Phipps throughout the latter part of his career, was not ashamed to
allude to the lowness of his origin, and it was matter of honest
pride to him that he had risen from the condition of common ship
carpenter to the honours of knighthood and the government of a
province.  When perplexed with public business, he would often
declare that it would be easier for him to go back to his broad axe
again.  He left behind him a character for probity, honesty,
patriotism, and courage, which is certainly not the least noble
inheritance of the house of Normanby.

William Petty, the founder of the house of Lansdowne, was a man of
like energy and public usefulness in his day.  He was the son of a
clothier in humble circumstances, at Romsey, in Hampshire, where he
was born in 1623.  In his boyhood he obtained a tolerable education
at the grammar school of his native town; after which he determined
to improve himself by study at the University of Caen, in Normandy.
Whilst there he contrived to support himself unassisted by his
father, carrying on a sort of small pedler's trade with "a little
stock of merchandise."  Returning to England, he had himself bound
apprentice to a sea captain, who "drubbed him with a rope's end"
for the badness of his sight.  He left the navy in disgust, taking
to the study of medicine.  When at Paris he engaged in dissection,
during which time he also drew diagrams for Hobbes, who was then
writing his treatise on Optics.  He was reduced to such poverty
that he subsisted for two or three weeks entirely on walnuts.  But
again he began to trade in a small way, turning an honest penny,
and he was enabled shortly to return to England with money in his
pocket.  Being of an ingenious mechanical turn, we find him taking
out a patent for a letter-copying machine.  He began to write upon
the arts and sciences, and practised chemistry and physic with such
success that his reputation shortly became considerable.
Associating with men of science, the project of forming a Society
for its prosecution was discussed, and the first meetings of the
infant Royal Society were held at his lodgings.  At Oxford he acted
for a time as deputy to the anatomical professor there, who had a
great repugnance to dissection.  In 1652 his industry was rewarded
by the appointment of physician to the army in Ireland, whither he
went; and whilst there he was the medical attendant of three
successive lords-lieutenant, Lambert, Fleetwood, and Henry
Cromwell.  Large grants of forfeited land having been awarded to
the Puritan soldiery, Petty observed that the lands were very
inaccurately measured; and in the midst of his many avocations he
undertook to do the work himself.  His appointments became so
numerous and lucrative that he was charged by the envious with
corruption, and removed from them all; but he was again taken into
favour at the Restoration.

Petty was a most indefatigable contriver, inventor, and organizer
of industry.  One of his inventions was a double-bottomed ship, to
sail against wind and tide.  He published treatises on dyeing, on
naval philosophy, on woollen cloth manufacture, on political
arithmetic, and many other subjects.  He founded iron works, opened
lead mines, and commenced a pilchard fishery and a timber trade; in
the midst of which he found time to take part in the discussions of
the Royal Society, to which he largely contributed.  He left an
ample fortune to his sons, the eldest of whom was created Baron
Shelburne.  His will was a curious document, singularly
illustrative of his character; containing a detail of the principal
events of his life, and the gradual advancement of his fortune.
His sentiments on pauperism are characteristic:  "As for legacies
for the poor," said he, "I am at a stand; as for beggars by trade
and election, I give them nothing; as for impotents by the hand of
God, the public ought to maintain them; as for those who have been
bred to no calling nor estate, they should be put upon their
kindred;" . . .  "wherefore I am contented that I have assisted all
my poor relations, and put many into a way of getting their own
bread; have laboured in public works; and by inventions have sought
out real objects of charity; and I do hereby conjure all who
partake of my estate, from time to time, to do the same at their
peril.  Nevertheless to answer custom, and to take the surer side,
I give 20l. to the most wanting of the parish wherein I die."  He
was interred in the fine old Norman church of Romsey--the town
wherein he was born a poor man's son--and on the south side of the
choir is still to be seen a plain slab, with the inscription, cut
by an illiterate workman, "Here Layes Sir William Petty."

Another family, ennobled by invention and trade in our own day, is
that of Strutt of Belper.  Their patent of nobility was virtually
secured by Jedediah Strutt in 1758, when he invented his machine
for making ribbed stockings, and thereby laid the foundations of a
fortune which the subsequent bearers of the name have largely
increased and nobly employed.  The father of Jedediah was a farmer
and malster, who did but little for the education of his children;
yet they all prospered.  Jedediah was the second son, and when a
boy assisted his father in the work of the farm.  At an early age
he exhibited a taste for mechanics, and introduced several
improvements in the rude agricultural implements of the period.  On
the death of his uncle he succeeded to a farm at Blackwall, near
Normanton, long in the tenancy of the family, and shortly after he
married Miss Wollatt, the daughter of a Derby hosier.  Having
learned from his wife's brother that various unsuccessful attempts
had been made to manufacture ribbed-stockings, he proceeded to
study the subject with a view to effect what others had failed in
accomplishing.  He accordingly obtained a stocking-frame, and after
mastering its construction and mode of action, he proceeded to
introduce new combinations, by means of which he succeeded in
effecting a variation in the plain looped-work of the frame, and
was thereby enabled to turn out "ribbed" hosiery.  Having secured a
patent for the improved machine, he removed to Derby, and there
entered largely on the manufacture of ribbed-stockings, in which he
was very successful.  He afterwards joined Arkwright, of the merits
of whose invention he fully satisfied himself, and found the means
of securing his patent, as well as erecting a large cotton-mill at
Cranford, in Derbyshire.  After the expiry of the partnership with
Arkwright, the Strutts erected extensive cotton-mills at Milford,
near Belper, which worthily gives its title to the present head of
the family.  The sons of the founder were, like their father,
distinguished for their mechanical ability.  Thus William Strutt,
the eldest, is said to have invented a self-acting mule, the
success of which was only prevented by the mechanical skill of that
day being unequal to its manufacture.  Edward, the son of William,
was a man of eminent mechanical genius, having early discovered the
principle of suspension-wheels for carriages:  he had a wheelbarrow
and two carts made on the principle, which were used on his farm
near Belper.  It may be added that the Strutts have throughout been
distinguished for their noble employment of the wealth which their
industry and skill have brought them; that they have sought in all
ways to improve the moral and social condition of the work-people
in their employment; and that they have been liberal donors in
every good cause--of which the presentation, by Mr. Joseph Strutt,
of the beautiful park or Arboretum at Derby, as a gift to the
townspeople for ever, affords only one of many illustrations.  The
concluding words of the short address which he delivered on
presenting this valuable gift are worthy of being quoted and
remembered:- "As the sun has shone brightly on me through life, it
would be ungrateful in me not to employ a portion of the fortune I
possess in promoting the welfare of those amongst whom I live, and
by whose industry I have been aided in its organisation."

No less industry and energy have been displayed by the many brave
men, both in present and past times, who have earned the peerage by
their valour on land and at sea.  Not to mention the older feudal
lords, whose tenure depended upon military service, and who so
often led the van of the English armies in great national
encounters, we may point to Nelson, St. Vincent, and Lyons--to
Wellington, Hill, Hardinge, Clyde, and many more in recent times,
who have nobly earned their rank by their distinguished services.
But plodding industry has far oftener worked its way to the peerage
by the honourable pursuit of the legal profession, than by any
other.  No fewer than seventy British peerages, including two
dukedoms, have been founded by successful lawyers.  Mansfield and
Erskine were, it is true, of noble family; but the latter used to
thank God that out of his own family he did not know a lord. {23}
The others were, for the most part, the sons of attorneys, grocers,
clergymen, merchants, and hardworking members of the middle class.
Out of this profession have sprung the peerages of Howard and
Cavendish, the first peers of both families having been judges;
those of Aylesford, Ellenborough, Guildford, Shaftesbury,
Hardwicke, Cardigan, Clarendon, Camden, Ellesmere, Rosslyn; and
others nearer our own day, such as Tenterden, Eldon, Brougham,
Denman, Truro, Lyndhurst, St. Leonards, Cranworth, Campbell, and
Chelmsford.

Lord Lyndhurst's father was a portrait painter, and that of St.
Leonards a perfumer and hairdresser in Burlington Street.  Young
Edward Sugden was originally an errand-boy in the office of the
late Mr. Groom, of Henrietta Street, Cavendish Square, a
certificated conveyancer; and it was there that the future Lord
Chancellor of Ireland obtained his first notions of law.  The
origin of the late Lord Tenterden was perhaps the humblest of all,
nor was he ashamed of it; for he felt that the industry, study, and
application, by means of which he achieved his eminent position,
were entirely due to himself.  It is related of him, that on one
occasion he took his son Charles to a little shed, then standing
opposite the western front of Canterbury Cathedral, and pointing it
out to him, said, "Charles, you see this little shop; I have
brought you here on purpose to show it you.  In that shop your
grandfather used to shave for a penny:  that is the proudest
reflection of my life."  When a boy, Lord Tenterden was a singer in
the Cathedral, and it is a curious circumstance that his
destination in life was changed by a disappointment.  When he and
Mr. Justice Richards were going the Home Circuit together, they
went to service in the cathedral; and on Richards commending the
voice of a singing man in the choir, Lord Tenterden said, "Ah! that
is the only man I ever envied!  When at school in this town, we
were candidates for a chorister's place, and he obtained it."

Not less remarkable was the rise to the same distinguished office
of Lord Chief Justice, of the rugged Kenyon and the robust
Ellenborough; nor was he a less notable man who recently held the
same office--the astute Lord Campbell, late Lord Chancellor of
England, son of a parish minister in Fifeshire.  For many years he
worked hard as a reporter for the press, while diligently preparing
himself for the practice of his profession.  It is said of him,
that at the beginning of his career, he was accustomed to walk from
county town to county town when on circuit, being as yet too poor
to afford the luxury of posting.  But step by step he rose slowly
but surely to that eminence and distinction which ever follow a
career of industry honourably and energetically pursued, in the
legal, as in every other profession.

There have been other illustrious instances of Lords Chancellors
who have plodded up the steep of fame and honour with equal energy
and success.  The career of the late Lord Eldon is perhaps one of
the most remarkable examples.  He was the son of a Newcastle coal-
fitter; a mischievous rather than a studious boy; a great
scapegrace at school, and the subject of many terrible thrashings,-
-for orchard-robbing was one of the favourite exploits of the
future Lord Chancellor.  His father first thought of putting him
apprentice to a grocer, and afterwards had almost made up his mind
to bring him up to his own trade of a coal-fitter.  But by this
time his eldest son William (afterwards Lord Stowell) who had
gained a scholarship at Oxford, wrote to his father, "Send Jack up
to me, I can do better for him."  John was sent up to Oxford
accordingly, where, by his brother's influence and his own
application, he succeeded in obtaining a fellowship.  But when at
home during the vacation, he was so unfortunate--or rather so
fortunate, as the issue proved--as to fall in love; and running
across the Border with his eloped bride, he married, and as his
friends thought, ruined himself for life.  He had neither house nor
home when he married, and had not yet earned a penny.  He lost his
fellowship, and at the same time shut himself out from preferment
in the Church, for which he had been destined.  He accordingly
turned his attention to the study of the law.  To a friend he
wrote, "I have married rashly; but it is my determination to work
hard to provide for the woman I love."

John Scott came up to London, and took a small house in Cursitor
Lane, where he settled down to the study of the law.  He worked
with great diligence and resolution; rising at four every morning
and studying till late at night, binding a wet towel round his head
to keep himself awake.  Too poor to study under a special pleader,
he copied out three folio volumes from a manuscript collection of
precedents.  Long after, when Lord Chancellor, passing down
Cursitor Lane one day, he said to his secretary, "Here was my first
perch:  many a time do I recollect coming down this street with
sixpence in my hand to buy sprats for supper."  When at length
called to the bar, he waited long for employment.  His first year's
earnings amounted to only nine shillings.  For four years he
assiduously attended the London Courts and the Northern Circuit,
with little better success.  Even in his native town, he seldom had
other than pauper cases to defend.  The results were indeed so
discouraging, that he had almost determined to relinquish his
chance of London business, and settle down in some provincial town
as a country barrister.  His brother William wrote home, "Business
is dull with poor Jack, very dull indeed!"  But as he had escaped
being a grocer, a coal-fitter, and a country parson so did he also
escape being a country lawyer.

An opportunity at length occurred which enabled John Scott to
exhibit the large legal knowledge which he had so laboriously
acquired.  In a case in which he was engaged, he urged a legal
point against the wishes both of the attorney and client who
employed him.  The Master of the Rolls decided against him, but on
an appeal to the House of Lords, Lord Thurlow reversed the decision
on the very point that Scott had urged.  On leaving the House that
day, a solicitor tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Young man,
your bread and butter's cut for life."  And the prophecy proved a
true one.  Lord Mansfield used to say that he knew no interval
between no business and 3000l. a-year, and Scott might have told
the same story; for so rapid was his progress, that in 1783, when
only thirty-two, he was appointed King's Counsel, was at the head
of the Northern Circuit, and sat in Parliament for the borough of
Weobley.  It was in the dull but unflinching drudgery of the early
part of his career that he laid the foundation of his future
success.  He won his spurs by perseverance, knowledge, and ability,
diligently cultivated.  He was successively appointed to the
offices of solicitor and attorney-general, and rose steadily
upwards to the highest office that the Crown had to bestow--that of
Lord Chancellor of England, which he held for a quarter of a
century.

Henry Bickersteth was the son of a surgeon at Kirkby Lonsdale, in
Westmoreland, and was himself educated to that profession.  As a
student at Edinburgh, he distinguished himself by the steadiness
with which he worked, and the application which he devoted to the
science of medicine.  Returned to Kirkby Lonsdale, he took an
active part in his father's practice; but he had no liking for the
profession, and grew discontented with the obscurity of a country
town.  He went on, nevertheless, diligently improving himself, and
engaged on speculations in the higher branches of physiology.  In
conformity with his own wish, his father consented to send him to
Cambridge, where it was his intention to take a medical degree with
the view of practising in the metropolis.  Close application to his
studies, however, threw him out of health, and with a view to re-
establishing his strength he accepted the appointment of travelling
physician to Lord Oxford.  While abroad he mastered Italian, and
acquired a great admiration for Italian literature, but no greater
liking for medicine than before.  On the contrary, he determined to
abandon it; but returning to Cambridge, he took his degree; and
that he worked hard may be inferred from the fact that he was
senior wrangler of his year.  Disappointed in his desire to enter
the army, he turned to the bar, and entered a student of the Inner
Temple.  He worked as hard at law as he had done at medicine.
Writing to his father, he said, "Everybody says to me, 'You are
certain of success in the end--only persevere;' and though I don't
well understand how this is to happen, I try to believe it as much
as I can, and I shall not fail to do everything in my power."  At
twenty-eight he was called to the bar, and had every step in life
yet to make.  His means were straitened, and he lived upon the
contributions of his friends.  For years he studied and waited.
Still no business came.  He stinted himself in recreation, in
clothes, and even in the necessaries of life; struggling on
indefatigably through all.  Writing home, he "confessed that he
hardly knew how he should be able to struggle on till he had fair
time and opportunity to establish himself."  After three years'
waiting, still without success, he wrote to his friends that rather
than be a burden upon them longer, he was willing to give the
matter up and return to Cambridge, "where he was sure of support
and some profit."  The friends at home sent him another small
remittance, and he persevered.  Business gradually came in.
Acquitting himself creditably in small matters, he was at length
entrusted with cases of greater importance.  He was a man who never
missed an opportunity, nor allowed a legitimate chance of
improvement to escape him.  His unflinching industry soon began to
tell upon his fortunes; a few more years and he was not only
enabled to do without assistance from home, but he was in a
position to pay back with interest the debts which he had incurred.
The clouds had dispersed, and the after career of Henry Bickersteth
was one of honour, of emolument, and of distinguished fame.  He
ended his career as Master of the Rolls, sitting in the House of
Peers as Baron Langdale.  His life affords only another
illustration of the power of patience, perseverance, and
conscientious working, in elevating the character of the
individual, and crowning his labours with the most complete
success.

Such are a few of the distinguished men who have honourably worked
their way to the highest position, and won the richest rewards of
their profession, by the diligent exercise of qualities in many
respects of an ordinary character, but made potent by the force of
application and industry.



CHAPTER VIII--ENERGY AND COURAGE



"A coeur vaillant rien d'impossible."--Jacques Coeur.

"Den Muthigen gehort die Welt."--German Proverb.

"In every work that he began . . . he did it with all his heart,
and prospered."--II. Chron. XXXI. 21.


There is a famous speech recorded of an old Norseman, thoroughly
characteristic of the Teuton.  "I believe neither in idols nor
demons," said he, "I put my sole trust in my own strength of body
and soul."  The ancient crest of a pickaxe with the motto of
"Either I will find a way or make one," was an expression of the
same sturdy independence which to this day distinguishes the
descendants of the Northmen.  Indeed nothing could be more
characteristic of the Scandinavian mythology, than that it had a
god with a hammer.  A man's character is seen in small matters; and
from even so slight a test as the mode in which a man wields a
hammer, his energy may in some measure be inferred.  Thus an
eminent Frenchman hit off in a single phrase the characteristic
quality of the inhabitants of a particular district, in which a
friend of his proposed to settle and buy land.  "Beware," said he,
"of making a purchase there; I know the men of that department; the
pupils who come from it to our veterinary school at Paris DO NOR
STRIKE HARD UPON THE ANVIL; they want energy; and you will not get
a satisfactory return on any capital you may invest there."  A fine
and just appreciation of character, indicating the thoughtful
observer; and strikingly illustrative of the fact that it is the
energy of the individual men that gives strength to a State, and
confers a value even upon the very soil which they cultivate.  As
the French proverb has it:  "Tant vaut l'homme, tant vaut sa
terre."

The cultivation of this quality is of the greatest importance;
resolute determination in the pursuit of worthy objects being the
foundation of all true greatness of character.  Energy enables a
man to force his way through irksome drudgery and dry details, and
carries him onward and upward in every station in life.  It
accomplishes more than genius, with not one-half the disappointment
and peril.  It is not eminent talent that is required to ensure
success in any pursuit, so much as purpose,--not merely the power
to achieve, but the will to labour energetically and perseveringly.
Hence energy of will may be defined to be the very central power of
character in a man--in a word, it is the Man himself.  It gives
impulse to his every action, and soul to every effort.  True hope
is based on it,--and it is hope that gives the real perfume to
life.  There is a fine heraldic motto on a broken helmet in Battle
Abbey, "L'espoir est ma force," which might be the motto of every
man's life.  "Woe unto him that is fainthearted," says the son of
Sirach.  There is, indeed, no blessing equal to the possession of a
stout heart.  Even if a man fail in his efforts, it will be a
satisfaction to him to enjoy the consciousness of having done his
best.  In humble life nothing can be more cheering and beautiful
than to see a man combating suffering by patience, triumphing in
his integrity, and who, when his feet are bleeding and his limbs
failing him, still walks upon his courage.

Mere wishes and desires but engender a sort of green sickness in
young minds, unless they are promptly embodied in act and deed.  It
will not avail merely to wait as so many do, "until Blucher comes
up," but they must struggle on and persevere in the mean time, as
Wellington did.  The good purpose once formed must be carried out
with alacrity and without swerving.  In most conditions of life,
drudgery and toil are to be cheerfully endured as the best and most
wholesome discipline.  "In life," said Ary Scheffer, "nothing bears
fruit except by labour of mind or body.  To strive and still
strive--such is life; and in this respect mine is fulfilled; but I
dare to say, with just pride, that nothing has ever shaken my
courage.  With a strong soul, and a noble aim, one can do what one
wills, morally speaking."

Hugh Miller said the only school in which he was properly taught
was "that world-wide school in which toil and hardship are the
severe but noble teachers."  He who allows his application to
falter, or shirks his work on frivolous pretexts, is on the sure
road to ultimate failure.  Let any task be undertaken as a thing
not possible to be evaded, and it will soon come to be performed
with alacrity and cheerfulness.  Charles IX. of Sweden was a firm
believer in the power of will, even in youth.  Laying his hand on
the head of his youngest son when engaged on a difficult task, he
exclaimed, "He SHALL do it! he SHALL do it!"  The habit of
application becomes easy in time, like every other habit.  Thus
persons with comparatively moderate powers will accomplish much, if
they apply themselves wholly and indefatigably to one thing at a
time.  Fowell Buxton placed his confidence in ordinary means and
extraordinary application; realizing the scriptural injunction,
"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might;" and
he attributed his own success in life to his practice of "being a
whole man to one thing at a time."

Nothing that is of real worth can be achieved without courageous
working.  Man owes his growth chiefly to that active striving of
the will, that encounter with difficulty, which we call effort; and
it is astonishing to find how often results apparently
impracticable are thus made possible.  An intense anticipation
itself transforms possibility into reality; our desires being often
but the precursors of the things which we are capable of
performing.  On the contrary, the timid and hesitating find
everything impossible, chiefly because it seems so.  It is related
of a young French officer, that he used to walk about his apartment
exclaiming, "I WILL be Marshal of France and a great general."  His
ardent desire was the presentiment of his success; for the young
officer did become a distinguished commander, and he died a Marshal
of France.

Mr. Walker, author of the 'Original,' had so great a faith in the
power of will, that he says on one occasion he DETERMINED to be
well, and he was so.  This may answer once; but, though safer to
follow than many prescriptions, it will not always succeed.  The
power of mind over body is no doubt great, but it may be strained
until the physical power breaks down altogether.  It is related of
Muley Moluc, the Moorish leader, that, when lying ill, almost worn
out by an incurable disease, a battle took place between his troops
and the Portuguese; when, starting from his litter at the great
crisis of the fight, he rallied his army, led them to victory, and
instantly afterwards sank exhausted and expired.

It is will,--force of purpose,--that enables a man to do or be
whatever he sets his mind on being or doing.  A holy man was
accustomed to say, "Whatever you wish, that you are:  for such is
the force of our will, joined to the Divine, that whatever we wish
to be, seriously, and with a true intention, that we become.  No
one ardently wishes to be submissive, patient, modest, or liberal,
who does not become what he wishes."  The story is told of a
working carpenter, who was observed one day planing a magistrate's
bench which he was repairing, with more than usual carefulness; and
when asked the reason, he replied, "Because I wish to make it easy
against the time when I come to sit upon it myself."  And
singularly enough, the man actually lived to sit upon that very
bench as a magistrate.

Whatever theoretical conclusions logicians may have formed as to
the freedom of the will, each individual feels that practically he
is free to choose between good and evil--that he is not as a mere
straw thrown upon the water to mark the direction of the current,
but that he has within him the power of a strong swimmer, and is
capable of striking out for himself, of buffeting with the waves,
and directing to a great extent his own independent course.  There
is no absolute constraint upon our volitions, and we feel and know
that we are not bound, as by a spell, with reference to our
actions.  It would paralyze all desire of excellence were we to
think otherwise.  The entire business and conduct of life, with its
domestic rules, its social arrangements, and its public
institutions, proceed upon the practical conviction that the will
is free.  Without this where would be responsibility?--and what the
advantage of teaching, advising, preaching, reproof, and
correction?  What were the use of laws, were it not the universal
belief, as it is the universal fact, that men obey them or not,
very much as they individually determine?  In every moment of our
life, conscience is proclaiming that our will is free.  It is the
only thing that is wholly ours, and it rests solely with ourselves
individually, whether we give it the right or the wrong direction.
Our habits or our temptations are not our masters, but we of them.
Even in yielding, conscience tells us we might resist; and that
were we determined to master them, there would not be required for
that purpose a stronger resolution than we know ourselves to be
capable of exercising.

"You are now at the age," said Lamennais once, addressing a gay
youth, "at which a decision must be formed by you; a little later,
and you may have to groan within the tomb which you yourself have
dug, without the power of rolling away the stone.  That which the
easiest becomes a habit in us is the will.  Learn then to will
strongly and decisively; thus fix your floating life, and leave it
no longer to be carried hither and thither, like a withered leaf,
by every wind that blows."

Buxton held the conviction that a young man might be very much what
he pleased, provided he formed a strong resolution and held to it.
Writing to one of his sons, he said to him, "You are now at that
period of life, in which you must make a turn to the right or the
left.  You must now give proofs of principle, determination, and
strength of mind; or you must sink into idleness, and acquire the
habits and character of a desultory, ineffective young man; and if
once you fall to that point, you will find it no easy matter to
rise again.  I am sure that a young man may be very much what he
pleases.  In my own case it was so. . . . Much of my happiness, and
all my prosperity in life, have resulted from the change I made at
your age.  If you seriously resolve to be energetic and
industrious, depend upon it that you will for your whole life have
reason to rejoice that you were wise enough to form and to act upon
that determination."  As will, considered without regard to
direction, is simply constancy, firmness, perseverance, it will be
obvious that everything depends upon right direction and motives.
Directed towards the enjoyment of the senses, the strong will may
be a demon, and the intellect merely its debased slave; but
directed towards good, the strong will is a king, and the intellect
the minister of man's highest well-being.

"Where there is a will there is a way," is an old and true saying.
He who resolves upon doing a thing, by that very resolution often
scales the barriers to it, and secures its achievement.  To think
we are able, is almost to be so--to determine upon attainment is
frequently attainment itself.  Thus, earnest resolution has often
seemed to have about it almost a savour of omnipotence.  The
strength of Suwarrow's character lay in his power of willing, and,
like most resolute persons, he preached it up as a system.  "You
can only half will," he would say to people who failed.  Like
Richelieu and Napoleon, he would have the word "impossible"
banished from the dictionary.  "I don't know," "I can't," and
"impossible," were words which he detested above all others.
"Learn!  Do!  Try!" he would exclaim.  His biographer has said of
him, that he furnished a remarkable illustration of what may be
effected by the energetic development and exercise of faculties,
the germs of which at least are in every human heart.

One of Napoleon's favourite maxims was, "The truest wisdom is a
resolute determination."  His life, beyond most others, vividly
showed what a powerful and unscrupulous will could accomplish.  He
threw his whole force of body and mind direct upon his work.
Imbecile rulers and the nations they governed went down before him
in succession.  He was told that the Alps stood in the way of his
armies--"There shall be no Alps," he said, and the road across the
Simplon was constructed, through a district formerly almost
inaccessible.  "Impossible," said he, "is a word only to be found
in the dictionary of fools."  He was a man who toiled terribly;
sometimes employing and exhausting four secretaries at a time.  He
spared no one, not even himself.  His influence inspired other men,
and put a new life into them.  "I made my generals out of mud," he
said.  But all was of no avail; for Napoleon's intense selfishness
was his ruin, and the ruin of France, which he left a prey to
anarchy.  His life taught the lesson that power, however
energetically wielded, without beneficence, is fatal to its
possessor and its subjects; and that knowledge, or knowingness,
without goodness, is but the incarnate principle of Evil.

Our own Wellington was a far greater man.  Not less resolute, firm,
and persistent, but more self-denying, conscientious, and truly
patriotic.  Napoleon's aim was "Glory;" Wellington's watchword,
like Nelson's, was "Duty."  The former word, it is said, does not
once occur in his despatches; the latter often, but never
accompanied by any high-sounding professions.  The greatest
difficulties could neither embarrass nor intimidate Wellington; his
energy invariably rising in proportion to the obstacles to be
surmounted.  The patience, the firmness, the resolution, with which
he bore through the maddening vexations and gigantic difficulties
of the Peninsular campaigns, is, perhaps, one of the sublimest
things to be found in history.  In Spain, Wellington not only
exhibited the genius of the general, but the comprehensive wisdom
of the statesman.  Though his natural temper was irritable in the
extreme, his high sense of duty enabled him to restrain it; and to
those about him his patience seemed absolutely inexhaustible.  His
great character stands untarnished by ambition, by avarice, or any
low passion.  Though a man of powerful individuality, he yet
displayed a great variety of endowment.  The equal of Napoleon in
generalship, he was as prompt, vigorous, and daring as Clive; as
wise a statesman as Cromwell; and as pure and high-minded as
Washington.  The great Wellington left behind him an enduring
reputation, founded on toilsome campaigns won by skilful
combination, by fortitude which nothing could exhaust, by sublime
daring, and perhaps by still sublimer patience.

Energy usually displays itself in promptitude and decision.  When
Ledyard the traveller was asked by the African Association when he
would be ready to set out for Africa, he immediately answered, "To-
morrow morning."  Blucher's promptitude obtained for him the
cognomen of "Marshal Forwards" throughout the Prussian army.  When
John Jervis, afterwards Earl St. Vincent, was asked when he would
be ready to join his ship, he replied, "Directly."  And when Sir
Colin Campbell, appointed to the command of the Indian army, was
asked when he could set out, his answer was, "To-morrow,"--an
earnest of his subsequent success.  For it is rapid decision, and a
similar promptitude in action, such as taking instant advantage of
an enemy's mistakes, that so often wins battles.  "At Arcola," said
Napoleon, "I won the battle with twenty-five horsemen.  I seized a
moment of lassitude, gave every man a trumpet, and gained the day
with this handful.  Two armies are two bodies which meet and
endeavour to frighten each other:  a moment of panic occurs, and
THAT MOMENT must be turned to advantage."  "Every moment lost,"
said he at another time, "gives an opportunity for misfortune;" and
he declared that he beat the Austrians because they never knew the
value of time:  while they dawdled, he overthrew them.

India has, during the last century, been a great field for the
display of British energy.  From Clive to Havelock and Clyde there
is a long and honourable roll of distinguished names in Indian
legislation and warfare,--such as Wellesley, Metcalfe, Outram,
Edwardes, and the Lawrences.  Another great but sullied name is
that of Warren Hastings--a man of dauntless will and indefatigable
industry.  His family was ancient and illustrious; but their
vicissitudes of fortune and ill-requited loyalty in the cause of
the Stuarts, brought them to poverty, and the family estate at
Daylesford, of which they had been lords of the manor for hundreds
of years, at length passed from their hands.  The last Hastings of
Daylesford had, however, presented the parish living to his second
son; and it was in his house, many years later, that Warren
Hastings, his grandson, was born.  The boy learnt his letters at
the village school, on the same bench with the children of the
peasantry.  He played in the fields which his fathers had owned;
and what the loyal and brave Hastings of Daylesford HAD been, was
ever in the boy's thoughts.  His young ambition was fired, and it
is said that one summer's day, when only seven years old, as he
laid him down on the bank of the stream which flowed through the
domain, he formed in his mind the resolution that he would yet
recover possession of the family lands.  It was the romantic vision
of a boy; yet he lived to realize it.  The dream became a passion,
rooted in his very life; and he pursued his determination through
youth up to manhood, with that calm but indomitable force of will
which was the most striking peculiarity of his character.  The
orphan boy became one of the most powerful men of his time; he
retrieved the fortunes of his line; bought back the old estate, and
rebuilt the family mansion.  "When, under a tropical sun," says
Macaulay, "he ruled fifty millions of Asiatics, his hopes, amidst
all the cares of war, finance, and legislation, still pointed to
Daylesford.  And when his long public life, so singularly chequered
with good and evil, with glory and obloquy, had at length closed
for ever, it was to Daylesford that he retired to die."

Sir Charles Napier was another Indian leader of extraordinary
courage and determination.  He once said of the difficulties with
which he was surrounded in one of his campaigns, "They only make my
feet go deeper into the ground."  His battle of Meeanee was one of
the most extraordinary feats in history.  With 2000 men, of whom
only 400 were Europeans, he encountered an army of 35,000 hardy and
well-armed Beloochees.  It was an act, apparently, of the most
daring temerity, but the general had faith in himself and in his
men.  He charged the Belooch centre up a high bank which formed
their rampart in front, and for three mortal hours the battle
raged.  Each man of that small force, inspired by the chief, became
for the time a hero.  The Beloochees, though twenty to one, were
driven back, but with their faces to the foe.  It is this sort of
pluck, tenacity, and determined perseverance which wins soldiers'
battles, and, indeed, every battle.  It is the one neck nearer that
wins the race and shows the blood; it is the one march more that
wins the campaign; the five minutes' more persistent courage that
wins the fight.  Though your force be less than another's, you
equal and outmaster your opponent if you continue it longer and
concentrate it more.  The reply of the Spartan father, who said to
his son, when complaining that his sword was too short, "Add a step
to it," is applicable to everything in life.

Napier took the right method of inspiring his men with his own
heroic spirit.  He worked as hard as any private in the ranks.
"The great art of commanding," he said, "is to take a fair share of
the work.  The man who leads an army cannot succeed unless his
whole mind is thrown into his work.  The more trouble, the more
labour must be given; the more danger, the more pluck must be
shown, till all is overpowered."  A young officer who accompanied
him in his campaign in the Cutchee Hills, once said, "When I see
that old man incessantly on his horse, how can I be idle who am
young and strong?  I would go into a loaded cannon's mouth if he
ordered me."  This remark, when repeated to Napier, he said was
ample reward for his toils.  The anecdote of his interview with the
Indian juggler strikingly illustrates his cool courage as well as
his remarkable simplicity and honesty of character.  On one
occasion, after the Indian battles, a famous juggler visited the
camp and performed his feats before the General, his family, and
staff.  Among other performances, this man cut in two with a stroke
of his sword a lime or lemon placed in the hand of his assistant.
Napier thought there was some collusion between the juggler and his
retainer.  To divide by a sweep of the sword on a man's hand so
small an object without touching the flesh he believed to be
impossible, though a similar incident is related by Scott in his
romance of the 'Talisman.'  To determine the point, the General
offered his own hand for the experiment, and he stretched out his
right arm.  The juggler looked attentively at the hand, and said he
would not make the trial.  "I thought I would find you out!"
exclaimed Napier.  "But stop," added the other, "let me see your
left hand."  The left hand was submitted, and the man then said
firmly, "If you will hold your arm steady I will perform the feat."
"But why the left hand and not the right?"  "Because the right hand
is hollow in the centre, and there is a risk of cutting off the
thumb; the left is high, and the danger will be less."  Napier was
startled.  "I got frightened," he said; "I saw it was an actual
feat of delicate swordsmanship, and if I had not abused the man as
I did before my staff, and challenged him to the trial, I honestly
acknowledge I would have retired from the encounter.  However, I
put the lime on my hand, and held out my arm steadily.  The juggler
balanced himself, and, with a swift stroke cut the lime in two
pieces.  I felt the edge of the sword on my hand as if a cold
thread had been drawn across it.  So much (he added) for the brave
swordsmen of India, whom our fine fellows defeated at Meeanee."

The recent terrible struggle in India has served to bring out,
perhaps more prominently than any previous event in our history,
the determined energy and self-reliance of the national character.
Although English officialism may often drift stupidly into gigantic
blunders, the men of the nation generally contrive to work their
way out of them with a heroism almost approaching the sublime.  In
May, 1857, when the revolt burst upon India like a thunder-clap,
the British forces had been allowed to dwindle to their extreme
minimum, and were scattered over a wide extent of country, many of
them in remote cantonments.  The Bengal regiments, one after
another, rose against their officers, broke away, and rushed to
Delhi.  Province after province was lapped in mutiny and rebellion;
and the cry for help rose from east to west.  Everywhere the
English stood at bay in small detachments, beleaguered and
surrounded, apparently incapable of resistance.  Their discomfiture
seemed so complete, and the utter ruin of the British cause in
India so certain, that it might be said of them then, as it had
been said before, "These English never know when they are beaten."
According to rule, they ought then and there to have succumbed to
inevitable fate.

While the issue of the mutiny still appeared uncertain, Holkar, one
of the native princes, consulted his astrologer for information.
The reply was, "If all the Europeans save one are slain, that one
will remain to fight and reconquer."  In their very darkest moment-
-even where, as at Lucknow, a mere handful of British soldiers,
civilians, and women, held out amidst a city and province in arms
against them--there was no word of despair, no thought of
surrender.  Though cut off from all communication with their
friends for months, and not knowing whether India was lost or held,
they never ceased to have perfect faith in the courage and
devotedness of their countrymen.  They knew that while a body of
men of English race held together in India, they would not be left
unheeded to perish.  They never dreamt of any other issue but
retrieval of their misfortune and ultimate triumph; and if the
worst came to the worst, they could but fall at their post, and die
in the performance of their duty.  Need we remind the reader of the
names of Havelock, Inglis, Neill, and Outram--men of truly heroic
mould--of each of whom it might with truth be said that he had the
heart of a chevalier, the soul of a believer, and the temperament
of a martyr.  Montalembert has said of them that "they do honour to
the human race."  But throughout that terrible trial almost all
proved equally great--women, civilians and soldiers--from the
general down through all grades to the private and bugleman.  The
men were not picked:  they belonged to the same ordinary people
whom we daily meet at home--in the streets, in workshops, in the
fields, at clubs; yet when sudden disaster fell upon them, each and
all displayed a wealth of personal resources and energy, and became
as it were individually heroic.  "Not one of them," says
Montalembert, "shrank or trembled--all, military and civilians,
young and old, generals and soldiers, resisted, fought, and
perished with a coolness and intrepidity which never faltered.  It
is in this circumstance that shines out the immense value of public
education, which invites the Englishman from his youth to make use
of his strength and his liberty, to associate, resist, fear
nothing, to be astonished at nothing, and to save himself, by his
own sole exertions, from every sore strait in life."

It has been said that Delhi was taken and India saved by the
personal character of Sir John Lawrence.  The very name of
"Lawrence" represented power in the North-West Provinces.  His
standard of duty, zeal, and personal effort, was of the highest;
and every man who served under him seemed to be inspired by his
spirit.  It was declared of him that his character alone was worth
an army.  The same might be said of his brother Sir Henry, who
organised the Punjaub force that took so prominent a part in the
capture of Delhi.  Both brothers inspired those who were about them
with perfect love and confidence.  Both possessed that quality of
tenderness, which is one of the true elements of the heroic
character.  Both lived amongst the people, and powerfully
influenced them for good.  Above all as Col. Edwardes says, "they
drew models on young fellows' minds, which they went forth and
copied in their several administrations:  they sketched a FAITH,
and begot a SCHOOL, which are both living things at this day."  Sir
John Lawrence had by his side such men as Montgomery, Nicholson,
Cotton, and Edwardes, as prompt, decisive, and high-souled as
himself.  John Nicholson was one of the finest, manliest, and
noblest of men--"every inch a hakim," the natives said of him--"a
tower of strength," as he was characterised by Lord Dalhousie.  In
whatever capacity he acted he was great, because he acted with his
whole strength and soul.  A brotherhood of fakeers--borne away by
their enthusiastic admiration of the man--even began the worship of
Nikkil Seyn:  he had some of them punished for their folly, but
they continued their worship nevertheless.  Of his sustained energy
and persistency an illustration may be cited in his pursuit of the
55th Sepoy mutineers, when he was in the saddle for twenty
consecutive hours, and travelled more than seventy miles.  When the
enemy set up their standard at Delhi, Lawrence and Montgomery,
relying on the support of the people of the Punjaub, and compelling
their admiration and confidence, strained every nerve to keep their
own province in perfect order, whilst they hurled every available
soldier, European and Sikh, against that city.  Sir John wrote to
the commander-in-chief to "hang on to the rebels' noses before
Delhi," while the troops pressed on by forced marches under
Nicholson, "the tramp of whose war-horse might be heard miles off,"
as was afterwards said of him by a rough Sikh who wept over his
grave.

The siege and storming of Delhi was the most illustrious event
which occurred in the course of that gigantic struggle, although
the leaguer of Lucknow, during which the merest skeleton of a
British regiment--the 32nd--held out, under the heroic Inglis, for
six months against two hundred thousand armed enemies, has perhaps
excited more intense interest.  At Delhi, too, the British were
really the besieged, though ostensibly the besiegers; they were a
mere handful of men "in the open"--not more than 3,700 bayonets,
European and native--and they were assailed from day to day by an
army of rebels numbering at one time as many as 75,000 men, trained
to European discipline by English officers, and supplied with all
but exhaustless munitions of war.  The heroic little band sat down
before the city under the burning rays of a tropical sun.  Death,
wounds, and fever failed to turn them from their purpose.  Thirty
times they were attacked by overwhelming numbers, and thirty times
did they drive back the enemy behind their defences.  As Captain
Hodson--himself one of the bravest there--has said, "I venture to
aver that no other nation in the world would have remained here, or
avoided defeat if they had attempted to do so."  Never for an
instant did these heroes falter at their work; with sublime
endurance they held on, fought on, and never relaxed until, dashing
through the "imminent deadly breach," the place was won, and the
British flag was again unfurled on the walls of Delhi.  All were
great--privates, officers, and generals.  Common soldiers who had
been inured to a life of hardship, and young officers who had been
nursed in luxurious homes, alike proved their manhood, and emerged
from that terrible trial with equal honour.  The native strength
and soundness of the English race, and of manly English training
and discipline, were never more powerfully exhibited; and it was
there emphatically proved that the Men of England are, after all,
its greatest products.  A terrible price was paid for this great
chapter in our history, but if those who survive, and those who
come after, profit by the lesson and example, it may not have been
purchased at too great a cost.