Third Time for Smiles

HAPTER III.--COMPANIONSHIP AND EXAMPLES

"Keep good company, and you shall be of the number." -- GEORGE
HERBERT.

"For mine own part, I Shall be glad to learn of noble men."--
SHAKSPEARE

"Examples preach to th' eye--Care then, mine says, Not how you end but
how you spend your days." HENRY MARTEN--'LAST THOUGHTS.'

"Dis moi qui t'admire, et je dirai qui tu es."--SAINTE-BEUVE

He that means to be a good limner will be sure to draw after the most
excellent copies and guide every stroke of his pencil by the better
pattern that lays before him; so he that desires that the table of his
life may be fair, will be careful to propose the best examples, and
will never be content till he equals or excels them."--OWEN FELTHAM

The natural education of the Home is prolonged far into life-- indeed,
it never entirely ceases. But the time arrives, in the progress of
years, when the Home ceases to exercise an exclusive influence on the
formation of character; and it is succeeded by the more artificial
education of the school and the companionship of friends and comrades,
which continue to mould the character by the powerful influence of
example.

Men, young and old--but the young more than the old--cannot help
imitating those with whom they associate. It was a saying of George
Herbert's mother, intended for the guidance of her sons, "that as our
bodies take a nourishment suitable to the meat on which we feed, so do
our souls as insensibly take in virtue or vice by the example or
conversation of good or bad company."

Indeed, it is impossible that association with those about us should
not produce a powerful influence in the formation of character. For
men are by nature imitators, and all persons are more or less
impressed by the speech, the manners, the gait, the gestures, and the
very habits of thinking of their companions. "Is example nothing?"
said Burke. "It is everything. Example is the school of mankind, and
they will learn at no other." Burke's grand motto, which he wrote for
the tablet of the Marquis of Rockingham, is worth repeating: it was,
"Remember--resemble-- persevere."

Imitation is for the most part so unconscious that its effects are
almost unheeded, but its influence is not the less permanent on that
account. It is only when an impressive nature is placed in contact
with an impressionable one, that the alteration in the character
becomes recognisable. Yet even the weakest natures exercise some
influence upon those about them. The approximation of feeling,
thought, and habit is constant, and the action of example unceasing.

Emerson has observed that even old couples, or persons who have been
housemates for a course of years, grow gradually like each other; so
that, if they were to live long enough, we should scarcely be able to
know them apart. But if this be true of the old, how much more true is
it of the young, whose plastic natures are so much more soft and
impressionable, and ready to take the stamp of the life and
conversation of those about them!

"There has been," observed Sir Charles Bell in one of his letters, "a
good deal said about education, but they appear to me to put out of
sight EXAMPLE, which is all-in-all. My best education was the example
set me by my brothers. There was, in all the members of the family, a
reliance on self, a true independence, and by imitation I obtained
it." (1)

It is in the nature of things that the circumstances which contribute
to form the character, should exercise their principal influence
during the period of growth. As years advance, example and imitation
become custom, and gradually consolidate into habit, which is of so
much potency that, almost before we know it, we have in a measure
yielded up to it our personal freedom.

It is related of Plato, that on one occasion he reproved a boy for
playing at some foolish game. "Thou reprovest me," said the boy, "for
a very little thing." "But custom," replied Plato, "is not a little
thing." Bad custom, consolidated into habit, is such a tyrant that men
sometimes cling to vices even while they curse them. They have become
the slaves of habits whose power they are impotent to resist. Hence
Locke has said that to create and maintain that vigour of mind which
is able to contest the empire of habit, may be regarded as one of the
chief ends of moral discipline.

Though much of the education of character by example is spontaneous
and unconscious, the young need not necessarily be the passive
followers or imitators of those about them. Their own conduct, far
more than the conduct of their companions, tends to fix the purpose
and form the principles of their life. Each possesses in himself a
power of will and of free activity, which, if courageously exercised,
will enable him to make his own individual selection of friends and
associates. It is only through weakness of purpose that young people,
as well as old, become the slaves of their inclinations, or give
themselves up to a servile imitation of others.

It is a common saying that men are known by the company they keep. The
sober do not naturally associate with the drunken, the refined with
the coarse, the decent with the dissolute. To associate with depraved
persons argues a low taste and vicious tendencies, and to frequent
their society leads to inevitable degradation of character. "The
conversation of such persons," says Seneca, "is very injurious; for
even if it does no immediate harm, it leaves its seeds in the mind,
and follows us when we have gone from the speakers--a plague sure to
spring up in future resurrection."

If young men are wisely influenced and directed, and conscientiously
exert their own free energies, they will seek the society of those
better than themselves, and strive to imitate their example. In
companionship with the good, growing natures will always find their
best nourishment; while companionship with the bad will only be
fruitful in mischief. There are persons whom to know is to love,
honour, and admire; and others whom to know is to shun and
despise,--"DONT LE SAVOIR N'EST QUE BETERIE," as says Rabelais when
speaking of the education of Gargantua. Live with persons of elevated
characters, and you will feel lifted and lighted up in them: "Live
with wolves," says the Spanish proverb, "and you will learn to howl."

Intercourse with even commonplace, selfish persons, may prove most
injurious, by inducing a dry, dull reserved, and selfish condition of
mind, more or less inimical to true manliness and breadth of
character. The mind soon learns to run in small grooves, the heart
grows narrow and contracted, and the moral nature becomes weak,
irresolute, and accommodating, which is fatal to all generous ambition
or real excellence.

On the other hand, association with persons wiser, better, and more
experienced than ourselves, is always more or less inspiring and
invigorating. They enhance our own knowledge of life. We correct our
estimates by theirs, and become partners in their wisdom. We enlarge
our field of observation through their eyes, profit by their
experience, and learn not only from what they have enjoyed, but--which
is still more instructive--from what they have suffered. If they are
stronger than ourselves, we become participators in their strength.
Hence companionship with the wise and energetic never fails to have a
most valuable influence on the formation of character--increasing our
resources, strengthening our resolves, elevating our aims, and
enabling us to exercise greater dexterity and ability in our own
affairs, as well as more effective helpfulness of others.

"I have often deeply regretted in myself," says Mrs. Schimmelpenninck,
"the great loss I have experienced from the solitude of my early
habits. We need no worse companion than our unregenerate selves, and,
by living alone, a person not only becomes wholly ignorant of the
means of helping his fellow- creatures, but is without the perception
of those wants which most need help. Association with others, when not
on so large a scale as to make hours of retirement impossible, may be
considered as furnishing to an individual a rich multiplied
experience; and sympathy so drawn forth, though, unlike charity, it
begins abroad, never fails to bring back rich treasures home.
Association with others is useful also in strengthening the character,
and in enabling us, while we never lose sight of our main object, to
thread our way wisely and well." (2)

An entirely new direction may be given to the life of a young man by a
happy suggestion, a timely hint, or the kindly advice of an honest
friend. Thus the life of Henry Martyn the Indian missionary, seems to
have been singularly influenced by a friendship which he formed, when
a boy, at Truro Grammar School. Martyn himself was of feeble frame,
and of a delicate nervous temperament. Wanting in animal spirits, he
took but little pleasure in school sports; and being of a somewhat
petulant temper, the bigger boys took pleasure in provoking him, and
some of them in bullying him. One of the bigger boys, however,
conceiving a friendship for Martyn, took him under his protection,
stood between him and his persecutors, and not only fought his battles
for him, but helped him with his lessons. Though Martyn was rather a
backward pupil, his father was desirous that he should have the
advantage of a college education, and at the age of about fifteen he
sent him to Oxford to try for a Corpus scholarship, in which he
failed. He remained for two years more at the Truro Grammar School,
and then went to Cambridge, where he was entered at St. John's
College. Who should he find already settled there as a student but his
old champion of the Truro Grammar School? Their friendship was
renewed; and the elder student from that time forward acted as the
Mentor, of the younger one. Martyn was fitful in his studies,
excitable and petulant, and occasionally subject to fits of almost
uncontrollable rage. His big friend, on the other hand, was a steady,
patient, hardworking fellow; and he never ceased to watch over, to
guide, and to advise for good his irritable fellow-student. He kept
Martyn out of the way of evil company, advised him to work hard, "not
for the praise of men, but for the glory of God;" and so successfully
assisted him in his studies, that at the following Christmas
examination he was the first of his year. Yet Martyn's kind friend and
Mentor never achieved any distinction himself; he passed away into
obscurity, leading, most probably, a useful though an unknown career;
his greatest wish in life having been to shape the character of his
friend, to inspire his soul with the love of truth, and to prepare him
for the noble work, on which he shortly after entered, of an Indian
missionary.

A somewhat similar incident is said to have occurred in the college
career of Dr. Paley. When a student at Christ's College Cambridge, he
was distinguished for his shrewdness as well as his clumsiness, and he
was at the same time the favourite and the *** of his companions.
Though his natural abilities were great, he was thoughtless, idle, and
a spendthrift; and at the commencement of his third year be had made
comparatively little progress. After one of his usual night-
dissipations, a friend stood by his bedside on the following morning.
"Paley," said he, "I have not been able to sleep for thinking about
you. I have been thinking what a fool you are! I have the means of
dissipation, and can afford to be idle: YOU are poor, and cannot
afford it. I could do nothing, probably, even were I to try: YOU are
capable of doing anything. I have lain awake all night thinking about
your folly, and I have now come solemnly to warn you. Indeed, if you
persist in your indolence, and go on in this way, I must renounce your
society altogether!

It is said that Paley was so powerfully affected by this admonition,
that from that moment he became an altered man. He formed an entirely
new plan of life, and diligently persevered in it. He became one of
the most industrious of students. One by one he distanced his
competitors, and at the end of the year be came out Senior Wrangler.
What he afterwards accomplished as an author and a divine is
sufficiently well known.

No one recognised more fully the influence of personal example on the
young than did Dr. Arnold. It was the great lever with which he worked
in striving to elevate the character of his school. He made it his
principal object, first to put a right spirit into the leading boys,
by attracting their good and noble feelings; and then to make them
instrumental in propagating the same spirit among the rest, by the
influence of imitation, example, and admiration. He endeavoured to
make all feel that they were fellow-workers with himself, and sharers
with him in the moral responsibility for the good government of the
place. One of the first effects of this highminded system of
management was, that it inspired the boys with strength and self-
respect. They felt that they were trusted. There were, of course,
MAUVAIS SUJETS at Rugby, as there are at all schools; and these it was
the master's duty to watch, to prevent their bad example contaminating
others. On one occasion he said to an assistant-master: "Do you see
those two boys walking together? I never saw them together before. You
should make an especial point of observing the company they keep:
nothing so tells the changes in a boy's character."

Dr. Arnold's own example was an inspiration, as is that of every great
teacher. In his presence, young men learned to respect themselves; and
out of the root of self-respect there grew up the manly virtues. "His
very presence," says his biographer, "seemed to create a new spring of
health and vigour within them, and to give to life an interest and
elevation which remained with them long after they had left him; and
dwelt so habitually in their thoughts as a living image, that, when
death had taken him away, the bond appeared to be still unbroken, and
the sense of separation almost lost in the still deeper sense of a
life and a Union indestructible." (3) And thus it was that Dr. Arnold
trained a host of manly and noble characters, who spread the influence
of his example in all parts of the world.

So also was it said of Dugald Stewart, that he breathed the love of
virtue into whole generations of pupils. "To me," says the late Lord
Cockburn, "his lectures were like the opening of the heavens. I felt
that I had a soul. His noble views, unfolded in glorious sentences,
elevated me into a higher world... They changed my whole nature." (4)

Character tells in all conditions of life. The man of good character
in a workshop will give the tone to his fellows, and elevate their
entire aspirations. Thus Franklin, while a workman in London, is said
to have reformed the manners of an entire workshop. So the man of bad
character and debased energy will unconsciously lower and degrade his
fellows. Captain John Brown-- the "marching-on Brown"--once said to
Emerson, that "for a settler in a new country, one good believing man
is worth a hundred, nay, worth a thousand men without character." His
example is so contagious, that all other men are directly and
beneficially influenced by him, and he insensibly elevates and lifts
them up to his own standard of energetic activity.

Communication with the good is invariably productive of good. The good
character is diffusive in his influence. "I was common clay till roses
were planted in me," says some aromatic earth in the Eastern fable.
Like begets like, and good makes good. "It is astonishing," says Canon
Moseley, "how much good goodness makes. Nothing that is good is alone,
nor anything bad; it makes others good or others bad--and that other,
and so on: like a stone thrown into a pond, which makes circles that
make other wider ones, and then others, till the last reaches the
shore.... Almost all the good that is in the world has, I suppose,
thus come down to us traditionally from remote times, and often
unknown centres of good." (5) So Mr. Ruskin says, "That which is born
of evil begets evil; and that which is born of valour and honour,
teaches valour and honour."

Hence it is that the life of every man is a daily inculcation of good
or bad example to others. The life of a good man is at the same time
the most eloquent lesson of virtue and the most severe reproof of
vice. Dr. Hooker described the life of a pious clergyman of his
acquaintance as "visible rhetoric," convincing even the most godless
of the beauty of goodness. And so the good George Herbert said, on
entering upon the duties of his parish: "Above all, I will be sure to
live well, because the virtuous life of a clergyman is the most
powerful eloquence, to persuade all who see it to reverence and love,
and--at least to desire to live like him. And this I will do," he
added, "because I know we live in an age that hath more need of good
examples than precepts." It was a fine saying of the same good priest,
when reproached with doing an act of kindness to a poor man,
considered beneath the dignity of his office,--that the thought of
such actions "would prove music to him at midnight." (6) Izaak Walton
speaks of a letter written by George Herbert to Bishop Andrewes, about
a holy life, which the latter "put into his bosom," and after showing
it to his scholars, "did always return it to the place where he first
lodged it, and continued it so, near his heart, till the last day of
his life."

Great is the power of goodness to charm and to command. The man
inspired by it is the true king of men, drawing all hearts after him.
When General Nicholson lay wounded on his deathbed before Delhi, he
dictated this last message to his equally noble and gallant friend,
Sir Herbert Edwardes:- "Tell him," said he, "I should have been a
better man if I had continued to live with him, and our heavy public
duties had not prevented my seeing more of him privately. I was always
the better for a residence with him and his wife, however short. Give
my love to them both!"

There are men in whose presence we feel as if we breathed a spiritual
ozone, refreshing and invigorating, like inhaling mountain air, or
enjoying a bath of sunshine. The power of Sir Thomas More's gentle
nature was so great that it subdued the bad at the same time that it
inspired the good. Lord Brooke said of his deceased friend, Sir Philip
Sidney, that "his wit and understanding beat upon his heart, to make
himself and others, not in word or opinion, but in life and action,
good and great."

The very sight of a great and good man is often an inspiration to the
young, who cannot help admiring and loving the gentle, the brave, the
truthful, the magnanimous! Cbateaubriand saw Washington only once, but
it inspired him for life. After describing the interview, he says:
"Washington sank into the tomb before any little celebrity had
attached to my name. I passed before him as the most unknown of
beings. He was in all his glory --I in the depth of my obscurity. My
name probably dwelt not a whole day in his memory. Happy, however, was
I that his looks were cast upon me. I have felt warmed for it all the
rest of my life. There is a virtue even in the looks of a great man."

When Niebuhr died, his friend, Frederick Perthes, said of him: "What a
contemporary! The terror of all bad and base men, the stay of all the
sterling and honest, the friend and helper of youth." Perthes said on
another occasion: "It does a wrestling man good to be constantly
surrounded by tried wrestlers; evil thoughts are put to flight when
the eye falls on the portrait of one in whose living presence one
would have blushed to own them." A Catholic money-lender, when about
to cheat, was wont to draw a veil over the picture of his favourite
saint. So Hazlitt has said of the portrait of a beautiful female, that
it seemed as if an unhandsome action would be impossible in its
presence. "It does one good to look upon his manly honest face," said
a poor German woman, pointing to a portrait of the great Reformer hung
upon the wall of her humble dwelling.

Even the portrait of a noble or a good man, hung up in a room, is
companionship after a sort. It gives us a closer personal interest in
him. Looking at the features, we feel as if we knew him better, and
were more nearly related to him. It is a link that connects us with a
higher and better nature than our own. And though we may be far from
reaching the standard of our hero, we are, to a certain extent,
sustained and fortified by his depicted presence constantly before
us.

Fox was proud to acknowledge how much he owed to the example and
conversation of Burke. On one occasion he said of him, that "if he was
to put all the political information he had gained from books, all
that he had learned from science, or that the knowledge of the world
and its affairs taught him, into one scale, and the improvement he had
derived from Mr. Burke's conversation and instruction into the other,
the latter would preponderate."

Professor Tyndall speaks of Faraday's friendship as "energy and
inspiration." After spending an evening with him he wrote: "His work
excites admiration, but contact with him warms and elevates the heart.
Here, surely, is a strong man. I love strength, but let me not forget
the example of its union with modesty, tenderness, and sweetness, in
the character of Faraday."

Even the gentlest natures are powerful to influence the character of
others for good. Thus Wordsworth seems to have been especially
impressed by the character of his sister Dorothy, who exercised upon
his mind and heart a lasting influence. He describes her as the
blessing of his boyhood as well as of his manhood. Though two years
younger than himself, her tenderness and sweetness contributed greatly
to mould his nature, and open his mind to the influences of poetry:

"She gave me eyes, she gave me ears, And humble cares, and delicate
fears; A heart, the fountain of sweet tears, And love and thought and
joy."

Thus the gentlest natures are enabled, by the power of affection and
intelligence, to mould the characters of men destined to influence and
elevate their race through all time.

Sir William Napier attributed the early direction of his character,
first to the impress made upon it by his mother, when a boy; and
afterwards to the noble example of his commander, Sir John Moore, when
a man. Moore early detected the qualities of the young officer; and he
was one of those to whom the General addressed the encouragement,
"Well done, my majors!" at Corunna. Writing home to his mother, and
describing the little court by which Moore was surrounded, he wrote,
"Where shall we find such a king?" It was to his personal affection
for his chief that the world is mainly indebted to Sir William Napier
for his great book, 'The History of the Peninsular War.' But he was
stimulated to write the book by the advice of another friend, the late
Lord Langdale, while one day walking with him across the fields on
which Belgravia is now built. "It was Lord Langdale," he says, "who
first kindled the fire within me." And of Sir William Napier himself,
his biographer truly says, that "no thinking person could ever come in
contact with him without being strongly impressed with the genius of
the man.

The career of the late Dr. Marshall Hall was a lifelong illustration
of the influence of character in forming character. Many eminent men
still living trace their success in life to his suggestions and
assistance, without which several valuable lines of study and
investigation might not have been entered on, at least at so early a
period. He would say to young men about him, "Take up a subject and
pursue it well, and you cannot fail to succeed." And often he would
throw out a new idea to a young friend, saying, "I make you a present
of it; there is fortune in it, if you pursue it with energy."

Energy of character has always a power to evoke energy in others. It
acts through sympathy, one of the most influential of human agencies.
The zealous energetic man unconsciously carries others along with him.
His example is contagious, and compels imitation. He exercises a sort
of electric power, which sends a thrill through every fibre--flows
into the nature of those about him, and makes them give out sparks of
fire.

Dr. Arnold's biographer, speaking of the power of this kind exercised
by him over young men, says: "It was not so much an enthusiastic
admiration for true genius, or learning, or eloquence, which stirred
within them; it was a sympathetic thrill, caught from a spirit that
was earnestly at work in the world-- whose work was healthy,
sustained, and constantly carried forward in the fear of God--a work
that was founded on a deep sense of its duty and its value." (7)

Such a power, exercised by men of genius, evokes courage, enthusiasm,
and devotion. It is this intense admiration for individuals--such as
one cannot conceive entertained for a multitude--which has in all
times produced heroes and martyrs. It is thus that the mastery of
character makes itself felt. It acts by inspiration, quickening and
vivifying the natures subject to its influence.

Great minds are rich in radiating force, not only exerting power, but
communicating and even creating it. Thus Dante raised and drew after
him a host of great spirits--Petrarch, Boccacio, Tasso, and many more.
From him Milton learnt to bear the stings of evil tongues and the
contumely of evil days; and long years after, Byron, thinking of Dante
under the pine-trees of Ravenna, was incited to attune his harp to
loftier strains than he had ever attempted before. Dante inspired the
greatest painters of Italy-- Giotto, Orcagna, Michael Angelo, and
Raphael. So Ariosto and Titian mutually inspired one another, and
lighted up each other's glory.

Great and good men draw others after them, exciting the spontaneous
admiration of mankind. This admiration of noble character elevates the
mind, and tends to redeem it from the bondage of self, one of the
greatest stumbling blocks to moral improvement. The recollection of
men who have signalised themselves by great thoughts or great deeds,
seems as if to create for the time a purer atmosphere around us: and
we feel as if our aims and purposes were unconsciously elevated.

"Tell me whom you admire," said Sainte-Beuve, "and I will tell you
what you are, at least as regards your talents, tastes, and
character." Do you admire mean men?--your own nature is mean. Do you
admire rich men?--you are of the earth, earthy. Do you admire men of
title?--you are a toad-eater, or a tuft-hunter. (8) Do you admire
honest, brave, and manly men?--you are yourself of an honest, brave,
and manly spirit.

It is in the season of youth, while the character is forming, that the
impulse to admire is the greatest. As we advance in life, we
crystallize into habit; and "NIL ADMIRARI" too often becomes our
motto. It is well to encourage the admiration of great characters
while the nature is plastic and open to impressions; for if the good
are not admired--as young men will have their heroes of some sort--
most probably the great bad may be taken by them for models. Hence it
always rejoiced Dr. Arnold to hear his pupils expressing admiration of
great deeds, or full of enthusiasm for persons or even scenery. "I
believe," said he, "that "NIL ADMIRARI" is the devil's favourite text;
and he could not choose a better to introduce his pupils into the more
esoteric parts of his doctrine. And, therefore, I have always looked
upon a man infected with the disorder of anti-romance as one who has
lost the finest part of his nature, and his best protection against
everything low and foolish." (9)

It was a fine trait in the character of Prince Albert that he was
always so ready to express generous admiration of the good deeds of
others. "He had the greatest delight," says the ablest delineator of
his character, "in anybody else saying a fine saying, or doing a great
deed. He would rejoice over it, and talk about it for days; and
whether it was a thing nobly said or done by a little child, or by a
veteran statesman, it gave him equal pleasure. He delighted in
humanity doing well on any occasion and in any manner." (10)

"No quality," said Dr. Johnson, "will get a man more friends than a
sincere admiration of the qualities of others. It indicates generosity
of nature, frankness, cordiality, and cheerful recognition of merit."
It was to the sincere--it might almost be said the reverential--
admiration of Johnson by Boswell, that we owe one of the best
biographies ever written. One is disposed to think that there must
have been some genuine good qualities in Boswell to have been
attracted by such a man as Johnson, and to have kept faithful to his
worship in spite of rebuffs and snubbings innumerable. Macaulay speaks
of Boswell as an altogether contemptible person--as a coxcomb and a
bore--weak, vain, pushing, curious, garrulous; and without wit,
humour, or eloquence. But Carlyle is doubtless more just in his
characterisation of the biographer, in whom--vain and foolish though
he was in many respects--he sees a man penetrated by the old reverent
feeling of discipleship, full of love and admiration for true wisdom
and excellence. Without such qualities, Carlyle insists, the 'Life of
Johnson' never could have been written. "Boswell wrote a good book,"
he says, "because he had a heart and an eye to discern wisdom, and an
utterance to render it forth; because of his free insight, his lively
talent, and, above all, of his love and childlike openmindedness."

Most young men of generous mind have their heroes, especially if they
be book-readers. Thus Allan Cunningham, when a mason's apprentice in
Nithsdale, walked all the way to Edinburgh for the sole purpose of
seeing Sir Walter Scott as he passed along the street. We
unconsciously admire the enthusiasm of the lad, and respect the
impulse which impelled him to make the journey. It is related of Sir
Joshua Reynolds, that when a boy of ten, he thrust his hand through
intervening rows of people to touch Pope, as if there were a sort of
virtue in the contact. At a much later period, the painter Haydon was
proud to see and to touch Reynolds when on a visit to his native
place. Rogers the poet used to tell of his ardent desire, when a boy,
to see Dr. Johnson; but when his hand was on the knocker of the house
in Bolt Court, his courage failed him, and he turned away. So the late
Isaac Disraeli, when a youth, called at Bolt Court for the same
purpose; and though be HAD the courage to knock, to his dismay he was
informed by the servant that the great lexicographer had breathed his
last only a few hours before.

On the contrary, small and ungenerous minds cannot admire heartily. To
their own great misfortune, they cannot recognise, much less
reverence, great men and great things. The mean nature admires meanly.
The toad's highest idea of beauty is his toadess. The small snob's
highest idea of manhood is the great snob. The slave-dealer values a
man according to his muscles. When a Guinea trader was told by Sir
Godfrey Kneller, in the presence of Pope, that he saw before him two
of the greatest men in the world, he replied: "I don't know how great
you may be, but I don't like your looks. I have often bought a man
much better than both of you together, all bones and muscles, for ten
guineas!"

Although Rochefoucauld, in one of his maxims, says that there is
something that is not altogether disagreeable to us in the misfortunes
of even our best friends, it is only the small and essentially mean
nature that finds pleasure in the disappointment, and annoyance at the
success of others. There are, unhappily, for themselves, persons so
constituted that they have not the heart to be generous. The most
disagreeable of all people are those who "sit in the seat of the
scorner." Persons of this sort often come to regard the success of
others, even in a good work, as a kind of personal offence. They
cannot bear to hear another praised, especially if he belong to their
own art, or calling, or profession. They will pardon a man's failures,
but cannot forgive his doing a thing better than they can do. And
where they have themselves failed, they are found to be the most
merciless of detractors. The sour critic thinks of his rival:

"When Heaven with such parts has blest him, Have I not reason to
detest him?"

The mean mind occupies itself with sneering, carping, and fault-
finding; and is ready to scoff at everything but impudent effrontery
or successful vice. The greatest consolation of such persons are the
defects of men of character. "If the wise erred not," says George
Herbert, "it would go hard with fools." Yet, though wise men may learn
of fools by avoiding their errors, fools rarely profit by the example
which, wise men set them. A German writer has said that it is a
miserable temper that cares only to discover the blemishes in the
character of great men or great periods. Let us rather judge them with
the charity of Bolingbroke, who, when reminded of one of the alleged
weaknesses of Marlborough, observed,--"He was so great a man that I
forgot he had that defect."

Admiration of great men, living or dead, naturally evokes imitation of
them in a greater or less degree. While a mere youth, the mind of
Themistocles was fired by the great deeds of his contemporaries, and
he longed to distinguish himself in the service of his country. When
the Battle of Marathon had been fought, he fell into a state of
melancholy; and when asked by his friends as to the cause, he replied
"that the trophies of Miltiades would not suffer him to sleep." A few
years later, we find him at the head of the Athenian army, defeating
the Persian fleet of Xerxes in the battles of Artemisium and Salamis,--
his country gratefully acknowledging that it had been saved through
his wisdom and valour.

It is related of Thucydides that, when a boy, he burst into tears on
hearing Herodotus read his History, and the impression made upon his
mind was such as to determine the bent of his own genius. And
Demosthenes was so fired on one occasion by the eloquence of
Callistratus, that the ambition was roused within him of becoming an
orator himself. Yet Demosthenes was physically weak, had a feeble
voice, indistinct articulation, and shortness of breath-- defects
which he was only enabled to overcome by diligent study and invincible
determination. But, with all his practice, he never became a ready
speaker; all his orations, especially the most famous of them,
exhibiting indications of careful elaboration,--the art and industry
of the orator being visible in almost every sentence.

Similar illustrations of character imitating character, and moulding
itself by the style and manner and genius of great men, are to be
found pervading all history. Warriors, statesmen, orators, patriots,
poets, and artists--all have been, more or less unconsciously,
nurtured by the lives and actions of others living before them or
presented for their imitation.

Great men have evoked the admiration of kings, popes, and emperors.
Francis de Medicis never spoke to Michael Angelo without uncovering,
and Julius III. made him sit by his side while a dozen cardinals were
standing. Charles V. made way for Titian; and one day, when the brush
dropped from the painter's hand, Charles stooped and picked it up,
saying, "You deserve to be served by an emperor." Leo X. threatened
with excommunication whoever should print and sell the poems of
Ariosto without the author's consent. The same pope attended the
deathbed of Raphael, as Francis I. did that of Leonardo da Vinci.

Though Haydn once archly observed that he was loved and esteemed by
everybody except professors of music, yet all the greatest musicians
were unusually ready to recognise each other's greatness. Haydn
himself seems to have been entirely free from petty jealousy. His
admiration of the famous Porpora was such, that he resolved to gain
admission to his house, and serve him as a valet. Having made the
acquaintance of the family with whom Porpora lived, he was allowed to
officiate in that capacity. Early each morning he took care to brush
the veteran's coat, polish his shoes, and put his rusty wig in order.
At first Porpora growled at the intruder, but his asperity soon
softened, and eventually melted into affection. He quickly discovered
his valet's genius, and, by his instructions, directed it into the
line in which Haydn eventually acquired so much distinction.

Haydn himself was enthusiastic in his admiration of Handel. "He is the
father of us all," he said on one occasion. Scarlatti followed Handel
in admiration all over Italy, and, when his name was mentioned, be
crossed himself in token of veneration. Mozart's recognition of the
great composer was not less hearty. "When he chooses," said he,
"Handel strikes like the thunderbolt." Beethoven hailed him as "The
monarch of the musical kingdom." When Beethoven was dying, one of his
friends sent him a present of Handel's works, in forty volumes. They
were brought into his chamber, and, gazing on them with reanimated
eye, be exclaimed, pointing at them with his finger, "There--there is
the truth!"

Haydn not only recognised the genius of the great men who had passed
away, but of his young contemporaries, Mozart and Beethoven. Small men
may be envious of their fellows, but really great men seek out and
love each other. Of Mozart, Haydn wrote "I only wish I could impress
on every friend of music, and on great men in particular, the same
depth of musical sympathy, and profound appreciation of Mozart's
inimitable music, that I myself feel and enjoy; then nations would vie
with each other to possess such a jewel within their frontiers. Prague
ought not only to strive to retain this precious man, but also to
remunerate him; for without this the history of a great genius is sad
indeed.... It enrages me to think that the unparalleled Mozart is not
yet engaged by some imperial or royal court. Forgive my excitement;
but I love the man so dearly!"

Mozart was equally generous in his recognition of the merits of Haydn.
"Sir," said he to a critic, speaking of the latter, "if you and I were
both melted down together, we should not furnish materials for one
Haydn." And when Mozart first heard Beethoven, he observed: "Listen to
that young man; be assured that he will yet make a great name in the
world."

Buffon set Newton above all other philosophers, and admired him so
highly that he had always his portrait before him while he sat at
work. So Schiller looked up to Shakspeare, whom he studied reverently
and zealously for years, until he became capable of comprehending
nature at first-hand, and then his admiration became even more ardent
than before.

Pitt was Canning's master and hero, whom he followed and admired with
attachment and devotion. "To one man, while he lived," said Canning,
"I was devoted with all my heart and all my soul. Since the death of
Mr. Pitt I acknowledge no leader; my political allegiance lies buried
in his grave." (11)

A French physiologist, M. Roux, was occupied one day in lecturing to
his pupils, when Sir Charles Bell, whose discoveries were even better
known and more highly appreciated abroad than at home, strolled into
his class-room. The professor, recognising his visitor, at once
stopped his exposition, saying: "MESSIEURS, C'EST ASSEZ POUR
AUJOURD'HUI, VOUS AVEZ VU SIR CHARLES BELL!"

The first acquaintance with a great work of art has usually proved an
important event in every young artist's life. When Correggio first
gazed on Raphael's 'Saint Cecilia,' he felt within himself an awakened
power, and exclaimed, "And I too am a painter" So Constable used to
look back on his first sight of Claude's picture of 'Hagar,' as
forming an epoch in his career. Sir George Beaumont's admiration of
the same picture was such that he always took it with him in his
carriage when he travelled from home.

The examples set by the great and good do not die; they continue to
live and speak to all the generations that succeed them. It was very
impressively observed by Mr. Disraeli, in the House of Commons,
shortly after the death of Mr. Cobden:--"There is this consolation
remaining to us, when we remember our unequalled and irreparable
losses, that those great men are not altogether lost to us--that their
words will often be quoted in this House--that their examples will
often be referred to and appealed to, and that even their expressions
will form part of our discussions and debates. There are now, I may
say, some members of Parliament who, though they may not be present,
are still members of this House--who are independent of dissolutions,
of the caprices of constituencies, and even of the course of time. I
think that Mr. Cobden was one of those men."

It is the great lesson of biography to teach what man can be and can
do at his best. It may thus give each man renewed strength and
confidence. The humblest, in sight of even the greatest, may admire,
and hope, and take courage. These great brothers of ours in blood and
lineage, who live a universal life, still speak to us from their
graves, and beckon us on in the paths which they have trod. Their
example is still with us, to guide, to influence, and to direct us.
For nobility of character is a perpetual bequest; living from age to
age, and constantly tending to reproduce its like.

"The sage," say the Chinese, "is the instructor of a hundred ages.
When the manners of Loo are heard of, the stupid become intelligent,
and the wavering determined." Thus the acted life of a good man
continues to be a gospel of freedom and emancipation to all who
succeed him:

"To live in hearts we leave behind, is not to die."

The golden words that good men have uttered, the examples they have
set, live through all time: they pass into the thoughts and hearts of
their successors, help them on the road of life, and often console
them in the hour of death. "And the most miserable or most painful of
deaths," said Henry Marten, the Commonwealth man, who died in prison,
"is as nothing compared with the memory of a well-spent life; and
great alone is he who has earned the glorious privilege of bequeathing
such a lesson and example to his successors!

NOTES.

(1) 'Letters of Sir Charles Bell,' p. 10.

(2) 'Autobiography of Mary Anne Schimmelpenninck,' p. 179.

(3) Dean Stanley's 'Life of Dr. Arnold,' i. 151 (Ed. 1858).

(4) Lord Cockburn's 'Memorials,' pp. 25-6.

(5) From a letter of Canon Moseley, read at a Memorial Meeting held
shortly after the death of the late Lord Herbert of Lea.

(6) Izaak Walton's 'Life of George Herbert.'

(7) Stanley's 'Life and Letters of Dr. Arnold,' i. 33.

(8) Philip de Comines gives a curious illustration of the subservient,
though enforced, imitation of Philip, Duke of Burgundy, by his
courtiers. When that prince fell ill, and had his head shaved, he
ordered that all his nobles, five hundred in number, should in like
manner shave their heads; and one of them, Pierre de Hagenbach, to
prove his devotion, no sooner caught sight of an unshaven nobleman,
than he forthwith had him seized and carried off to the barber!--
Philip de Comines (Bohn's Ed.), p. 243.

(9) 'Life,' i. 344.

(10) Introduction to 'The Principal Speeches and Addresses of H.R.H.
the Prince Consort,' p. 33.

(11) Speech at Liverpool, 1812

.