, even the slightest indication
that way. If he is fond of wine, let him abandon it for
a month or so ; if his pipe becomes an indulgence, let
him throw it away j if he finds an increasing love of rest
and sitting, let him rise and walk. It is no merit in him
to be a hard drinker, or a continual smoker, or to sleep
after dinner ; but it is a merit to keep the animal within
him under control. A railway driver, who found that he
could not stop nor stay his engine, nor reverse its action
when he wanted, would soon find out the reason, and go
to the engineer and have the matter looked to. When
our habits are our slaves we can respect ourselves ; when
we are slaves to our habits no one will respect us. In this
category of habits let us place indulgence in certain feelings
and actions. It will be as well at times rigidly to control
the tongue, to determine, let us say for a whole day, to say
no more of Jones than we actually know, and to say that
good-naturedly; to bridle and manage the thoughts, so
as easily to banish evil thoughts, ill-nature, despondency,
doubt, &c, and to correct want of charity and kindliness
by forcing ourselves to be charitable and kind. What a
mean opinion must a man have of himself if he has to
confess, ' Well, I cannot be truthful, nor good-natured,
S6 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
nor honest, if I try ! My tongue always runs away with
me : I never speak well of anybody ; I do not do any
good ; I have left no kindly remembrance in the hearts
of any one.' This must indeed be a terrible confession.
In Richard Rolle's ' Pricke of Conscience/ written about
1340, the good monk, surnamed the Hermit of Hampole,
thus pictures the end of man's life :
The last ende of man's life es hard,
That es, when he drawes to ded-ward ;
For when he es seke, and bedreden lys,
And sore feble that he may noght rys,
Than er men in dout and noght certayn
Wether he shall ever cover -agayn ;
begin, in fact, as we do now, to reckon up ' the poor
dying man ' ; but, at the same time, the conscience within
is at the same work, and its deadliest ' pricke ' must be
that which condemns a man's self; for it is the very pivot
and centre of Christian faith that a man shall pronounce
his own doom, and so ' accusing and excusing ' himself,
may know how his account lies. Unable as he is of him-
self to boast of any merit, he will know whether he has
done his best, and whether he can claim that guerdon
which will be based on self-respect.
CHAPTER VIL
A WORKING MAN'S PARLIAMENT.
CHAPTER VII.
Why Justice is blind — British Elections — Too much Talk —
Right will conquer — Advice of Mr. Ruskin — Nobility of
Labour — Delight in Work — Future of England — The Rights
of Man — Few real Wants — Money and its Worth.
'EFORE the awe-full throne of Zeus,' said
Hesiod, ' Dike stands and weeps whenever
the earthly judge decides wrongly;' that is,
to translate the passage from Grecian into
English nomenclature, Justice, standing before the throne
of God, laments at the wickedness, prejudice, or discord
of human judgments. ' No wonder, then/ adds a caustic
clergyman, remembering the judgments of county magis-
trates, ' that our modern sculptors represent Justice on
town halls with a bandage on her eyes : she has seen so
much injustice that she has gone weeping blind.'
go A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
Dike, or Justice, must weep very often at a British
election. She must have wept when she heard the non-
sensical harangues of one or the other party, the appeals
to the passions of the audience or mob, the misrepresen-
tations, the false assertions, the folly of both. We Eng-
lish live in a kindly way in general ; but here were
gentlemen assuring their respective parties that the other
parties were complete ogres. Of the one hand, the Con-
servatives were represented as ' preying on the vitals of
the land,' 'living on the blood and flesh of the poor man;'
and on the other, the Liberals were said to be desirous of
pulling down the Church and the Throne, and were
' Jesuits in disguise,' who wished ' to shut up the Bible,
and to banish religion from the land.' These are not
fanciful but real assertions ; there was on the whole too
much talk about the matter. Mr. Gladstone spoke some-
thing like forty thousand words, that were reported by
telegraph ; Mr. Bright nearly as many. We do not say
that either of these eminent men used the phrases quoted,
but we do say that they used too many words. ' Beware
of the man of words ' is a Biblical proverb. ' Do you call
that poatry,' Thackeray makes Jeames say, ' in your sea
cap ting, with his eternal slack-jaw ? ' — ' I am sure that
barrister is not speaking the truth ; he has got the losing
side, he uses too many words,' said a simple juryman.
In the multitude of counsellors there may be wisdom, but
in the vast torrent of eloquent outpourings there is sure
TOO MUCH TALK. 91
to be folly ; and it is a fact that, exceptions being ex-
cepted, the most voluble of nations are the most foolish,
the most eloquent of men have the least sense. There is
no proof that a man who can talk a horse's hind leg off
will make a good statesman. Deeds, not words, are what
Englishmen were wont to demand.
The result of all this talk was shameful. It embittered
man against man, party against party. Two delegates to
Parliament, one the son of an earl, called each other re-
spectively a sneak, a liar, a cur, and so on. In Ireland
more than one man was shot, and voters had to exercise
their right protected by soldiers and armed policeman.
When some men went to vote, a mob came and carried
them away. In short, such things were done in the
British Isles as should cause us to hang our heads for
shame. How can clear and solid judgment proceed from
such delegated men ? Have we the best men ? has the
appeal to the country produced any real working man
candidate ? Do not all good and wise people see the ne-
cessity of having working men in our National Assembly?
and yet was not almost every election greatly biased, if
not determined, by the quantity of money spent? A
plague on both parties or on all parties — upon the whole
spirit of party —if such is to be the result !
Of course, there is no one who has a belief in God and
in right but knows that in the end right will conquer.
We shall have a noble outcome in the far-distant future
92 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
from all this turmoil ; but it is yet too early to ask women
to vote. We must do away with open voting, and substi-
tute voting papers (as they have done for the graduates
of Oxford or Cambridge) before that day comes ; and
meanwhile we must go on educating the people, and en-
deavouring not only to raise every man and woman, but
every child. We can at least educate them in silence and
in patience ; as we are now, almost every one, without a
thought wasted or spent about a matter, pronounced on
it. Power is like fortune : all persons desire it, without
knowing what to do with it ; whereas, both fortune and
power are sacred things, which involve a man in respon-
sible duties, from which he can by no manner of means
escape or get free.
We are here tempted to quote some of the noble sen-
tences of John Ruskin, in his ' Letters to a Working Man '
(Mr. John Dixon, of Sunderland), which he quotes from
his speech at the Working Men's College. The gist of
his words is, before you get into Parliament, just know
what you will get there for. ' Do you think,' he asks, ' it
is only under the lacquered splendours of Westminster,
you working men of England, that your affairs can be
rationally talked over? You have perfect liberty and
power to talk over and establish for yourselves whatever
laws you please, so long as you do not interfere with
other people's liberties or properties. Elect a parliament
of your own. Choose the best men among you, the best
. HUSKIES ADVICE. 93
at least you can find. Invite trustworthy persons of other
classes to join your councils ; appoint time and place for
its stated sittings ; and let this Parliament, chosen after
your own hearts, deliberate upon the possible modes of
the regulation of industry and advisablest schemes for the
helpful discipline of life ; and so lay before you the best
laws they can devise, which such of you as were wise
might submit to, and teach their children to obey. And
if any of the laws thus determined seem to be inconsistent
with the present circumstances or customs of trade, do
not make a noise about them, nor try to enforce them
suddenly on others, nor embroider them on flags, nor call
meetings in the Park about them in spite of railings and
police ; but keep them in your thoughts and sight, as
objects of patient purpose and future achievement by
peaceful strength.'
Now this advice ought to be taken, and no doubt it will
be. Any aid that we can personally give to it we will,
for we love and honour the true worker, being, we hope,
ourselves of that class, and we feel bound to aid him in
this his day of defeat; for the working man has received
a heavy blow and sore discouragement at the hands of all
Britain. Not a working candidate succeeded : it was,
perhaps, best that he should not, for, perhaps with one
exception, there was not one fit representative : and
the middle classes have been disgusted with such men as
Finlen and Bradlaugh, who put themselves prominently
94 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
forward as ideal working men. No class has been more
disgusted and hurt, as we well know, than the workers
themselves; therefore now is the time for their true
friends to show them all sympathy and respect. While
their delegates were making out that they were masters
of the situation, and were so ridiculously upstart and
'peacocky,' we felt it not right to speak to them, nor to
cross them, having been sufficiently misunderstood.
But now is the time ; and of a truth the future of England
does depend upon the working man and his well-being.
He did not by any means build, plan, and invent every-
thing, but he did and does support -everything. It is' his
industry that feeds us all. If we by far-reaching com-
merce feed him, we rely upon his work to repay that
commerce. And it is the duty of every influential writer
to keep alive a spirit of loyal self-respect and independence,
of sweetness and light, of nobility and grace, of emulation
and ambition, in the working man and in his family ; and
this we have humbly endeavoured to do, not, however,
without some doubt and hesitation, for many a long year.
He must therefore not be discouraged, and certainly not
angered, by a temporary defeat. His time is coming, nay,
now is, for it is always a good time for the active and
the energetic worker. Many men are his friends j all
parties court him; and truly he has the power in his
hands, did he but know how to use it wisely.
He must begin by recognising, as poets have done, in
NOBLE LABOUR. 95
eloquent prose or in rhyming cadences, the nobility of
labour. Some writers believe that only one kind of
labour is noble, and that other occupations are servile.
It would be more true to say that some occupations are
nobler in their aim than others ; but all work that tends
to the comfort, help, clothing, sustenance, or elevation of
our brothers is noble.
Ay, labour is a noble thing,
To work from morn till eve,
To bend down o'er your shuttle,
That your little ones may live.
All such labour is noble. So, too, packing parcels, or
weighing sugar, wherein a constant justice and truth is
demanded, is noble, if rightly exercised. As for tailoring
and shoemaking, these trades approach the arts. Let
any man wear for a day or so an ill-made coat, or a pair
of ill-made boots, and then ask himself whether he does
not appreciate the true workman. House-building, boat
and ship-building, lock-making, carpenters' and joiners'
work, and such like, have long been recognised as some-
thing elevated. No man is ashamed of being a good
carpenter or smith; and there is an immense deal of
pleasure in looking at and examining a deft workman
handling his tools well, and producing good work. The
pleasure he receives is great and very pure. ' Give me
the man who sings at his work,' exclaims a wise writer.
Ay, because the man who sings and takes delight in his
96 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
work is a good workman, and if fairly rewarded, and of a
prayerful, contented mind, is perhaps one of the happiest
men in existence. The simplest work, honestly done,
yields an immediate reward. Notice, you who live in
the country, the satisfaction given to the ploughman by a
straightly ploughed furrow; or that the labouring gardener
has, not alone when his cloves and carnations in crimson
fulness delight the eye with their colour, and load the
morning air with their scent, but when he has trenched
up the celery, or dug up the potato patch as it should be
dug, and made the rich loam spread its brown and fertile
surface to the sun.
To give the workman his due, he feels all this ; being
a sound, good man he must experience joy in work ; his
only two troubles are that he gets, on the whole, too much
work and too little pay. That is a very general com-
plaint with us all : it is Adam's heritage and Eve's curse.
We accept, and wisely, the necessity of work, without
which this beautiful earth would itself be barren ;
but we moan and complain, not without fierce heart-
burnings, and sometimes much bloodshed, because the
rewards of this world are so unjustly distributed. Ah,
good friends, there is the trouble ! l Fortune gives too
much to many, but enough to none,' says the proverb ;
and probably no man, however rich, thinks he is ade-
quately rewarded. But remember, the labourer is worthy
of his hire ; he who withholds that proper hire from him
TRUE RIGHTS OF MAN. 97
is accursed; and in spite of the laws of supply and
demand, and such perilous stuff, talked by political
economists, who, for the most part, have been mate-
rialists, and have had not the fear of God, nor the study
of His laws before their eyes, we can easily see what the
labourer's hire is. For giving to the world his assistance,
honestly, in the lowest form of labour, he is entitled to
demand healthy life, room to breathe, enough to eat,
enough for his wife and children, and sufficient joy, re-
laxation, and play, to keep him in proper health. For
the better and more healthful the man, the more true
labour the world gets from him ; and the better the
labour, the more the world is benefited. It is plain that
when a man in the highest class of labour writes a scien-
tific treatise or a moral essay, he should bring his best
learning and holiest thought to that purpose ; and the
better the learning, the more holy the thought, the more
the world benefits thereby. In certain labour, goodness,
soundness, and honesty of work are a sine qua non, a
condition which must be. The pin of the railway or
carriage wheel must be of the best, or it breaks suddenly
and causes death ; the chain-cable of the anchor, the
anchor itself, must be good. You may mingle sawdust
with spice, and cast and sell wooden nutmegs without
loss of life ; but if you sell a sham ginger- bread anchor,
and a ship is lost, you are a murderer. Now, in the
Crimean War, the firms who supplied the soldiers sent
H
98 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
out putrid meat in patent (?) tins, and mouldy hay, with,
in one case, a putrid lamb in a truss ; horses were starved
by the hundred, and men died by the score. There was
a cry, - Whom shall we hang ?' But none of those traders,
around whose neck we would have put a rope with zeal,
knowing that the nation thereby would have been taught
the wisest lesson, were brought to justice.
It is the dishonest greed for great gains, the dishonour-
able competition amongst firms, which no co-operation
will do away with, that produces short weight, rotten tins,
bad junk, old ships made to go down, and so forth ; it is
this that the workers must co-operate against in their
Parliament. If it were allowable, and the Society for
Prevention of Cruelty to Animals would not interfere, it
would be well if every baker who (purposely) gave short
weight, or adulterated bread, had his ear nailed to his
door-post. This dishonesty, this 'theft by false work,' as
Mr. Ruskin calls it, is the most deadly to us all that can
be. It cuts into the very vitals of the poor ; it gives bad
beer and stimulants that madden and make drunk the
worker ; it gives bad sour bread that does not nourish
him, shoes that cripple and make him worse than bare 1
foot, clothes that do not warm him. ' If you steal a
hundred pounds of plate, like a brave burglar,' says Mr.
Ruskin, ' a man knows his loss ; besides that, you take
your risk of punishment like a man. And if you do it
bravely and openly, and habitually live by such inroad,
1HE SUCCESS OF 1Z0GUES. 99
you may retain nearly every moral and manly virtue, and
become a heroic rider, driver, and hero of song ; but if
you swindle me out of twenty shillings in each hundred
bargains, I lose my hundred pounds just the same ; I gee
a hundred untrustworthy articles besides ; . . . and you,
having done your thieving basely, are corrupted by the
guilt of it to the very heart's core.'
And what do you gain by this frightful dishonesty
Money. A large firm of linendrapers, which has eaten
up little firms, began in a large way, sold very cheap, and
failed. Its creditors bore the brunt ; it began again, sold
more cheaply, and failed again. Again the creditors
suffered. It set up a third time, and then — having so
dearly purchased a reputation for selling cheaply — made
a huge fortune. Thy money perish with thee ! All the
money that it has made will never buy back the disap-
pointed hopes of creditors and workpeople. The dis-
trust of those who lost, of those who honestly opposed
it, and who were dishonestly beaten out of the market,
the hatred engendered, the want of faith in Providence
taught by the success of these rogues — are these nothing ?
And what is gold worth ? ' Man wants but little here
below/ if he knew it ; and if he practised that which he
knew, still less. Two great evils threaten the workers,
hunger and cold. Those staved off, he needs little ; and
gold purchases very little worth having. ' Time is money,
say your wealthy economists and practical merchants,'
h 2
ioo A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
cries Mr. Ruskin, in a bitter and solemn sermon. * None
of them, however, I fancy, as they draw towards death,
find that the reverse is true, and that money is time.
But other things are money : health is money, wit is
money, knowledge is money ; and all your health, and
wit, and knowledge may be changed for gold, and the
happy goal so reached of a sick, insane, and blind aurife-
rous old age ; but the gold cannot be changed, in its
turn, into health and wit.'
It is worth little then; it is never worth dishonest
getting or disquieting oneself in vain for. There is
arising in the midst of us a proposition for clipping the
vast overgrown estates and of using the money for edu-
cational purposes. Some very serious questions have
been debated by working men, and will again arise ; no
one can blink them or pass them by.
CHAPTER VIII.
GOOD OUT OF EVIL.
CHAPTER VIII.
Voltaire — Mandeville's ' Fable of the Bees' 1 — The Lisbon
Earthquake — Poisonous Remedies — Voltaire's Head and Heart
— Accidents not all Evil — Fate and Jupiter — Isaac Barrow —
None without Trials.
can be.
■E have been, perhaps unhappily, born in a
time when evil is openly acknowledged as a
tremendous power, which it is ; and also fol-
lowed as an end, which it is not and never
Evil must be conquered, crushed, and sup-
planted by good. This is the victory of life over death ;
this takes the sting from the grave. But in this fervent,
hasty, and too often unreflecting age there are those, as
we shall prove by quotation, who worship evil for itself.
The grandest and purest poet that England or the world
ever produced, John Milton, with a retrospective pre-
science, if we may use that phrase, makes Satan exclaim,
io 4 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
i Evil, be thou my good ; ' and great writers who come
after him, notably Voltaire, seem to us to adopt that awful
creed. He does it with his usual cunning, and takes care
to put his reasons in the lips of another. He is writing of
' bees ' — a perfectly harmless subject one would think —
quoting Mandeville's ' Fable of the Bees, or Public Vices,
Private Benefits ; ' and thus he introduces the poison in
the tail of his article, as the sting is in the tail of a bee :
' Mandeville,' he says, ' goes a great way ; he pretends
that bees could not live together in comfort, in a great
and powerful hive, without many vices. No kingdom, no
state, he says, can flourish without vices. Take away
vanity from your great and rich ladies and you destroy
your manufactures in silk ; no more workmen and work-
women of a thousand different kinds ! — a great part of
the nation would be brought down to beggary. Deprive
your merchants of avarice, and the English fleets will
disappear from the sea; take away envy from your
artists and emulation will cease : we should fall back
into ignorance and the grossness of barbarism.'
This is so very specious— being, indeed, an expansion
of Rochefoucault's maxim that all our vices are dis-
guised virtues, and all our virtues vices in disguise — that a
little further on Voltaire apologises for Mandeville, and
adds : ' This is as much as to say that even our crimes are
useful, in that they serve to establish a good government.
A highwayman makes him who betrays him gain a good
POISONOUS REMEDIES. 105
deal of money ; nay, he benefits those who arrest him,
the gaoler who guards him, the judge who condemns him,
and the hangman who executes him. In fact, if we had
no robbers, the men who forge fetters would die of
hunger.' Yes, so they would ; only chains are found very
useful for other matters than chaining prison doors or
putting on men's legs. The man who forges an anchor
and the smith who makes a cable are doing noble work.
It is mere specious talk to say that one must live by
vice. As Voltaire himself says, 'We make very good
medicinal remedies from poisons ; but poisons are not
exactly those things which nourish life (qui nous font
vivre)'
In thinking over this very difficult subject, we must
bear in mind that Voltaire, a tender-hearted and, upon
the whole, a just man, certainly a great one, never sur-
vived the shock received from the earthquake of Lisbon,
in which so many thousand persons were hurried out of
this life into, as we hope, a better. If we knew as
certainly as we know a mathematical problem, or the
result of a sum in arithmetic, that the persons (many
pious Roman Catholics) really benefited by their deaths,
there would remain a ready solution of the question ; but
Voltaire, who had a very tender heart, had also a sceptical
and incredulous head. He did not think sufficiently
well of humanity to suppose that so many thousands
would be admitted en masse into heaven ; and the
106 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
poverty, sickness, and plague that sprung up on the fall
of Lisbon, the starving and crippled wretches that were
buried in its ruins, the starvation which fell among its
survivors, haunted him with a real pity and an indescrib-
able terror. He had not that philosophy which faith can
give. He was a man as well formed to believe that
1 somehow good will be the final end of ill ' as any one j
but the wretchedness of France, the misery of the poor,
the callousness of the rich, the terrible vices, hard-
heartedness, and folly of the Roman clergy, of whom
Voltaire himself was one, made him ignore Christianity,
and he was without hope as to a blessed future. When
he writes of the soul, he doubts it — ' You might as well
talk of the soul of a vegetable.' He sneers ; and there-
fore, without compensation, the whole scheme of man, as
far as he saw it, was a painful trial, a real tragedy, or a
miserable farce ; the only way of passing through which
was to ' grin ' in the Voltairean way, and 'bear it.'
When man is looked upon in this sort of way, the pro-
spect is miserable enough. If we shut our eyes, depend
upon it we shall always be in the dark. The pious
Greeks found life very hard to bear; and having in-
vented a god to whom to cry — ' If there were no god,'
said Robespierre, quoting Voltaire, ' a good government
would invent one ' — they yet found that there were things
at once so terrible and so mysterious that they could not
reconcile them with the easy manly good-nature with
SUPREMACY OF FATE. 107
which they had endowed the cloud-compelling and
thundering Zeus or Jupiter. Tis true he wielded the
thunder and the lightning ; but the thunder often came
at the wrong time, and the lightning too often struck the
wrong man. To solve this difficulty, the ancients made
Fate superior to Jupiter ; and Fate was a dreadful thing,
to which gods and men equally submitted. Unless this
fact is borne in mind it is impossible to appreciate the
deep melancholy of the Greek tragedians. Orestes,
knowing that his mother has slain his father, in obedience
to Apollo slays his wicked mother, but is, nevertheless,
haunted by Furies :
My dark-soul'd mother,
With wily art, in private murder' d him ;
The bloody bath attested her foul deed !
I, then an exile, bending back my steps,
Slew her that gave me birth : nor shall my tongue
Deny the deed ; it was a vengeance due
To my loved father's shade : so Phcebus deem'd,
Who urged me, and denounced heart-rending woes
Should I shrink back, refusing to avenge.
Here, then, is a pretty dead-lock. If Orestes had not
slain Clytemnestra — who, by the way, slew her husband
for sacrificing their daughter Iphigenia to the gods, as
commanded by the priests — Apollo would have punished
him. As he did so, the Furies haunted him and drove
him to madness. There could be no comfort nor hope in
such a religion as this ; on either hand was trouble.
108 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
Evil seemed to predominate ; the only outcome was a
placid stoicism, which suffered without complaining, or a
vulgar epicureanism, which enjoyed while it had life, and
let the future, with its mournful terrors, take its chance.
True philosophy has taught us to try to understand the
ways of the Almighty, and to distinguish between good
and evil. It is the first duty of the wise man, always the
duty of every man, to do this :
Awake, my St. John ! Leave all meaner things
To low ambition and the pride of kings.
Let us (since life can little more supply
Than just to look about us, and to die)
Expatiate free o'er all this scene of Man —
A mighty maze ! but not without a plan.
So sings Pope to his patron and his inspirer ; and it is
just because it is 'not without a plan,' that we, who do
comprehend the whole plan, are so cast down with evil.
The great and wise Isaac Barrow has a good simile when
he compares the ocean to God. Who can comprehend
Him, yet, who being wise, would deny Him ? Simple,
consistent, immutable, and illimitable, He is still before
us, vast and incomprehensible. ' But,' asks Barrow, ' is
the ocean less visible, because standing upon its shore
we cannot descry its utmost limits ? ' And again : ' The
more unlimited things are, the more correspondent they
are to our limited faculties, no finite being beifig able to
satisfy his large capacities. 1
RIGHT AND WRONG. 109
But these large capacities for good meet with cruel
rebuffs when they seek to be completely satisfied. The
good man who has expanded and become as an angel,
loving his kind, is perplexed with constant evil. It rises
with him in the morning ; it haunts his bed at night. He
sees the saint led to the stake, and the villain promoted
to office ; he finds the mean and the narrow successful,
and the open-handed and generous in want —
Right for ever on the scaffold ; wrong for ever on the throne.
To him it is so easy and so pleasant to be good, that he
wonders at the stupidity of the world. When at last he
better understands the whole, he may happily distinguish ;
but at present he is perplexed. Whether it be in St.
Francois de Sales, or in a Kempis, or in John Wesley,
the cry is the same, ' Why doth the wicked prosper ? '
It may, however, comfort us to reflect that all evils are
not the same. A wise worldly man once told us that he
had reduced all evils to two — hunger and cold. Let a
man be well fed and warm, said this modem Epicurean,
all things — shame, distress, anguish — may be borne, and
borne easily. In his sense he is right. The evils of the
world are to be divided ; many of them are trials, others
simple evils, working out their way accursed, punishing
and destroying as they go.
The evils, commonly called evils, but merely trials, are
poverty, shame, want of success, wars, tumults, famine,
no A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
tempests, shipwrecks, blights, volcanoes, earthquakes,
frosts, rebellions, revolutions, and generally those ope-
rations of Nature which legal language defines to be the
act of God. As for accidents resulting from man's
carelessness or laziness, we should not look upon them
as evils. They are reminders, more or less gentle, of our
own follies, and they carry their lessons with them. One
of these seldom happens without causing the avoidance
of others. l The scalded cat,' says the French proverb,
'dreads cold water.' If so, we may be sure that it is a
good thing for the cat. Poverty, which is, and will
always be, the great trial of the earth, is demonstrably a
blessing in disguise. That the poorest lands, within
reason, are best cultivated — that their people are the
most energetic — that riches corrupt, and ease causes a
nation to degenerate, are axioms so true that they become
truisms. So with riches. A rich man without trials,
troubles, and duties, is contemptible ; he is lower than a
man. Luckily, we have very few of such men ; but still
we have enough to prove our rule. 'If you want to
know,' says Swift, in one of the truest and the bitterest
things ever said, ' what God All-mighty thinks of riches,
just look upon those upon whom He has bestowed most
of them.' As for wars undertaken by the inquietude of
the people ; wars which change the face of countries and
give the lands of one monarch to another — which deso
late and slay, kill, maim, and torture — it is an astonishing
GOOD OUT OF EVIL. in
thing to reckon up what we owe to them. The pain of
them is transient, and hurts but momentarily a generation ;
the benefit remains for years. Tumults and revolutions,
rebellions and political commotions, hurt as they pass
over us, but benefit us when they are gone. Why they
should be at all, it is idle to ask. Man is certainly not in
a world of passive enjoyment; and Revelation cannot be
accused of ever deceiving man on that score. He is told
that he is not to lay up his treasure on earth, ' where moth
and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through
and steal.' He is reminded that his life here is but a
shadow. If governors will be corrupt, stupid and bad,
the people will rebel. We have long gone beyond the
belief in ' the right divine of kings to govern wrong.' It
would seem that, with the British especially, nothing were
so easy as to govern well : to seek the people's prosperity,
to be surrounded by wise counsellors, to be active and
energetic, is all we demand. Yet how many sovereigns
have satisfied us in that way? To seek greatness by
ambition, and to fall asleep in laziness and pleasure,
seem to have been the two ends most sought after by
our governors — notwithstanding some brilliant excep-
tions. And yet all our troubles have hitherto only made
us better. Without brag or exaggeration, this corner of
the earth, this knuckle end of Europe, has been for a
long time the wonder and envy of the world.
Evils that are the act of God are becoming every day
ii2 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
far better understood, and change their faces so much
that they are regarded as blessings. The frost that slays
the uncared-for lamb upon the mountains, and smites the
careless traveller on the lonely road, kills thousands ot
insects when their work is done, and renders the earth
friable and fertile, so that man is blessed with abundance.
The cold of Christmas acts with a sharp benevolence
upon the energy of Spring, and the chemistry of Nature
needs the rest and the pause. The tempest which tosses
the fishing boat clears the air and purines the town ; the
lightning which strikes the vessel has its mission of mercy,
though it turned aside to kill. The earthquakes, so
cruel in their results, are, we may depend, kind in their
cruelty. As yet we see in part and know in part ; we
have penetrated but the crust of the earth ; we know but
little of its complicated machinery ; but we are beginning
to trace the belt of subterranean fires, which are perhaps
as necessary to our existence as the air which we breathe,
and they and the sun produce. It is irrelevant to ask,
why should there not be unmixed good, happiness with-
out alloy, youth without age, pleasure without pain,
sunshine without storm, perpetual day without inter-
vening night, and eternal life without the rest of death ?
To this question, irrelevant as well as irreverent there is
but one answer : God willed it otherwise. This earth is
not heaven. It is admirable as a place of trial ; its very
imperfections are admired, though admitted to be stings
GO OB OUT OF EVIL. 113
and troubles. The modern philosopher, who the other
day was insolent and irreverent enough to charge his
Maker with being a bungling workman, because in His
works there were variations, apparent (to us) in utilities
and decay, is to be dismissed as being merely im-
pertinent. Truly his charge is impertinens ; it doth not
belong to the question. The uses of sickness and of
bodily pain will be admitted by all who know life, and
have felt both health and sickness. To the wise man
these ' evils ' are but what the pious Catholics call them,
' exercises/
They should exercise us for our good. In point of
fact they do exercise all people for good. The best and
kindest of us all, the most saint-like and the most fit to
live with God — and we hope and trust that some have
so fitted themselves — have borne pain, suffering, and
sorrow, without repining.
But beyond this, there are evils that come to no good,
and are purely wicked. We have grown to be so sugar-
sweet in this day of small things that more than one poet
has pitied the Devil and condoned his offences. In the
second part of ' Faust,' Goethe hints at his final forgive-
ness ; Burns groans over his fate ; and Longfellow cries
out —
For even he — he is God's minister
Existing for some good, by us not understood.
It may be so ; we cannot debate the large question here ;
ii4
A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
but if he is not to be understood he is to be withstood, to
be avoided, to be abhorred and utterly cast out ; for
cursed is he who worships evil for the pleasure it brings
him, and who dares to say that it is good.
CHAPTER IX
ON CONFIDENCES AND SECRETS,
I 2
CHAPTER IX.
Secrets illusive — Midas has Ears! — Public Confessors — Plu-
tarch's Morals — The Athenian Mercury — Confession — The
common Character of Sin.
SECRET is one of those things which ought
to convince us of the illusiveness of life,
and the emptiness of human affairs. It
exists only in name ; it is like echo, a
sound, having no existence ; it appears to live ; nay,
in its very death — that is, when it is told to a third party
as a very great secret — it pretends to take a new lease of
life. It is so evanescent, such a sham, that everybody
tries to destroy it ; try to clasp it, and you clasp a bubble ;
touch it, and it breaks. All experience, all life, all that
we see and hear, confirms this. Talleyrand used to say
that if a secret was known to more than two persons
it never lasted three days, a fourth person was sure to
n8 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
know it ; and the story of Midas — which our admirable
English author, Mr. Hales, whom the French call
D'Hele, put into a charming opera, which yet keeps the
French stage — is but the antique version of the fall of
secrets.
In mythic ages, when the gods were supposed to visit
the earth, Midas was king of a people of Thrace, and had
so beautiful a garden that the god Silenus used to come
down to it. Being made drunk by the strange expedient
of pouring wine into a fountain, he revealed to Midas
a secret concerning life. It is x not of so refreshing a
nature that we need publish it ; nevertheless, we give it
to our readers, since we, later livers in more golden days,
with nobler lives before us, made holy by duty done, and
beautiful from the sure hope of a blessed reward, can
afford to laugh at it. This drunken Silenus told Midas,
the king, the profound secret that ' life is most free from
evil when we are ignorant of the future ; that it would
have been better for man not to have been born at all ;
nevertheless, being born, his greatest happiness is to die
as soon as possible.' A cheerful secret that ! — an -out-
come of faithless times, and much and far wandering
from the true God. But Midas must have his secret, too.
Having at a subsequent period well entertained Silenus,
he obtained, through that god, from Bacchus his one sole
wish — and that, of course, a foolish one — that all that he
touched might turn to gold. Thoroughly was he cursed
MIDAS. 119
by the fruition of this wish, for the very river he bathed
in, the Pactolus, ran over golden sands, and his food
turned to unnourishing lumps of yellow dross. Like the
leper he cried out, and received an order from the god to
wash away his fatal gift : hence those Pactolean sands, of
which modern poets have made so much use.
Old fables (such as the above) are very beautiful, and
have a mine of sweet wisdom in them when we ' observ-
ingly distil it out' This same Midas, who must be
meddling, distinguished himself afterwards by being the
umpire in a musical contest between Pan, the god of
rude nature, the shepherds, and the woods, and Apollo,
the Sun-god, and especial god of Music. Of course
the rude ears of this mortal Thracian king preferred the
scrannel pipes of Pan, and his merry country airs, to the
divine music of Apollo ; and he declared that Pan was
the victor; whereupon the wrathful Apollo turned the
ears of King Midas into asses' ears— a fit revenge for so
stupid a critic ! But there are ways to hide even asses'
ears, as our critics know, and King Midas concealed his
from all but his personal attendant, who, bursting with
the important secret, and not daring to tell it to any
human being, dug a hole in the ground and whispered it
therein ; but from the earth, thus fertilised, there grew a
crop of reeds, which nightly whispered to the Summer
wind, ' Midas has asses' ears ! ' Such was the secret of
Midas.
i2o A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
The fact is, there is no keeping a secret, even if it
concerns oneself. There is a necessity for a confidant to
whom we can confide something that lies close about
our bosom. There are few persons in the world who are
entitled to say this with more certainty than clergymen
and clerical editors, to whom are entrusted every week
secrets ordinary and extraordinary, from crimes of the
deepest dye to little peccadilloes at which the purest
innocence only is abashed. These confidences are made
by people of all ranks, and from all the civilised parts
of the globe, and from their number and nature never
can be, and never are revealed. A line in print, an
indication where to find consolation or succour, or in
what way to retrace incautious steps, directed to simple
initials or an assumed name, catches the eye of the con-
fessor at breakfast, and may make the heart beat quicker ;
but no one else knows it, and no one can act upon the
confession, while hundreds who intuitively read why the
advice was given, can act upon the advice. Although
these questions, confessions, and confidences are now
confined to the cheap magazines, the number who take
advantage of such — persons of fair education — is very
large, and betokens a human want. Being human it is
ancient. In Plutarch's Moralia questions are debated
that are not settled yet, and if some of the confessions in
Addison's ' Spectator ' were manufactured, there can be
little doubt that many, and those the most startling, were
THE MERCURY, 121
true. As the ' Saturday Review ' says, they cannot all
have been invented.
It is more than 150 years since similar questions and
answers were published under the direction of John
Dunton, a somewhat eccentric bookseller, as the
'Athenian Mercury'* (republished in 1728 as the
'Athenian Oracle'), and in those answers may be ob-
served matters touching religion and morals. But, as
the Laureate tells us :
No being on this earthly ball
Is like another all in all :
so certainly no journal or periodical is the exact counter-
part of another. Half of the successors of the ' Mercury '
seem to have failed for want of earnestness, many from
want of ability; others, with plenty of ability, from a
notion that the proper way to amuse A, B, and C, was
to make fun of D, E, and F, forgetting that one man's
mind is very much a counterpart of another's. It is
now found that, laying aside the petty temptation to
laugh at the simplicity of some questions, the plain and
best wa.y is to answer all seriously. A wise answer may
be given to a very foolish question. The heart recognises
the sincerity of the head ; and this is the secret of speak-
ing to the heart.
The world cannot do without confession in some way.
* ' The Athenian Mercury, or a Scheme to Answer a Series of
Questions Monthly, the Querist remaining Concealed.'
122 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
Cunning men have taken advantage of this, and added
another link to the great long chain by which they bind
men. Confession seems to some to imply absolution :
it does no such thing. A true Christian, before he
commits a crime, is already absolved ; and God, who
sees the fall, knows when to raise the weakling and to
comfort him with hope. But without referring to
the practice of private confession, as urged on the
patient by some religions — a bad and misdirecting
practice, we believe — we may urge that the confessional
must have a very disheartening and bad effect upon the
priest. Father Gavazzi once likened the bosom of the
holy man, who sits in a little box, and puts his ear to
the grated opening where the penitent kneels, to the
Thames before its purification, which had all the pollu-
tions and filth of the sewers poured into it. How could
such a man believe in goodness ? The demure maiden
who knelt before him had to tell of some dreadful and
secret sin ; the pious father, of some unholy plot for
pleasure or for gain ; the chaste and excelling matron,
beloved, admired, wondered at for her goodness, of some
folly or some crime, we may well believe. It is wisely
done in the Church of Rome that, for the most part, the
priest and the penitent know little of each other, or else !
— the prospect is not pleasant. Another reflection which
somewhat comforts us is this : that the crimes of man
are, like the keys in a piano, by no means infinite. You
CONFESSION. 123
can get certain tones out of them, and no more ; you
may have many deficiencies and multitudinous combina-
tions. But, after all, few men are original in their vices.
We envy, we hate, we backbite, we steal, we lust, we
murder, and we combine these and their various modifi-
cations in many ways. One man is honourable, excellent,
admirable, but for a besetting sin ; in this sin he slips,
then repents, and slips again and again. The confessors
know all this. The very tone and tint of every sin is
marked down in Peter Dens and Sanchez, and marked
and priced in the confessional; for it yields a good
revenue, as the Cenci said on one notable occasion.
In Protestant countries our confessors are our friends,
our advisers, or, best of all, the Almighty, as the old
anti-Roman set of verses, written long years ago, said :
He's able to confess, and always willing ;
To Him will I confess — and save my shilling.
But there are very few people who do not seek some
sympathising soul to pour into it their troubles, trials,
follies, and virtues. The reason why lovers are so fond
of each other's company is that they confess to each
other, talk about themselves. Annie tells William what
mamma and papa said about him, or someone else, or
how someone blamed somebody, and how Annie thought
differently. Then comes the feeling which is properly
simpatica. William thinks as Annie thinks, and Annie
i2 4 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
thinks as he thinks. Their very confessions are half
praises of themselves : ' Do you know I'm such a pas-
sionate creature, but ' ; and then comes the sweeter
confession, ' I'm very jealous of those I love ; but then
/ And as one thinks, so does the other ; and quite
right too. It is hard indeed in this hard world if two
cannot be in perfect confidence ; but it is doubtful
whether many are really so. Does every lover know all
that his mistress has done before he met her ? Many
lovers are like the roguish fellow in Boccaccio's story,
who, after a life of debauchery, vowed that he would die
in the odour of sanctity. He therefore sent for a simple
monk, and confessed that he had committed the greatest
crime in the world, that nothing could cleanse him, and
he wept and howled pitiably. The good monk tried in
vain to pacify him, and to make him particularise the
crime, but in vain ; half the monastery tried, but with as
little success. At last, just before he died, he confessed
to the bishop — no smaller priest would serve — that he
had once, when a boy, disobeyed his mother, and as a
grey-haired man he still repented it. ' Is this all ? ' cried
the bishop. - All ! ' gasped the penitent ; ' is it not
enough ? ' And after receiving the sacrament, he died.
' If this be all his sins,' said the simple priests, ' he was
the finest saint in the world ; ' so they carried his body
to the church, worked miracles at his tomb, and in due
time had him canonised. Such is the Italian's wicked
HOUSEHOLD SECRETS. 125
story. How many of us confess to peccadilloes to escape
the imputation of greater sins?
Lawyers, doctors, clergymen, servants, see a great deal
of many households and hear a great many secrets ; that
is, they find that most of their patients are fallible, and
that in many a family there is a Blue-beard cupboard, in
which there is a skeleton. We are quite ready to confess
that some of these skeletons are very small. A, who is
a prosperous man, is terrified with the secret that some
five-and-twenty years ago his wife and he were glad to
let their first floor ; Mrs. B is terrified because her maid
may discover that she wears that useful article a false
tooth; but D, and H, and K, have graver secrets; one's son
has been dishonest, or one's father a fraudulent bankrupt,
and so on. Now these are secrets which no one need
proclaim on the house-top, but they are not such as to
make us despair or be very unhappy. Whatever is out
of our own power need not grieve us, the birth mark on the
back of B's neck, or the mark of shame upon C's birth,
Heaven knows, neither could help. If we could choose
our birth there would be more noblemen born than
peasants ; but that happily is beyond our control : as
they say in a quaint country phrase of a man with an
ugly proboscis, ' He was not behind the door when noses
were given away.' We can only treat persons thus
afflicted with greater consideration ; for themselves, their
comfort must be that their secret shame is imaginary and
126 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
temporary. Any folly of our own, hours and money mis-
spent, disgrace, debt, dishonour, we may well be ashamed
of, but if we even let any such secret escape, it is a
blessing to know that gossips hear and forget it. The
wise man knows that everyone is fallible and that he
himself might fall. The fool's opinion is worth little;
his bolt is soon shot, and seldom hits the mark.
It is wise, where possible, to look a secret in the face,
and to pluck the heart out of the mystery by having it
out. Half the Court tattle and rare secrets of great
people and fashionable life resolve themselves into or-
dinary follies and sins, and sometimes amount not even
to so much. ' Secret Memoirs of Lady Dash, Bedchamber-
Woman to Princess Blank ' are advertised every ten years
or so ; and what balderdash they are ! The biggest secret
is like that great thing in the ' Vicar of Wakefield,' where
one of the Court ladies assures the company that 'my lord
duke cried out three times to his valet de ckambre, "Jerni-
gan, Jernigan, bring me my garters ! " ' The book is sold,
and so are its readers. Wiser it is, rather than to build
up a mystery, not to have any at all. Let everybody
know what you give for your wine or your mutton, if you
pay an honest price ; let the world shout it out that your
two o'clock meal — which, by the way, all great people
take, and at the same hour — is a dinner, and not a
lunch ; let C know that your brougham is hired, or that
you keep only one servant. Why not ? C can know, if
FALSE SECRETS. 127
he likes ; openness defeats the tittle-tattle of the street or
village. ' What, Sydney, carrying a parcel ! ' cried In-
quisitive to a good clergyman. ' Yes ; and there's a
couple of rabbits in it, that I've bought for dinner. Can
you sell me any onions ? ' Alderman Flower heard so
many people whisper about him that he had been a
porter, that he put his porter's knot in a glass-case in his
hall ! So our old knights, from whom we are so proud
to descend, bore water-bougets, mill-rinds, combs with
hair, golden pills, and other heraldic charges on their
shields, to denote descent from the water-carrier, the
miller, the barber, or the doctor. They were too wise to
blink, or to try to hide the most honourable portion of
their career, its rise and progress.
There are many events in life which people conceal,
which grow into secrets which haunt and plague them
through life ; but which yet are not secrets at all. In the
first place they are known to a dozen people as well as to
the chief actor in them, just as the most private matter of
the Tichborne family was known to the groom or the
governess ; and in the second, if they are unknown, they
are natural weaknesses, about which there need be no
concealment whatever. Thus many a family has all its
life been troubled by a sham piece of guilt, a supposititious
stain. Poor human nature, haunted not only by her real
sins, follies, shames, and sorrows, but by the ghosts of
these. As we have false pride, so we have false sorrows :
128 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
as we have matters we wisely conceal, so we often blush
at and hide those which may truly do us honour.
For real secrets choose discreet confidants; for sins,
some wise and pious minister, to whom such confession
will not be strange, or some one to whose clear judgment
your burden will yield. Children should be taught in
such revelations, which are all too seldom made, to rely
upon parents — married people upon each other. A fault
confessed is one-half pardoned ; and many a misery is
healed when, with an honest determination to amend,
we ' cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff '
that preys upon the conscience.
CHAPTER X.
OF THE USE OF WORDS.
CHAPTER X.
Modern Fun — Quiet Writers — The Use of Superlatives —
Quintilian — Cobbett — Simplicity — Comparison — Comic
Singers — Unreality of the Stage — Bombast to be avoided.
[OW to speak well and to express oneself
justly should be the concern of each of
us, and of all as well as of each, although
the nonsense which protrudes itself into
our magazines under the name of light literature, wherein
all the fun consists in bad spelling, or in exaggerated
expression, would seem to be a standing denial of the
existence, or at least the general existence, of the desire.
It is a fact, however, that to a vast number of people the
literature (?) provided by Mr. Barney Guffaw, Mr. Joe
Grinnings, and the much more refined and humorous
Mrs. Brown, is not considered entertaining, and that
many gentlemen and ladies really derive more pleasure
K 2
i 3 2 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
from calm, quiet, and contemplative writing, which con-
veys the writer's thoughts for just so much as they are
worth, and no more, than from the ecstatic ravings of
the spasmodic or sensational school. With such calm
readers and critics, any expression which oversteps the
modesty of nature is, in an author, just as objectionable
as ranting in an actor, or as the most strained and mus-
cular drawing — wherein the biceps is as big as a French
roll and the veins like whipcord — of a young and vigorous
artist who has just commenced his not unamusing career.
While many scholarly people like scholarly writing,
there is a majority which prefer high seasoning and
literary dishes with a flavour. There are writers, too,
who, like cooks, are certainly too free with the pepper-
box. In their simplicity they call this vigour. Their
heroes are very heroic, and their villains decidedly vil-
lainous ; their foes are soundly belaboured, and their
friends as warmly praised. They live as if Prince
Rupert had never existed, and the mezzotinto, or the
secret of giving a middle tint, were an unknown art ; and,
sometimes, in virulent abuse, they seem ready to empty
the. slang dictionary ; while, at others, in a laudatory way,
all the beatitudes in the Sermon on the Mount are in-
sufficient for the object of their adulation. Every man
must have some favourite method of ruining himself;
' some men to business ' — on the Stock Exchange, let us
say — ' some to pleasure take ; ' but most of our vigorous
ADJECTIVES. 133
and slashing young writers take to adjectives. They,
wishing to ' pile up the agony,' become careless of their
positives, regardless of their comparatives, and profuse —
nay, reckless — of their superlatives. Now the adjective
is a difficult part of speech. Sir John Stoddart, in his
' Universal Grammar,' calls it the w^/j-adjective ; while
Mr. Tooke places a large number of them among the
participles, ' treating,' says a grammarian, ' all his prede-
cesssors with contempt.' Sydney Smith told a story of a
man who 'spoke disrespectfully of the equator.' So
Home Tooke seems to have horrified many grammarians
by his curt treatment of adjectives. ' Pray, sir, take care
of your adjectives,' said Dr. Johnson. ' Boy ! ' thundered
old Bowyer, ' mind your degrees.' The advice should
never be thrown away. Vossius objected to the positive
degree, because," said he, ' the other degrees are equally
positive, that is, lay down their respective signification.'
' Lastly,' says Stoddart, c the word superlative is not well
chosen, since it merely shows preference, or raising one
thing above another \ and in this sense the comparative
is itself a superlative.' Quintilian calls the positive the
absolute; others the simple. But enough has been said
to show that adjectives, whether in a high or a low
degree, are difficult words, and, therefore, to be used
cautiously. They may not have the dangerous power of
utterly confusing your reader, as an ill-used pronoun
does, and of making him hesitate as to who is guilty or
i 3 4 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
who is innocent when one is narrating a crime ; they do
not confuse the number and person as does a verb if
plural where it should be singular, or vice versa; their
misuse is not so glaring, and therefore it is more fre-
quent and more dangerous. Hume says that * the
principles of the Reformation were deeper in the prince's
mind than to be easily eradicated.' i This is no com-
parison at all,' cried Cobbett, 'it is nonsense.'
It is hardly in the use of comparatives that we sin now.
We often are silly enough in our positive degree ; and,
as Cobbett pointed out long ago, we say very right, very
wrong, prodigiously honest, extremely just, or awfully
comic !
We try to strengthen a simple word, and make non-
sense of it. A man cannot be more just than just, or
more honest than honest ; but in endeavouring to convey
more than we really mean, we shoot beyond the mark.
There has grown up with us of late a greediness for big
words — a love of vastness and exaggeration. We have
big houses, big ships, big firms, vast cataracts, and won-
derful things of all kinds. An American, to whom the
atmosphere of vastness had become a necessity, once
astonished his audience by declaring that he could jump
higher, squat lower, dive deeper, and come out drier,
than anyone else. In fact, he was not to be exceeded.
Such wild expressions encourage the young in the ten-
dency, which exists in all fresh minds, towards habitual
STRANGE COMPARISONS. 135
untruth. One step over the boundary is dangerous ; yet
readers of fine writers are continually urged to take that
step. Shakspere, when Hamlet's mind seems to be for
the moment failing, makes him rave about heaping
' Pelion on Ossa/ and scorching the mountain's head
against the sun ; when, however, Hamlet is sane his
words are calmer, he calls himself ' a very slave.' This
does not suffice our lady writers ; they fly to superlatives.
' He grew,' one tells us, ' the veriest slave of the lovely
vision.' To call a woman a vision is bold; to compare
very, verier, veriest, is more daring. Shakspere, how-
ever, can be cited as using a double superlative, but
always with judgment ; and the Prayer Book says the
' Most Highest,' and the Gospel doth deny the King to
be the ' Supreme Head.' To justify that expression one
might cite the Latin summa jus — as if there could be
a lower and a higher head, and the true right could be
compared, or there could be two rights.
This extra-strong assertion seems to us indicative of
weakness. In Colley Cibber's days the young beaux, to
be more expressive, invented wild oaths, such as ' Stab
my vitals,' ' Burn my liver,' ' Scorch me : ' so the Yankees
talk of ' Eternal smash,' c Eternal and everlastin' per-
dition,' and Mr. Edmund Sparkler exhausts his small
vocabulary in asserting a young lady to be a ' Bigod-fine-
woman \ ' and thus popular writers are no doubt
delighted in appealing to large audiences. The ordinary
136 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
method of flattery in appealing to an editor is to speak
of his widely circulated paper, his vast body of readers.
But is not this after all covert satire ? Do not the wisest
writers contemn the mob and the applause of the many-
headed. If great books are great evils, are not widely
circulated papers so in another sense ?
This striving at vastness produces wonderful results on
public singers and actors. We have the great Dash ; the
inimitable Blank. One man is the ' Hero Songster,'
another the ' Lion Comique.' The side-splitting, face-
tearing, convulsion-making Irish singers exhaust all
epithets upon themselves in the endeavour to be original,
like that actor that advertised his bespeak upside down,
under the pretence that if he did not do so his benefit
would have turned out a malefit. That a farce should be
a ' roaring ' farce, and that the audience, probably dis-
gusted at its folly, should roar at it like so many bulls of
Bashan, was long ago an accepted fact. One theatre,
however, goes beyond roaring in these dramatic trifles, it
produces ' screamers ; ' a ' regular screamer ' is the
recognised formula wherein a mild composition, which
sends home the audience sadder and wiser men, medi-
tative on the follies of farce writers, is announced.
* It being a recognised fact,' says Mr. Dickens, dis-
coursing of Mr. Crummies, ' that no British audience will
ever come to a theatre unless it is fully persuaded that it
cannot get in,' one is not surprised at such notices as
THE STAGE UNREAL. 137
' overflowing houses, no standing room in the pit, glorious
galleries, and bursting boxes ' — these are the eccentricities
to be caught like the measles, in the midst of a sanguine
and over-hopeful class, the votaries of which prefer tights
and spangles, rouge, feathers, and burnt cork, with a
doubtful salary of 30^. a week, to the more prosaic, dull
work, and infinitely more comfortable life, which would
yield them five times as much. A few plaudits, probably
from paid palms, the rap of an umbrella, and the yell of
one boy in the gallery, has been described before now as
' thunders of applause,' and has sent more than one rival
actor with jealousy to his bed. So Miss Petowker, of
T. R. D., describes the fall of a single bouquet, bought for
the purpose by herself, and flung by the walking gentle-
man, with a paper shirt-front and Berlin gloves, from the
stage box, as an ' avalanche of flowers/ and the manager
improves the occasion by calling in half a dozen soldiers
off duty, and describing them as an 'army of super-
numeraries.' The stage is itself an unreality; its
expressions, like its simulated feasts and unreal viands,
its fruits of coloured paper, and its pies of pasteboard,
are vast, but empty. We may, therefore, pardon its
exaggerations, but, in real life, we may be sure that no
scholar or gentleman will willingly exaggerate or speak
beyond the truth. The first step in that way is dangerous,
it is more than a crime in society ; it is a blunder. To
talk of being immensely funny, prodigiously pleased,
138
A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
excessively and beyond expression annoyed, all the while
you are expressing your chagrin ; to speak of such a
scene being ' wofully comic/ and a picnic passing off in
a way that was ' awfully jolly,' is superlatively nonsensical,
if nothing else. No sane man wishes to speak a mere
argot, a slang which, to the uninitiated, is as incompre-
hensible as the unknown tongue. Language may have
been given, as the bitter satirist said, to conceal men's
thoughts, but not in that way. Big, bombastic, and
swelling words, without thoughts^ to agree with them, are
as ridiculous as the titles assumed by the pauper lunatics
in Hanwell, and are often used by those who have not
the excuse of madness. Every sensible gentleman will
wish to avoid such folly ; and, to secure himself against
the risk of these and like errors, he cannot do better than
study the full meaning, value, and weight of every word
he employs.
CHAPTER XI.
AWKWARDNESS.
CHAPTER XI
English Artists and Art — Chic — Lord Chesterfield — The
English accused of Want of Geist — Mr. Arnold— Art in
Silver — Gerome — Meissonnier — English Landscape — Want
of London Management.
t N one of the late foreign exhibitions, English
artists, who made a very fair show, came off
with only one of many gold medals, and
were consoled in their failure by being told
that their productions were not chic. This piece of slang
was not ' understanded of the common people ' who live
in Tyburnia and Belgravia, but has been for some years
in vogue with the artists and students of Paris and their
companions. It has travelled from the Quartier Breda
to the Boulevards, and it is now widely used by the
artist class, which comprehends those who write as well
as paint in England. That we are not { chic ' needs
142 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
scarcely to be said. The accusation that English ladies
have five thumbs, instead of one and four fingers, has the
merit of having been preferred by the politest nation in
the world, and of being at least as old as the days of
Rochefoucauld. Lord Chesterfield cites against his
countrymen the charges of awkwardness and mauvaise
honte, which he wishes his son, by means of a Continental
education, to be free from. Actually, therefore, he wishes
him to be ' chic/ much as his lordship detested slang.
What does this mysterious expression mean ? The boys of
Paris use it, and the artists still find it handy to express
the inexpressible. It means really what we would
intimate by ' skill or knack.' ' II y a du chic dans ce
tableau/ there is power, worth, expression in that picture ;
or they may say of an actor, ' Cet artiste a du chic/ that
tragedian has stuff in him. Moreover, the little word
pronounced sharply ' shik/ can be used very forcibly to
express contempt. A dame du comptoir, asking a young
fellow with a fine massive gold watch-chain what o'clock
it was, saw, when he produced his timepiece, a miserable
Geneva silver watch ; ' Ah ! ' she cried, ' ce n'est pas
chic ! ' The externals did not imply internals ; and
similarly to certain careless, thoughtless, blundering work,
to ungainly awkwardness, to listless endeavour which
never compasses its end, we may hear that it is not chic !
Mr. Arnold found that the Germans accused the
English of a want of ' geist ' — spirit, mind, pluck, or really
ENGLISH ART. 143
chic. The accusation coming from both nations, from
the thoughtful German and the vivacious Frenchman,
may well make us pause. Is it true ? Is there no foun-
dation for the assertion ? So much as a man loves this
great country, so much as he appreciates her many noble
and admirable qualities, her real virtues and her earnest
endeavours, he will be pained, when comparing — and the
comparison will be constantly forced on him — to find
in almost everything a real want of grist or chic, or
prompt, compact, educated and active thought in
politics, in art, and in literature. We outlive our
blunders, it is true ; but surely we cannot claim sufficient
prescience or spirit to avoid falling into them. In the
Exposition referred to England bore her part, but it was
not the foremost part she once bore. An ordinary show
of English pictures and a motley assembly of provincial
papers was surely no great claim to the possession of the
coveted quality. We ought to have known what we are
about, and to have excelled in other things than china
and cut glass. Certainly we had a curious collection of
all the silver race cups won since 1854, huge piles of
inartistic metal with no ' chic ' about them, and we
had certain engines and machines which the French
equalled and the Belgians surpassed. Our very best
work is in the Government shed, where Palliser's chilled
shot, and Armstrong's breech-loading cannon astonish
the French by the crushing results exhibited on the
144 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
'Warrior' targets and the sides of armour-clads; but
people do say that it showed no very great ' chic ' to
exhibit at a glance the carefully-tabulated results of years
of the most costly experiments, and to teach possibly
hostile nations the best and shortest method of battering
our sea and land defences to pieces. Is it the thing — is
it ' chic ' — to show a rival one's hand at cards ?
As regards art, the want of this quality is certainly
apparent with us. In good French pictures there is
compact thought, power, good execution, and everything
that culture and learning can do. The French painter
knows the alphabet of his art at least, and if he fails, it
is only for want of genius. But very many English
painters exhibit a waste of genius for want of thorough
art teaching. One shows us a number of people, cut
into bits by the frame of the picture, crawling down the
side of a ship ; another, huge figures covering the whole
canvas in native ugliness at a pit's mouth. No wonder
that French judges, accustomed to clean, careful, elegant
work, overlooked the eccentricities of pre-Raphaelite
genius. If we want to know why they do so, and dis-
regard, as gentlemen, the stupid cries of favouritism we
have only to look at the ' Chic,' of Gerome and Meis-
sonier, and the want of all this in all except a few of our
artists. Let us look too, for instance, at our pre-Ra-
phaelite art in woodcuts, which invades even our carica-
tures, our tall figures, bewhiskered and listless swells, our
PAINTERS. 145
coats, gowns, and trousers filling up the whole of the
pictures ; the ragged work, black patches, pen-and-ink
skies, woolly trees, rude and German-like cross-hatchings,
and the utter want of finish which is observable in every
illustrated book which we now see.
Compare the old landscapes of Birket Foster, who has
abandoned the wood, and the figure illustrations of John
Leech and John Gilbert, with our present woodcuts.
True art is nature to advantage dressed,
is an incontrovertible maxim, and yet we dress our
figures to such disadvantage that a picture of a workman
or a sportsman is pervaded, not with the notion of a man,
not with the character of an individual, but with an un-
mistakable velveteen jacket or a pair of corduroy trousers
in which you can count the very lines. Moreover, ugly
as this exaggeration is, it is not more false than it is,
ugly. Figures of the size of woodcuts would lose all
especial texture of their dress ; and yet our thoughtless
artists, because they see grain in the wood of a door
seven feet high, run a false imitation of it over its simili-
tude which is only two inches. The same blundering
attempt to do something without the requisite thought of
how it should be done pervades, let us sadly own, most
things English. Let us pass from this art to architecture ;
let us look at our streets, leading nowhere, the side streets
blocked up so as to overload the arteries of trade ; the
L
146 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
houses built of rough stone, so as to be overloaded with
soot ; the streets badly paved, with interstices so left that
the mud can work up in wet weather, and the dust
arise in the dry. Let us see how we mend the streets by
fits and starts, first letting them be full of holes ; how we
allow the turncock to pick up a portion and leave a
hillock of stones improperly laid, which, just as it gets
worn down, is peremptorily pulled up by the gas-man ;
how we allow nuisances to accumulate ; permit railroads
to knock down and leave in ruins whole quarters of the
town; make no provision for lodging our working
classes, when such provision would render them healthy
and contented, and pay the parish as well ; how acres on
acres of valuable land in the City have been for years a
desert haunted by night by thieves and bad people, and
by day by crowds of betting-men equally bad ; how we
look in vain for a head, and never do anything but make
a job ; how artists design law courts, which should be
plain — noble, not costly in design — with a perfect forest of
small towers and a useless central tower fit only for the
minster bells of a Gothic cathedral, a paradise for sparrows,
a trap for soot and smoke ; how other artists fail utterly
in producing even a creditable design for a National Gallery;
how 'the finest site in Europe,' Trafalgar Square, has
become a stony desert, the playground of roughs — but
there is enough to consider to make us sadly own that
we want both Geist and Chic, and the first thing to
remedy that want is to acknowledge it.
CHAPTER XII.
SATIRE. ITS USE AND ABUSE.
CHAPTER XII.
A Great Want — Truth a Libel — Vulgar Satirists — The Bon
Ton — Swift— Hogarth — Modern Satire — Thackeray.
VERY thoughtful and learned writer, who
has changed this world for another, told
his audience that one of the great wants
of the age was Satire. That had gone out,
he said, with the imposition of the law of libel. A libel
is anything calculated to give pain, and the truth must
be a libel because it certainly must pain many persons
of whom it is spoken.
On the other hand, Pope's doctrine that, ' Take it as
a rule, no creature smarts so little as a fool ' is quite true,
but, how libellous would Pope have been found in these
days ! the persons whom satire hits are not fools but
persons of acute perception and bad taste, who are led
to do wrong because they see it done by persons of
fashion.
150 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
Now, although English literature may be presumed to
have reached that state indicated by the Roman poet,
when he said ' that it was difficult not to write satire,' for
literature is, after all, but a reflex of society, and surely
society demands a purge, and requires an occasional
satire, as sharp and pungent as it can be made. We
have, however, passed, long ago, that early stage of
satiric genius which produced such rude and raw ex-
ponents of the art as Donne and Oldham, who may, in
literature, stand as parallel examples, as in the newspaper
press the ' Age ' and ' Argus,' the ' Censor ' and the
' Satirist,' or, more lately still, those heavy and intense
articles, which, from the pen of Mr. Douglas Jerrold,
threw such a lurid light upon the first and middle pages
of his weekly newspaper. Doubtless there is a public
which still appreciates the mental food, as there is
another public which demands something hot and sting-
ing in what it eats, and something ardent and acrid in
its drink. But the better class have grown into better
tastes, and we wonder at the state of society which could
have produced fools enough to patronise Mr. Barnard
Gregory, the facile princeps of the '^Satirist,' and could
have found amusement in the scandalous paragraph which
acquainted the world of the fact of the * Duke of A
being seen riding with a chambermaid in his chariot,' or
the ' Earl of C enticing the wife of one of his sub-
alterns into the barrack mess-room.' Still more do we
VULGAR SATIRISTS. 151
wonder at the greasy satisfaction with which the * Editor '
penned the words, ' Our eye is on the delinquents,' and
at the cowardice of those delinquents in subsidising the
' Editor ' in order to keep their names out of the paper.
The success of these enterprises produced imitations in
the inferior walks of life. Even in lowest depths there
were found deeper still. The ' Town ' and ' Paul Pry '
and ' Penny Satirist ■ did for greengrocers and butchers
what the 'Age' and 'Satirist' performed for baronets
and earls. ' Joe S , or little black-whiskered Jack,'
were advised not to talk so much to the barmaid ; or ' to
give over paying visits to the tommy-shop,' ' or Paul '
would again be at them ; so that what with the ' eye ' of
the ' Satirist,' and the muddy umbrella of ' Paul Pry, 1
society, high and low, must have been kept in a state of
chronic ferment. We may be sure that some of this mud
stuck. Indeed, the satirists themselves were but bad
imitations of the ' Bon Ton ' and ' Town and Country '
magazines ; and searchers in contemporary history will
find it difficult to distinguish between the false and true,
in reading some of the tete-a-tetes of the latter, such as .
those between the Rev. W. Whitfield and the subtle
sinner, and Jemmy Twitcher (Earl of Sandwich) and
Miss R(eay).
Satire now-a-days does not walk so much in the mud,
nor did it ever do so with the masters of the art. If
Dryden be abusive and foul in his ' Mackflecknoe,' one
iS2 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
cannot but acknowledge that he is wise and beneficent
in his 'Absalom and AchitopheL' The characters there
are drawn with a pen which never faltered in its deline-
ations, and they stand out as real and as true in their
way as the Raphael chalk portraits in theirs. Villiers
and Shaftesbury will never escape from the pen of
Dryden, any more than John Dennis will from that of
Pope. But the satirist, as all satirists do, harmed him-
self as much as he did the objects of his anger, and himself
was gibbeted when caught. The Recording Angel which
reaches the Heaven of posterity, drops a tear upon man's
failings which effectually erases them, although their
vices are proof against such a detergent ; and follies, not
vices, are the true objects of satire. In saying this we
are not excusing either y indeed, we doubt whether, for
actual amount of evil done, the fool does surpass the
rogue; certain it is that folly has done more harm to
society than vice. We suspect a rogue, but we cannot
guard against a fool ; we may shield ourselves from the
pistol of an enemy, but we are lost if our own weapon
breaks in our hand. A race of gentler satirists than
Dryden and Pope soon perceived this, just as the former
had seen that the ridicule of Aristophanes was ever so
much keener, and more useful as a weapon than the tre-
mendous invective of Juvenal or Persius. Indeed, the
latter can scarcely be called satirists in the true sense.
It is not satirical to photograph a pest-house, or to give
HOGARTH AND SWIFT. 153
a line-for-line drawing of a horrible deformity. Hogarth
was not satirical when he drew ' Gin Lane,' but he was
so in his ' Election/ and his ' March to Finchley,' and in
many other works. The last picture of his 'Harlot's
Progress ' or of his ' Rake ' may boast one or two satiric
touches ; but the Painter rises far above satire, and wails,
like another Jeremiah, over the sins and sorrows of the
city. So again with Swift. That writer had far too high
a genius to be commonly understood. Hence many
people abuse him instead of loving him ; hence the
words, beast, man-hater, foul-tongued fellow, applied to
him. But Swift understood himself. In his ' Tale of a Tub'
and ' Gulliver ' he penned as fine satires as the world ever
saw ; but in his verses ' On a Lady's Bedchamber,' and
others of the sort, he spoke dirt, and meant to speak
dirt, and was too earnest to be satirical. He claims
credit for it in more places than one, and of his satire he
says, in his letter to Sir Charles Hogan, ' I had a design
to laugh the follies out of existence, and to whip the
vices out of practice ; ' but he adds that that design and
that satiric genius had been his great bar through life.
So it was, and is : try to improve the world, and it will
hate you, if it suspects the design.
Knowing this, as we have said, a milder kind of satire
grew prevalent. Dr. Young has shown, in his ' Universal
Passion,' that he knew too well what he was about to hit
very hard. His remarks were general, and he left par-
154 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
ticulars to themselves. Great sinners, he thought, should
be dealt with by the law. He would attack the vice, and
not the vicious. A judge might just as well have sen-
tenced Murder, and let go Greenacre or Daniel Good.
But the astute Doctor thrived, and nobody said of him,
as they did of Pope, that he was a ' nasty, spiteful little
devil.' Dr. Young never had the courage of Pope \ the
latter writes :
There are — I scarce can think it, but am told,
There are to whom my satire seems too bold.
Scarce to wise complaisant enough,
And something said of Chartres much too rough.
But, in spite of this, he still spoke of Chartres, and still
hit at Lord Fanny (Hervey) —
That bug with gilded wings,
That painted child of dirt, who stings and sings,
and finally slew his hecatomb at the altar of Satire in the
' Dunciad.'
Good and mild Cowper followed too much in the wake
of Young to give piquancy to his verses. Sound and
admirable as they are, smartly as they hit the freethinker
and the debauchee, they are never personal. The satirist
lashed only the vices, and his example is now generally
followed. Peter Pindar, Churchill, and GirTord created
some amusement in their day. Peter was personal
enough, but he said rude things, and practised invective
MODERN SATIRE. 155
rather than satire. It is not satirical to assert of Sir
Joseph Banks, 'that strange to utter, he, when a very
little boy at school, ate spiders spread upon his bread
and butter 3 ' it is not satirical to expose the poor old mad
king in his conversations with Whitbread, or his questions
about the apple dumpling. All these are within the
boundaries of clever sarcasm, and that often very un-
scrupulous. Peter Pindar Wolcot could do better than
this, and has done better, and has humour and satiric
power, too, in abundance.
The days of strong versified abuse are, however, gone.
Almost every writer is now a satirist ; some are of the
very mildest possible description, but literary scalp-
hunters are few. Articles savage and slaughterly appear
occasionally, but their appearance is hailed with disap-
probation, and the satirist contents himself with exposing
the club-foot of the limping exquisite, or showing the
rouge pot and wrinkles of the old beau. The ' dear
wicked satiric creatures,' as the ladies call them, are very
strong upon ladies' hats and crinoline ; upon ugly old
women who are weak enough to wish to keep their
precious youth ; upon the ugly women who try to look
pretty ; upon the vulgar who wish to be fashionable ; or
the poor little city gent, who, rising from a lower form of life,
tries to ape the dress and behaviour of his betters. All
these are legitimate objects of satire, but the wrath ex-
pended upon them is not very god-like. It is easy to
156 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
crush a butterly upon a wheel, but the frivolous occu-
pation will not add to one's strength. The mildness,
meekness, and perfect propriety under which the writers
of ' Punch' manage to rein their esprit moqueur may be and
are conducive to calm language, but certainly do not give
rise to any vigour of thought. We doubt whether the
whole nation is not weakened by the proceeding ; and it
is but lately, when certain incompetent generals lost us
whole brigades, and .starved men and horses by the
troop, that the dead level of English feeling showed
itself. Indignatio facit versus possibly, but the scorn and
hatred at such proceedings were not divine enough for
poetry, and no indignant vates branded the fools and
imbeciles to all eternity; the latter, therefore, escaping
the satire, quietly have kept their places, and have even
received honours (?).
Strong, sound satire, such as Churchill could have
penned would have done us service ; but our nearest
approach to Churchill was Jerrold, a man of a very
capable but limited spirit, whose best sarcasms were so
polished and successful that he with many others
thought himself a satirist. When he told a friend, who
urged that both being litterateurs they rowed 'in the
same boat ; ' yes, but ' not with the same sculls,' he
merely vented what rhetoricians call an antanaclasis, and
unscholastic people a pun with a sarcastic turn. He was
often offensively bitter, and he earned for himself that
THACKERAY. 157
which he did not deserve — the reputation of an unkindly-
man. This he was not, but he was so continually em-
ployed in making up sharp sayings that he could not
stay to pick and choose the persons upon whom to vent
them. His best sayings are in his comedies. His books
of satire, read even at this short distance of time, are
excessively ponderous and heavy. It is one thing to attack
a man with a club, another to prick him with a lancet.
One school thought that a man could not be touched
unless his brains were knocked out. The intention of
such satirists is always evident, whereas satire should be
like summer lightning, visible to all, but fatal only to the
vermin and noxious insects.
The Magnus Apollo of satire of late years, everyone
will say, was Mr. Thackeray; indeed, his last novel,
' Lovel the Widower,' seemed to promise but a collocation
of sly things whispered in the ear of society by its satiric
monitor. But it seems to us that his power in this way
is much inferior to that of his master, Fielding — or even
to that of Dickens. When the latter tells us of a certain
German baron, who being visited with conscientious
qualms of a murder, seized upon certain wood and stone
belonging to a weaker baron, and built a chapel with
them, thereby hoping to propitiate Heaven, the satire is
so true and pungent that we all feel touched by it. Our
offerings also are too often polluted, and we gain a
deeper knowledge of ourselves. When Mr. Punch in his
158 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
earlier days used, as a pendant to the descriptions of
fashionable parties, to describe the supper of Mr. Brown
the sweep and Hoggins the costermonger, upon whose
table bread and cheese and onions and other deli-
cacies of the season were observed, the satire was so
true and keen, although gentle, that the ' Morning Post'
and ' Court Journal ' were considerably amended thereby.
But the author of ' Vanity Fair ' owned few such gentle
touches. Satyr-like, he used his crook for the purpose of
lifting up the skirts of society, and exhibiting her clay
feet ; he has written chapter after chapter on the pilfering
landladies, swaggering captains, clownish baronets, and
dubious aristocracy : we feel that our neighbours are hit
rather than ourselves, and we go on our way rejoicing.
This kind of satire does no good. It makes us regard
all around us with a cynic sneer, and perpetually cry out,
* Ah ! it is all very well, saintly Miss Dash and good
Mr. Blank, but you have a skeleton in your cupboard as
well as the rest. So on, ad nauseam, the phrases of
social scepticism soon grow stale ; and the satirist, wb$
perpetually grinds over the same dull tune, enervates and
debases rather than reforms.
CHAPTER XIII.
ON THE CULTIVATION OF VIRTUE.
CHAPTER XIII.
Good to be Grown — Examination — Cram — Modern School-
boys — Blunderers — Diplomacy — Successful Roguery — The
true Hero.
the horn.
'AN you raise good men and women as you
raise potatoes ? In Norfolk they will breed
you turkeys to the pound weight, and raise
oxen that shall be so many inches long in
You may have it all to order — turkey, potato,
or ox : nay, there is in Co vent Garden a fruit- salesman,
who, give him but six weeks' notice, will supply peaches,
strawberries, early peas, or pine-apples, to your table at
any season of the year. It is only a matter with him of
forcing on or keeping back. Can we produce statesmen,
poets, soldiers, or good men, women, and citizens, in a
like manner ? This simile of a vegetable and a man — man
being himself but a pestilent forked radish of a fellow, who
M
162 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
struts and stares, and moans or frets his hours away — is a
very old one. The ornate Thomson, ' more fat than bard
beseems,' suggested the idea to our infant understandings.
' Delightful task/ he says, ' to rear the tender thought, to
teach the young idea how to shoot;' as if man was but a
succulent plant, a young vine, or a frame cucumber, that
should be pushed that way or led this. And yet cucum-
bers have troubled wise men, having a tendency to curl
up in the "fashion of a ram's horn, or to run spindling
down, and then to bulge out in a bulbous way at the
end, as is the manner with some noses of our acquaint-
ance. Can a man be as easily guided as a cucumber by
that genius, who, placing straight lamp glasses in the
beds, made the gherkins grow to maturity with that
charming propriety and symmetry, of which examples
are to be seen at our fruiterers' ?
The French nation has for some years had an idea
that virtue could and can be cultivated. So have the
Chinese, or, as they called them in Dampier's time, the
' Chineesses.' The French have periodical examinations,
a constant surveillance, and then, with an awful oration,
in the midst of applausive parents, Spiders, and fat
citizens, they, after kissing the boys on each cheek, stick
a wreath on their heads, and give them a bundle of
books. Unhappily, prize boys, and prize poems, and
prize everything, except ploughs and sewing-machines,
turn out badly here. Whether the extravagant feeding
CULTIVATED VIRTUE. 163
did not produce the cattle disease was a question gravely
propounded; whether cramming boys with learning,
which at best they cannot well comprehend, does not
produce a useless and feelingless animal, which ' blows '
early, like a flower forced in a hot-house, and which after-
wards puts forward neither flower nor fruit, is another
question which many persons have decided in the affirm-
ative. Too much cramming in early life produces, Mr.
Dickens would have us believe, a kind of Mr. Toots,
who becomes, when he grows up, a puzzle-headed fellow,
full of listless indifference.
That boys learn more now at school is, perhaps, certain.
The scope of education is more extensive, the matter
more varied. Too wide by far, it seems to many, is the
view taken of the education of youth, arising, as we
think, from the mistaken view that education should
cease after leaving school or college, and that extreme
youth is the only seed-time of life. Not only is this but
partially true in many respects, but on the whole it is
deplorably false. The purport of education is only to fit
a man to learn, not to fill him with learning. We do not
take all our meals at breakfast-time, nor should we insist
upon loading our heads with learning in the morning of
life. To create a general fitness for reception, and to
ascertain the particular tendency of the mind, can be,
and ever should be, the only aim of the educator.
During the time of a boy's or girl's separation from the
1 64 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
home of the parents, the qualities least prominent in the
majority of homes, such as regularity, simplicity of living,
a Spartan plainness of diet, hardihood, self-reliance, and
bravery, should be instilled. These really may be taught
so as to become part and parcel of the boy. At present,
however, a very different system prevails ; and at some
of our most noted schools the foundation is laid, not for
virtue and hardiness in after life, but for the most con-
temptible and effeminate of vices.
' With some of them,' writes a gentleman of our school-
boys at Christmas, ' I travelled in the train. There they
sat, with their burnished chimney-pots and their kid
gloves, their spotless clothes and faultless boots — the
most conceited little prigs in the universe ! The very
look of them told you how remarkably satisfied they were
with themselves. " We are Etonians "was expressed in
every feature. Some of them were young lords, crawled
to, and fawned on, and flattered already, and even now
assuming the airs of consequence, as of those who take
homage as their due. Others are sent by tuft-hunting,
parasite parents expressly to tuft-hunt, to form connec-
tions which may serve them in after life, to have it said
that they have been at Eton with a young marquis, and
have been bowled from him at cricket ; to acquire the
early habits and manners of gentlemen in the very gen-
teelest society.'
This is not the way to form English boys. But, unfor-
BLUNDERERS. 165
tunately, the picture is too true. These boys are fops
while they are yet children, and have credit at the tailors,
and ' tick ' at the confectioners, where they run up bills
for truffled turkeys and ices. Drunkenness is not un-
known among them, and foppery is a common character-
istic. Is this the way to form men who shall hereafter
govern England ? Are the upper classes giving them-
selves a fair chance ? It was not so formerly at Rugby
or Shrewsbury, nor is it so now at Wellington College,
a soldier's school, founded by Prince Albert. Wellington
himself complained of the puppies and fops of Eton,
though he afterwards added, 'but these puppies fight
well.' Yes, certainly, and fight they did, but not better
than the ploughmen and young tailors that they led. All
British men have a certain amount of pluck ; but by what
rule parents can allow their boys to be spoilt — to read
of the severe Cato and virtuous Scipio, and yet to be
neither exact nor virtuous — is a wonder. In after life
most of such boys turn out blunderers, when their high
rank forces them (more's the pity !) into diplomatic and
official life. These blunderers are very harmful to us all,
and have cost England more than the whole of the
aristocracy has ever won for her. Beyond that, which is
serious enough, such schoolboys only harm themselves.
We may be sure that, omitting exceptional and favoured
cases, these boys miss their place in life, and can no
more compete with a fierce democracy, or rule a nation
1 66 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
beneficially, than an over-fed Italian greyhound can
course and catch a hare upon the Chiltern Hills.
The 'cultivation of virtue/ which should be com-
menced at school, is now almost totally neglected for
that of ability, adroitness, or quickness ; for these quali-
ties carry away the prizes. What is really prize-worthy is
capacity and goodness. Our boys are not handicapped :
a very quick boy in the midst of half-a-dozen dull ones
gains the prize as easily as a racehorse when matched
against six or seven road-hacks. The French system is
better, and it extends also — and here we differ from triem
— to after-life, when the Montholon prizes are given openly
to those, in any class of life, who have exhibited good-
ness. A year or so ago a young milliner, and a person
who kept a shop, were picked out as the two most worthy,
and received the prize. Of course, to those young people
who are nothing if not critical, this crowning of two
persons in a humble state of life is something ridiculous.
But it is not so to the recipients, nor is it in reality so to
any but Laodicean sceptics, who, understanding little,
sneer at everything.
It is but natural that the lower strata of society should
furnish the more frequent examples of real goodness.
The actual foible is this : that, were we to crown all de-
serving people, we should always see crowds of crowned
heads walking along the streets. How many men and
women devote the whole of their lives to others, take but
REWARDS. 167
an indifferent share of what they earn, and, after a life of
hardship, creep to their obscure graves without an idea
that they have done a meritorious action ? How many
self-sacrifices are daily made, without the show or adver-
tisement which accompanies the action of the warrior, or
the brave doing of him who gains the Victoria cross ?
There is, unhappily, little doubt that our criminal popu-
lation is a large one ; but it is not a hundredth nor a
thousandth part so large as that beneficial population which
pays all the taxes, keeps the Queen and the Queen's
troops, pays judges, lawyers, preachers, soldiers, police-
men, and gaolers ; and, lastly, feeds and pets the poor
rogues themselves, when they are undergoing their
punishment in a capital healthy receptacle for criminals,
called a prison, in which many people say, and we
honestly believe with truth, Mr. Rogue is made a great
deal too comfortable.
True virtue, which can be cultivated, is nevertheless so
vigorous a plant, that it grows best in its native state.
When it is true, moreover, it never wants any reward.
It is ridiculous to the man, and supremely so to society,
to reward a labourer who for forty years has laboured,
brought up a family, kept himself honest, sober, pious,
respected, and poor — has never complained nor rebelled,
but has borne his life's trials like a hero — it is absurd
to reward such a man with a new pair of breeches, as
does the old Tory Farming Association, with Mr. Disraeli
1 68 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
at its head. Such honest peasants are God's saints here,
and look to their reward hereafter. We do not know
what we owe to their simple virtues. As ten righteous
men would have saved Sodom, so this country, in many-
trials and corruptions in James I.. Charles II., George II.,
and George IV.'s times, to judge from history, could only
have been saved by God's grace given to the poor and
virtuous of the land. As for the court, city, and high
society, they stank, and were corrupt And yet, forsooth,
Rochester and Chiffinch were just the men to preside at
a meeting which would reward (?) with a new smock-frock
a worn-out ploughman, whose virtue had saved them, and
whose labour had fed them ! No : virtue gets not its
reward in this world, neither does it look for it. It is the
weakness of a generous heart to look for the eye which
speaks thankfulness, and the murmured blessing of the
one it has relieved ; but, in reality, it does good for good's
sake, and it is better not to think of any return. One
cannot /#y virtue, nor buy goodness. Honesty is not to
be raised by policy only. When a man is honest only
from motive, it is fair to infer that he would be roguish,
also, should that pay better.
These considerations will comfort young people, who
often deplore that the best men sometimes get the worst
of it in this world, and that the great prizes of wealth,
honour, station, and titles, often fall to those who have
least deserved them. But what then ? This is all proper.
SUCCESSFUL ROGUES. 169
Virtue itself is its own great reward. The motto is as old
as Cato, and, if looked at properly, is a consoling truth.
So sings Alexander Pope: —
But sometimes Virtue starves, while Vice is fed —
What then ? Is the reward of Virtue bread ?
If the knave is clever, he deserves his money. If rigging
the market, and picking the pockets of shareholders of
the Doem, Cheatem, and Smashem Railway makes
money, the promoters of that great line, with Lord Brag
and Sir Mendax Pinto at their head, earn the money,
and in a very dirty way too. Let us thank God that our
table ale is not mixed with the tears of ruined orphans
and widows, as is the 'dry' sherry of these men; and
that the ' pop ' of our lemonade does not remind us, as
does that of the directors' champagne, of the report of a
suicide's pistol. Rich living, trouble, toil, extra servants
that cheat, and a great house that is a great trouble, are
a fit reward of many clever men, and a troublesome
crown to some good men too. Good men claim, and
get, quite another kind of prize : —
What nothing earthly gives, nor can destroy,
The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy,
Is Virtue's prize. A better would you fix ?
Then give Humility a coach and six,
Virtue a conqueror's sword, or Truth a crown,
Or public spirit its great cure, a crown !
Solvuntur risu tabula! The whole company breaks
170 A MAN'S THOUGHTS,
into inextinguishable laughter at Humility riding in a
coach and six, and a man who has devoted his life to the
public having a crown put on his head and being made
a king, so that the public shall hate him. Virtue, then,
cannot be paid in this world ; the world's coinage is not
current in her kingdom. Sometimes Virtue is starved ;
she is often beaten, imprisoned, gagged, and harried out
of house and home ; but she carries her reward, her con-
solation, her food, comfort, and glory with her in her
bosom ■ it is a little herb of grace — the love of God.
But if she cannot be paid, she can be cultivated.
Honest reason well applied to ethics must tell us that,
after all, what is right is best. A knowledge of physi-
ology will assure us, without the shadow of a doubt, that
as a rule, riches, state, and position are but gilded sorrows,
and that poverty — comparative poverty, not starvation,
in which the great majority of the world exists — is infi-
nitely happier than affluence or riches. Good sense will
easily make all these apparent paradoxes plain enough.
A man once was examined for a fellowship of three
hundred a year, lost it, and lived to thank God for his
loss. In the meantime he had cultivated reflection,
reason, and content. 'We, ignorant of ourselves,' says
the ever-wise Shakspere, ' beg often our own harms,
which the wise powers deny us for our good ; so find we
profit by losing of our prayers.' It takes a good deal of
schooling on the part of the eager, ignorant, and im-
THE TRUE HERO. 171
patient heart of man to learn the truth of that ; but true
it is.
Young people are imitative. Hence we are quite right
in putting before them examples of heroic virtue, either
fictitious, historical, or real, and in having the story told
simply and plainly. The boys and girls being unspoilt,
you will soon see which person they like best: Caesar
Augustus, surrounded by his flattering poets, or Brutus,
dying upon the field ; Milton, old, blind, and deserted,
or the fawning and successful Monk, the Earl of Albe-
marle, rewarded for his treachery by a coronet ; Charlotte
Corday, marching with her pearl pink face, lighted up
with a pale glow of triumph, to the prison which leads
but to the scaffold, or the Judges, clothed in pride and
drunken with overstrained power, who condemned her.
Why, the very chains of the prisoner are robes of starry
gold compared to the glittering frippery of the sordid
monarch who condemns him ! Let Xerxes swell and
bourgeon in the fumes of his power, like a gilded dung-
hill fly in the sun ; let court poet and historian sing his
praises over and over again ; let him die in glory, and be
buried in such a pyramid that it should stare the moon
out of countenance ; yet he would not equal the simple
glory of Leonidas and his Spartans lying under the bare
stone in a mountain pass, with the simple inscription —
' Stranger, tell it at Lacedaemon, that we died here in
obedience to her laws.' Such stories as these will beat
1 72 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
all those selfish and foolish narrations of successful mer-
chants : how Paul's penny became a thousand pounds ;
and how Peter scraped and starved his wife and family
till he was rich enough to take a large house and make
the yellow gold run in a stream into his pocket. He had
better made true, honest feelings run out of his heart.
By example, then, by narrative, and by a constant
appeal to the true state of things, virtue can be cultivated
either in ourselves or in others. We had better set about
it, for as matters stand we shall want — indeed we now
want — an extra supply of that article, which is much
better than rifled guns, or armour-plates, or breech-
loaders. We want our eyes opened to justice, so as to
see clearly and to judge rightly ; to be firm in our refusal
to move ; or, when we do move, to do so in the right
path. Hitherto we have done well, and have been
accompanied with blessings ; but now around us things
somewhat darken. We shall have much ado to hold our
own ; and the only way for us to do so truly, either as
individual men or as a nation, is to understand virtue,
and to cultivate it carefully.
CHAPTER XIV.
BRITISH PHILISTINISM.
CHAPTER XIV.
A New. Word—Philistia of Old— 'Milton's Samson— A Shade
more Soul— The Barbarians — The People — Mr. Carlyle and
the Nobility — Trade — The World 's Ideals.
SINGULAR son of a very remarkable father
— one who is in some measure a leader of
modern thought, has helped to circulate a
new word,* and to affix upon British men
and manners a new name. Matthew Arnold, the son
of Dr. Arnold, of Rugby, a name dear to many, be-
* The word Philister, or Philistine, was used in its modern sense
by Carlyle, Sydney Smith, and others before Matthew Arnold was
born ; it has been current in Germany-^more particularly in univer-
sity towns among students — as a cant term to express the trading
townspeople, the Kleinstddter of Lessing, for more than a century.
Carlyle coined our English Philistinism, and the word soon found
currency in America. Matthew Arnold adopts it in its German
sense — the littleness of trade in money-grubbing.
176 A MAN'S TITO U GUTS.
loved by the boys' hearts still remaining in the breasts
of grey-headed men, one of the chief leaders in Church
and State, is he who has done this ; and it is worth
while to examine how far he is truly inspired when he
plays upon this one-stringed harp, and endeavours to
affix on his countrymen a name disgraceful and abhor-
rent to all the noble and pure-minded.
We must go back to sacred history, and no less to the
poetry of Milton, to examine who the Philistines were.
People who have merely an indefinite idea that they were
a rich nation on the confines of Judaea, often at war with
the Israelites, and whose soldiers were slaughtered by
the thousand with the jawbone of an ass, wielded by
Samson, will not realise nor feel the insult and the sneer,
nor will they profit by the lesson, which we think at least
necessary and salutary.
The Philistines, as we should properly call these
people, then inhabited the plain of Philistia ; and bounded
on the north by Phoenicia and Syria, and on the south
by Egypt and Arabia, the fertility and the position of
their country gave them enormous wealth. So far they
were like England. ' Ashdod and Gaza were the keys
of Egypt, and commanded the transit trade,' says a
writer on this people ; ' and the stores of frankincense
and myrrh which Alexander captured at the latter place
prove it to have been a depot of Arabian produce.'
Moreover, the Philistines seem to have possessed a navy,
PHILISTIA. 177
and to have attacked the Egyptians from their ships :
they were extremely skilful as armourers, smiths, and as
architects of walled and strong towns. They were skilled
goldsmiths, for they made emerods and gold mice,
images, and gods and goddesses without question.
Their wealth was abundant, and they were strong in their
own conceit, given to feasting, to assembling together
and holding long palavers or parliaments, and had all
the appearances of a strong and eminently respectable
people. If we take these characteristics, we shall find
that Mr. Matthew Arnold, who so well knows how to
point his satire, was not very wrong in calling us by the
name he has used.
It is just when Philistia is at the culmination of her
complacent power, able to worry and oppress the Israel-
ites, ready to send armed men from her own rich land to
spoil that of her poor but holier neighbours, that there
appear on the scene a very remarkable man, named
Samson, who was ' a Nazarite unto God from the womb.'
Previous to his birth, his mother drank no wine nor
strong drink ; neither did she eat any unclean thing,
Samson grew up a very tower of strength, mighty as the
fabled Hercules, if indeed he was not he, ' and the spirit
of the Lord began to move him at times in the camp of
Dan, between Zorah and Eshtaol.'
How it moved him we all know. Despising the rich
living of the Philistines, caring neither for their gold-
N
178 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
smiths' work, nor for their great trade, nor for their wine
and their feastings, their riches, their clothing, and their
large houses, although they had dominion over Israel, he
sought an occasion against them, and, as we know, not in
vain. Tricked by them with regard to his riddle and the
raiment, he went down to Ashkelon and slew thirty men
of them, and took their spoil, and gave change of gar-
ments unto them which expounded his riddle. After-
wards he set fire-branded foxes into their standing corn,
and smote them hip and thigh with great slaughter, and
again, with the jawbone of an ass, slew a thousand of
them, was bound and snared, and again burst forth to
slay them, until, snared by Delilah, he was blinded by
his enemies, made a mockery of, and set to grind corn
while the Philistian lords feasted in a great house ; when
his strength came again, and he cried, ' O Lord God,
remember me, I pray Thee, and strengthen me, I pray
Thee, only this once, O God, that I may be at once
avenged of the Philistines for my two eyes ; ' and then,
sure that the Lord had heard him, he bowed his strong
arm with all his might, holding ' the two middle pillars
upon which the house stood ; and the house fell upon
the lords and upon all the people that were within ; and
the dead which he slew at his death were more than
they which he slew in his life.'
So ends the story of Samson, judge of Israel, one who
received his strength from the Lord, and who hated the
MILTON'S SAMSON. 179
Philistines, but who was snared and blinded, and made
to grind corn for them, and to be their sport, but who
was faithful and undaunted, and though stained some-
what, as our new morality makes us think, with the sins
of the flesh, was not yet deserted by God, but carried
out in his death the end for which he was born. Cer-
tainly, he pulled down destruction on his own head ; but,
as his father, Manoah, in Milton's great dramatic poem,
is made to say, even that was a triumph. He left
To himself and father's house eternal fame ;
And, which is best and happiest yet, all this
With God not parted from him, as was fear'd,
But favouring and assisting to the end.
Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail
Or knock the breast ; no weakness, no contempt,
Dispraise or blame ; nothing but well and fair,
And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
It is significant that Milton, in his blindness, turned to
the history of Samson to illustrate his own feelings, and
pictured to himself his loyalist countrymen rejoicing in
the return of the foolish and bad King Charles II. No
doubt, also, the people of England figured to him under
the name of Philistines.
What Mr. Matthew Arnold means he explains more
fully under the title of ' Anarchy and Authority.' He
shows, by a side glance as it were, that our nation has
fallen into a very sad state, and that we are, in the main,
incapable of governing ourselves, and a long way out of
180 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
the true and noble road in which a nation should walk.
Nor is he in this very far wrong. The great middle
class, rich, self-satisfied, relying on its ships, its works,
its power, and its possessions, are the. Philistines ; but
we have besides, he says, in England, the aristocratic
class, or the Barbarians, descendants of those conquerors
of England and Europe, to whom we owe so much
individuality ; who are noted for their courtesy and
culture. Only all this culture is mainly an exterior
culture ; it consists principally in outward gifts and
graces, in looks, manners, accomplishments, prowess ;
the chief inward gifts which had part in it were the most
exterior, so to speak, of inward gifts — those which come
nearest to outward ones : they were courage, a high
spirit, self-reliance. But then this class, of which Lord
Elcho is taken as a type, although in the main good, has
grave faults, mainly an ' insufficiency of light.' It is a
brave class, and means well, but it has none of the in-
ward spirit. ' Even when we look on these brilliant
creatures/ sneers the author, ' in the presence of all their
charming gifts, do we not think that there should be a
shade more soul?'
Fond of hunting, fine manners, beautiful things,
country life, high places, parks and castles, which are
' fortified posts ' of the Barbarians, but for the most part
without soul, and utterly, or what amounts to the same
thing, habitually careless of all those below them, we will
THE POPULACE. 181
let the representatives of this class pass by, and take
another, the lowest in the scale, but beneath which there
seems to us to seethe a lower depth still. This, the
low, not the lowest depth, is the Populace, in Mr. Arnold's
language, which looks forward to the happy day when it
will sit on thrones, with Mr. Bazley and other middle-
class potentates, to survey, as Mr. Bright beautifully
says, ' the cities it has built, the railroads it has made,
the manufactures it has produced, the cargoes which
freight the ships of the greatest mercantile navy that the
world has ever seen.' This portion of the people, there-
fore, which is wholly occupied in surveying itself, and
according to Plato's subtle expression, l with the things
of itself and not its best self,' has much in common with
the Philistines ; but what is dangerous about it is, that
its substratum is formed of a very dangerous class indeed.
That vast portion, lastly, of the working class, which, raw
and half-developed, has long lain hidden midst its
poverty and squalor, and is now issuing from its hiding-
place, to assert an Englishman's heaven-born privilege of
doing as he likes, and is beginning to perplex us by
marching where it likes, meeting where it likes, bawling
what it likes, breaking what it likes — to this vast residuum
we may with great propriety give the name of the Popu-
lace.
One more question from Mr. Arnold, and we have
done. Have we made quite clear what he means by a
1 82 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
British Philistine, by those people whom we have all met
on the Continent ? of whom we are thoroughly ashamed,
and yet in part proud, who are the backbone, as they assert,
of the country, but a very ugly backbone notwithstand-
ing. ' Philistine,'' says the modern author of the term,
' gives the notion of something particularly stiff-necked
and perverse in the resistance to light and its children ;
and therein it specially suits our middle class, who not only
do not pursue sweetness and light, but who prefer to them
that sort of machinery of business, chapels, tea-meetings,
and addresses from Mr. Murphy and the Rev. W. Cassel,
which make up the dismal and illiberal life on which I
have so often touched.''
Thus, while we are bound to acknowledge on the
one hand that, living in the nineteenth century, England
has reached a certain degree of civilisation, and is per-
haps, as Emerson has it, ' the best of actual nations,' we
can but own that it is a poor best ; nay, if we think at all
deeply, we shall be ready to concede that our middle-
class life does want l sweetness and light,' and that in the
general routine of every-day existence it is essentially ' a
dismal and illiberal life.' It is this feeling that makes all
young and poetical natures — and all natures when young
and fresh have something of the poet in them — exclaim
against the hard-hearted nonsensical conventionalities of
life, which make them often in despair run away from
civilisation, nay from life itself. It is this, too, which
THE ARISTOCRACY, 183
makes the daily intercourse of life seem so cold, so
dreadful, so full of hypocrisy, which gathers people into
classes, and arrays them one against the other. It is
this which gives popular novelists the chance of describ-
ing the middle class as lord-loving and tuft-hunting,
seldom or never looking at the merit of a man, but re-
garding chiefly his money and his position ; not deter-
mining even that young men shall grow up wise and
virtuous, but that they shall grow up the companions of
Lords This and That, the college chums of some vicious
nobleman ; not that their daughters shall equal Virginia
in innocence, or Cornelia in matronly wisdom, but that
they shall make a great match and be received at Court.
All this, and a, dozen other traits of a selfish and narrow
class, prove that the charge of Philistinism can be sus-
tained against them.
But they are not alone. We have lately heard from
Mr. Carlyle and others a great deal in praise of our aris-
tocracy. The English nobleman, says that prophet, 'has
still left in him, after such sorrowful emotions, something
considerable of chivalry and magnanimity. Polite he is
in the finest form ; politeness — modest, simple, veritable,
ineradicable — dwells in him to the bone. I incline to
call him the politest kind of nobleman or man (especially
his wife, the politest and gracefullest kind of woman) you
will find in any country.' Yes, 'in any country,' we
think this true ; but we don't think much of the truth.
1 84 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
We do not want graceful polish only. French polish
outside veneer is not the flower of life, but truth at its
highest and best. The British nobleman at school, the
British nobleman at college running into debt, swaggering
about like a big boy, hardly amenable to rules, running
up to town and on town in term time, going to chapel
with a hunting-coat and top-boots under his gown, de-
lighting in breaking the heads of the town-people, calling
all below him 'cads ' or ' snobs,' and yet glad to accept
the subserviency of those same cads, and to borrow money
of them, to go to their parties, and to air himself like a
black-skinned potentate, as proud of his title as is King
Jacko-Mongo-Pongee of the cocked hat and epaulettes
which adorn his nakedness ; this British nobleman is not
the highest representative of man. Nor when he talks —
and he has talked, as they yet brag of it — of sending his
black footman into the House of Commons, and takes
care, although his body is five hundred strong at least,
never to go to the House of Lords, nay, to let his tenantry
fester mentally in dark ignorance, and (as in Sussex, the
other day, in one village) absolutely in typhus fever, for
want of proper building improvements, while he spends
his cultivated life in Paris ; when he does this, and his
order does it every day, we cannot accept the British
nobleman as the highest type of man. He is a very
good fellow, no doubt ; not very wise, or his order would
have been held in more respect; somewhat lazy and
THE WORLDS IDEALS. 185
luxurious, but — and here we must again be obliged to
Mr. Matthew Arnold — a Barbarian.
Shall we find any comfort in looking on the Populace ?
Is that class free from reproach ? Perhaps not \ but it
can at least say one thing : it has had less given to it,
and it has done more, than any other class. You take
your priests and your noblemen from the Philistines
proper, and they go about the world making the best of
it, for the most part, for themselves ; but we, the working
populace, improve it for others. There can be no doubt
of that. We are misled, it is true. We have so much to
do, and the battle of life goes on so hotly down our
courts and alleys, and we have so much to suffer, too,
that we do not always appear wise to our rulers ; but we
are true and leal to certain ideals ; and if in the wrong —
as we often are — ours is a noble error, ever striving to
get to the right. Thus we are surging upwards, while
the Philistine and Barbarian are driving God knows
whither. This may be said for us.
But alas ! 'tis little. The ideals of the world are
shameful, lame ideals, mere idols of wood and stone,
and no true gods \ and this, too, after eighteen hundred
years of the truest teaching, of the simplest and sublimest
truth.
Happily, the Truth lives. That cannot die. Above
the petty Little Pedlington class interests at this largely
critical period, when Tom wants to govern, and Lord
1 86 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
Noodle protests that Tom does not know how; when
Co-operative Stores enable everybody to rob the trades-
man, and get all things at trade price, and the tradesman
robs everybody, in his turn, with bank shares and rail-
way scrip j when, from the very crown of society to its
great toe, every member of the body politic is shirking
responsibility, and calling upon some other member to
do his work ; when the ship is driving and surging on-
wards, and the only way to steer it properly is, says one
prophet, to catch the Devil, and chain him — laying him
up, ' tied neck and heels, and put beyond stirring, as the
preliminary ' ; and so after this imaginary evil the whole
crew are scampering, steersman and all : during all this
time Truth lives, and must at last conquer. We are none
of us what we should be. We have class hatreds, preju-
dices, wickedness, and follies. Philistinism is rampant
amongst us. But Christianity is about to take a new
development. This half-hearted faith, this imperfect
mode of life, has long been weighed in the balance ; the
young Samson is born. When the new development
shall have come to its strength, the whole of the hated
and contemptible nation of Philistines will have passed
away.
CHAPTER XV.
IIX-NATURED PHILOSOPHY.
CHAPTER XV.
Cynics — Timon — Modern imitators — Young Cynics — Sneering
— Carlyle and Thackeray — True love — Falseness of Cynicism
— Byron*
HE ancient Greeks called certain philoso-
phers who formed a school of themselves,
Cynics, from a word meaning a dog, because
such philosophers snarled and sneered at
human life, disregarded many of the duties and virtues,
laughed at the responsibilities, and generally elevated
themselves above their fellows by running down what
other men held sacred and beautiful. It would be a
piece of ignorance for us to assert that the Cynics did
this, just as it would be foolish to believe that the Epi-
cureans really held the opinion that sensual pleasure, the
mere delight of eating, drinking, and being comfortable,
formed the ideal of a life. Pleasure was their chief aim
i 9 o A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
but a wise pleasure will arise only from the exercise ol
virtue ; that true and holy pleasure which is enduring
can only be the true one.
To cynicism we apply almost one meaning only, and
that an unpleasant one. A cynic is, metaphorically, one
who growls and barks at others ; he is a dog in the manger,
and loves not to hear of others' successes or pleasures.
Blame, cynic > if you can, quadrille or ball,
The snug close party, or the splendid hall,
Where Night, down stooping from her ebon throne,
Views constellations brighter than her own.
These are Cowper's lines, and exhibit one view ol
cynicism. Bishop Berkeley uses, however, another
meaning of the word, in which discontent is not apparent,
but rather a dog-like content. He asks, in his admirable
and shrewd Querist, ' Whether the bulk of the native
Irish are not kept from thriving, by that cynical content
in dirt and beggary which they possess to a degree beyond
any other people.' Here it indicates a good nature,
which by extreme tension is stretched into a vice.
Modern cynicism has nothing to do with that. The
quality, as at present seen, and which has become
fashionable amongst our young, rich, highly-educated,
but ill-conditioned young men, is excellently pourtrayed
by Shakspere in his character of the Greek cynic
ApemantuSf who, while he watches the feasting and
APEMANTUS. 191
riotous living of the Lord Timon, knows well how to
sneer at his folly. Asked to say grace at a rich man's
table, Apemantus growls out the following : —
Immortal Gods, I crave no pelf ;
I pray for no man but myself :
Grant I may never prove so fond,
To trust man on his oath or bond,
Or a harlot for her weeping,
Or a dog that seems a-sleeping.
Amen. So fall to't.
Rich men sin, and I eat root !
Here we have the conceit, envy, selfishness, distrust and
disbelief in fellow-man which properly constitute cynicism.
For, observe, Apemantus prays for no man but himself,
cares for none, believes in neither oath nor bond, does
not even condescend to trust his precious carcass to the
immortal Gods themselves, for so he means to tell us
when he says that of them even he ' craves no pelf.' To
outward appearances he gives no heed : all women are
to him base, all dogs he distrusts, and believes that they
may turn and rend him ; finally, he concludes with a
piece of self-laudation, which wisdom teaches us is ridi-
culous, and faith sinful. Rich men, he says, sin in their
luxurious feeding ; but I eat root ; that is, / am better
than they, because I find that vegetable food agrees with
me better than meats. Anything farther from grace, for
the willingness to accept what was placed before him and
i 9 2 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
be thankful, could hardly be conceived. Apemantus has
contrived to unite the worst qualities of the Grecian
Cynic and of the Jewish Pharisee.
Now it would be wrong to suppose for one moment
that Antisthenes, who at Cynosages (whence some say
the name of the sect) founded this school of philosophy,
intended it to degenerate to what it did. It is not to be
regarded, moreover, so much as a sect as an institution
for the correction of manners. All vices, say some, in
exact opposition to Rochefoucauld's maxim, are disguised
virtues; and cynicism was intended first as a protest
against frivolous finery, folly, and luxury. This protest
is eternal, and is as much needed now as ever. What
Antisthenes desired to teach was to subdue the passions,
and to inculcate natural and simple manners. The
Sybarite who complained that his sleep was broken be-
cause a rose-leaf was doubled under him, was precisely
the man who was to be mended by this school of be-
haviour. The Cynic was not only haughty in manner
from his contempt of the effeminate fools and fops around
him, but he was simple in his diet, plain in his clothes,
patient in his endurance of hunger, cold, and outward
evils. In all this he was right : and so long as he ad-
hered to this simple rule, the rough philosopher by his
example benefited his kind.
But it is a rule in this world that good turns to evil.
Simplicity and the calmness of devotion turn, on the one
DIOGENES. 193
hand, to a bare carelessness ; and, on the other, when
connected to a formal and showy, and therefore vicious
ritualism. So cynicism quickly became coarse, rude,
contemptuous and overbearing, and in fact worse than
the evils it affected to cure. When Diogenes threw away
his wooden bowl because he found that he could drink
from the hollow of his hand, he was teaching a valuable
lesson by an extreme example. We were not to hamper
ourselves with unnatural furniture or luggage in going
through the world. When visited by Alexander, who,
flushed with conquest, condescended to ask what he
could do for him, the Cynic replied, ' Merely get out of
my sunshine,' feeling that he was as great as the swagger-
ing captain in his clinking arms, his nodding plumes,
gold helmet and glittering sword ; but when, going into
the house of Plato, he disfigures the marble floor with his
dirty sandals, bemires his couch, and cries out, * Thus do
I trample on the pride of Plato,' we feel that the nobler
philosopher was right in answering, ' And with greater
pride, O Diogenes ! ' Cynicism soon fell in Greece into
contempt, the rigorous habits became absurdly ascetic,
men punished their ' vile bodies ' for nothing, and neg-
lected science merely to cultivate virtue. We had the
mediaeval history of the monks and ascetics acted hun-
dreds of years before the monks lived. Then scandal
opened her mouth, and the grossest tales were told con-
cerning the sect, and the history was acted out ; the sect
o
i 9 4 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
died ; but, as we all know, the motive or impulse
remains.
There is a great deal of modern cynicism about, of that
feeling which if it does not arise from mere ill-nature
very soon culminates in it. Young men and boys— and
we here mean by young men those below thirty— find it
so easy to sneer, that they frequently are delighted to
take up the habit. And to all, this disposition is so hate-
ful, that everyone will agree with Milton's definition,
when he says that ' A beardless cynic is the shame of
nature.' And yet we see this beardless cynicism every-
where. Certain successful reviews and newspapers, to
which it would be folly to deny much talent, but the
merits of which are vastly exaggerated by their success,
have introduced the fashion of sneering at everything.
Every author is found to be much lower in merit than
his critic, every poem is commonplace, every preacher is
dull and twaddling, every musician a copyist, every
painter a mannerist, and so on.
And there is a certain amount of truth in all this, as no
poem is, nor by any possibility can be perfect ; neither
is any picture original, nor any preacher uniformly inte-
resting. As there must be an element of weakness in
all our best human work, we should concede to the ill-
natured critic small praise ; but there the matter ends.
It is his business not to find defects only, but to point
out merits ; ugliness is no doubt often to be pointed out,
YOUNG SNEERERS. T95
but so surely is beauty to be recognised ; nor is the man
who lowers another by caustic and ill-natured criticism to
be thought as clever as the man whom he lowers. It is
a very old remark that we can find fault where we cannot
mend the fault, nor even do so well as the person we
blame : this consideration, carried too far, would stop
the mouths of all critics save the masters of the art. And
these we know to be kind and generous ; it is from the
young and inexperienced that the author or painter gets
the most cruelty. To be dashing, powerful, brilliant ;
to hit hard to show how strong they are ; all this is the
chief ambition of young critics : and as they treat
humanity badly they in self-defence become cynical. Of
course it is very bad to hit a defenceless man a cowardly
blow ; but then it may be said, ingenuously, he deserved
it; all men are rogues, and rogues deserve to be pun-
ished ; ergo, this man has his deserts.
Satisfied with this easy and logical demonstration,
though upon the somewhat illogical method of proving
a particular case by a general instance, the young cynic
proceeds. Happily, let us hope, he being young, will
improve, for there is nothing which proves a generous
nature so much as the fact that as it grows older it ripens
and becomes agreeable. The fine ribstone pippin gets
mellow in the Autumn, and more mellow and kindly in
the Winter ; nay, it will be sound at the core when old,
and the blossoms of its parent tree are blooming into a
196 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
fuller maturity. But the cynical crab will turn your teeth
in its young days, and will grow rotten ere it be well ripe.
So, too, the generous man — he who has considered
nature, and knows from experience that perfection is
unattainable, and that it is well to welcome even the im-
perfect and the unready — will grow kinder and more
generous every day. How often does such a one link
himself by love to all around him, and hide in his own
breast the faults of others, rather than establish a spu-
rious reputation by pointing them out !
The present age is, as we have said, cynical. We
began by pointing out the snobberies and shams of
others ; we distrusted admirable Crichtons : and, with
Carlyle, began with calling our brother-men wind-bags.
We do not believe in peerages, and have long known
that the motto Noblesse oblige is a false one. We believe,
or affect to believe, that money can buy everything, that
all praiseful criticisms are written to order, that all show
is mere gilt gingerbread, and that everybody keeps a
desperately ugly muggersome skeleton in his closet ; nay,
he may have half a dozen for that matter. Thackeray
taught our young fellows to go up to every idol and tap
it, and cry out, ' Oh, how hollow you are ! ' He taught
us, and he did it sometimes with an affected kindness,
that everybody is a ' snob ; ' that is, a hypocrite. He
even wrote a History of ' Snobs,' and rightly described
its author as 'one of themselves.' The great house in
SNEERING. 197
the country and the small lodging in town were alike
covered, in his eyes, with that shiny and thin veneer and
artificial polish which hide all cracks. But to the cynical
eye these cracks are of course visible enough.
The young cynic of eighteen or twenty, taught by
clever, sneering Mr. Thackeray, can approach any young
couple and say, 'Ah, you unhappy snobs, / know it all;
you are very polite to her now, Monsieur Mari, but you
know you pinch her when alone; and you, you little
blooming hypocrite, you, Madame Femme, how you
defer to your husband, you can't stir a step without him,
can't you ; oh no ! Ugh ! how you pout and scream
and frown and flout at him when at home ! Ah ! poor
fellow; who would be a husband ? ' And so the cynical
snob goes on. He will infer to a clergyman, or, let us
say, a moral author, that it is easier to preach than to
practise, and that no one is better than he should be ;
and this general kind of truth hits both hard enough, and
the better men they are the harder it hits them, because
they are conscious of shortcomings, although of a very
different nature from those which the cynic dreams of.
If anyone, for instance, had told St. Paul or the author
whom we call Thomas a Kempis that he was a wretch, a
sinner, a fool, the good man would have remorsefully
acknowledged it. Hence the power of cynicism : it is
harmless on bad men, but it hurts the tender-hearted and
the good.
198 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
Moreover, cynicism is essentially false. The little
snob whom we have pictured has perhaps no idea that
he is utterly wrong in just as many instances as he is
right. Fifty husbands out of a hundred are as fond as
their natures will permit of their wives ; the percentage
that die broken-hearted, or that are never the same again
after the death of the wife is a very large one. The com-
fortable and equable love at home is often a thousand
times more demonstrative than Mr. Cynic can see abroad.
A good, manly husband is much more likely to kiss his
wife when alone, than when in company ; and quite as
large a number of wives absolutely idolise their husbands,
and feel miserable without their aid and presence. The
most beautiful epitaph of Sir Henry Wotton (we thank
his Shade that he has written it) is perfectly realised,
with a pleasantly-sad frequency, in England, Scotland,
Ireland, Germany, and other husband and wife-loving
countries —
He first deceas'd ; she for a little tri'd
To live without him, lik'd it not, and di'd.
Is it not as beautiful as it is quaint ? It was written
upon the death of the wife of Sir Albertus Morton, an
admirable gentleman, as another of Wotton's pieces will
testify : * Tears at the grave of Sir Albertus Morton (who
was buried at Southampton) wept by Sir H. Wotton.'
SIR H. WOTTON. 199
But is he gone ? and live I Rhyming here,
As if some Muse would listen to my Lay,
When all distun'd sit wailing for their Dear,
And bathe the Banks where he was wont to play.
Dwell thou in endless Light, discharged Soul ;
Freed now from Nature's and from Fortune's trust :
While on this fluent Globe my Glass shall roul,
And run the rest of my remaining dust.
It is a pity we have not a popular edition of the works
from ' the curious pencil of that ever memorable Sir
Henry Wotton, KV as he is called on the title-page of
the Reliquice. Wottoniance. It speaks of his 'Incomparable
pieces of Language and Art,' and certainly his * Character
of a Happy Life,' happily quoted in defence of Queen
Victoria by the Rt. Hon. Robert Lowe, his fishing song
preserved by Walton, his verses on Chidick (sic) Tich-
borne in the Tower, and his epigrams deserve the
epithet. Chiefly we thank him for the most tender
epitaph in the English language, and at the same time
the highest praise of marriage.
To sneer at married life is, then, very easy ; but, like
most easy things, it is not worth much. It is easy to
praise, very easy to blame ; the hard task is to do both
justly, and to withhold the last if unjust. A cynical tem-
per is no proof of talent : it proves greenness and want of
experience, or it argues ill-health and little ease in the
mind. Boys who are unsettled in life ; young geniuses
who would be Lord Byrons ; persons who, with upcurled
200 A MAA'S THOUGHTS.
noses, can say, ' Ha, ha ! what is man? he is but a worm
of the hour : what is woman ? " frailty, thy name is
woman ; " ' — girls who think that man is inconstant ever,
and who wait for the beautiful Ideal to turn up — such
persons are cynics, but it is a dangerous game to play.
We are not all young Hamlets or Byrons. If we indulge
in it too much, we shall fall into a vile arrogancy, a dan-
gerous conceit. A wiser estimate of his fellows is taken
by the kindest, softest, yet most manly, the most preg-
nant, powerful, knowing, and trenchant intellect that ever
lived — who never once stooped to be cynical nor to sneer
— when he says, ' What a piece of work is a man ! how
noble in reason ! how infinite in faculty ! in form and
moving how express and admirable ! in action how like
an angel ! in apprehension how like a god ! ' Surely the
lowest specimen of a being so described, and described
truly, is worth more than the curl of a boy's lip, the
elevation of a turn-up nose, and the meagre salutation of
a sneer.
CHAPTER XVI.
TO.O-GOOD PEOPLE.
CHAPTER XVI.
Saints — The Apostles not Saints in a modern sense — Hood's j
Lines — The Religiosus — Narrowing forms — Cowper — Confu-
cius — Buddha — Stylites — Self sacrifice.
ID a history of mistaken words exist, surely
the word * saint ' would hold a chief place in
it. It means much more and it means much
less than people put to its account. In
one sect of the Church, nay, in two (for the Roman and
the Greek Christians have much reverence for saints), the
word means little less than a Deus Minor or demi-god.
Indeed, the invocation and worship of saints anticipate
the judgment of God by the judgment of the Pope and
the Church, which, by a canonisation legally conducted,
places a man side by side with Christ, and makes him at
the least a semi-mediator and quasi demi-god in the
troops of the blessed. It is needless to refer the Pope —
204 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
as did the patriarch of Constantinople — to the Scriptures,
to prove that there is no tittle, no, not the shadow of a
shade of evidence in favour of saint worship or saint
invocation. The Roman Church has found the belief
therein too profitable. Paul and Barnabas, while per-
forming miracles at Lystra, so smote the hearts of the
people that they would have worshipped them had not
the ministers of Christ rent their clothes and cast dust
upon their heads, 1 and run in upon the people, crying out,
1 Sirs, why do ye these things ? We, also, are men of
like passions with you.' And yet people are enjoined to
put up prayers to these saints, dead, who, did they live,
would think all such blasphemy ! Or, again, to make
the logical inference stronger, Paul and Barnabas, corrupt
and living on earth, refused to be worshipped or invoked ;
but incorrupt and living in heaven, permit the dreadful
sacrilege, because they are saints. Here, then, is one
source of misapprehension. If Saint Paul, i.e., sanctus
Paulus, the blessed Paul is a demi-god, we do not wonder
at the Protestant or Bible Christian hating the name ; nor
1 A sign of the intense horror with which these devout Christian-
Jews beheld anything like idolatry or man-worship. It would have
been thought impossible to mark awe-full disapprobation in a
stronger way ; but the Book of Revelation affords a stronger instance.
St. John wishes to fall at the feet and worship the angel of the Lord,
and he is immediately and severely rebuked — ' See thou do it not: I
am thy fellow- servant, and of thy brethren that have the testimony
of Jesus : worship God.' Apocalypse, xix. io.
THE CHURCH AND THE WORLD. 205
do we, on the other hand, wonder at the world hating the
name, and attaching to it a very different meaning from
that which it probably bears.
Of the division and dissension between the world and
the Church we have before spoken. The dissension is
very ridiculous ; for the Church was ordained for the
world — for this world, most certainly, as well as the next.
'Be of good cheer ; I have overcome the world.' But if
the Church has pretended to be afraid of the world, the
world, on the other hand, has been disgusted with the
Church. That has had its experience, and has grown
sick of saints. ' Saint ' has, since Cromwell's time, been
a cant word and a phrase of desperate meaning; desperate
and desperately unpleasant too. ' I am not a saint,' wrote
Thomas Hood —
Not one of those self-constituted saints,
Quacks, not physicians, in the cure of souls ;
Censors, who sniff out mortal taints,
And call the Devil over his own coals ;
Those pseudo Privy Councillors of God
Who wrote down judgments with a pen hard-nibb'd.
And yet this very poem, disfigured in one or two places
by harshness and bad taste though it be, entitles Hood to
the true appellation. He is a saint now, as we humbly
believe, and was a saint on earth, sorely tried, but
sanctified by his baptism and his faith, and owning his
weakness when he
206 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
Knelt down remote upon the simple sod,
And sued in forma pauperis to God !
And yet such has been for a long time the narrowness of
feeling on both sides that Hood would have resented as
an insult the application of the name to him \ and the
people of any church and of all churches would, at the
same time, have cast out the gentle professor of literature
as a Bohemian, as far removed from the right kind of
professor as the publican was from the Pharisee.
The modern meaning of ' saint ' is to the world some-
thing very objectionable, to religious people themselves a
sneer and a scoff ; but they are chiefly to blame for this.
The Roman Catholic Church has proved itself non-
Catholic, i.e., opposite from universal faith, by its narrow-
ing the very tongue it speaks. Thus, in the ' De Imitatione
Christi ' of Thomas a Kempis, the very spirit of which is
Roman Catholic, * bonus religiosusj a good, religious man,
means a good monk. And in little books in French,
pious tracts, published ' par une religieusej these words
mean by a nun. Even in England the same narrowing and
essentially ungrammatical and ignorant process goes on.
Messrs. Longmans have lately published a record of Con-
ventual Life, ' By a Religious ' ! A religious what ? asks
a grammarian, or any plain scholar not accustomed to
such a phrase. The adjective is turned into a noun, as
sanctus has been. A ' religious ' means merely a man or
woman of a religious order. A, B, C, D, who are merely
THE 'RELIGIOUS: 207
men and women, dare not assume that they are religious
in the cant phrase of the Church. The word only means
those who have bound themselves by vows. People who
undertake
Sufferings Scripture nowhere recommends,
Devised by self to answer selfish ends,
are, according to this misplaced and untaught zeal, only
1 religious ' and ' saints.'' ' Pure religion, and undefiled
before God and the Father, is this,' says the Apostle, ' to
visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to
keep one's self unspotted from the world.' Yes ; but it
means that you must earn your own living, do your own
work, and not shut yourself up in a box. What a fool is
a man to think that he can shut out the world, when it
lies so closely nestling to his heart !
Protestant * religious ' are almost as bad as the wearers
of black habits, scapularies, and rows of beads. Indeed,
the latter, with their noble vow of poverty, their real con-
tempt of personal riches, and one or two other points, go
far beyond our selfish, narrow, 'religious' people. Hogarth
draws a picture of such a pinched-up, vinegar damsel of
fifty going to church in the snow, and dragging behind
her a miserable page boy to carry her prayer-book ; and
on this Cowper has written some forcible lines : —
She, half an angel in her own account,
Doubts not hereafter with the Saints to mount,
Though not a grace appears in strictest search,
But that she fasts, and item, goes to church.
208 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
And the picture has become famous because it is so true.
But surely these self-elected people have no claim to
their great pretence. Is there no holiness, no sanctity in
continual work, to which most of our poor people are
bound — work unremitting, and too often unrewarded ? Is
there nothing blessed in the wearing of a perpetual good-
nature and cheerfulness which we see some brave men do,
so strong indeed that wherever they come they bring sun-
shine into the room ? Is there then nothing holy in a
mother's patient love, nothing in pain quietly endured,
watchings often undertaken, sorrows nobly repressed, and
the poor heart which sighs for sunshine, for some deep
comfort and some happy days, reproved and kept down
till it beats in submission to an iron fate ? Is there no
faith in the toiling father's love, who sees himself, as years
fall on him, growing old, unnoticed, and unknown — who
waits patiently to see the sunrise of his children's fortunes
— who is content to be ignorant that they may be learned,
starved that they may be fed, soiled and dirty that they
may be neat and clean — and who brings them to the
Sunday school, satisfied to be almost a heathen that they
may catch upon their upturned brows some of the
cherished grace of Christ? Is there nothing to be said
of these ? Oh, what selfish people we of the middle and
richer classes are ! Talk about heroes ! Yes, I am a
fine hero, I am ! when that poor man who weeds the
garden, or that pale-faced, bent form who mends my shoes,
THE LOWLY POOR. 209
undergoes, without a murmur, more denials in a week than
I do in a year, and with more humility submits to God.
1 The night is far spent, the day is at hand ; ' it is time to
break in pieces some of these old shams, time to vindi-
cate the good of all people and all faiths, time to cry out
to the lowly and abased, ' Friends, come up higher ; ' or,
better still, to get down from our pedestals ourselves, and
stand below the salt, no higher than our own deeds have
raised us.
But, in the first place, we will try to raise the lowly.
We cannot find fault with the word ( saint.' There are
saints and there are sinners; Heaven knows that. But
a man who does his plain duty is a saint, and perhaps a
man who attempts to do more is a fool. What right have
we to make the way of life hard to thousands by creating
an artificial goodness which is no goodness at all ? The
disciples of Buddha and of Confucius run into the same
follies as the disciples of the truth \ and it is permitted to
us who are outside of those ' religious ' to freely express
our opinions of them. There is a class of devotees, then,
which devotes itself to awful torments under the notion
that it will please Buddha. Thus, to please a god is a
low, villainous, and sneaking notion, which, if applied to
an earthly king, would be revolting, but which, by a com-
mon perversion of intellect, is allowed to be used towards
the All-wise Eternal. These rascally low Buddhists then,
place hooks in the muscles of their backs, and are whirled
p
210 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
round like boys whirl transfixed cockchafers, until they
faint through sickness and loss of blood. They whip
themselves with scourges ; they kneel till their knees and
backs are stiff; they clasp their hands till the nails grow
through the back ; they hold themselves crosswise until
their joints stiffen into that fashion; and they are vene-
rated by others as miracles of piety, and they count them-
selves sure of heaven, having purchased it by self-imposed
tortures. So the priests of Baal cut themselves with
knives, and shed their own blood before their implacable
divinity, believing that he delighted in cruelty, and that
his nostrils dilated at the scent of human blood — that
blood which the Creator has formed so wonderfully, that
life which He has hedged round with a thousand instincts,
and which is, if we read His book of nature only, so
precious in His eyes.
These, then, are the Buddhist saints; what shall we
say of them ?
The good people of China, who follow the wise Con-
fucius, place around goodness almost as many exclusive
rules as do the priests of Buddha. It would be tiresome
to give the rules which Confucius himself laid down as
necessary to be observed, to show proper respect for the
emperor, whom he held, scarcely believing in an active
and omnipotent God, to be the representative of author-
ity. One, however, was to bow down, to cover the face,
to enter the presence with lowliest thoughts, to rub the
forehead on the dust, and to humiliate oneself outwardly,
S XYLITES. 2ix
and in the heart to show respect for the Great One.
' When summoned to an audience with the prince/ says
a recent writer, ' he ascends the dais, holding up his robe
with both his hands, his body bent, and he holds his
breath as if he dared not breathe. When he is carrying
the sceptre of his prince, he seems to bend his body as if
he were overwhelmed with its weight. His countenance
seems to change and look apprehensive, and he drags his
feet as if they are held by something to the ground.'
These, then, are the ways by which men, under some
degrading snare of the tempter, and acting from a de-
based symbolism, seek to please the All-seeing and the
All-wise. From a distorted and unwise selfishness, from
a desire to save self and to save nobody else, these self-
elected saints laid burdens on themselves which God
never laid, put stumbling-blocks in their brothers' way,
bent the form created after God's own image, denied
themselves the kindly pleasures of life and the kindly
fruits of the earth, have quenched wholesome desires,
which God created, expelled wholesome love, which God
gave, and dwarfed down the huge amplitude of life, whose
circle is the whole world, to the narrow top of a pillar
three feet in diameter. Yes, upon a pillar of gradually
increased heights, one of the Stylites, or pillar-saints (for
there were many — three famous ones, Simeon, Julian, and
Daniel), spent fifty years of his life praying so many times
a day that it is impossible to count how many prayers he
212 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
said ; and this man, Theodoret would have us believe,
is the blessed Simeon, chosen by God from his birth to
study how to obey and to please Him.' This is he of
whom Tennyson writes, making him cry out thus : —
Let this avail, just, dreadful, mighty God,
This not be all in vain, that thrice ten years,
Thrice multiplied by superhuman pangs,
In hungers and in thirsts, fevers and colds,
In coughs, aches, stitches, ulcerous throes, and cramps,
A sign between the meadow and the cloud.
Patient, on this tall pillar, I have borne
Rain, wind, frost, heat, hail, damp, and sleet and snow.
And then, introduced with admirable art, the poet
suggests the reason why St. Simeon Stylites did this : —
And I had hoped that ere this period closed
Thou wouldst have caught me up into Thy rest,
Denying not these weather-beaten limbs
The meed of saints, the white robe and the palm.
If so persistent a madman as that ever gets crowned
with a greater glory than can fall to the lot of any earthly
monarch ; if he be permitted to let blaze in heaven that
latent pride which urged him on earth to strive to take
the kingdom of God by violence, and to be a captain-
general of self- immolated saints, Heaven will be different
from that which the New Testament pictures to us. At
the bottom of this intense madness was a selfishness as
intense ; and it is notorious, as Gibbon has well pointed
out, that when saintship pays and offers a lazy life,
GIBBON ON SAINTSBIP. 213
surrounding the saint with respectful devotees, daily
offerings, wonderings, and even prayers, an immense
number of the vain, the lazy, and the blindly proud
become devout. When saintship includes daily work in
daily obscurity, poverty, hunger, and dirt — all undertaken
and put up with from a sense of duty ; when it calls for
heroism without the medal and the crown, with no gazette
to publish the victory ; for martyrdom without the palm,
the white robe, and the flame of fire playing round the
head — there are not so many people fond of ' playing ' at
saints. If we look upon the world reasonably and with,
a dispassionate eye, it will be hard for us to point out
any one class which has done true religion more harm
than these false saints. An author of much merit asserts
that Bunyan's Pilgrim is a monster of selfishness be-
cause he leaves his wife and children and only thinks
of self-salvation. ' What shall / do to be saved ? ' This
is far too narrow a view to be taken of that work of
supreme genius and of deep tenderness, but it needs
very little penetration to see that the goodness of some
persons is merely a sublimed selfishness, that they really
do speculate as it were in the heavenly funds, and think
only of themselves. St. Paul, who would have been
content to be lost so that others might be saved, is not
unaware of this secret and bosom sin, and trembles lest,
having preached to others, he himself ' might be a cast-
away.' Blind to this insight, some modern saints wear
2i 4 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
a self-complacent gloss upon their faces which is posi-
tively sickening.
Thank God the ages of saint and saintdom are well-
nigh over, and that there remains to us the harder duty
of fulfilling the behests of a reasonable religion, and of
worshipping the true God ' unto whom all hearts be open,
all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid ; '
and what He requires we know. It is not for us to cir-
cumscribe our path to the top of a pillar smaller than a
drawing-room table ; it is not for us merely to bury that
talent He has given us, but to put it out to interest to do
good, not to ourselves and our own souls only, but to
those of others ; or, instead of being saints, we shall find
ourselves miserable sinners indeed.
CHAPTER XVII.
LITTLE TRIALS.
CHAPTER XVII.
Small trials — Tom Brown on prosperity — Man really dust —
Elizabethan satirists — The grand style — Easy trials — The
small ones that wear us out.
■ELL,' wrote the facetious but often wise
Tom Brown, in his ' New Maxims of Con-
versation,' 'this thing call'd Prosperity
makes a Man strangely insolent and for-
getful. How contemptibly a Cutler looks at a poor
Grinder of Knives ; a Physician in a coach at a Farrier a-
foot ; and a well-known Paul's Church-yard bookseller
upon one of the trade that sells second-hand books under
the trees in Morefields!'
We have used the capitals and italics of the facetious
Mr. Thomas Brown, so as to put before the reader his
own style, and to recall the time of his writing. The
observation is as old as the hills : it is very trite and
218 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
commonplace. No doubt everybody knows it; but
Truth has a fashion of being very old, while we have a
fashion of forgetting it ; so if a writer recalls old truths
in a pleasant, genial style, he is doing good. As regards
trifles and little things, everything has been said that can
be said. ' Sands form a mountain ! ' ' moments make a
year.' Everything in the world depends on atoms \ and
so well convinced are all of us of this, that it would be
waste of time to go over any instances. We are all
atomical; nay, Chemistry will tell us that we are less
than atoms : we are gases and vapours. Proud man is
less than dust : he is a breath. His life is not worth a
pin's fee : he may be deprived of it by a hair in a draught
of milk, a grape-stone in a cup of wine, a grain of sand,
which, Pascal tells us, caused the death of Cromwell, or
a tin tack in a basin of soup, with which a year or two
ago a London merchant was ' done to death.' We march
upon graves : the very dust we tread upon once lived ;
nay, we feed upon our ancestors. The sheep that we eat
may have cropped grass grown on the graves of our grand-
sires. The atoms of lime that enter into the composition
of our bones may have filtered through water which
passes through the battle graveyards of our Saxon and
Norman progenitors.
Trifles we are, and trifles disturb us. In the midst of
prosperity, when the cutler is indeed looking down on
the knife-grinder, a speck of dust in his eye will worry
LITTLE TROUBLES. 219
him, and take away the force of his proud looks. As a
beau, in the days of the Regency, passed along the Old
Palace Yard to one of the brilliant balls given by the
Prince of Wales, he was rendered wretched for the
whole evening by a mud-splash on his white silk stocking.
The great author of a thousand good things, the man
whose novel is sure to get praised in the ' Daily Jupiter,'
and of whom the reviews always speak well, is ready to
burst with envy when one whom he has patronised and
despised rises, per saltum, over his head, and becomes a
bright star in the firmament of literature. The first
author, A, is the same — just as witty, just as clever, just
as good ; why should he fret at B ? Why should the
fairest belle of the ball-room, who enjoyed the dance,
and was the admiration of all, be jealous of the darkest
beauty to whom all eyes are turned? This trifling
jealousy, so native to the hearts of authors, artists, and
women— and, in good truth, women are the most strong-
minded and the noblest of the three — is laughable to the
world, but exceedingly hurtful to themselves.
Looking up to Shakspeare as we do, it is lucky for
him that ignorance of all his life-doings has kept from us
the envying, hatred, back-biting, lying, and slandering to
which he must have been subjected, and which, perhaps,
he felt and gave vent to. Thank Heaven, we do not
know that he did. We know that Ben Jonson gave one
or two spiteful things among the many noble ones he said
220 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
of him ; we know, too, that one of his fellows calls him a
great Shake-scene, and puns, in an ill-natured, spiteful way,
upon his furnishing whole Hamlets of plays ; but we do
not know that Shakspeare uttered one ill-natured word in
return. Now, of Ben Jonson and Dekker we read the
quarrels. 'Ben,' said Drummond, 'was a great lover
and praiser of himself; a condemner and scorner of
others ; given rather to lose a friend than a jest ; jealous
of every word and action of those about him.' Such a
man could well attack Marston and Dekker in the
' Poetaster,' and the last could well return the abuse in
' Satiromastix.' And yet these men were poets and true
teachers — the very cream of the cream of the wits of
the day ! Were we any better in Pope's time ? Dryden,
his great master, had a life embittered by petty silly
attacks, which drew from him such tremendous satire,
that it seems to have done all in that way that could have
been done ; but, alas ! what an occupation for a great
intellect ! And Pope — so early wise, so neat, so clever,
so pure, so brilliant, so full of point and epigram — Pope,
too, could devote his powerful intellect to the abuse of
women ; could vent spite like an angry cat, and absolutely
deserve the rebuff, cruel though it was, of Lord Hervey
and Lady M. W. Montagu : ' Is this the thing to keep
mankind in awe —
If limbs unbroken, skin without a stain,
Unwhipped, unblanketed, unkick'd, unslain,
That wretched little carcase you retain —
DRYDEN AND GIFFORD. 221
it is only because you are like a note of interrogation, a
crooked little thing that asks impertinent questions.'
Such, in effect, is the answer that these people give to a
great, good, and on the whole a tender-hearted man.
Is the spectacle an improving one ? Would it not have
been better that all the private life of Pope and Gold-
smith, and Jonson and Dryden, had been buried for ever
in oblivion ?
Sometimes it may console us to reflect, when we have
yielded to such petty annoyances, that greater men than
we have been as weak. But this is but a poor consola-
tion. It consoles us to think that great men have lived
who have been reviled, and reviled not again ; whose lives
have been as calm as heaven, and whose souls almost
as pure \ rather than to imagine that we are all so little that
a small annoyance like a grain of sand will wear away
and injure alike the finest mechanism of the mind or the
watch. A good armour against little troubles is furnished
by selfishness and conceit. A thick skin does not care
for a scratch, and there are some men so dull of compre-
hension of anything against themselves that they can bear
unmoved the satire of a Dryden or the invective of a
Gifford. But this kind of defence is not to be envied : it
is certainly the thickness of skin of the hog or the jackass,
but it unfortunately carries with it the stupidity and sel-
fishness of those animals. A better is in an immeasurable
and, if possible, a well-founded opinion of oneself, such
222 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
as had the brave Prince Maurice, as a capital anecdote
will testify : ' And whom do you consider, Prince/ said a
gentleman to him one day, ' the best soldier in Europe ? '
— ' I won't say who is the best,' replied the Prince, ' but
the Marquis de Spinola is the second best general I
know '—a delicate and pointed hint as to his own merits.
Such a man could have heard the praises of a rival sung
without hurting him ; whereas Napoleon the Great abso-
lutely detracted from the merits of his bravest marshals,
and was as jealous of fame as a woman or a poet ; and
Oliver Goldsmith (who, could he have foreseen his fame
and influence, how wise and good he has made thousands,
how he has entered into the hearts of young and old,
would surely have been content) used to fume and fret,
nay, would ridiculously interrupt the company when he
found the praises and attention lavished on his friend,
Doctor Johnson, were too strong for his jealous heart.
Yes, indeed, those are little troubles which arise from
envy, hatred, and malice ; but they are hard to be borne.
There are other little troubles in life which are merely
annoying, but the constant recurrence of which, like the
constant dropping of water, will wear away the best
tempers if we do not make head against them.
At the beginning of this century Beresford published
his well-known, clever, and amusing little book on the
1 Miseries of Human Life.' These he treats of in
various dialogues ; and, but that the fashion of the wit is
BERESFORBS 'MISERIES: 223
somewhat antiquated — for although it is not sixty years
old, it is much more old-fashioned than the wit of Horace
or of Shakspeare — the book is most amusing still. He
makes miseries of everything : of watering-places whereto
people go for health ; of dinners which they give for
pleasure; of coaches, of horses, of rowing, sailing, riding,
or driving; of travelling, of inns, of sleeping in strange
beds, of sporting, of London, of reading and writing, and
the public press, and a thousand other things. The
effect of the book was, no doubt, wholesome. The old
gentleman who gives these lectures to his son and wife,
and his friend Mr. Sensitive, is one Mr. Testy, senior;
and his manners . of course depicted in a very ' fat '
manner, as the painters say — that is, with gross exaggera-
tion — are just as farcically absurd as the manners of the
conventional old-comedy father or tyrant uncle are on the
stage. Let us imagine a man who, when a candle is in-
sufficiently extinguished, and, as he says, ' smells under
his nose,' opens the window, and throws candle and
candlestick into the street ; who flies into a rage because
he has to mount up fifty stairs to go to bed ; and who
thinks it a rare ' misery' if he wishes to spend his holiday
at Brighton, and he finds the town so full that he is
obliged to go to Ramsgate, although both towns were
then nearly equal in fashion. Mr. Testy calls his objur-
gations and complainings against fortune ' groans ; ' and
if we cultivate our capacity for groaning in this way, we
224 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
don't know how much of that kind of noise we may make
in this world.
About ten years ago the French followed up this book
by a volume on the same subject, ' Les petites Miseres
de la Vie humaine,' and, in point of artistic illustration,
improved on Mr. Beresford's work, while they fell short
of him in dry wit and humour. But if there were a whole
library of books on the subject, the facts would not be
one whit altered with regard to them : they are — (i) That
little troubles are, on the whole, much less well borne
than the greater ones. (2) That great ones drive them
away, and that upon the pinch of any real necessity they
disappear. (3) That people well to do, and in what is
called ' comfortable circumstances/ suffer most from them ;
and this must follow No. 2, since real troubles, or a great
trouble, serve all the little ones like Aaron's rod did the
rods of the Egyptian sorcerers when turned into serpents —
i.e., they swallow them all up.
How much soever wise people have insisted upon the
importance of trifles, there is this much certain, that if
we pay too much attention to them, we become little in
ourselves, and incapable of great actions. The drill-
sergeant is a very fine fellow, and no doubt can see that
the goose step is well done ; that the men ■ dress ' well,
and fall into fours with promptitude and level exactness ;
but he will hardly do to command an army, or to set a
brigade in motion. So he who attends always to minute
GREAT MOMENTS. 225
details may be a very concise and polite man, but he
never will be fit to grasp large and wide measures : he
may do for Usher of the Black Rod, but not for Prime
Minister. He may tell you how a bill is to be introduced,
and how the matter is debated, but he will hardly hit out
a grand scheme which will affect mankind. Thackeray
once wrote — and we have seen the sentence applied to
trifles — that the ' great moments of life are but moments
like the others. Your doom is spoken in a word or two.
A single look from the eyes, a pressure from the hand,
may decide it ; or of the lips, though they cannot speak.'
The above is very true, but it hardly proves that those
moments are trifles. It is a very good argument against
the sensational school. Great matters do not always go
off with a bang. It is wonderful in what a common-place
way a judge will condemn a man to death, and a mur-
derer will, with a smile on his face, say, * Thank you, my
lord,' and walk away to his doom. These are but simple
actions, yet they are not trifles. They may be compared
to great troubles borne lightly, not to little troubles borne
gravely : if we once begin to bear our little troubles
gravely, we shall find that our life will be henceforward
one of misery. If we choose to make a mountain of a
mole-hill, we shall find plenty of mole-hills to build a
perfect Alpine or Himalayan chain. Two people — if
they but like to set about it in an artistic way— will be
quite sufficient to make as many little troubles and
q
226 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
miseries as one can desire. A man and his wife, if they
only determine to plague each other — if the wife will
hate what the husband likes, and the husband will fret at
what the wife wears, says, and does — will have such a
crop of little miseries about them, that, if they reap all
day, they will not be able to harvest them.
But the brave and true man and woman will go through
life putting aside these little troubles, just as a gliding
ship does the ripple of salt and yesty bubbles at its prow.
Let the cares and anxieties, the worries and little troubles
of life, grow up about our seed of truth, and we know the
result — the corn will be choked, and never bring forth.
But if we determine to bear a calm temper, to be thank-
ful and enjoy the good we have, to look at the wife that
God has given us as the most fit for us, and our friends
and children as the best (under the circumstances) ; to
believe that a Providence wiser than ourselves has put us
in our true and best position ; if, moreover, we try and
think humbly of ourselves, we shall find that little troubles
will cease to annoy us, that trifles cannot hurt us any
more than a gnat can sting a rhinoceros ; nay, moreover,
that our stock of annoyances will no more grow in our
bosoms than weeds will spring up in a gravel walk after
it has been well sprinkled with acid and sown with salt. ,
CHAPTER XVIII.
OF HARD WORK.
Q 2
CHAPTER XVIII.
County Families— ; Pride — A Warrior class — Dignity of La-
bour — Non-workers unhappy — The curse a blessing — The
brave Man — The blessings of Work.
[N the country, where people think differently
from those in great towns, the head of the
family — an old family, whose head long years
ago has been the carver at the table of a king
— lives in glory as chief of one of the county families. A
clever scion of the same, educated as a doctor, becomes
a learned man, rescues, let us say, in the course of a
useful life, a thousand or five hundred of his fellow-crea-
tures from death, and heals and comforts thousands.
Thereby he grows rich, and retires with his ample fortune
to enjoy himself, and to bask within the prospect of the
old house. Quite right, too, you say; honoured and
2 3 o A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
dignified by the good he has done, this man should spend
a happy old age. But there are mortifications to pride
in the country, of which the town man knows nothing.
Our friend the doctor is patronised himself in ' an awful
way/ and he, with the ladies of his family, are not invited
to mix with the ladies of the ' county ' family. Well, but
you cry, they are all of the same flesh and blood. Ay,
ay, sir ; but county prejudice looks down upon a doctor.
Do we want any more illustrations of pride, of its
cruelty, senselessness, and miserable emptiness ? You
rail against it yourself, and yet encourage it. That which
is exhibited in the baronet's family is copied in his ser-
vants' hall. The butler and upper servants are very
severe and exclusive with the kitchen servants ; while, to
carry the matter thoroughly out, the kitchen totally over-
looks the scullery. The ■ gentleman out of livery,' a kind
of valet, a representative of our old yeoman of the body-
guard, has nothing to do with the gay gentleman who
wears livery, who, in his turn, looks down with a lofty
disdain on the stable-help. So Theodore, the splendidly
proud King of Abyssinia, kept around him a number of
courtiers, each of whom, in savage pride, despised the
other, while the king, at the top, despised them all.
How much soever in uncivilized society the warrior
class boasts itself, this hatred and contempt of labour,
and of money earned by labour, is out of place. It is
dying out somewhat; that is, so far as it ever can die
THE DIGNITY OF LABOUR. 231
out ; and when a noble family wants money, it can form
a connection with a newly rich man. If it were anything
but pride it would be a good thing, for it is not well to
be friendly with a man who has blackened his soul by
advertising lies, poisoning our minds with deleterious
literature, or our bodies with bad drugs. But Pride never
discriminates ; it always licks the dust. When it wants
money, it bends to all sorts of knaves and fools ; when
it has plenty, it insults worthy men. Moreover, granted
that a nobleman in England is the flower of the human
race, that he has yet the pride of the haute noblesse upon
him, that he represents (which, in nine cases out of ten,
he does not) really old blood and gentle culture, that he
is a peer of the most powerful Queen in the world, — a
Queen over the third of the human race, — that he has
ancestral parks, houses, fields, and beautiful domains, he
must yet own that all this is only rendered possible by
the labour of those below him. Poets have first imaged,
then philosophers described, then inventors thought out,
then lawyers propounded and made safe ; then the artizan
manufactured and the soldier protected all that makes life
dear, all that renders us different from Abyssinia, and our
country a much more easy prey to the foreign foe. And
where would my lord have been but for those common
men, Drake, Frobisher, and Raleigh, Duncan, Howe,
Jervis, Nelson, to say nothing of Clive (a common clerk),
who gave us India, and the thousands who every day
232 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
make England what it is ? If our great man reflected as
he ought to reflect, he would vail his pride a little. It is
not etiquette for a royal duke to shake hands with a
subject. Painters (sublime artists, it may be,) are only
made knights ; the most skilful surgeon in the world merely
a baronet. Of Armstrong and Whitworth, whose cannon
may save the nation, the one is unhonoured, the other is
a mere knight. Mr. Reed, who has reconstructed the
Navy, is simply Mr. Reed ; Mr. Henry Cole, who has
done such immense art service in educating our designers
and manufacturers, is only a C.B., has the privilege of
wearing a bit of ribbon, in fact ; Mr. Tennyson, who is
our first poet, who suggests noble thoughts, and gives us
noble pleasures, and elevated and grand conceptions, is
still plain Mr. Tennyson. Mr. Dickens, who had done
wonders for our English literature, and has bound together
class with class, had no recognition but that of the
public. And these men are high-class labourers — working
men, with the brain : nothing more. It is a pity that
such a fashion obtains, for of old it was not so. The
men who fought were also the men who wrought. It is
a curious perversion of the notion of merit that dignity
should be attached, not to those who do something, but
to those who do nothing. One of the manliest of all our
thinkers — Dr. Johnson — was once asked to define a
gentleman ; and he said bitterly that he was ' one who
had no visible means of gaining an honest livelihood.'
LUBBERLAND. 233
The dignity of labour should be insisted upon by all
classes. It is, however, so hard to bend the body and the
mind to continuous exertions, that although the Almighty
is acknowledged to be the All-worker, yet with man,
labour has been pronounced as the primal curse. But
even then one would think that he who underwent his
sentence — and it was the sentence pronounced upon all
— was a more worthy man than the do-nothing and the
skulk, who feed upon the labour of others. True it is
that effort is to some painful ; but then it should be
remembered that life at its best is not wholly happy. ' A
perpetual dream there has been,' wrote Carlyle, 'of
Paradises, and some luxurious Lubberland, where the
brooks should run wine, and the trees bend with ready-
baked viands ; but it was a dream merely, an impossible
dream. Is not labour the inheritance of man ? And
what labour for the present is joyous and not grievous ?
Labour, effort, is the very interruption of that ease, which
man foolishly enough fancies to be his happiness ; and yet
without labour there were no ease, no rest so much as
conceivable. . . . Only in free effort can any blessedness
be imagined for us.' Therefore is it that in that curious
book, Sartor Resartus, the same author declares that
there are but ' two men that he honours, and no third : '
the one, the toil-worn craftsman, in whose hand, hard,
crooked, and coarse, there is yet a ' cunning virtue inde-
234 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
feasibly royal ; ' the second, him who is seen * toiling for
the spiritually indispensable — the bread of life.'
With the labourer, then, and the preacher, this great
thinker finds that true nobility alone exists. But society,
always at variance with the philosopher, has by its laws
set apart another kind of nobility, which lives indeed in
a luxurious Lubberland of ease ; where brooks do not
exactly run wine, but where wine is to be had in a much
more commodious way, where the trees do not bend with
ready-baked viands, but where all kinds of the most
luxurious viands are to be had without the slightest effort
on the part of the consumer. No dream of the idle
savage ever equalled the reality of the European noble
or rich man. Not only has he no necessity to work, but
others work willingly for him, and anticipate his every
want. Inventors are taxing their busy brains to give
more novelty. Poets and scholars are working hard to
give him the best result of thought. Sailors go over
every sea to bring to him the produce of distant coun-
tries; politicians, and those who live by the markets,
watch the thoughts and speculations of men and the
result of commerce, that thereby he may benefit. If he
so choose, he may be absolutely lazy. All that society
asks of him is to spend the money that others earn, and
that he shall not be either very vicious or absolutely mad.
This doer of nothing is a descendant, however, from
some one who has done something. His ancestor may
NON-LABOURERS. 235
have been of supreme virtue, and have been ennobled ;
for the idea embodied in an hereditary nobility is at least
a pure one — that of rewarding the posterity of the true
noble ; and, in addition to the amount of ease and luxury
provided, society points out this man for especial honour,
and gives him a distinctive mark and title, whereby men
may know him.
Is this non-labourer, presuming any such there be,
absolutely happy ? What is the result of this indulgence
of society ? Truly we find the primal curse on the whole
more merciful than man's blessings. These ' precious
balms ; of society are like those which the Psalmist prays
against, that break the head of him upon whom they
descend. It is, however, a significant fact of the nobility
of England, that they are some of the busiest workers in
the land. They lead every movement, they are ever
active. In politics, in sport, in benevolence, and in
trade, you may pick out many foremost names ; but you
will always find a nobleman amongst them. They come
down to the people, and these in their turn rally round
them. It is a common saying that even a charity dinner
does not go off well unless there is a lord in the chair to
read the reports and to talk the usual platitudes. Indeed
it is a common thing to find that noblemen work a great
deal harder than many common workpeople. French
writers have remarked this, and have urged upon their
own aristocracy the necessity for such labour. It must
236 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
be apparent to anyone, that the care of a great estate
necessitates constant work of some sort. If this work
be not undertaken, the family soon goes to ruin. No
one can safely trust all his concerns to agents and
stewards ; and it is in addition to this care that great
men undertake public work. Let us take two instances ;
those of the Earl of Shaftesbury and of the Earl of Derby,
— one a philanthropist and the other a statesman ; it is
probable that few men in the kingdom have led more
laborious lives than these. The multiplicity and regu-
larity of their engagements would strike most of us with
wonder if they were put before us. The life of Henry,
Lord Brougham, an ennobled lawyer, was one of inces-
sant activity ; so incessant, indeed, that at the most
active period of his life, it is said that he seldom enjoyed
more than four hours' sleep out of the twenty-four. Few
men, indeed, could possibly work as he did ; he, and such
as he, must ever form the exception ; but ordinarily suc-
cessful and prominent men of rank are all great workers.
Such men are impelled to work through a necessity in
their nature. Work, it is said, protects us from three
great evils — poverty, vice, and ennui. Let us say that
Fortune has rid them of the first fear, she has only done
so by making the other two more potent. The idle rich
are a prey to both of these : vice, which they foolishly
indulge in for lack of employment ; ennui, or the misery
of wanting something to do, which constantly assails
LABOUR. 237
them, or at best only gives place to remorse for having
done foolishly. So that labour, after all, is the only wise
escape for man.
'Tis the primal curse,
But soften'd into mercy, made the pledge
Of cheerful days, and nights without a groan.
It is, indeed, not only that which supplies means and
food, but supplies health. The man who has plenty to
do, is the man who has the blessing of health given him
to do it with ; and the more he labours the more he
loves his work. ' I never heard,' wrote a gentleman, ' of
a true labourer ever getting tired of his work. I never
heard of an apostle, prophet, or public benefactor, getting
tired and giving up.' It is quite true, the more a man
does, the more he wants to do. And what he does he is
proud of. Coke, of Leicestershire, when made a noble-
man, was a great deal prouder of the breed of long-
woolled sheep, which he had introduced and improved,
than he was of his coronet. It is an old saying, but it
rs a true one, and will be repeated long after this gene-
ration of writers and readers is dead, that the bread
of idleness is bitter, and the bread earned by honest
labour is sweet. Did you ever black your own boots,
and not fancy that they were done much better than a
servant could have done them ? Do you want to make
a child relish its food, let it have a hand in making the
pie-crust. Buy your bread with your own hard-earned
238 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
money, and you will not find it sour, nor will you waste
it. ' Oh, doctor, doctor ! ' cried a sickly, surfeited, gouty
patient, to Abernethy, 'what would I not give to get
well ! What shall I — shall I do ? ' — ' Live on sixpence
a-day — and earn it] cried the doctor. Truly, no one
could get much gout out of that.
Noble is the worker, chiefly because he cannot work
wholly for himself. The man who digs a field of potatoes,
who works, and manures the ground, who lays his bones
to and paves the street, has laid his fellows under some
obligation to him ; and those who have been idle, mere
consumers of other men's labour, have not repaid him.
It is written, indeed, in the Book of God, ' In the sweat
of thy face shalt thou eat bread,' and far more plainly in
the Book of Nature; but we never find the sentence,
'Thou shalt live by the sweat of other men's brows.'
We watched a stalwart paviour the other day looking at
a newly-paved road — a. marvellous work of granite — for
they pave in London better than in any city in the world,
though the constant traffic makes its pavements worse :
the man's, eye rested with a loving glance on the truly-
cut and truly-driven blocks of granite \ and he, too, rose
in dignity as, he looked upon his work and pronounced
it good. He was more manly, more dignified, more
worthy externally,, with his swart face and tense muscles,
than the silken do-nothing dandy, who trots over that
HARD WORK. 239
pavement merely to exercise his limbs, fatigued with
doing nothing.
There is another way in which labour is dignified. It
keeps men innocent while it makes them useful. ' Hard
work,' says Mr. Helps, 'is a great police agent. If
everybody worked from morning, and were then carefully
locked up, the register of crimes would be greatly dimi-
nished.' Rather let us say entirely exhausted. If we
could only persuade every person to believe that work of
some sort is alone noble, that idleness always degrades,
impoverishes, and finally destroys both man and nations,
and could thereon urge them to set themselves to some
work, how much crime might be avoided !
But we must remember that it is not only work, but
good work, that is necessary for us. It is a mistake to
suppose that thieves are idle, or that the villain and the
fool do not in some way labour. Work they do, in a
miserable fashion, and that too for the hardest taskmaster
in the world — the devil. Dogged by police, betrayed by
their friends, watched and suspected by all, they have
indeed hard work, and work that never pays.
Work that does pay is in the long run its own reward ;
and that which truly pays is not that which amasses the
largest heap of gold, but that which acquires for its author
the greatest satisfaction. In Schiller's fine ' Ballad of the
Brave Man,' the count offers a purse of gold to anyone
who will save a family whose lives are endangered on the
broken bridge by a roaring torrent. The brave man
240 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
plunges into the stream, dashes his boat against the
crumbling piles, and rescues the terror-stricken family.
All applaud him, and the count throws down to him the
purse of gold. * Give it, sir count,' says the brave man,
' to those who have lost their all ; I do not want it : I
never put my life against gold.' Such work as this, or
any work that is quite truthful, only needs a moderate
reward to make a man rich. As a rule, the higher the
work the less the reward. Some men indeed work for
posterity, and never get paid in this life. Others cannot
be rewarded. What patient can thoroughly repay a
good doctor who saves his life ? What pupil can ever
repay an excellent schoolmaster ? Who can repay
the father and mother who have taught us religion,
honesty of purpose, and goodness ? Who can repay the
writer, who, bending over his desk hour after hour, gives
back the sweetness of the flowers of thought that he has
plucked, instilling firmness, goodness, faith, and noble
thoughts, and amidst a base and degenerating world
stands firm and true in his devotion to goodness ? All
such men are above mere payment. They can afford to
let those who live out of the earnings of the industrious
grow rich and live in big houses, and be honoured of
men, while they will be applauded by an innocent con-
science, and seek the reward of the Great Master. Such
men indeed are beyond money, and beyond price, and
most truly uphold the Dignity of Labour.
CHAPTER XIX.
AN EMPTY REWARD.
CHAPTER XIX.
A Last Infirmity— Different Estimates — Washington — Eliza-
beth — RaleigKs History — Fame merely Report — Its Emptiness
— What True Fame should be.
JAME is a high-sounding word, which has led
many astray. It is, says Milton, ' that last
infirmity of noble mind ; ' but whether it be
so, or the first health, many seem to doubt.
It is one of those passions which seem very pure and
very noble at first, but it has led many great men into
deplorable crimes, and has caused more widows' tears
and orphans' cries than almost any other. Some persons
fancy that a love of Fame (Young's ' Universal Passion,'
by the way,) should be classed amongst the crimes or the
sins of humanity ; but this, as in everything else in this
world, has its two sides ; or rather, like a well-cut dia-
244 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
mond, cut in that way which makes it a ' brilliant,' it has
many facets, and each of these little faces reflects a
different colour. We envy a man who has a fair and an
unstained fame, a man of good report ; and if we could,
like the Athenians of old, we should probably ostracise
him ; but we pity him of whom Fame speaks evil ; and
yet one is just as much fame as the other. Jack Sheppard
lives in story, while many a noble, virtuous man and
woman, many a saint once on earth, and now a saint in
Heaven, is unknown and unheard of. Fame is repre-
sented as a woman, flying on the wings of the wind, and
carrying her own trumpet, and she is capricious in her
favours.
The aspiring youth that fired the Ephesian dome
Outlives in fame the pious fool that raised it.
So it is : we know the name, which we will not repeat,
of him who set fire to the wonder of the world — the
Temple of Ephesus; the names of its builders have
escaped. So again Fame is very forgetful. We know
not whether we call the pyramids by their right names.
' Doting in their antiquity,' says Fuller, in his quaint way,
' they have forgotten the names of their owners.' 'Was
Cheops or Chyphrenes architect of either pyramid that
bears his name ? ' asks a poet, with mocking satire. Who
knows ? We look at a history and it tells us so and so ;
but soon there comes a man who will re-write that history,
WHITEWASHING. 245
and make it very plain to all of us that we have hitherto
known nothing correctly.
There is a rumour abroad that in the India House
Library the books belonging to the great Timour have
been found ; ' and,' says the scribe who carefully notes
this, ' such matters have been discovered as will cause
the history of Mahomet to be re-written ; ' and Mahomet
may be asserted to be, not the false Mahomet, the dog of
a prophet, the idiot, or if not idiot, the dupe, but a great
and God-fearing man, whose work has lived for fourteen
hundred years, and may live for fourteen hundred more.
Horace Walpole re-wrote the ' History of Richard the
Third,' and truly the king seems to have been one of the
most skilful monarchs we ever had, and certainly as good
as nine out of ten of them. Mr. William Longman has
re-written the ' History of Edward the Third.' He has
brought a few new lights ; but he has enabled us to un-
derstand how the poor despised English conquered at
Cressy, simply by being better armed and having more
efficient weapons than their opponents, although the latter
were ten to one. Fame has blown her trumpet loudly
and often falsely for Richard the Third and Edward the
Third. Perhaps when we know more than we do now,
some of our heroes will be but images with heads of gold
Cor brass ?) and feet of clay.
Will any historian tell us why Colonel George Wash-
ington was unfaithful to his regimental oath, for he was
246 A MAN'S THOUGHTS.
a soldier on the King's side, and turning against him,
wrested half a continent from the British,— a British
soldier himself? When the South and North fought, one
kind of fame made Stonewall Jackson a hero, another a
wretched ' Reb ; ' and our American cousins did not
seem to consider the President of the Southern Republic,
who acted far less deceptively with them than Wash-
ington did with us, by any means a hero. Was Lafayette
a hero, who fought against England and brought revo-
lution into France ? How about Cromwell ? Is he
' damned to everlasting fame,' or is he the real Puritan
King of Men, — the purest, best, wisest, most prayerful,
and truly loyal man in the whole range of history?
Choose your sides, gentlemen and ladies ; or, if you
desire another point, settle that little difficulty about
Mary, the Queen, and the Queen's Maries. Read John
Knox and the ballads of the time (there are some
pretty ones even in so popular a book as Scott's
' Minstrelsy ') ; — read the evidence about the murder of
Darnley ; take Mr. Froude and the State papers as
evidence ; and a more subtle plotter, cruel, shifty, and
worse woman could hardly have lived.
The very coins struck in France (you may see them
in Paris or in the British Museum) will prove that Mary
laid claim to Elizabeth's dominion ; but in reading Miss
Strickland we find another kind of Mary, made up of
beauty, chastity, tenderness, and misfortune. Sir Walter
THE GREAT-LITTLE. 247
Scott paints this lady almost as a persecuted saint, and
talks about the ' murderess Elizabeth ; ' but Walsingham^
Elizabeth's prime minister, who, shut in his house, saw
the massacre of St. Bartholomew, and the slaughtered
Protestants lying in their blood under his window, had
another tale to tell.
Let us now look to recent times. At one time no man
was more hated than the Duke of Wellington ; but Death
drew aside the veil, and showed us the true hero. Now
no man is more loved. ' Whatever record leap to life,
he never shall be shamed,' says the laureate. Can we say
the same of many other generals ? The will of Napoleon
proved that he pensioned the would-be assassin of his
great rival, and proved that to be truth, which, when
Wellington said it, was put down for mere spite. ' Ah/
said the duke, shaking his head, ' Napoleon was a great
general, but he was sometimes a very little man.'
The universal love of fame may be proved by a simple
fact ; the word having a general meaning, either good or
bad, has been universally accepted as good. Chatterton,
the poet, wished to be painted as an angel blowing a
trumpet, with his own name on it. * What shall I do, to
be for ever known ? ' asks Schiller ; and the question,
which he turns to a pretty moral in the verses, instantly
attracts everybody. But fame —