Line
Selfishness
T
Thereis nothing in the world so malignant and destructive in its nature and tendency as selfishness. It has done all the mischief of the past, and is destined to do all the mischief of the unseen future. It has destroyed the temporal and eternal interests of millions in times past, and it is morally certain that it will destroy the interests of millions yet to come. It is the source of all the sins of omission and commission which are found in the world. We shall not see a wrong take place but that the actor is moved by his own private, personal, and selfish nature.
Selfishness is a vice utterly at variance with the happiness of him who harbors it, for the selfish man suffers more from his selfishness than he from whom that selfishness withholds some important benefit. He that sympathizes in all the happiness of others perhaps himself enjoys the safest happiness, and he who is warned by all the folly of others has perhaps attained the soundest wisdom. But such is the blindness and suicidal selfishness of mankind that things so desirable are seldom pursued, things so accessible seldom attained. The selfish person lives as if theworld were made altogether for him, and not he for the world; to take in every thing, and part with nothing.
Selfishness contracts and narrows our benevolence, and causes us, like serpents, to infold ourselves within ourselves, and to turn out our stings to all the world besides. As frost to the bud and blight to the blossom, even such is self-interest to friendship, for confidence can not dwell where selfishness is porter at the gate. The essence of true nobility is neglect of self. Let the thought of self pass in, and the beauty of a great action is gone, like the bloom from a soiled flower. Selfishness is the bane of all life. It can not enter into any life—individual, family, or social—without cursing it. It maintains its ground by tenacity and contention, and engenders strife and discord where all before was peace and harmony.
Few sins in the world are punished more constantly or more certainly than that of selfishness. It dwarfs all the better nature of man. It takes from him that feeling of kindly sympathy for others' good, which is one of the most pleasing traits of manhood, and in its stead sets up self as the one whose good is to be chiefly sought. It makes self the vortex instead of the fountain, so that, instead of throwing out, he learns only to draw in. These withering effects are to be seen not only in the high roads and public places of life, but in the nooks and by-lanes as well. Not alone among conquerors and kings, but among the humble and obscure; in the dissembling artifices of trade; in the unsanctified lust of wealth;in the devoted pursuit of station and power; confederated with the worst feelings and most depraved designs.
In proportion as we contract and curtail our feelings, so do we confine and limit our minds. If all our thoughts, plans, and purposes tend only to the advancement of self, we may be sure they will become as insignificant as their object, and instead of embracing in their scope the welfare of many, rendering us an object of endearment to others, they will become dwarfed and conceited, and fall far short of the liberality and public spirit by which we attach others to our cause. Unselfish and noble acts are the most radiant epochs in the history of souls, points from which we date a larger growth of thought and feeling. When wrought in earliest youth, they lie in the memory of age, like the coral islands, green and sunny, waving with the fruits of a southern clime amidst the melancholy waste of water.
The vice of selfishness displays itself in many ways. In an extreme form it is termed avarice, and shows itself in an insatiable desire to gather wealth. As heat changes the hitherto brittle metal into the elastic, yielding, yet deadly Damascus blade, so, when the demon of avarice finds lodgment in the heart of man, it changes all his better nature. It may find him delighting to do good and relieving the wants of others; it leaves him one whose whole energy and power are turned to the advancement of self alone. This is the grand center to which all his efforts tend. There is no length to which an avariciousman will not go in his mad career. In order that wealth may be his he will run almost any risks, stand any privation, and will sacrifice not only his own comfort and happiness, but that also of his friends and associates, or even of his own family circle. His mind is never expanded beyond the circumference of the almighty dollar. He thinks not of his immortal soul, his accountability to God, or of his final destiny. Selfishness in its worst form has complete possession of his heart. It is the ruling principle of his life. One strange feature about this form of selfishness is that it ultimately defeats its own ends. Its possessor is an Ishmael in the community. He passes to the grave without tasting the sweets of friendship or the comforts of life. Striving for wealth in order that he may have wherewith to procure happiness, he ends with the sacrifice of all the means of enjoyment in order that he may augment his wealth more rapidly.
The closing hours of a life of selfishness must be clouded with many painful thoughts. Chances for doing good passed unimproved. In order that some slight personal advantage might be gained kindly feelings were suppressed. The heart, which was intended to beat with compassion for others, has become contracted to a narrow circle, and life, that inestimable gift of Providence, instead of drawing to its close a rounded and complete whole, has been stinted and dwarfed, and passes on to the other world but illy prepared for the great changes wrought by the hand of death.
Line
Obstinacy
O
Obstinacyand contention are common qualities, most appearing in and best becoming a mean and illiterate soul. They arise not so much from a conscious defect of voluntary power, as foolhardiness is not seldom the disguise of conscious timidity. Obstinacy must not be confounded with perseverance; for obstinacy presumptuously declines to listen to reason, but perseverance only continues its exertion while satisfied that good judgment sustains its course. There are few things more singular than that obstinacy which, in matters of the highest importance to ourselves, often prevents us from acknowledging the truth that is perfectly plain to all.
There is something in obstinacy which differs from every other passion. Whenever it fails it never recovers, but either breaks like iron or crumbles sulkily away like a fractured arch. Most other passions have their periods of fatigue and rest, their suffering and their care; but obstinacy has no resources, and the first wound is mortal. Narrowness of mind is often the cause of obstinacy; we do not easily believe beyond what we see. Hence it is that the more extensive one's knowledge of mankind becomes, the less inclined is he to the vice of obstinacy; and an obstinate disposition, instead of denoting a mind of superior ability, always denotes a dwarfed, ignorant, and selfish disposition. An obstinate, ungovernable self-sufficiency plainly points out to us that state ofimperfect maturity at which the graceful levity of youth is lost and the solidity of experience not yet acquired.
Obstinacy is not only a result of a narrow, illiberal judgment, but it is a barrier to all improvements. It casts the mind in a mold, and as utterly prevents it from expanding as though it were a material substance encased in iron. A stubborn mind conduces as little to wisdom, or even to knowledge, as a stubborn temper to happiness. Whosoever perversely resolves to adhere to plans or opinions, be they right or be they wrong, because they have adopted them, raises an impassable bar to information. The wiser we are the more we are aware of the extent of our ignorance. Those who have but just entered the vestibule of the temple of knowledge invariably feel themselves much wiser than those who meekly worship in the inner sanctuary. Positiveness is much more apt to accompany the statement of the superficial observer than him whose experience has been vast and profound. Sir Isaac Newton, who might have spoken with authority, felt as a child on the shore of the great sea of human knowledge. Doubtless many of his followers feel as though far out on the tossing waves; for they act as if their opinion could by no possibility be wrong.
Sometimes obstinacy is confounded with firmness, and under this misnomer is practiced as a virtue. But the line between obstinacy and firmness is strong and decisive. Firmness of purpose is one of the most necessary sinews of character, and one of thebest instruments of success. Without it, genius wastes its efforts in a maze of inconsistencies. Firmness, while not suffering itself to be easily driven from its course, recognizes the fact that it is only perfection that is immutable, but that for things imperfect change is the way to perfect them. It gets the name of obstinacy when it will not admit of a change for the better. Firmness without knowledge can not be always good. In things ill it is not virtue, but an absolute vice. It is a noble quality; but unguided by knowledge or humility, it falls into obstinacy, and so loses the traits whereby we before admired it.
Society is often dragged down to low standards by two or three who propose, in every case, to fight every thing and every idea of which they are not the instigators. There is nothing harder for a man with a strong will than to make up his mind not always to have his own way; to submit, in many cases, rather than to quarrel with his neighbors. One must certainly make up his mind to lose much of happiness who is not willing to give way at times to the wishes of others. We must learn to turn sharp corners quietly, or we shall be constantly hurting ourselves.
But we must not, in decrying obstinacy, overlook the fact that, while it certainly is a great vice and frequently the cause of great mischief, yet it has closely allied with it the whole line of masculine virtues, constancy, fidelity, and fortitude, and that in their excess all the virtues easily fall into it. Yet it is ever easy to determine the line of demarkation wherethese virtues end and obstinacy begins. The smallest share of common sense will suffice to detect it, and there is little doubt that few people pass this boundary without being conscious of the fault. The business of constancy chiefly is bravely to stand by and stoutly to suffer those inconveniences which are not otherwise possible to be avoided. But constancy does not adhere to an opinion merely for the sake of having its own way, wherein it differs from obstinacy.
There are situations in which the proper opinions and modes of action are not evident. In such cases we must maturely reflect ere we decide; we must seek for the opinions of those wiser and better acquainted with the subject than ourselves; we must candidly hear all that can be said on both sides; then, and then only, can we in such cases hope to determine wisely. But the decision once so deliberately adopted we must firmly sustain, and never yield but to the most unbiased conviction of our former errors. But when such conviction is secured, it is the part of true manliness to acknowledge it, and of true wisdom to make the required change. There is no principle of constancy or of perseverance or of fortitude that requires us to continue in our former course when convinced that it is wrong.
Line
Slander
T
Thereis nothing which wings its flight so swiftly as calumny; nothing which is uttered with more ease; nothing which is listened to with more readiness, or dispersed more widely. Slander soaks into the mind as water soaks into low and marshy places, where it becomes stagnant and offensive. Slander is like the Greek fire, which burned unquenched beneath the water; or, like the weeds which, when you have extirpated them in one place, are sprouting vigorously in another; or, it is like the wheel which catches fire as it goes, and burns with fiercer conflagration as its own speed increases.
The tongue of slander is never tired; in one form or another it manages to keep itself in constant employment. Sometimes it drips honey and sometimes gall. It is bitter now, and then sweet. It insinuates or assails directly, according to circumstances. It will hide a curse under a smooth word and administer poison in the phrases of love. Like death, it "loves a shining mark," and is never so available and eloquent as when it can blight the hopes of the noble-minded, soil the reputation of the pure, and break down or destroy the character of the brave and strong.
No soul of high estate can take delight in slander. It indicates lapse, tendency toward chaos, utter depravity. It proves that somewhere in the soul there is a weakness—a waste, evil nature. Educationand refinement are no proof against it. They often serve only to polish the slanderous tongue, increase its tact, and give it suppleness and strategy.
He that shoots at the stars may hurt himself, but not endanger them. When any man speaks ill of us we are to make use of it as a caution, without troubling ourselves at the calumny. He is in a wretched case that values himself upon the opinions of others, and depends upon their judgment for the peace of his life. The contempt of injurious words stifles them, but resentment revives them. He that values himself upon conscience, not opinion, never heeds reproaches. When ill-spoken of take it thus: If you have not deserved it you are none the worse; if you have, then mend. Flee home to your own conscience, and examine your own heart. If you are guilty it is a just correction; if not guilty it is a fair instruction; make use of both; so shall you distill honey out of gall, and out of an open enemy create a secret friend.
That man who attempts to bring down and depreciate those who are above him does not thereby elevate himself. He rather sinks himself, while those whom he traduces are benefited rather than injured by the slander of one so base as he. He who indulges in slander is like one who throws ashes to the windward, which come back to the same place and cover him all over. To be continually subject to the breath of slander will tarnish the purest virtue as a constant exposure to the atmosphere will obscure the luster of the finest gold; but in either the realvalue of both continues the same, although the currency may be somewhat impeded. Dirt on the character, if unjustly thrown, like dirt on the clothes, should be let alone awhile until it dries, and then it will rub off easily enough. Slander, like other poisons, when administered in very heavy doses, is often thrown off by the intended victim, and thus relieves where it was meant to kill. Dirt sometimes acts like fuller's earth—defiling for the moment, but purifying in the end.
How small a matter will start a slanderous report! How frequently is the honesty and integrity of a man disposed of by a smile or a shrug! How many good and generous actions have been sunk in oblivion by a distrustful look, or stamped with the imputation of proceeding from bad motives by a mysterious and seasonable whisper! A mere hint, a significant look, a mysterious countenance, directing attention to a particular person, is often amply sufficient to start the tongue of slander.
Never does a man portray his own character more vividly than in his manner of portraying another's. There is something unsound about the man whom you have never heard say a good word about any mortal, but who can say much of evil of nearly all he is acquainted with. Never speak evil of another, even with a cause. Remember we all have our faults, and if we expect charity from the world we must be charitable ourselves. Most persons have visible faults, and most are sometimes inconsistent; upon these faults and mistakes petty scandal delightsto feast. And even where free from external blemishes envy and jealousy can start the bloodhound of suspicion—create a noise that will attract attention, and many may be led to suppose there is game where there is nothing but thin air.
A word once spoken can never be recalled; therefore it is prudent to think twice before we speak, especially when ill is the burden of our talk. Give no heed to an infamous story handed you by a person known to be an enemy to the one he is defaming; neither condemn your neighbor unheard, for there are always two sides of a story. Hear no ill of a friend, nor speak any of an enemy. Believe not all you hear, nor report all you believe. Be cautious in believing ill of others, and more cautious in reporting it.
There is seldom any thing uttered in malice which returns not to the heart of the speaker. Believe nothing against another but on good authority, nor report what may hurt another, unless it be a greater hurt to others to conceal it. It is a sign of bad reputation to take pleasure in hearing ill of our neighbors. He who sells his neighbor's credit at a low rate makes the market for another to buy his at the same rate. He that indulges himself in calumniating or ridiculing the absent plainly shows his company what they may expect from him after he leaves them.
Deal tenderly with the absent. Say nothing to inflict a wound on their reputation. They may be wrong and wicked, yet your knowledge of it does not oblige you to disclose their character, except to save others from injury. Then do it in a way thatbespeaks a spirit of kindness for the absent offender. Evil reports are often the results of misunderstanding or of evil designs, or they proceed from an exaggerated or partial disclosure of facts. Wait, learn the whole story before you decide; then believe what the evidence compels you to, and no more. But even then take heed not to indulge the least unkindness, else you dissipate all the spirit of prayer for them, and unnerve yourself for doing them good.
On many a mind and many a heart there are sad inscriptions deeply engraved by the tongue of slander, which no effort can erase. They are more durable than the impression of the diamond on the glass, for the inscription on the glass may be destroyed by a blow, but the impression on the heart will last forever. Let not the sting of calumny sink too deeply in your soul. He who is never subject to slander is generally of too little mental account to be worthy of it. Remember that it is always the best fruits that the birds pick at, that wasps light on the finest flowers, and that slanderers are like flies, that overlook all a man's good parts in order to light upon his sores. Know that slander is not long-lived, provided that your conduct does not justify them, and that truth, the child of time, erelong will appear to vindicate thee.
Line
Irritability
F
Fewcharacteristics are more unfortunate in their effects on the character of their possessor than irritability, few more repulsive and annoying to those with whom circumstances bring him in contact. Irritable people are always unjust, always exacting, always dissatisfied. They claim every thing of others, yet receive their best efforts with petulance and disdain. This habit has an unfortunate tendency of growth, until it renders a person wholly incapable of conferring happiness upon others. As the morning fog renders the most familiar objects uncouth in appearance, so it distorts the imagination and disorders the mental faculties, so that truth can not be distinguished from falsehood or friendship from enmity.
It is one great spring-source of envy and discontent, poisoning the fountain of life; it is a moral Upas-tree, scattering ruin and desolation on every side. Its origin is not difficult to trace; activity and energy are its correctives. Those who habitually occupy their minds about things serviceable to others and to themselves are seldom peevish or irritable; but those whose powers are enervated by inertia, whose mental pabulum is fiction generated in a disordered fancy, become misanthropic or grumblers, and speedily give way to incessant fault-finding, as annoying as it is unjust. Did irritable people know or could they feel the effect of their conduct uponothers, they would doubtless seek to refrain from the habit; but the possessor of such a turn of mind is as selfish as he is unjust, and cares for no one but himself. For others he cares nothing. While he claims the greatest deference for himself, he will not defer to the wishes of others in the slightest degree.
The personal sin of fretting is almost as extensive as any other evil, and if not universal, it is at least very general. It is as vain and useless a habit as any one can harbor. It is a direct violation of the law of God, and its direful effects are fearful to contemplate. Nothing so warps a man's nature, sours his disposition, and, sooner or later, breaks up the friendly relationship of the domestic circle. It is sinful in its beginning, sinful in its progress, and disastrous in its results. Such a spirit in the family, in the school or Church is sure to become contagious, and result in great injury.
A fretting, irritable disposition will not fail of finding frequent opportunities for indulgence. It is not particular as to time, place, or cause. Occasions literally multiply as the habit increases in strength. Nothing seems to go right with its possessor. Instead of conquering circumstances they control and conquer him. Fretting weakens one's self-respect, dissipates the regards of others, and breaks asunder the bonds of affection. If a scolder should, through deception and ignorance of his true character, be for a time loved, still the canker is there, the mine is sapped, and, sooner or later, the affections will be sundered. Such a habit too frequently indulged inhas drawn the best of husbands into dissipation, rendered the most affectionate of wives miserable, and estranged members of the same family circle. It ruins all the relationships of life, it is a most pernicious disposition, a dreadful inheritance.
It is ever the disposition of human nature to pattern more easily after the evils by which we are surrounded than the good. There is also an unfortunate disposition on our part to criticise the faults of those around us which displease us. Did we always do this in a spirit of true kindness it were well; but a confirmed grumbler is at heart so thoroughly selfish that the spirit of charity is utterly foreign to his complaints. Instead of earnest endeavor to discover and pattern after the perfection of those by whom they are surrounded, they seem bent only on learning the faults of others, and to take positive pleasure in making them public. Such a spirit only displays our own weakness; it shows to all keen observers that we have not patience enough to bear with our neighbor's weakness. It defeats its own ends, and instead of exposing the faults of our neighbors, serves only to call attention to our own irritable, peevish, unlovable disposition.
It is an unfailing sign of moral weakness to be constantly giving way to fitful outbreaks of ill-temper. Fools, lunarians, the weak-minded, and the ignorant are irascible, impatient, and possess an ungovernable disposition; great hearts and wise are calm, forgiving, and serene. To hear one perpetual round of complaint and murmuring, to have everypleasant thought scared away by this evil spirit, is a sore trial. It is, like the sting of a scorpion, a perpetual nettle destroying your peace, rendering life a burden. Its influence is deadly, and the purest and sweetest atmosphere is contaminated into a deadly miasma wherever this evil genius prevails. It has been truly said that, while we ought not to let the bad temper of others influence us, it would be as reasonable to spread a blister upon the skin and not expect it to draw, as to think a family not suffering because of the bad temper of any of its inmates. One string out of tune will destroy the music of an instrument otherwise perfect, so if all the members of a family do not cultivate a kind and affectionate disposition there will be discord and every evil work.
To say the least, such a disposition is a most unfortunate one. It bespeaks littleness of soul and ignorance of mankind. It is far wiser to take the more charitable view of our fellow-men. Life takes its hue in a great degree from the color of our own minds. If we are frank and generous the world treats us kindly. If, on the contrary, we are suspicious, men learn to be cold and cautious toward us. Let a person get the reputation of being touchy, and every body is under more or less restraint in his or her presence. The people who fire up easily miss a deal of happiness. Their jaundiced tempers destroy their own comfort as well as that of their friends. They always have some fancied slight to brood over. The sunny, serene moments of less selfish dispositions never visit them. True wisdom inculcates the necessityof self-control in all instances. Much may be affected by cultivation. We should learn to command our feelings, and act prudently in all the ordinary concerns of life. This will better prepare us to meet sudden emergencies with calmness and fortitude.
Line
Envy
E
Envyis the daughter of Pride, the author of murder and revenge, the beginner of secret sedition, and the perpetual tormentor of virtue. Envy is the slime of the soul, a venom, a poison or quicksilver, which consumeth the flesh and dryeth up the marrow of the bones. It is composed of odious ingredients, in which are found meanness, vice, and malice, in about equal proportions. It wishes the force of goodness to be strained, and that the measure of happiness be abated. It laments over prosperity, pines at the visit of success, is sick at the sight of health. Like death, it loves a shining mark; like the worm, it never runs but to the fairest fruits; like a cunning bloodhound, it singles out the fattest deer in the flock.
Envy is no less foolish than it is detestable. It is a vice which keeps no holiday, but is always in the wheel and working out its own disquiet. It loves darkness rather than light, because its deeds are evil. Scorpions can be made to sting themselves to death when confined within a circle of fire. Even such isenvy; for when surrounded on all sides by the brightness of another's prosperity it speedily destroys itself. He whose heart is imbued with the spirit of envy loseth much of the pleasures of life. The envious man is in pain upon all occasions which ought to give him pleasure.
It were not possible for one to adopt a more suicidal course as far as his own happiness is concerned. The relish of his life is inverted, and the objects which administer the highest satisfaction to those who are exempt from this passion give the quickest pangs to those subject to it. As when we look through glasses colored all objects partake of the glasses' color, so one moved and influenced by envy sees not the perfection of his fellow-creatures, but that they are to him odious. Youth, beauty, valor, and wisdom are, to their perverted view, but objects calculated to provoke their displeasure. What a wretched and apostate state is this—to be offended with excellence, and to hate a man because we approve him! Were not its effects so disastrous to personal character, the fit weapon wherewith to meet it were the ridicule of all sensible people. But the evil is too deeply seated to be spoken of lightly. As its cause is situated deep in the character of the individual, so its effects are far-reaching in his life.
He that is under the dominion of envy can not see perfections. He is so blinded that he is always degrading or misrepresenting things which are excellent. This brings out strongly the difference between the envious man and him who is moved by thespirit of benevolence. The envious man is tormented, not only by all the ills that befall himself, but by all the good that happens to another; whereas the benevolent man is better prepared to bear his own calamities unruffled, from the complacency and serenity he has secured from contemplating the prosperity of all around him. For the man of true benevolence the sun of happiness must be totally eclipsed before it can be darkness around him. But the envious man is made gloomy, not only by his own cloud of sorrow, but by the sunshine around the heart of another.
Other passions have objects to flatter them, and seem to content and satisfy them for a while. There is power in ambition, pleasure in luxury, and pelf in covetousness; but envy can give nothing but vexation. Envy is so base and detestable, so vile in its origin, and so pernicious in its effects, that the predominance of almost any other quality is to be preferred. It is a passion so full of cowardice and shame that nobody ever had the confidence to own it. He that envieth maketh another man's virtue his vice, and another man's happiness his torment; whereas he that rejoiceth at the prosperity of another is partaker of the same.
Envy is a sentiment that desires to equal, or excel, the efforts of its compeers, not so much by increasing our own toil and ingenuity as by diminishing the merits due to the efforts of others. It seeks to elevate itself by the degradation of others; it detests the sound of another's praise, and deems no renownacceptable that must be shared. Hence, when disappointments occur, they fall with unrelieved violence, and the consciousness of discomfited rivalry gives poignancy to the blow. Whoever feels pain in learning the good character of his neighbors will feel a pleasure in the reverse; and those who despair to rise to distinction by their virtues are happy if others can be depressed to a level with themselves.
Envy is so cruel in its pursuit that, when once hounded on, it rests not till the grave closes over its victim. There is a secure refuge against defamation, and one redeeming trait of human nature is that there every man's well-earned honors defend him against calumny. Honors bestowed upon the illustrious dead have in them no admixture of envy; but these are about the only kind of honors administered free from envy. Though the fact is to be deeply lamented, it is unfortunately true, that such is the perversion of the human heart that ofttimes the only reward of those whose merits have raised them above the common level is to acquire the hatred and aversion of their compeers. He who would acquire lasting fame, and would be remembered as one who did his duty well, must resolve to submit to the shafts of envy for the sake of noble objects.
Envy is a weed that grows in all soils and climates, and is no less luxuriant in the country than in the court. It is not confined to any rank of men or extent of fortune, but rages in the breast of those of every degree. We are as apt to find it in the humble walks of life as in the proud; as much in thesordid, affected dress as in all the silks and embroideries which the excess of age and folly of youth delight to be adorned with. Since, then, it keeps all sorts of company, and infuses itself into the most contrary natures and dispositions, and yet carries so much poison and venom with it that it ruins any life in which it finds lodgment—alienating the affections from heaven, and raising rebellion against God himself—it is worth our utmost care to watch it in all its disguises and approaches, that we may discover it at its first entrance, and dislodge it before it procures a shelter to conceal itself, and work to our confusion and shame.
Line
Discontent
"Thinkest thou the man whose mansions holdThe worldling's pomp and miser's goldObtains a richer prizeThan he who, in his cot at rest,Finds heavenly peace a willing guest,And bears the promise in his breastOf treasures in the skies?"—Mrs. Sigourney.
"Thinkest thou the man whose mansions holdThe worldling's pomp and miser's goldObtains a richer prizeThan he who, in his cot at rest,Finds heavenly peace a willing guest,And bears the promise in his breastOf treasures in the skies?"—Mrs. Sigourney.
"Thinkest thou the man whose mansions holdThe worldling's pomp and miser's goldObtains a richer prizeThan he who, in his cot at rest,Finds heavenly peace a willing guest,And bears the promise in his breastOf treasures in the skies?"—Mrs. Sigourney.
"Thinkest thou the man whose mansions hold
The worldling's pomp and miser's gold
Obtains a richer prize
Than he who, in his cot at rest,
Finds heavenly peace a willing guest,
And bears the promise in his breast
Of treasures in the skies?"
—Mrs. Sigourney.
T
Thelot of the discontented is, indeed, wretched; and truly miserable are those who live but to repine and lament, who have less resolution to resent than to complain, or else, mingling resentment and complaint together, perceive no harmony and happiness around them. They discoverin the bounty and beauty of nature nothing to admire, and in the virtues and capabilities of man nothing to love and respect. A contented mind sees something good in every thing, and in every wind sees a sign of fair weather; but a discontented spirit distorts and misconstrues all things, resolutely refusing to see aught but ill in its surroundings.
The spirit of discontent is very unfortunate; it is even worse, for it is wicked as well as weak. The very entertainment of the thought is enervating, paralyzing, destructive of all that is worthy of success, in the present business of the entertainer. To accomplish any thing beyond what the common run of business or professional men perform requires the utmost concentration of the mind on the matter in hand. There is no room in the thoughts for repining over the misfortunes of one's self, or wishes for an exchange of places with another. Indeed, it might be truthfully predicated that the indulgers of such wishes would fail utterly in the new sphere, could they achieve their desires.
Nearly every one we meet wishes to be what he is not, and every man thinks his neighbor's lot happier than his own. Through all the ramifications of society all are complaining of their condition, finding fault with their particular calling. "If I were only this, or that, or the other, I should be content," is the universal cry. Open the door to one discontented wish and you know not how many will follow. The boy apes the man; the man affects the ways of boyhood. The sailor envies the landsman; thelandsman goes to sea for pleasure. The business man who has to travel about wishes for the day to come when he can "settle down," whilst the sedentary man is always wanting a chance to flit about and travel, which he thinks would be his greatest pleasure. Town people think the country glorious; country people are always wishing that they might live in town.
We are told that it is one property required of those who seek the philosopher's stone that they must not do it with any covetous desire to be rich, for otherwise they shall never find it. But most true it is, that whosoever would have this jewel of contentment (which turns all into gold; yea, want into wealth), must come with minds divested of all ambitious and covetous thoughts, else they are never likely to obtain it. The foundation of content must spring up in a man's own mind, and he who has so little knowledge of human nature as to seek happiness by changing aught but his own disposition will waste his life in fruitless efforts, and multiply the griefs which he proposes to remove.
Contentment is felicity. Few are the real wants of man. Like a majority of his troubles they are more imaginary than real. If the world knew how much felicity dwells in the cottage of the poor, but contented, man—how sound he sleeps, how quiet his rest, how composed his mind, how free from care, and how joyful his heart—they would never more admire the noises and diseases, the throngs of passions, and the violence of unnatural appetites thatfill the houses of the luxurious, and the hearts of the ambitious.
Enjoy the blessings if God sends them, and the evils of it bear patiently and sweetly, for this day is ours. Always something of good can yet be found, however apparently hopeless the situation. There is scarcely any lot so low but there is something in it to satisfy the man whom it has befallen, Providence having so ordered things that in every man's cup, how bitter soever, there are some cordial drops—some good circumstances—which, if wisely extracted, are sufficient for the purpose he wants them—that is, to make him contented and, if not happy, resigned.
Contentment often abides with little, and rarely dwells with abundance. "Peace and few things are preferable to great professions and great cares." Such was the maxim of the Stoics. Nature teaches us to live, but wisdom teaches us to live contented. Contentment is the wealth of nature, for it gives every thing we either want or need. A quiet and contented mind is the supreme good; it is the utmost felicity a man is capable of in this world; and the maintaining of such an uninterrupted tranquillity of spirit is the very crown and glory of wisdom. The point of aim for our vigilance to hold in view is to dwell upon the brightest parts in every prospect, to call off the thoughts when running upon disagreeable objects, and strive to be pleased with the present circumstances surrounding us.
Half the discontent in the world arises from menregarding themselves as centers instead of the infinitesimal elements of circles. When you feel dissatisfied with your circumstances contemplate the condition of those beneath you. One who wielded as much influence as was possible in this republic of ours says: "There are minds which can be pleased by honors and preferments, but I can see nothing in them save envy and enmity. It is only necessary to possess them to know how little they contribute to happiness. I had rather be in a cottage with my books, my family, and a few old friends, dining upon simple bacon and hominy, and letting the world roll on as it likes, than to occupy the highest place which human power can give."
Some make the sorry mistake of confounding under the term contentment that fatal lack of energy which repels all efforts for the improvement of one's condition. Improvement can only be won by continuous efforts for advancement, and a true contentment is not to rest satisfied, to hope for nothing, to strive for nothing, or to rest in inglorious ease, doing nothing for your own or other's intellectual or moral good. Such a state of feeling is only allowable where nature has fixed an impassable and well-ascertained barrier to all further progress, or where we are troubled by ills past remedying. In such cases it is the highest philosophy not to fret or grumble when, by all our worrying, we can not help ourselves a jot or tittle, but only aggravate an affliction that is incurable. To soothe the mind to patience is, then, the only resource left us, and thrice happy is he whohas thus schooled himself to meet all reverses and disappointments.
When ills admit of a remedy it is the veriest sarcasm upon contentment to bid you suffer them. It is a mockery of content not to strive to improve your condition as much as possible. True contentment bids you be content with what you have, not with what you are; not to be sighing and wishing for things unattainable, but to cheerfully and contentedly accept the facts of your position, and then, if the way opens for improvement, to accept it at once; not to sit moping over your ill luck and many misfortunes, but, having done the best you can, rest content with the result; not to be murmuring because your lines are not cast in as pleasant places as your neighbor's, but strive to discover the pleasures and happiness to be found in your present condition, and with a manly and contented spirit dwell therein until providence opens a more excellent way, when it is your duty to embrace it. But do not make the fatal mistake of hiding behind the word contentment your lack of energy and pluck.
Contentment is the true gold which passes current among the wise the world over, while supine satisfaction is but the base counterfeit of the nobler metal, and brings its possessor into scorn and contempt.
Line
Deception
D
Deceitand falsehood, whatever conveniences they may for a time promise or produce, are in the sum of life obstacles to happiness. Those who profit by the cheat distrust the deceiver, and the act by which kindness was sought puts an end to confidence. Nothing can compete with human deceitfulness. Its origin is always to be found in the motives of those who are actuated only by a spirit of thorough selfishness. When men have some personal end to accomplish, then is seen the full flower of deceit. When they have some enemy, opponent, or rival to punish, then deceit puts on its most sturdy appearance.
That form of deceit which is cunningly laid and unworthily carried on under the disguise of friendship is, of all others, the most detestable. There can be no greater treachery than first to raise a confidence, and then deceive it. A man can not be justified in deceiving, misleading, or overreaching his neighbors. Still less, then, is he justified in inspiring confidence by smooth words and a gracious manner, only that he may further his own selfish end by breaking the trust placed in him. Nothing can be more unjust than to play upon the belief of a confiding person, to make him suffer for his good opinion, and fare the worse for thinking you an honest man.
A course of deception always defeats the true endof society. Society is a great compact designed to promote the good of man, and to elevate him in dignity, refinement, and intelligence. But too often it is understood solely as a cunning contrivance to palm off unreal virtues and to conceal real defects. Dignity is too often only pretension, refinement an artificial gloss, and intelligence only verbal display, based upon knowledge barely sufficient to make a show. All is vanity and disguises, empty mockeries and hollow-hearted nullities. But the heart of man is such a sorry mixture of good and bad that we are only too willing to urge on the race, striving to see who can be the most deceitful of all. Those whom we live with are like actors on a stage; they assume whatever dress and appearance may suit their present purpose, and they speak and act in keeping with this character.
Man is as naturally set on ambition as the bee is to gather honey. In the mad haste to stand well in the eyes of the public and third parties, they are prone to assume any disguise or counterfeit any virtue by which they may accomplish their selfish ends. They are afraid of slight outward acts which will injure them in the eyes of others, but are utterly heedless of the tide of evil, of hatred, jealousy, and revenge, which throb in their souls to their own condemnation and shame. They are more troubled by the outward and external effects of an evil course of life than by the evil itself. It is the love of approbation and not the conscience that enacts the part of a moral sense in this case.
Though a man may never give them outward expression, still, if he harbors in his breast all manner of evil thoughts, they will be potent in shaping his character. Though he may disguise them by artful words and a gracious bearing, still they are there, and their effect is as direful as though their expression was open and plain to all. Society at large may be less injured by the latent existence of evil than by its public expression; but the man himself is as much injured by the cherished thoughts of evil as by the open commission of it, and sometimes even more. For evil brought out ceases to disguise itself, and appears as hideous as it is in reality; but the evil that lurks and glances through the soul avoids analysis and evades detection.
Hypocrisy and deception are so near akin to each other that you can not wound the one without touching the sensibilities of the other. A hypocrite lives in society in the same apprehension as the thief who lies concealed in the midst of the family he is to rob, for he fancies himself perceived when he is least so; every motion alarms him; he is suspicious that every one who enters the room knows where he is hid and is coming to seize him. Thus, as nothing hates so valiantly as fear, many an innocent person who suspects no evil intended him is detested by him who intends it.
This multitudinous vice of deception takes on many forms. Hypocrisy is but one, though it is perhaps as much detested as any. But it is a lamentable fact that scarcely any thing is really what it is representedto be. As there are so many strange anomalies in human nature, we are not surprised when we discover the shallowness of so many apparently sincere pretensions, the worthlessness of what appears so fair. When it is all carefully summed up, it is found always easier to be than merely appear to be. He who pretends to great acquirements is worse put to it to conceal his ignorance than would have sufficed to have made him master of many sciences.
Those who strive by outward appearances to carry an impression of wealth and station beyond their real income are compelled, by their lavish expenditures in aid of the deception, to a strict economy in seclusion, whereas, were they content to exercise a judicious economy at all times, they would soon be placed in that position they so much long for. As for the hypocrite, surely this is the most foolish deception of all, since the hypocrite is at pains to put on the appearance of virtue, he pretends to morality, to pure friendship and esteem, and is more anxious that his outward walk and conversation shall savor of these virtues than if he were at heart possessed of them.
Since, then, a course of deception puts us to more straits than ever the open course, is it not true, then, in every-day life as well as individual acts, "honesty is the best policy?" Why purchase the base imitation of noble virtues, and derive from them naught but ridicule and dislike, when no greater outlay would procure for us the true metals, which bring peace of mind and the honor and esteem of all.