Part 3

Every man is a treasury of untold wealth. He is not great merely for what he is, but for the greatness of his possibility--that undreamed grandeur which opportunity is ever seeking to reveal. True greatness does not emanate from the power of genius so much as it does from the wise discrimination which we exercise in the choice of our opportunities, and the intelligence with which we lay hold upon them. It is a fine art in life to know just the thing to do, and the opportune moment for doing it. Eternal vigilance is the price we must pay, and the constant whetting of our faculties.

Our life is a succession of opportunities. Yet however numerous they may be, or however bright, they are not availing until placed into the crucible of experience. Gold, silver, rubies, sapphires, and diamonds--all the precious jewels imbedded in the treasure-house of nature, become valuable to us only when we dig them out, polish and shape them for our use. Likewise our opportunities enrich us only as we reach out after them and make them an abiding element in our life.

But to know one's opportunity when he sees it, is the secret of life's great problem. "Know thy opportunity," is the motto of Pittacus of Mitylene, one of the seven wise men. It is inscribed in the temple of Apollo at Delphi. And each day, in the temple of our memory, we should write it anew. For the practical question is not whether we are making the most of our opportunities, but whether we are conscious of them at all.

Moreover, to know them _instantly_ as well as to know them instinctively is essential to our well-being. When Victor Hugo charges us to take all reasonable advantage of that which the present offers, he reveals the true character of opportunity. It lives only in the present tense, it knows no to-morrows, and makes a record of the yesterdays only when it has found lodgment in our lives.

Suppose DeWitt Clinton, denounced and ridiculed, had been led into the belief that his idea was a mere phantom, a mystic nightmare, the Erie Canal would not be a reality. Suppose Robert Fulton had accepted the issuing vapor of the tea-kettle as a mere phenomenon without seeking in it the opportunity for a mighty purpose; suppose that Cyrus W. Field or Marconi, or Edison or Ericsson, or the hundreds of others who by their inventive genius have been a blessing to mankind, had been contented with simply dreaming of the stupendous undertakings which they achieved!

It is the man who knows his opportunities when he sees them, who grips them as they pass, who stands at the door of his activities ready to welcome and turn to good account each new opportunity that comes, that is the typically successful man. Many young men have had noble ideas, backed by strong convictions, but failing to "strike while the iron was hot," have let their convictions die, the mental picture of their ideals vanish, and to their sorrow have seen them wrought by another into reality.

And below this class of men we will find a lower type--the man who is always waiting for something to turn up, and always missing it when it does. This is the man whom Dickens has immortalized in fiction in the familiar figure of Micawber. This class, however, is unmistakably diminishing in our day, but still there are many who seem to come just short of the prizes of life. They are always just too late for the opportunity that should have brought them fame and fortune.

Shakespeare has aptly portrayed that supreme moment in life which we call opportunity:

"There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries."

And the annals of human experience are filled and overflowing with achievements--examples of opportunities that were laid hold upon at just the critical moment of the tide.

When the armies of Saul and Goliath were encamped in the valley of Elah, an opportunity was given to every soldier in Israel to meet the Philistine giant, but the youthful shepherd, David, alone accepted it, and his name has been praised for thirty centuries.

An unlettered girl, a peasant in France, saw an opportunity to save the glory of her country, and with a courage that baffles human understanding Joan of Arc went forth to conquer.

When George III of England ascended the throne and began to oppress the Colonists, an opportunity was created for the American people to act. With sublime patriotism they arose to the occasion in defense of their rights, and historians allude to the inspiring event as the opening scene in the Revolution.

And when, by a stroke of diplomacy, Thomas Jefferson purchased from Napoleon Bonaparte the Louisiana Territory, one million square miles, or over six hundred millions of acres, for two cents and a half an acre, an opportunity was seized whose benefit to the American Nation no one can estimate.

But if you would know a grand hero in whose life opportunity shone like Mars, read the life of Ulysses S. Grant--the man out of whose very failures evolved a most brilliant success. When, standing with leaden heart in the little store at Galena, the opportunity for a military life came knocking at the door, he welcomed it. For when morning broke on the 12th of April, 1861, and the first guns of the Civil War roared upon Sumter, Grant marched to the front, and soon became a brigadier-general "The spur of disappointed hopes, the fire of his ambition, and the iron will that lay back of many of his failures--all the qualities latent in the man of coming greatness, sprang into mighty being."

A gigantic opportunity next confronted him, for yonder on the banks of the Cumberland frowned the massive walls of Fort Donelson. Behind them Buckner's gray legions stood ready for action. It was the hour of fate. Grant pressed on, the Confederates surrendered the stronghold, and the first Union victory was won. Shiloh and Vicksburg, Cold Harbor and Petersburg, Richmond and Appomattox, and many other glorious victories tell the story of opportunities masterfully grasped.

Our country is the land of "the golden fleece," and wherever you may be in its vast domain, you are the one who must answer for yourself the stupendous question--"To what height shall I attain?" You are like the man in the "Arabian Nights" dropped into a valley filled with diamonds. It is within your power to select that which is most valuable for your enrichment. There are splendid opportunities on every hand, and whether you shall grasp them or let them go, remains alone for you to determine.

The door of opportunity for the highest development of every individual, in every phase of life, is ever open. Every golden moment holds something of value for the earnest seeker, just as every flower holds in its bosom a treasure for the thrifty bee. No one of us may ever have such splendid opportunities as did the illustrious ones to whom we owe our present inheritance. But at the threshold of our lives will ever come the veiled figure with its gifts, and, however modest may be the treasures which it brings, if we accept them and turn to good account all that they hold of value to us, our reward will be truly great.

"Pull many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear; Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air."

IV

The Active Hand

"They Plied Their Oars With Vigor"

"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might."

"Count that day lost whose low descending sun Views from thy hand no worthy action done."

The Individual Problem

With steady, even, and vigorous stroke the young heroes from Hellas ply their oars, and the blue waters of the Euxine are flecked with foam. Here is an ideal picture. A band of enterprising young men, alert, active, ambitions--a scene typical of the highest conception of life. It has ever been scenes like this that have challenged the admiration of the world. And the plaudits of men and of angels attend the young man today who has a worthy object in view, who believes in himself, and bends to the oars with might and main.

An "active hand" symbolizes usefulness and thrift. Has it ever occurred to you what a wonderful piece of mechanism is that hand with which Nature has equipped you for seizing the oars of life's activities? Galen, the famous anatomist, after a prolonged study of the human hand, conceiving it to be the proximate instrument of the soul, was forced to renounce atheism, to acknowledge the existence of a Supreme Being. Scientists regard the human hand as being the most remarkable organ, not vital, in the whole animal kingdom.

It is conceded to be, also, the most pronounced physical characteristic differentiating man from the lower animals. The chimpanzee and the gorilla, closely allied to the human species in many respects, are noticeably deficient in the use of their modified hands; being able to grasp things only in a cumbersome way. The squirrel handles a nut with agility, the beaver builds his dam, and likewise do many other animals accomplish much with certain deftness. But the grace, suppleness, and precision, so characteristic of the human hand, are lacking. Only in man does the organ attain perfection. He alone enjoys the distinction of being able to manipulate thumb and forefinger in combination, enabling him to attain a high degree of skill.

The hand is the organ of the fifth and last sense, and the only one of the five which is active. When the other organs of sense fail it comes to their rescue--the blind man reads with his hand and the dumb man speaks with it. Being an active organ it gives expression to man's capabilities: Put a sword into it and it will fight, a plow and it will till, a harp and it will play, a brush and it will paint.

The invention of every machine conceives its first principles in the structure of the human hand; and every working part of that machine bears a relation in its function to a corresponding part in the mechanism of the hand. In fact, physics teaches us that the hand is a combination of the six mechanical powers--the lever, the wedge, the wheel and axle, the pulley, the screw, and the inclined plane. But the mechanical effect is always depreciated. In manufacture hand-made goods excel those made by machine. In art the exquisite hand-painting surpasses the lithograph. No mechanical device, however efficacious, can produce symphonies or pictures or works of any kind with the high degree of excellence of which the hand is capable.

But aside from its mechanical functions, this wonderful organ is a revelation of the secrets of human nature. Graphology enables us to read the character of a person in the hand-writing which he produces. Ages and ages ago the Hindus read the hand itself as the physical expression of the inner man; they read character by the science of palmistry as we read it by that of physiognomy; and some profess to translate the delicate tracery today into language that speaks clearly of both past and future. The hand is the expression of dishonesty when it steals, of charity when it gives, of anger when it smites, of love when it caresses. And one has called it the key to that cabinet of character in which Nature conceals, not only the motive power of every-day life, but those latent talents and energies that, by the knowledge of self, we can bring to bear upon our lives.

So that this member of our physical organization holds an office of supreme dignity and importance in the issues of our lives. It is this marvel of mechanism, overruled and directed by the higher power of intellect, which elevates man to his high position. And, whether it be the hand of the galley slave, or the hand that sways the scepter over an empire, the supreme purpose is revealed-they are alike designed to be the instruments of usefulness and power.

Even the brain cannot ignore the relative importance of the hand. It cannot say to the hand: "I have no need of thee." The captain cannot man his ship without the aid of subordinates. Neither can the brain pilot us through the activities of life without the aid of hands. A brilliant mind is a priceless possession; but all the mental acumen of the universe is not availing unless supplemented by those inferior officers--the hands. The clothes which you wear once were on the back of a sheep grazing on some distant hillside. The chair in which you sit once swayed in the forest midst the soughing winds. The pen with which I am writing once was imbedded deep in some far-away mountain range. But that occult genius--the human brain, conceived the idea of creating that wool, and wood, and ore into a higher state of usefulness, and at this juncture was compelled to acknowledge the infinite necessity of a co-worker; hence, the brain employs the hand as an external agent to put into force the impressions which it--the brain--receives from the phenomena of nature.

Moreover, the law of your growth is contingent upon the exercise of these faculties. The brain is the judicial function and the hand the executive. Together these two powers qualify you for the master-workman. If you allow them to exist in the passive sense, you become an apathetic segment in the midst of a great world pulsing with life around you. You merely add one to the population, instead of counting for a potential and energizing influence. If you lift the weight of a clock the smallest fraction of an inch, the mechanism will cease to operate. And the relaxation of your will from the great obligation of life will cause your powers to atrophy and improperly to perform their work. With Browning, "Man was made to grow, not stop."

Activity and not atrophy is the law of life. Action is the expression of that vital force called energy, and energy moves the world. The keynote of the natural world is action: the earth revolves, the river moves in its course, the tempest rages, the mountain acts from volcanic phenomena, vegetation grows, etc. In every tiny seed lies concealed this mysterious force--only a spark of life which, encouraged by nature, springs into a waving harvest.

This very quality is synonymous with the reality of life. The human mind ostensibly has an aversion to lifelessness. We turn instinctively from the dead and withered branch to the blossoming flower; from the stagnant pool to the dashing cataract, and every healthy mind finds delight in such terms as vim, vigor, energy, and activity, which are the chief natural characteristics of the human hand. Demosthenes on being asked what is the first element in oratory, replied, "Action:" when asked to state the second element, he replied "Action," and when questioned as to the third, he made the same reply. Action, first, last, and all the time, is the great principle of life and progress. Without it the most perfect engine, gigantic in proportions and costly in equipment, is a dead thing, valueless as the formless mass of ore it once was. But that marvelous product of man's hand and brain, plus steam, becomes a veritable giant of power.

Now this same law applies in relation to our bodies in general. Action is an essential as seen in the beating heart, the throbbing pulse, the coursing blood, and various other functions. In fact, the body is the engine that runs the machinery of our lives. Generating energy and storing it up, it gives impetus to all that we achieve. With all its mysteries, beauty, and strength, this human organism is worthless, a burden to society unless vitalized with that majestic force that makes man industrious.

In the words of a great man, "Nature fits all her children with something to do." The first man on earth was a gardener. Milton hears Adam conversing with Eve thus:

"Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his dignity, And the regard of Heaven on all his ways; While other animals inactive range, And of their doings God takes no account. To-morrow ere fresh morning streaks the east With first approach of light, we must be ris'n And at our pleasant labor, to reform Yon flowery arbors, yonder alleys green."

Work is the great law of life. "No man," says Lowell, "is born into the world whose work is not born with him. There is always work and tools to work withal, for those who will; and blessed are the horny hands of toil." True work, the judicious employment of our powers for the accomplishment of the noblest object in life, is the only thing that will satisfy the waiting capacity of men and women. Neither gold nor scholarship nor any other acquisition can meet the requirement like the application of one's self to some kind of work. Work is a tonic which exuberates mentally, morally, and physically the man who wisely adjusts himself to it. And he who is able to work and refuses is out of harmony with nature.

The cardinal question of life is that of achievement. In every human being there is the desire to rise to something great. The most thoughtless boy on the street looks serious as the Presidential carriage rolls past. In the deep recesses of his nature there is kindled by the spectacle a momentary yearning for fame--he would like to be President some day. Likewise does every man, when he seriously views the pageantry of life's ideals and purposes, have aspiration, for such is the natural state of man.

The allurements of a passive life are known to them only who have no knowledge of the charms of an active life. Leisure is found only in the dictionary of the slothful. Dionysius is asked if he is at leisure, and rebukes the question, saying, "God forbid that it should ever befall me." The indulgence in the activities of life comprises not only ultimate accomplishment, but is productive of present enjoyment as well. And not infrequently does the pursuit of an object give more pleasure than the possession of it. Expectation often outshines experience. Therefore, all should cultivate a taste for work, which, through the alchemy of influence, transmutes duty into privilege.

Moreover, it is fundamental in the law of success that one's pursuit must be congenial if he is to excel. On the contrary, however, lassitude can not be condoned if we find ourselves engaged in uncongenial employment. No kind of work, to the man who possesses dominion over his feelings and his faculties, is painful but proceeds with pleasure when once the habit of industry is acquired.

Our efforts should not be casual, but causal. He who does most and does it well, becomes most. Horatius received as much land as he could plow around in a day. And you and I get each day just as much as, by putting our hand to the plow of activity, we are able to encompass by faithful plodding. Hard work is the price of all that is valuable. All the great strides in the world's achievements were made possible only by forced activity and prolonged effort. Spontaneity is a foreign element in the process of healthy and rugged development. The spider spins its web and the morning bespangles it with dew, creating a thing of beauty, but valueless. It would require the entire existence of several hundred silkworms to produce an equal amount of silk fabric. The mushroom grows up in a night, and dies in the glare of the morning sun; while the oak, struggling through the years, battling with the elements, lives a perpetual blessing to man.

It is the intense struggle with the problems of life that produces in men the sturdy qualities. The short cuts to fame are few and not abiding. Success is not reached by a thornless path, but is attained by the path of plain, hard work. All things come to him who waits. Such is the very essence of an idle doctrine! All things come to him who works. Walter Scott working tirelessly in the attic while his companions below carouse the night away; Thoreau banishing himself into the lonely forest that he might prepare for larger usefulness; Dryden, "thinking on for a fortnight in a perfect frenzy;" Heyne, the German scholar, allowing himself "no more than two nights of weekly rest" for six months, that he might finish a course in Greek; Reynolds, the greatest portrait painter of England, applying his brush for thirty-six hours without stopping; Balzac, determined to be a king in literature, fighting his way with eternal diligence; William Pitt spurning difficulty and "trampling upon impossibility;" Elihu Burritt grappling with mathematics at the forge; or Isaac Newton turning his back upon a life of ease and setting off to college, where "the midnight wind swept over his papers the ashes of his long extinguished fire." These examples and thousands of others remind us that

"Heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight; But they while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night."

They had brains and hands too active, ambitions too aggressive, aspirations too lofty for a quiet existence, and they pressed their way onward and upward till they stood near the summit of a lofty ideal.

When Xerxes, that great Persian monarch, seated upon a throne of ivory and gold, viewed for the last time the magnificent array of his armies and his fleets, we read that he buried his face in his hands and wept, because he had reached the zenith of his glory; his ambition had been spent, his work had come to an end. And more desolate should be the man to-day who does not feel the passion of an earnest life, who does not yearn for some noble activity. He who sits with folded arms in the craft of civilization to be borne idly along while others ply the oars, must soon part company with the brave, loyal sons of activity to launch his idle bark in the dead waters of life, where the currents never come and the winds of energy are never felt.

"At the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought; On its sounding anvil shaped, Each burning deed and thought."

V

Ethics of Activity

"The busy world shoves angrily aside The man who stands with arms akimbo set, Till the occasion tells him what to do; And he who waits to have his task marked out. Shall die and leave his errand unfulfilled."

--James Russell Lowell.

A Man's Relation to Society

This question of activity is a twofold problem. In the preceding chapter we viewed it from the standpoint of the individual--as if he were the sole occupant of the boat, rowing toward a purely selfish end; going, as it were, in quest of the prize of life for purely personal aggrandizement. Whereas, strictly speaking, no man exists in a purely individualistic sense. He can not regard himself as separable from a social whole. Every individual is a vital element of an organized force working toward a mutual end. You are an integral factor, so to speak, of the social problem, but your value is determined by your relation to other quantifies in the complex system with which you are identified. As a segregated unit, you diminish in value.