CHARACTER

By Samuel Smiles




CHAPTER I.--INFLUENCE OF CHARACTER.



     "Unless above himself he can Erect himself, how poor a thing
     is man"--DANIEL.

     "Character is moral order seen through the medium, of an
     individual nature.... Men of character are the conscience of
     the society to which they belong."--EMERSON.

     "The prosperity of a country depends, not on the abundance
     of its revenues, nor on the strength of its fortifications,
     nor on the beauty of its public buildings; but it consists
     in the number of its cultivated citizens, in its men of
     education, enlightenment, and character; here are to be
     found its true interest, its chief strength, its real
     power."--MARTIN LUTHER.


Character is one of the greatest motive powers in the world. In its
noblest embodiments, it exemplifies human nature in its highest forms,
for it exhibits man at his best.

Men of genuine excellence, in every station of life--men of industry,
of integrity, of high principle, of sterling honesty of purpose--command
the spontaneous homage of mankind. It is natural to believe in such men,
to have confidence in them, and to imitate them. All that is good in
the world is upheld by them, and without their presence in it the world
would not be worth living in.

Although genius always commands admiration, character most secures
respect. The former is more the product of brain-power, the latter of
heart-power; and in the long run it is the heart that rules in life. Men
of genius stand to society in the relation of its intellect, as men
of character of its conscience; and while the former are admired, the
latter are followed.

Great men are always exceptional men; and greatness itself is but
comparative. Indeed, the range of most men in life is so limited, that
very few have the opportunity of being great. But each man can act his
part honestly and honourably, and to the best of his ability. He can use
his gifts, and not abuse them. He can strive to make the best of life.
He can be true, just, honest, and faithful, even in small things. In a
word, he can do his Duty in that sphere in which Providence has placed
him.

Commonplace though it may appear, this doing of one's Duty embodies the
highest ideal of life and character. There may be nothing heroic about
it; but the common lot of men is not heroic. And though the abiding
sense of Duty upholds man in his highest attitudes, it also equally
sustains him in the transaction of the ordinary affairs of everyday
existence. Man's life is "centred in the sphere of common duties." The
most influential of all the virtues are those which are the most
in request for daily use. They wear the best, and last the longest.
Superfine virtues, which are above the standard of common men, may only
be sources of temptation and danger. Burke has truly said that "the
human system which rests for its basis on the heroic virtues is sure to
have a superstructure of weakness or of profligacy."

When Dr. Abbot, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, drew the character
of his deceased friend Thomas Sackville, [101] he did not dwell upon his
merits as a statesman, or his genius as a poet, but upon his virtues as
a man in relation to the ordinary duties of life. "How many rare things
were in him!" said he. "Who more loving unto his wife? Who more kind
unto his children?--Who more fast unto his friend?--Who more moderate
unto his enemy?--Who more true to his word?" Indeed, we can always
better understand and appreciate a man's real character by the manner in
which he conducts himself towards those who are the most nearly related
to him, and by his transaction of the seemingly commonplace details of
daily duty, than by his public exhibition of himself as an author, an
orator, or a statesman.

At the same time, while Duty, for the most part, applies to the conduct
of affairs in common life by the average of common men, it is also a
sustaining power to men of the very highest standard of character. They
may not have either money, or property, or learning, or power; and
yet they may be strong in heart and rich in spirit--honest, truthful,
dutiful. And whoever strives to do his duty faithfully is fulfilling
the purpose for which he was created, and building up in himself the
principles of a manly character. There are many persons of whom it
may be said that they have no other possession in the world but their
character, and yet they stand as firmly upon it as any crowned king.

Intellectual culture has no necessary relation to purity or excellence
of character. In the New Testament, appeals are constantly made to the
heart of man and to "the spirit we are of," whilst allusions to the
intellect are of very rare occurrence. "A handful of good life," says
George Herbert, "is worth a bushel of learning." Not that learning is
to be despised, but that it must be allied to goodness. Intellectual
capacity is sometimes found associated with the meanest moral character
with abject servility to those in high places, and arrogance to those of
low estate. A man may be accomplished in art, literature, and science,
and yet, in honesty, virtue, truthfulness, and the spirit of duty, be
entitled to take rank after many a poor and illiterate peasant.

"You insist," wrote Perthes to a friend, "on respect for learned men. I
say, Amen! But, at the same time, don't forget that largeness of mind,
depth of thought, appreciation of the lofty, experience of the world,
delicacy of manner, tact and energy in action, love of truth, honesty,
and amiability--that all these may be wanting in a man who may yet be
very learned." [102]

When some one, in Sir Walter Scott's hearing, made a remark as to the
value of literary talents and accomplishments, as if they were above all
things to be esteemed and honoured, he observed, "God help us! what a
poor world this would be if that were the true doctrine! I have read
books enough, and observed and conversed with enough of eminent and
splendidly-cultured minds, too, in my time; but I assure you, I have
heard higher sentiments from the lips of poor UNEDUCATED men and women,
when exerting the spirit of severe yet gentle heroism under difficulties
and afflictions, or speaking their simple thoughts as to circumstances
in the lot of friends and neighbours, than I ever yet met with out of
the Bible. We shall never learn to feel and respect our real calling
and destiny, unless we have taught ourselves to consider everything as
moonshine, compared with the education of the heart." [103]

Still less has wealth any necessary connection with elevation of
character. On the contrary, it is much more frequently the cause of its
corruption and degradation. Wealth and corruption, luxury and vice, have
very close affinities to each other. Wealth, in the hands of men of weak
purpose, of deficient self-control, or of ill-regulated passions,
is only a temptation and a snare--the source, it may be, of infinite
mischief to themselves, and often to others.

On the contrary, a condition of comparative poverty is compatible with
character in its highest form. A man may possess only his industry,
his frugality, his integrity, and yet stand high in the rank of true
manhood. The advice which Burns's father gave him was the best:

   "He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing,
   For without an honest manly heart no man was worth regarding."

One of the purest and noblest characters the writer ever knew was
a labouring man in a northern county, who brought up his family
respectably on an income never amounting to more than ten shillings
a week. Though possessed of only the rudiments of common education,
obtained at an ordinary parish school, he was a man full of wisdom
and thoughtfulness. His library consisted of the Bible, 'Flavel,' and
'Boston'--books which, excepting the first, probably few readers
have ever heard of. This good man might have sat for the portrait of
Wordsworth's well-known 'Wanderer.' When he had lived his modest life
of work and worship, and finally went to his rest, he left behind him
a reputation for practical wisdom, for genuine goodness, and for
helpfulness in every good work, which greater and richer men might have
envied.

When Luther died, he left behind him, as set forth in his will, "no
ready money, no treasure of coin of any description." He was so poor
at one part of his life, that he was under the necessity of earning his
bread by turning, gardening, and clockmaking. Yet, at the very time when
he was thus working with his hands, he was moulding the character of
his country; and he was morally stronger, and vastly more honoured and
followed, than all the princes of Germany.

Character is property. It is the noblest of possessions. It is an estate
in the general goodwill and respect of men; and they who invest in
it--though they may not become rich in this world's goods--will find
their reward in esteem and reputation fairly and honourably won. And it
is right that in life good qualities should tell--that industry, virtue,
and goodness should rank the highest--and that the really best men
should be foremost.

Simple honesty of purpose in a man goes a long way in life, if founded
on a just estimate of himself and a steady obedience to the rule he
knows and feels to be right. It holds a man straight, gives him strength
and sustenance, and forms a mainspring of vigorous action. "No man,"
once said Sir Benjamin Rudyard, "is bound to be rich or great,--no, nor
to be wise; but every man is bound to be honest." [104]

But the purpose, besides being honest, must be inspired by sound
principles, and pursued with undeviating adherence to truth, integrity,
and uprightness. Without principles, a man is like a ship without rudder
or compass, left to drift hither and thither with every wind that blows.
He is as one without law, or rule, or order, or government. "Moral
principles," says Hume, "are social and universal. They form, in a
manner, the PARTY of humankind against vice and disorder, its common
enemy."

Epictetus once received a visit from a certain magnificent orator going
to Rome on a lawsuit, who wished to learn from the stoic something of
his philosophy. Epictetus received his visitor coolly, not believing in
his sincerity. "You will only criticise my style," said he; "not really
wishing to learn principles."--"Well, but," said the orator, "if I
attend to that sort of thing; I shall be a mere pauper, like you, with
no plate, nor equipage, nor land."--"I don't WANT such things," replied
Epictetus; "and besides, you are poorer than I am, after all. Patron or
no patron, what care I? You DO care. I am richer than you. I don't care
what Caesar thinks of me. I flatter no one. This is what I have, instead
of your gold and silver plate. You have silver vessels, but earthenware
reasons, principles, appetites. My mind to me a kingdom is, and it
furnishes me with abundant and happy occupation in lieu of your restless
idleness. All your possessions seem small to you; mine seem great to me.
Your desire is insatiate--mine is satisfied." [105]

Talent is by no means rare in the world; nor is even genius. But can the
talent be trusted?--can the genius? Not unless based on truthfulness--on
veracity. It is this quality more than any other that commands the
esteem and respect, and secures the confidence of others. Truthfulness
is at the foundation of all personal excellence. It exhibits itself in
conduct. It is rectitude--truth in action, and shines through every word
and deed. It means reliableness, and convinces other men that it can
be trusted. And a man is already of consequence in the world when it is
known that he can be relied on,--that when he says he knows a thing, he
does know it,--that when he says he will do a thing, he can do, and
does it. Thus reliableness becomes a passport to the general esteem and
confidence of mankind.

In the affairs of life or of business, it is not intellect that tells so
much as character,--not brains so much as heart,--not genius so much
as self-control, patience, and discipline, regulated by judgment. Hence
there is no better provision for the uses of either private or public
life, than a fair share of ordinary good sense guided by rectitude. Good
sense, disciplined by experience and inspired by goodness, issues in
practical wisdom. Indeed, goodness in a measure implies wisdom--the
highest wisdom--the union of the worldly with the spiritual. "The
correspondences of wisdom and goodness," says Sir Henry Taylor, "are
manifold; and that they will accompany each other is to be inferred, not
only because men's wisdom makes them good, but because their goodness
makes them wise." [106]

It is because of this controlling power of character in life that we
often see men exercise an amount of influence apparently out of all
proportion to their intellectual endowments. They appear to act by means
of some latent power, some reserved force, which acts secretly, by mere
presence. As Burke said of a powerful nobleman of the last century, "his
virtues were his means." The secret is, that the aims of such men are
felt to be pure and noble, and they act upon others with a constraining
power.

Though the reputation of men of genuine character may be of slow
growth, their true qualities cannot be wholly concealed. They may be
misrepresented by some, and misunderstood by others; misfortune
and adversity may, for a time, overtake them but, with patience and
endurance, they will eventually inspire the respect and command the
confidence which they really deserve.

It has been said of Sheridan that, had he possessed reliableness of
character, he might have ruled the world; whereas, for want of it, his
splendid gifts were comparatively useless. He dazzled and amused, but
was without weight or influence in life or politics. Even the poor
pantomimist of Drury Lane felt himself his superior. Thus, when Delpini
one day pressed the manager for arrears of salary, Sheridan sharply
reproved him, telling him he had forgotten his station. "No, indeed,
Monsieur Sheridan, I have not," retorted Delpini; "I know the difference
between us perfectly well. In birth, parentage, and education, you are
superior to me; but in life, character, and behaviour, I am superior to
you."

Unlike Sheridan, Burke, his countryman, was a great man of character. He
was thirty-five before he gained a seat in Parliament, yet he found time
to carve his name deep in the political history of England. He was a
man of great gifts, and of transcendent force of character. Yet he had a
weakness, which proved a serious defect--it was his want of temper; his
genius was sacrificed to his irritability. And without this apparently
minor gift of temper, the most splendid endowments may be comparatively
valueless to their possessor.

Character is formed by a variety of minute circumstances, more or less
under the regulation and control of the individual. Not a day passes
without its discipline, whether for good or for evil. There is no act,
however trivial, but has its train of consequences, as there is no
hair so small but casts its shadow. It was a wise saying of Mrs.
Schimmelpenninck's mother, never to give way to what is little; or
by that little, however you may despise it, you will be practically
governed.

Every action, every thought, every feeling, contributes to the
education of the temper, the habits, and understanding; and exercises
an inevitable influence upon all the acts of our future life. Thus
character is undergoing constant change, for better or for worse--either
being elevated on the one hand, or degraded on the other. "There is no
fault nor folly of my life," says Mr. Ruskin, "that does not rise up
against me, and take away my joy, and shorten my power of possession, of
sight, of understanding. And every past effort of my life, every gleam
of rightness or good in it, is with me now, to help me in my grasp of
this art and its vision." [107]

The mechanical law, that action and reaction are equal, holds true also
in morals. Good deeds act and react on the doers of them; and so do
evil. Not only so: they produce like effects, by the influence of
example, on those who are the subjects of them. But man is not the
creature, so much as he is the creator, of circumstances: [108] and, by
the exercise of his freewill, he can direct his actions so that they
shall be productive of good rather than evil. "Nothing can work me
damage but myself," said St. Bernard; "the harm that I sustain I carry
about with me; and I am never a real sufferer but by my own fault."

The best sort of character, however, cannot be formed without effort.
There needs the exercise of constant self-watchfulness, self-discipline,
and self-control. There may be much faltering, stumbling, and temporary
defeat; difficulties and temptations manifold to be battled with and
overcome; but if the spirit be strong and the heart be upright, no one
need despair of ultimate success. The very effort to advance--to arrive
at a higher standard of character than we have reached--is inspiring and
invigorating; and even though we may fall short of it, we cannot fail to
be improved by every, honest effort made in an upward direction.

And with the light of great examples to guide us--representatives of
humanity in its best forms--every one is not only justified, but bound
in duty, to aim at reaching the highest standard of character: not to
become the richest in means, but in spirit; not the greatest in worldly
position, but in true honour; not the most intellectual, but the most
virtuous; not the most powerful and influential, but the most truthful,
upright, and honest.

It was very characteristic of the late Prince Consort--a man himself of
the purest mind, who powerfully impressed and influenced others by the
sheer force of his own benevolent nature--when drawing up the conditions
of the annual prize to be given by Her Majesty at Wellington College,
to determine that it should be awarded, not to the cleverest boy, nor
to the most bookish boy, nor to the most precise, diligent, and prudent
boy,--but to the noblest boy, to the boy who should show the most
promise of becoming a large-hearted, high-motived man. [109]

Character exhibits itself in conduct, guided and inspired by principle,
integrity, and practical wisdom. In its highest form, it is the
individual will acting energetically under the influence of religion,
morality, and reason. It chooses its way considerately, and pursues
it steadfastly; esteeming duty above reputation, and the approval
of conscience more than the world's praise. While respecting the
personality of others, it preserves its own individuality and
independence; and has the courage to be morally honest, though it may be
unpopular, trusting tranquilly to time and experience for recognition.

Although the force of example will always exercise great influence upon
the formation of character, the self-originating and sustaining force of
one's own spirit must be the mainstay. This alone can hold up the life,
and give individual independence and energy. "Unless man can erect
himself above himself," said Daniel, a poet of the Elizabethan era, "how
poor a thing is man!" Without a certain degree of practical efficient
force--compounded of will, which is the root, and wisdom, which is the
stem of character--life will be indefinite and purposeless--like a body
of stagnant water, instead of a running stream doing useful work and
keeping the machinery of a district in motion.

When the elements of character are brought into action by determinate
will, and, influenced by high purpose, man enters upon and courageously
perseveres in the path of duty, at whatever cost of worldly interest,
he may be said to approach the summit of his being. He then exhibits
character in its most intrepid form, and embodies the highest idea of
manliness. The acts of such a man become repeated in the life and action
of others. His very words live and become actions. Thus every word of
Luther's rang through Germany like a trumpet. As Richter said of him,
"His words were half-battles." And thus Luther's life became transfused
into the life of his country, and still lives in the character of modern
Germany.

On the other hand, energy, without integrity and a soul of goodness,
may only represent the embodied principle of evil. It is observed by
Novalis, in his 'Thoughts on Morals,' that the ideal of moral perfection
has no more dangerous rival to contend with than the ideal of the
highest strength and the most energetic life, the maximum of the
barbarian--which needs only a due admixture of pride, ambition, and
selfishness, to be a perfect ideal of the devil. Amongst men of
such stamp are found the greatest scourges and devastators of the
world--those elect scoundrels whom Providence, in its inscrutable
designs, permits to fulfil their mission of destruction upon earth. [1010]

Very different is the man of energetic character inspired by a noble
spirit, whose actions are governed by rectitude, and the law of whose
life is duty. He is just and upright,--in his business dealings, in his
public action, and in his family life--justice being as essential in the
government of a home as of a nation. He will be honest in all things--in
his words and in his work. He will be generous and merciful to his
opponents, as well as to those who are weaker than himself. It was truly
said of Sheridan--who, with all his improvidence, was generous, and
never gave pain--that,

     "His wit in the combat, as gentle as bright,
     Never carried a heart-stain away on its blade."

Such also was the character of Fox, who commanded the affection and
service of others by his uniform heartiness and sympathy. He was a man
who could always be most easily touched on the side of his honour.
Thus, the story is told of a tradesman calling upon him one day for the
payment of a promissory note which he presented. Fox was engaged at the
time in counting out gold. The tradesman asked to be paid from the money
before him. "No," said Fox, "I owe this money to Sheridan; it is a debt
of honour; if any accident happened to me, he would have nothing
to show." "Then," said the tradesman, "I change MY debt into one of
honour;" and he tore up the note. Fox was conquered by the act: he
thanked the man for his confidence, and paid him, saying, "Then Sheridan
must wait; yours is the debt of older standing."

The man of character is conscientious. He puts his conscience into his
work, into his words, into his every action. When Cromwell asked the
Parliament for soldiers in lieu of the decayed serving-men and tapsters
who filled the Commonwealth's army, he required that they should be men
"who made some conscience of what they did;" and such were the men of
which his celebrated regiment of "Ironsides" was composed.

The man of character is also reverential. The possession of this quality
marks the noblest, and highest type of manhood and womanhood: reverence
for things consecrated by the homage of generations--for high objects,
pure thoughts, and noble aims--for the great men of former times, and
the highminded workers amongst our contemporaries. Reverence is alike
indispensable to the happiness of individuals, of families, and of
nations. Without it there can be no trust, no faith, no confidence,
either in man or God--neither social peace nor social progress. For
reverence is but another word for religion, which binds men to each
other, and all to God.

"The man of noble spirit," says Sir Thomas Overbury, "converts all
occurrences into experience, between which experience and his reason
there is marriage, and the issue are his actions. He moves by affection,
not for affection; he loves glory, scorns shame, and governeth and
obeyeth with one countenance, for it comes from one consideration.
Knowing reason to be no idle gift of nature, he is the steersman of his
own destiny. Truth is his goddess, and he takes pains to get her, not
to look like her. Unto the society of men he is a sun, whose clearness
directs their steps in a regular motion. He is the wise man's friend,
the example of the indifferent, the medicine of the vicious. Thus time
goeth not from him, but with him, and he feels age more by the strength
of his soul than by the weakness of his body. Thus feels he no pain, but
esteems all such things as friends, that desire to file off his fetters,
and help him out of prison." [1011]

Energy of will--self-originating force--is the soul of every great
character. Where it is, there is life; where it is not, there is
faintness, helplessness, and despondency. "The strong man and the
waterfall," says the proverb, "channel their own path." The energetic
leader of noble spirit not only wins a way for himself, but carries
others with him. His every act has a personal significance, indicating
vigour, independence, and self-reliance, and unconsciously commands
respect, admiration, and homage. Such intrepidity of character
characterised Luther, Cromwell, Washington, Pitt, Wellington, and all
great leaders of men.

"I am convinced," said Mr. Gladstone, in describing the qualities of
the late Lord Palmerston in the House of Commons, shortly after his
death--"I am convinced that it was the force of will, a sense of duty,
and a determination not to give in, that enabled him to make himself
a model for all of us who yet remain and follow him, with feeble and
unequal steps, in the discharge of our duties; it was that force of will
that in point of fact did not so much struggle against the infirmities
of old age, but actually repelled them and kept them at a distance. And
one other quality there is, at least, that may be noticed without the
smallest risk of stirring in any breast a painful emotion. It is this,
that Lord Palmerston had a nature incapable of enduring anger or any
sentiment of wrath. This freedom from wrathful sentiment was not the
result of painful effort, but the spontaneous fruit of the mind. It was
a noble gift of his original nature--a gift which beyond all others it
was delightful to observe, delightful also to remember in connection
with him who has left us, and with whom we have no longer to do, except
in endeavouring to profit by his example wherever it can lead us in the
path of duty and of right, and of bestowing on him those tributes of
admiration and affection which he deserves at our hands."

The great leader attracts to himself men of kindred character, drawing
them towards him as the loadstone draws iron. Thus, Sir John Moore early
distinguished the three brothers Napier from the crowd of officers by
whom he was surrounded, and they, on their part, repaid him by their
passionate admiration. They were captivated by his courtesy, his
bravery, and his lofty disinterestedness; and he became the model
whom they resolved to imitate, and, if possible, to emulate. "Moore's
influence," says the biographer of Sir William Napier, "had a signal
effect in forming and maturing their characters; and it is no small
glory to have been the hero of those three men, while his early
discovery of their mental and moral qualities is a proof of Moore's own
penetration and judgment of character."

There is a contagiousness in every example of energetic conduct. The
brave man is an inspiration to the weak, and compels them, as it were,
to follow him. Thus Napier relates that at the combat of Vera, when
the Spanish centre was broken and in flight, a young officer, named
Havelock, sprang forward, and, waving his hat, called upon the Spaniards
within sight to follow him. Putting spurs to his horse, he leapt the
abbatis which protected the French front, and went headlong against
them. The Spaniards were electrified; in a moment they dashed after him,
cheering for "EL CHICO BLANCO!" [10the fair boy], and with one shock they
broke through the French and sent them flying downhill. [1012]

And so it is in ordinary life. The good and the great draw others
after them; they lighten and lift up all who are within reach of their
influence. They are as so many living centres of beneficent activity.
Let a man of energetic and upright character be appointed to a position
of trust and authority, and all who serve under him become, as it were,
conscious of an increase of power. When Chatham was appointed minister,
his personal influence was at once felt through all the ramifications
of office. Every sailor who served under Nelson, and knew he was in
command, shared the inspiration of the hero.

When Washington consented to act as commander-in-chief, it was felt as
if the strength of the American forces had been more than doubled. Many
years late; in 1798, when Washington, grown old, had withdrawn from
public life and was living in retirement at Mount Vernon, and when it
seemed probable that France would declare war against the United States,
President Adams wrote to him, saying, "We must have your name, if you
will permit us to use it; there will be more efficacy in it than in
many an army." Such was the esteem in which the great President's noble
character and eminent abilities were held by his countrymen! [1013]

An incident is related by the historian of the Peninsular War,
illustrative of the personal influence exercised by a great commander
over his followers. The British army lay at Sauroren, before which Soult
was advancing, prepared to attack, in force. Wellington was absent, and
his arrival was anxiously looked for. Suddenly a single horseman was
seen riding up the mountain alone. It was the Duke, about to join his
troops. One of Campbell's Portuguese battalions first descried him,
and raised a joyful cry; then the shrill clamour, caught up by the next
regiment, soon swelled as it ran along the line into that appalling
shout which the British soldier is wont to give upon the edge of
battle, and which no enemy ever heard unmoved. Suddenly he stopped at a
conspicuous point, for he desired both armies should know he was there,
and a double spy who was present pointed out Soult, who was so near that
his features could be distinguished. Attentively Wellington fixed his
eyes on that formidable man, and, as if speaking to himself, he said:
"Yonder is a great commander; but he is cautious, and will delay his
attack to ascertain the cause of those cheers; that will give time for
the Sixth Division to arrive, and I shall beat him"--which he did. [1014]

In some cases, personal character acts by a kind of talismanic
influence, as if certain men were the organs of a sort of supernatural
force. "If I but stamp on the ground in Italy," said Pompey, "an army
will appear." At the voice of Peter the Hermit, as described by the
historian, "Europe arose, and precipitated itself upon Asia." It was
said of the Caliph Omar that his walking-stick struck more terror into
those who saw it than another man's sword. The very names of some men
are like the sound of a trumpet. When the Douglas lay mortally wounded
on the field of Otterburn, he ordered his name to be shouted still
louder than before, saying there was a tradition in his family that a
dead Douglas should win a battle. His followers, inspired by the sound,
gathered fresh courage, rallied, and conquered; and thus, in the words
of the Scottish poet:--

"The Douglas dead, his name hath won the field." [1015]

There have been some men whose greatest conquests have been achieved
after they themselves were dead. "Never," says Michelet, "was Caesar
more alive, more powerful, more terrible, than when his old and worn-out
body, his withered corpse, lay pierced with blows; he appeared
then purified, redeemed,--that which he had been, despite his many
stains--the man of humanity." [1016] Never did the great character of
William of Orange, surnamed the Silent, exercise greater power over his
countrymen than after his assassination at Delft by the emissary of the
Jesuits. On the very day of his murder the Estates of Holland resolved
"to maintain the good cause, with God's help, to the uttermost, without
sparing gold or blood;" and they kept their word.

The same illustration applies to all history and morals. The career of
a great man remains an enduring monument of human energy. The man
dies and disappears; but his thoughts and acts survive, and leave
an indelible stamp upon his race. And thus the spirit of his life is
prolonged and perpetuated, moulding the thought and will, and thereby
contributing to form the character of the future. It is the men that
advance in the highest and best directions, who are the true beacons of
human progress. They are as lights set upon a hill, illumining the moral
atmosphere around them; and the light of their spirit continues to shine
upon all succeeding generations.

It is natural to admire and revere really great men. They hallow the
nation to which they belong, and lift up not only all who live in their
time, but those who live after them. Their great example becomes the
common heritage of their race; and their great deeds and great thoughts
are the most glorious of legacies to mankind. They connect the present
with the past, and help on the increasing purpose of the future; holding
aloft the standard of principle, maintaining the dignity of human
character, and filling the mind with traditions and instincts of all
that is most worthy and noble in life.

Character, embodied in thought and deed, is of the nature of
immortality. The solitary thought of a great thinker will dwell in the
minds of men for centuries until at length it works itself into their
daily life and practice. It lives on through the ages, speaking as a
voice from the dead, and influencing minds living thousands of years
apart. Thus, Moses and David and Solomon, Plato and Socrates and
Xenophon, Seneca and Cicero and Epictetus, still speak to us as from
their tombs. They still arrest the attention, and exercise an influence
upon character, though their thoughts be conveyed in languages unspoken
by them and in their time unknown. Theodore Parker has said that a
single man like Socrates was worth more to a country than many such
states as South Carolina; that if that state went out of the world
to-day, she would not have done so much for the world as Socrates. [1017]

Great workers and great thinkers are the true makers of history, which
is but continuous humanity influenced by men of character--by great
leaders, kings, priests, philosophers, statesmen, and patriots--the
true aristocracy of man. Indeed, Mr. Carlyle has broadly stated that
Universal History is, at bottom, but the history of Great Men. They
certainly mark and designate the epochs of national life. Their
influence is active, as well as reactive. Though their mind is, in a
measure; the product of their age, the public mind is also, to a
great extent, their creation. Their individual action identifies the
cause--the institution. They think great thoughts, cast them abroad,
and the thoughts make events. Thus the early Reformers initiated the
Reformation, and with it the liberation of modern thought. Emerson has
said that every institution is to be regarded as but the lengthened
shadow of some great man: as Islamism of Mahomet, Puritanism of Calvin,
Jesuitism of Loyola, Quakerism of Fox, Methodism of Wesley, Abolitionism
of Clarkson.

Great men stamp their mind upon their age and nation--as Luther did upon
modern Germany, and Knox upon Scotland. [1018] And if there be one man
more than another that stamped his mind on modern Italy, it was Dante.
During the long centuries of Italian degradation his burning words were
as a watchfire and a beacon to all true men. He was the herald of his
nation's liberty--braving persecution, exile, and death, for the love
of it. He was always the most national of the Italian poets, the most
loved, the most read. From the time of his death all educated Italians
had his best passages by heart; and the sentiments they enshrined
inspired their lives, and eventually influenced the history of their
nation. "The Italians," wrote Byron in 1821, "talk Dante, write Dante,
and think and dream Dante, at this moment, to an excess which would be
ridiculous, but that he deserves their admiration." [1019]

A succession of variously gifted men in different ages--extending from
Alfred to Albert--has in like manner contributed, by their life and
example, to shape the multiform character of England. Of these, probably
the most influential were the men of the Elizabethan and Cromwellian,
and the intermediate periods--amongst which we find the great names of
Shakspeare, Raleigh, Burleigh, Sidney, Bacon, Milton, Herbert, Hampden,
Pym, Eliot, Vane, Cromwell, and many more--some of them men of great
force, and others of great dignity and purity of character. The lives of
such men have become part of the public life of England, and their deeds
and thoughts are regarded as among the most cherished bequeathments from
the past.

So Washington left behind him, as one of the greatest treasures of his
country, the example of a stainless life--of a great, honest, pure, and
noble character--a model for his nation to form themselves by in all
time to come. And in the case of Washington, as in so many other great
leaders of men, his greatness did not so much consist in his intellect,
his skill, and his genius, as in his honour, his integrity, his
truthfulness, his high and controlling sense of duty--in a word, in his
genuine nobility of character.

Men such as these are the true lifeblood of the country to which they
belong. They elevate and uphold it, fortify and ennoble it, and shed
a glory over it by the example of life and character which they have
bequeathed. "The names and memories of great men," says an able writer,
"are the dowry of a nation. Widowhood, overthrow, desertion, even
slavery, cannot take away from her this sacred inheritance.... Whenever
national life begins to quicken.... the dead heroes rise in the memories
of men, and appear to the living to stand by in solemn spectatorship and
approval. No country can be lost which feels herself overlooked by such
glorious witnesses. They are the salt of the earth, in death as well as
in life. What they did once, their descendants have still and always
a right to do after them; and their example lives in their country, a
continual stimulant and encouragement for him who has the soul to adopt
it." [1020]

But it is not great men only that have to be taken into account in
estimating the qualities of a nation, but the character that pervades
the great body of the people. When Washington Irving visited Abbotsford,
Sir Walter Scott introduced him to many of his friends and favourites,
not only amongst the neighbouring farmers, but the labouring peasantry.
"I wish to show you," said Scott, "some of our really excellent plain
Scotch people. The character of a nation is not to be learnt from its
fine folks, its fine gentlemen and ladies; such you meet everywhere,
and they are everywhere the same." While statesmen, philosophers, and
divines represent the thinking power of society, the men who found
industries and carve out new careers, as well as the common body of
working-people, from whom the national strength and spirit are from
time to time recruited, must necessarily furnish the vital force and
constitute the real backbone of every nation.

Nations have their character to maintain as well as individuals;
and under constitutional governments--where all classes more or less
participate in the exercise of political power--the national character
will necessarily depend more upon the moral qualities of the many than
of the few. And the same qualities which determine the character of
individuals, also determine the character of nations. Unless they are
highminded, truthful, honest, virtuous, and courageous, they will be
held in light esteem by other nations, and be without weight in
the world. To have character, they must needs also be reverential,
disciplined, self-controlling, and devoted to duty. The nation that has
no higher god than pleasure, or even dollars or calico, must needs be in
a poor way. It were better to revert to Homer's gods than be devoted to
these; for the heathen deities at least imaged human virtues, and were
something to look up to.

As for institutions, however good in themselves, they will avail but
little in maintaining the standard of national character. It is the
individual men, and the spirit which actuates them, that determine the
moral standing and stability of nations. Government, in the long run, is
usually no better than the people governed. Where the mass is sound in
conscience, morals, and habit, the nation will be ruled honestly and
nobly. But where they are corrupt, self-seeking, and dishonest in heart,
bound neither by truth nor by law, the rule of rogues and wirepullers
becomes inevitable.

The only true barrier against the despotism of public opinion, whether
it be of the many or of the few, is enlightened individual freedom and
purity of personal character. Without these there can be no vigorous
manhood, no true liberty in a nation. Political rights, however broadly
framed, will not elevate a people individually depraved. Indeed, the
more complete a system of popular suffrage, and the more perfect its
protection, the more completely will the real character of a people
be reflected, as by a mirror, in their laws and government. Political
morality can never have any solid existence on a basis of individual
immorality. Even freedom, exercised by a debased people, would come
to be regarded as a nuisance, and liberty of the press but a vent for
licentiousness and moral abomination.

Nations, like individuals, derive support and strength from the feeling
that they belong to an illustrious race, that they are the heirs of
their greatness, and ought to be the perpetuators of their glory. It is
of momentous importance that a nation should have a great past [1021]
to look back upon. It steadies the life of the present, elevates and
upholds it, and lightens and lifts it up, by the memory of the great
deeds, the noble sufferings, and the valorous achievements of the men of
old. The life of nations, as of men, is a great treasury of experience,
which, wisely used, issues in social progress and improvement; or,
misused, issues in dreams, delusions, and failure. Like men, nations are
purified and strengthened by trials. Some of the most glorious chapters
in their history are those containing the record of the sufferings by
means of which their character has been developed. Love of liberty and
patriotic feeling may have done much, but trial and suffering nobly
borne more than all.

A great deal of what passes by the name of patriotism in these days
consists of the merest bigotry and narrow-mindedness; exhibiting itself
in national prejudice, national conceit, amid national hatred. It does
not show itself in deeds, but in boastings--in howlings, gesticulations,
and shrieking helplessly for help--in flying flags and singing
songs--and in perpetual grinding at the hurdy-gurdy of long-dead
grievances and long-remedied wrongs. To be infested by SUCH a patriotism
as this is, perhaps, amongst the greatest curses that can befall any
country.

But as there is an ignoble, so is there a noble patriotism--the
patriotism that invigorates and elevates a country by noble work--that
does its duty truthfully and manfully--that lives an honest, sober, and
upright life, and strives to make the best use of the opportunities for
improvement that present themselves on every side; and at the same time
a patriotism that cherishes the memory and example of the great men of
old, who, by their sufferings in the cause of religion or of freedom,
have won for themselves a deathless glory, and for their nation those
privileges of free life and free institutions of which they are the
inheritors and possessors.

Nations are not to be judged by their size any more than individuals:

    "it is not growing like a tree
    In bulk, doth make Man better be."

For a nation to be great, it need not necessarily be big, though bigness
is often confounded with greatness. A nation may be very big in point of
territory and population and yet be devoid of true greatness. The people
of Israel were a small people, yet what a great life they developed,
and how powerful the influence they have exercised on the destinies of
mankind! Greece was not big: the entire population of Attica was less
than that of South Lancashire. Athens was less populous than New York;
and yet how great it was in art, in literature, in philosophy, and in
patriotism! [1022]

But it was the fatal weakness of Athens that its citizens had no true
family or home life, while its freemen were greatly outnumbered by its
slaves. Its public men were loose, if not corrupt, in morals. Its
women, even the most accomplished, were unchaste. Hence its fall became
inevitable, and was even more sudden than its rise.

In like manner the decline and fall of Rome was attributable to the
general corruption of its people, and to their engrossing love of
pleasure and idleness--work, in the later days of Rome, being regarded
only as fit for slaves. Its citizens ceased to pride themselves on the
virtues of character of their great forefathers; and the empire fell
because it did not deserve to live. And so the nations that are idle and
luxurious--that "will rather lose a pound of blood," as old Burton says,
"in a single combat, than a drop of sweat in any honest labour"--must
inevitably die out, and laborious energetic nations take their place.

When Louis XIV. asked Colbert how it was that, ruling so great and
populous a country as France, he had been unable to conquer so small a
country as Holland, the minister replied: "Because, Sire, the greatness
of a country does not depend upon the extent of its territory, but
on the character of its people. It is because of the industry, the
frugality, and the energy of the Dutch that your Majesty has found them
so difficult to overcome."

It is also related of Spinola and Richardet, the ambassadors sent by the
King of Spain to negotiate a treaty at the Hague in 1608, that one day
they saw some eight or ten persons land from a little boat, and, sitting
down upon the grass, proceed to make a meal of bread-and-cheese and
beer. "Who are those travellers?" asked the ambassadors of a peasant.
"These are worshipful masters, the deputies from the States," was his
reply. Spinola at once whispered to his companion, "We must make peace:
these are not men to be conquered."

In fine, stability of institutions must depend upon stability of
character. Any number of depraved units cannot form a great nation.
The people may seem to be highly civilised, and yet be ready to fall
to pieces at first touch of adversity. Without integrity of individual
character, they can have no real strength, cohesion, soundness. They may
be rich, polite, and artistic; and yet hovering on the brink of ruin.
If living for themselves only, and with no end but pleasure--each little
self his own little god--such a nation is doomed, and its decay is
inevitable.

Where national character ceases to be upheld, a nation may be regarded
as next to lost. Where it ceases to esteem and to practise the virtues
of truthfulness, honesty, integrity, and justice, it does not deserve
to live. And when the time arrives in any country when wealth has so
corrupted, or pleasure so depraved, or faction so infatuated the people,
that honour, order, obedience, virtue, and loyalty have seemingly become
things of the past; then, amidst the darkness, when honest men--if,
haply, there be such left--are groping about and feeling for each
other's hands, their only remaining hope will be in the restoration and
elevation of Individual Character; for by that alone can a nation be
saved; and if character be irrecoverably lost, then indeed there will be
nothing left worth saving.




CHAPTER II.--HOME POWER.



        "So build we up the being that we are,
         Thus deeply drinking in the soul of things,
         We shall be wise perforce."  WORDSWORTH.

    "The millstreams that turn the clappers of the world
     arise in solitary places."--HELPS.

     "In the course of a conversation with Madame Campan,
     Napoleon Buonaparte remarked: 'The old systems of
     instruction seem to be worth nothing; what is yet wanting in
     order that the people should be properly educated?'
     'MOTHERS,' replied Madame Campan. The reply struck the
     Emperor. 'Yes!' said he 'here is a system of education in
     one word. Be it your care, then, to train up mothers who
     shall know how to educate their children.'"--AIME MARTIN.

        "Lord! with what care hast Thou begirt us round!
          Parents first season us.  Then schoolmasters
         Deliver us to laws.  They send us bound
          To rules of reason."--GEORGE HERBERT.


HOME is the first and most important school of character. It is there
that every human being receives his best moral training, or his worst;
for it is there that he imbibes those principles of conduct which endure
through manhood, and cease only with life.

It is a common saying that "Manners make the man;" and there is a
second, that "Mind makes the man;" but truer than either is a third,
that "Home makes the man." For the home-training includes not only
manners and mind, but character. It is mainly in the home that the
heart is opened, the habits are formed, the intellect is awakened, and
character moulded for good or for evil.

From that source, be it pure or impure, issue the principles and maxims
that govern society. Law itself is but the reflex of homes. The tiniest
bits of opinion sown in the minds of children in private life afterwards
issue forth to the world, and become its public opinion; for nations
are gathered out of nurseries, and they who hold the leading-strings
of children may even exercise a greater power than those who wield the
reins of government. [111]

It is in the order of nature that domestic life should be preparatory
to social, and that the mind and character should first be formed in the
home. There the individuals who afterwards form society are dealt with
in detail, and fashioned one by one. From the family they enter life,
and advance from boyhood to citizenship. Thus the home may be regarded
as the most influential school of civilisation. For, after all,
civilisation mainly resolves itself into a question of individual
training; and according as the respective members of society are well
or ill-trained in youth, so will the community which they constitute be
more or less humanised and civilised.