Chapter 15

In various ways, John Adams served his country with unswerving loyalty. When Washington was chosen president, Adams was chosen vice-president for both terms, and was then elected president. To the very last he was always ready to give his word--strong, convincing, powerful as of old--in the defense of the right, even if he had to stand entirely alone. And the story of his manly independence will always add to the dignity of the early history of our nation.

[Footnote: See "Life and Works of John Adams," by C. F. Adams (10 vols.); "Life of John Adams," by J. T. Morse; and article in Appleton's Cyclopedia of American Biography, Vol. I., pp. 15-23.]

XXXIII.

INDEPENDENCE.

MEMORY GEMS.

Keep out of the crowd, if you have to get above it.--M. C Peters

The freedom of the mind is the highest form of independence.--G. B. Fisk

A country cannot subsist without liberty, nor liberty without virtue. --Rousseau

The spirit of independence is not merely a jealousy of our own particular rights, but a respect for the rights of others. --S. Baring-Gould

The love of independence is not only instinctive in man, but its possession is essential to his moral development.--George Eliot

A great many persons carry in their minds a very mistaken idea as to what constitutes a truly noble life. To live is not merely to exist; it is to live unbiased and uninfluenced by low and belittling human influences. It is to give breadth and expansion to the soul; first through a clear discrimination between right and wrong; and then in living up to the right. Full manhood, the full realization and fruition of all that is best and greatest in man, depends upon freedom of thought and independence of action.

Some countries have given especial attention to the cultivation of this trait. For example: It has been pointed out that "among the bestproducts of Scotland has been her love of independence. A ruggedness of spirit has marked her children. Strength stamps her heroes. The gentle Burns was as strong as Knox,--not in character, but in the assertion of 'A man's a man for a' that;' and a great many of Scotland's noblest sons have been brought into public notice through the manifestation of their strong personality."

Vast numbers of men and women ruin their lives by failing to assert themselves. They sink into the grave with scarcely a trace to indicate that they ever lived. They live and they die. Cradle and grave are brought close together; there is nothing between them. There have been hundreds who could have rivaled the patriotism of a Washington, or the humanity of a Howard, or the eloquence of a Demosthenes, and who have left behind them no one memorial of their existence, because of lack of lofty courage, sublime moral heroism, and the assertion of their individuality.

The world's greatest things have been accomplished by individuals. Vast social reformations have originated in individual souls. Truths that now sway the world were first proclaimed by individual lips. Great thoughts that are now the axioms of humanity sprang from the center of individual hearts. Do not suffer others to shape your lives for you; but do all you can to shape them for yourselves.

Sydney Smith insisted upon this quality of manhood and womanhood as indispensable. He said: "There is one circumstance I would preach up morning, noon, and night, to young persons for the management of their understanding: Whatever you are by nature, keep to it; never desert your own line of talent. Be what Nature intended you for, and you will succeed; be anything else, and you will be ten thousand times worse than nothing."

It is a good thing for a boy to wait upon himself as much as possible. The more he has to depend upon his own exertions, the more manly a fellow will he become. Self-dependence will call out his energies, and bring into exercise his talents. It is not in the hothouse, but on the rugged Alpine cliffs, where the storms beat most violently, that the toughest plants grow. So it is with man. The wisest charity is to help a boy to help himself. Let him never hear any language but this: You have your own way to make, and it depends on your own exertion whether you succeed or fail.

Sherman once wrote to General Grant, "You are now Washington's legitimate successor, and occupy a position of almost dangerous elevation; but if you continue, as heretofore, _to be yourself_,-- simple, honest, and unpretending,--you will enjoy through life the respect and love of friends, and the homage of millions of human beings."

Of course we must guard against the error of carrying our sense of independence too far. Wordsworth hit the truth when he said: "These two things, contradictory as they may seem, must go together,--manly dependence and manly independence,--manly reliance and manly self-reliance."

Still, after all is said, we do need more healthy independence. Looking out upon society, we see how slavish men and women are to fashion and frivolity. Society life is largely a surface life, spoiled by fear of gossip. Young people need to take clearer views of this matter, and to stand by their own convictions at any cost. The question to be settled by most of us is, Shall I steer or drift? Our advice is, by all means have a lofty purpose before you, and then remain loyal to it.

Some boys think independence consists in doing whatever they please. They think it is smart to be "tough." A story told by Admiral Farragut about his early boyhood, aptly illustrates this phase of young America's independence. He says: "When I was a boy, ten years of age, I was with my father on board of a man-of-war. I had some qualities that I thought made a man of me. I could swear like an old salt; could drink as stiff a glass of grog as if I had doubled Cape Horn; and could smoke like a locomotive. I was great at cards; and fond of gaming in any shape. At the close of dinner one day my father turned everybody out of the cabin, locked the door, and said to me: 'David, what do you mean to be?' 'I mean to follow the sea.' 'Follow the sea! yes, to be a poor, miserable, drunken sailor before the mast; be kicked and cuffed about the world; and die in some fever hospital in a foreign clime.' 'No,' said I, 'I'll tread the quarter-deck, and command as you do.' 'No, David; no boy ever trod the quarter-deck with such principles as you have. You'll have to change your whole course of life if you ever become a man.'

"My father left me and went on deck. I was stunned by the rebuke, and overwhelmed with mortification. 'A poor, miserable, drunken sailor before the mast!' That's my fate, is it! I'll change my life, and change it at once! I will never utter another oath; I will never drink another drop of intoxicating liquor; I will never gamble! I have kept these three vows to this very hour. That was the turning point in my destiny."

A great many men begin to lose their individuality of conviction the moment they begin life's business. Many a young man has sacrificed his individuality on the altar that a profligate companion has built for him. Many a young man who knew right, has allowed some empty-headed street-corner loafer to lower his own high moral tone lest he should seem singular in the little world of society surrounding him. And many a lad whose life promised well at the beginning, has gone to the bad, or lost his chance in life, because he never learned to say "No!"

In the Revolutionary War, after the surrender of General Lincoln, at Charleston, the whole of South Carolina was overrun by the British army. Among those captured by the redcoats was a small boy, thirteen years of age. He was carried as a prisoner of war to Camden. While there, a British officer, in a very imperious tone, ordered the boy to clean his boots, which were covered with mud.

"Here, boy! You young rebel, what are you doing there? Take these boots and clean them; and be quick about it, too!"

The boy looked up at him and said: "Sir, I won't do it. I am a prisoner of war, and expect proper treatment from you, sir." This boy was Andrew Jackson, who afterward became president of the United States. Boys with such a spirit make noble men.

Exaggerated individuality makes a man impracticable. But the danger of our times is to copy after others, and thus destroy our force and effectiveness. Live, then, like an individual. Take life like a man--as though the world had waited for your coming. Don't take your cue from the weak, the prejudiced, the trimmers, the cowards;--but rather from the illustrious ones of earth. Dare to take the side that seems wrong to others, if it seems right to you; and you will attain to an order of life the most noble and complete.

THOMAS JEFFERSON.

For the last one hundred years, one of the first historical facts taught the youth of American birth, is that Thomas Jefferson wrote our famous Declaration of Independence. His bold, free, independent nature, admirably fitted him for the writing of this remarkable document. To him was given the task of embodying, in written language, the sentiments and the principles for which, at that moment, a liberty-loving people were battling with their lives. He succeeded, because he wrote the Declaration while his heart burned with that same patriotic fire which Patrick Henry so eloquently expressed when he said: "I care not what others may do, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death."

In all nations men have sacrificed everything they held dear for religious and political freedom. Their names are justly written in the book of fame; but in the front rank of them all, we place the brave signers of the Declaration of Independence, with Jefferson in the lead.

The acceptance and the signing of this document by the members of the Continental Congress was a dramatic scene, seldom, if ever, surpassed in the annals of history. As John Hancock placed his great familiar signature upon it, he jestingly remarked, that John Bull could read that without spectacles; and then, becoming more serious, he began to impress upon his comrades the necessity of all hanging together in this matter. "Yes, indeed," interrupted Franklin, "we must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately."

The Declaration of Independence placed the American colonies squarely upon the issue of political freedom. Its composition was a master-stroke which will continue as a lasting memorial to the head and heart of its author.

[Footnote: See "Thomas Jefferson," by J. T. Morse, Jr. (in American Statesmen Series), and "Domestic Life of Thomas Jefferson," by Sarah N. Randolph, his great-granddaughter.]

XXXIV.

THE IDEAL MAN.

MEMORY GEMS.

From the lowest depth there is a path to the highest height.--Carlyle.

A man seldom loses the respect of others until he has lost his own. --F. W. Robertson

There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger after them.--George Eliot

The man who thinks himself inferior to his fellows, deserves to be, and generally is.--William Black

It is characteristic of small men to avoid emergencies; of great men to meet them.--Charles Kingsley

Every man has characteristics which make him a distinct personality; a different individual from every other individual. It is an interesting fact that a man cannot change his nature, though he may conceal it; while no art or application will teach him to know himself, as he really is, or as others see him.

If the idea of humanity carry with it the corresponding idea of a physical, intellectual, and moral nature--if it be this trinity of being which constitutes the man,--then let us think of the first or the second elements as we may, it is the third which completes our conception. Let us praise the mechanism of the body to the utmost; let it be granted that the height and force of our intellect bespeaks a glorious intelligence; still our distinctive excellence and preeminence lies in moral and spiritual perfection.

There are those who think and speak as if manhood consisted in birth or titles, or in extent of power and authority. They are satisfied if they can only reckon among their ancestors some of the great and illustrious, or if noble blood but flow in their veins. But if they have no other glory than that of their ancestors; if all their greatness lies in a name; if their titles are their only virtues; if it be necessary to call up past ages to find something worthy of our homage,--then their birth rather disparages and dishonors them.

That these creatures lay claim to the name and the attributes of man, is a desecration. Man is a _noble_ being. There may be rank, and title, and ancestry, and deeds of renown, where there is no intellectual power. Nor would we unduly exalt reason. There may be mental greatness in no common degree, and yet be a total absence of those higher moral elements which bring our manhood more clearly into view. It is the combination of intellectual power and moral excellence which goes to make the perfect man.

The world wants a man who is educated all over; whose nerves are brought to their acutest sensibility; whose brain is cultured, keen, and penetrating; whose hands are deft; whose eyes are alert, sensitive, microscopic; whose heart is tender, broad, magnanimous, true. Indeed, the only man who can satisfy the demands of an age like this, is the man who has been rounded into perfectness by being cultured along all the lines we have indicated in the foregoing pages.

This education must commence with the very first opening of the infant mind. Our lessons will multiply and be of a still higher character with the progress of our years. Truth may succeed truth, according to the mental power and capacity; nor must our instruction cease till the probationary state shall close. Our education can finish only with the termination of life.

Every one is conscious of a most peculiar feeling when he looks at anything whose formation or development is imperfect. Let him take up an imperfectly-formed crystal, or an imperfectly-developed flower, and he can scarcely describe his feelings. The same holds true as to the organization and structure of the human body. Who ever contemplates stunted growth, or any kind of visible deformity, with complacency and satisfaction? And why should we not look for full mental development, and for the most perfect moral maturity? If what is imperfect constitutes the exception in the physical world, why should it be otherwise in the world of mind and of morals? Is it a thing to be preferred, to be stunted, and little, and dwarfish, in our intellectual and moral stature? Or do we prefer a state of childhood to that of a perfect man? If the mind is the measure of the man, and if uprightness constitutes the noblest aspect of life, then our advancement in knowledge and in righteousness should appear unto all men.

There is a god in the meanest man; there is a philanthropist in the stingiest miser; there is a hero in the biggest coward,--which an emergency great enough will call out. The blighting greed of gain, the chilling usages and cold laws of trade, encase many a noble heart in crusts of selfishness; but great emergencies break open the prison doors, and the whole heart pours itself forth in deeds of charity and mercy.

The poor and unfortunate are our opportunity, our character-builders, the great schoolmasters of our moral and Christian growth. Every kind and noble deed performed for others, is transmuted into food which nourishes the motive promoting its performance, and strengthens the muscles of habit. Gladstone, in the midst of pressing duties, found time to visit a poor sick boy whom he had seen sweeping the street crossings. He endeared himself to the heart of the English people by this action more than by almost any other single event of his life; and this incident is more talked about to-day than almost any of his so-called greater deeds.

Not what men do, but what their lives promise and prophesy, gives hope to the race. To keep us from discouragement, Nature now and then sends us a Washington, a Lincoln, a Kossuth, a Gladstone, towering above his fellows, to show us she has not lost her ideal.

We call a man like Shakespeare a genius, not because he makes new discoveries, but because he shows us to ourselves,--shows us the great reserve in us, which, like the oil-fields, awaited a discoverer,--and because he says that which we had thought or felt, but could not express. Genius merely holds the glass up to nature. We can never see in the world what we do not first have in ourselves.

"Every man," says Theodore Parker, "has at times in his mind the ideal of what he should be, but is not. In all men that seek to improve, it is better than the actual character. No one is so satisfied with himself that he never wishes to be wiser, better, and more perfect."

The ideal is the continual image that is cast upon the brain; and these images are as various as the stars; and, like them, differ one from another in magnitude. It is the quality of the aspiration that determines the true success or failure of a life. A man may aspire to be the best billiard-player, the best coachman, the best wardroom politician, the best gambler, or the most cunning cheat. He may rise to be eminent in his calling; but, compared with other men, his greatest height will be below the level of the failure of him who chooses an honest profession. No jugglery of thought, no gorgeousness of trappings, can make the low high, the dishonest honest, the vile pure. As is a man's ideal or aspiration, so shall his life be.

But when all this has been said, it still remains true that much of the difference between man and man arises from the variety of occupations and practices,--a certain special training which develops thought and intelligence in special directions. All men meet, however, on the common level of common sense. A man's thought is indicated by his talk, by verbal expression. Mental action and expression is affected by the senses, passions, and appetites.

Whatever great thing in life a man does, he never would have done in that precise way except for the peculiar training and experience which developed him; and no single incident in his life, however trifling, may be excepted in the work of rounding him out to the exact character he becomes.

The poet is really calling for what we regard as the ideal man, when he says:

"God give us men. A time like this demands Strong minds, great hearts, true faith and ready hands: Men whom the lust of office does not kill; Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy; Men who possess opinions and a will; Men who have honor--men who will not lie; Men who can stand before a demagogue And scorn his treacherous flatteries without winking; Tall men, sun-crowned, who live above the fog In public duty, and in private thinking."

XXXV.

WHAT CONSTITUTES GOOD CITIZENSHIP.

MEMORY GEMS.

A great nation is made only by worthy citizens.--Charles Dudley Warner

Nothing is politically right that is morally wrong.--O'Connor

The noblest principle in education is to teach how best to live for one's country.--G. T. Balch

The good citizen will never consent that his voice and vote shall sanction a public wrong.--A. M. Gow

Let our object be, our country, our whole country, and nothing but our country.--D. Webster

An old English picture represents a king, with the motto beneath, "I govern all;" a bishop, with this sentence, "I pray for all;" a soldier, with the inscription, "I fight for all;" and a farmer, who reluctantly draws forth his purse, and exclaims with rueful countenance, "I pay for all." The American citizen combines in himself the functions of these four. He is king, prophet, warrior, and laborer. He governs, prays, and fights for himself, and pays all expenses.

It is neither desirable nor possible, however, for men to be wholly independent of one another. Their very nature reveals the fact that they are intended to be associated in the bonds of mutual intercourse and affection; and such forms of associated life we see all about us, in the life of the family, the community, and the nation.

For a body of human beings to attempt to live together without regard for each other's interests, would be certain to lead to confusion, if not to disaster. There would be no security for life or property; no recognized standard of values; no ready and certain means of communication; nor any of the higher conveniences which mark the life of our own land and age. That which is needed to insure these necessary benefits, is some common understanding, or some such generally accepted agreement, as finds expression in those forms of government which have, for these very reasons, become common to all civilized lands.

It is in this idea of associated life that citizenship finds its real beginning. But between the formulation of the idea, and such citizenship as we now enjoy, there have been long centuries of slow growth and steady development. Each of these succeeding centuries has marked a decided improvement in the condition of mankind; and the outlook for the future of the race is more hopeful at the present than in any period of the past.

Men like to praise old times. They are fond of telling about "the good old days," when there was simplicity, and a rude but rugged virtue, and men were gay and happy. But if you were to take these men up, and carry them back there, and let them sleep where men slept then, and let them eat what men ate then, and let them do what men had to do then, and take from them what men did not have then,--you would hear the most piteous whining and complaining that ever afflicted your ears.

Do not be misled by such of our empty-headed reformers as would tell you that the workman's lot is harder at the present than in the far-away centuries of the past; for their statements cannot be verified, but are untruthful and pernicious in the highest degree. The sober, industrious, self-respecting artisan of to-day has the privilege of entrance to many places and families which were closed against the merchants and manufacturers of one hundred years ago; and he stands possessed of opportunities such as were not possible even to the men of the last generation.

Citizenship stands inseparably connected with the family. The family is practically a little state in itself, embodying on a smaller scale, all those vital and fundamental principles which make up the larger life of the nation. It is in the family that we first come under government. Our earliest lessons in obedience are those which arise from the authority of our parents and guardians. It is in the home that we discover that we cannot do altogether as we please, but that others, as well as ourselves, must be regarded. And it will not be difficult to discern that, in the various phases of home life, we have represented almost all the forms of government which have become embodied in the various kinds of national administration now prevailing in the various parts of the earth.

In a well-ordered home, the authority would be such that every one could have the largest freedom of action consistent with the general good. When the freedom of any one made itself a cause of annoyance to the rest, it would have to be curtailed. As fast as the children grew to deserve more liberty, it would be given them; but always on condition that they prove themselves worthy to be entrusted with this larger life.