Self Help
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Samuel Smiles >> Self Help
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Thus, every act we do or word we utter, as well as every act we
witness or word we hear, carries with it an influence which extends
over, and gives a colour, not only to the whole of our future life,
but makes itself felt upon the whole frame of society. We may not,
and indeed cannot, possibly, trace the influence working itself
into action in its various ramifications amongst our children, our
friends, or associates; yet there it is assuredly, working on for
ever. And herein lies the great significance of setting forth a
good example,--a silent teaching which even the poorest and least
significant person can practise in his daily life. There is no one
so humble, but that he owes to others this simple but priceless
instruction. Even the meanest condition may thus be made useful;
for the light set in a low place shines as faithfully as that set
upon a hill. Everywhere, and under almost all circumstances,
however externally adverse--in moorland shielings, in cottage
hamlets, in the close alleys of great towns--the true man may grow.
He who tills a space of earth scarce bigger than is needed for his
grave, may work as faithfully, and to as good purpose, as the heir
to thousands. The commonest workshop may thus be a school of
industry, science, and good morals, on the one hand; or of
idleness, folly, and depravity, on the other. It all depends on
the individual men, and the use they make of the opportunities for
good which offer themselves.
A life well spent, a character uprightly sustained, is no slight
legacy to leave to one's children, and to the world; for it is the
most eloquent lesson of virtue and the severest reproof of vice,
while it continues an enduring source of the best kind of riches.
Well for those who can say, as Pope did, in rejoinder to the
sarcasm of Lord Hervey, "I think it enough that my parents, such as
they were, never cost me a blush, and that their son, such as he
is, never cost them a tear."
It is not enough to tell others what they are to do, but to exhibit
the actual example of doing. What Mrs. Chisholm described to Mrs.
Stowe as the secret of her success, applies to all life. "I
found," she said, "that if we want anything DONE, we must go to
work and DO: it is of no use merely to talk--none whatever." It
is poor eloquence that only shows how a person can talk. Had Mrs.
Chisholm rested satisfied with lecturing, her project, she was
persuaded, would never have got beyond the region of talk; but when
people saw what she was doing and had actually accomplished, they
fell in with her views and came forward to help her. Hence the
most beneficent worker is not he who says the most eloquent things,
or even who thinks the most loftily, but he who does the most
eloquent acts.
True-hearted persons, even in the humblest station in life, who are
energetic doers, may thus give an impulse to good works out of all
proportion, apparently, to their actual station in society. Thomas
Wright might have talked about the reclamation of criminals, and
John Pounds about the necessity for Ragged Schools, and yet done
nothing; instead of which they simply set to work without any other
idea in their minds than that of doing, not talking. And how the
example of even the poorest man may tell upon society, hear what
Dr. Guthrie, the apostle of the Ragged School movement, says of the
influence which the example of John Pounds, the humble Portsmouth
cobbler, exercised upon his own working career:-
"The interest I have been led to take in this cause is an example
of how, in Providence, a man's destiny--his course of life, like
that of a river--may be determined and affected by very trivial
circumstances. It is rather curious--at least it is interesting to
me to remember--that it was by a picture I was first led to take an
interest in ragged schools--by a picture in an old, obscure,
decaying burgh that stands on the shores of the Frith of Forth, the
birthplace of Thomas Chalmers. I went to see this place many years
ago; and, going into an inn for refreshment, I found the room
covered with pictures of shepherdesses with their crooks, and
sailors in holiday attire, not particularly interesting. But above
the chimney-piece there was a large print, more respectable than
its neighbours, which represented a cobbler's room. The cobbler
was there himself, spectacles on nose, an old shoe between his
knees--the massive forehead and firm mouth indicating great
determination of character, and, beneath his bushy eyebrows,
benevolence gleamed out on a number of poor ragged boys and girls
who stood at their lessons round the busy cobbler. My curiosity
was awakened; and in the inscription I read how this man, John
Pounds, a cobbler in Portsmouth, taking pity on the multitude of
poor ragged children left by ministers and magistrates, and ladies
and gentlemen, to go to ruin on the streets--how, like a good
shepherd, he gathered in these wretched outcasts--how he had
trained them to God and to the world--and how, while earning his
daily bread by the sweat of his brow, he had rescued from misery
and saved to society not less than five hundred of these children.
I felt ashamed of myself. I felt reproved for the little I had
done. My feelings were touched. I was astonished at this man's
achievements; and I well remember, in the enthusiasm of the moment,
saying to my companion (and I have seen in my cooler and calmer
moments no reason for unsaying the saying)--'That man is an honour
to humanity, and deserves the tallest monument ever raised within
the shores of Britain.' I took up that man's history, and I found
it animated by the spirit of Him who 'had compassion on the
multitude.' John Pounds was a clever man besides; and, like Paul,
if he could not win a poor boy any other way, he won him by art.
He would be seen chasing a ragged boy along the quays, and
compelling him to come to school, not by the power of a policeman,
but by the power of a hot potato. He knew the love an Irishman had
for a potato; and John Pounds might be seen running holding under
the boy's nose a potato, like an Irishman, very hot, and with a
coat as ragged as himself. When the day comes when honour will be
done to whom honour is due, I can fancy the crowd of those whose
fame poets have sung, and to whose memory monuments have been
raised, dividing like the wave, and, passing the great, and the
noble, and the mighty of the land, this poor, obscure old man
stepping forward and receiving the especial notice of Him who said
'Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of these, ye did it also
to Me.'"
The education of character is very much a question of models; we
mould ourselves so unconsciously after the characters, manners,
habits, and opinions of those who are about us. Good rules may do
much, but good models far more; for in the latter we have
instruction in action--wisdom at work. Good admonition and bad
example only build with one hand to pull down with the other.
Hence the vast importance of exercising great care in the selection
of companions, especially in youth. There is a magnetic affinity
in young persons which insensibly tends to assimilate them to each
other's likeness. Mr. Edgeworth was so strongly convinced that
from sympathy they involuntarily imitated or caught the tone of the
company they frequented, that he held it to be of the most
essential importance that they should be taught to select the very
best models. "No company, or good company," was his motto. Lord
Collingwood, writing to a young friend, said, "Hold it as a maxim
that you had better be alone than in mean company. Let your
companions be such as yourself, or superior; for the worth of a man
will always be ruled by that of his company." It was a remark of
the famous Dr. Sydenham that everybody some time or other would be
the better or the worse for having but spoken to a good or a bad
man. As Sir Peter Lely made it a rule never to look at a bad
picture if he could help it, believing that whenever he did so his
pencil caught a taint from it, so, whoever chooses to gaze often
upon a debased specimen of humanity and to frequent his society,
cannot help gradually assimilating himself to that sort of model.
It is therefore advisable for young men to seek the fellowship of
the good, and always to aim at a higher standard than themselves.
Francis Horner, speaking of the advantages to himself of direct
personal intercourse with high-minded, intelligent men, said, "I
cannot hesitate to decide that I have derived more intellectual
improvement from them than from all the books I have turned over."
Lord Shelburne (afterwards Marquis of Lansdowne), when a young man,
paid a visit to the venerable Malesherbes, and was so much
impressed by it, that he said,--"I have travelled much, but I have
never been so influenced by personal contact with any man; and if I
ever accomplish any good in the course of my life, I am certain
that the recollection of M. de Malesherbes will animate my soul."
So Fowell Buxton was always ready to acknowledge the powerful
influence exercised upon the formation of his character in early
life by the example of the Gurney family: "It has given a colour
to my life," he used to say. Speaking of his success at the Dublin
University, he confessed, "I can ascribe it to nothing but my
Earlham visits." It was from the Gurneys he "caught the infection"
of self-improvement.
Contact with the good never fails to impart good, and we carry away
with us some of the blessing, as travellers' garments retain the
odour of the flowers and shrubs through which they have passed.
Those who knew the late John Sterling intimately, have spoken of
the beneficial influence which he exercised on all with whom he
came into personal contact. Many owed to him their first awakening
to a higher being; from him they learnt what they were, and what
they ought to be. Mr. Trench says of him:- "It was impossible to
come in contact with his noble nature without feeling one's self in
some measure ENNOBLED and LIFTED UP, as I ever felt when I left
him, into a higher region of objects and aims than that in which
one is tempted habitually to dwell." It is thus that the noble
character always acts; we become insensibly elevated by him, and
cannot help feeling as he does and acquiring the habit of looking
at things in the same light. Such is the magical action and
reaction of minds upon each other.
Artists, also, feel themselves elevated by contact with artists
greater than themselves. Thus Haydn's genius was first fired by
Handel. Hearing him play, Haydn's ardour for musical composition
was at once excited, and but for this circumstance, he himself
believed that he would never have written the 'Creation.' Speaking
of Handel, he said, "When he chooses, he strikes like the
thunderbolt;" and at another time, "There is not a note of him but
draws blood." Scarlatti was another of Handel's ardent admirers,
following him all over Italy; afterwards, when speaking of the
great master, he would cross himself in token of admiration. True
artists never fail generously to recognise each other's greatness.
Thus Beethoven's admiration for Cherubini was regal: and he
ardently hailed the genius of Schubert: "Truly," said he, "in
Schubert dwells a divine fire." When Northcote was a mere youth he
had such an admiration for Reynolds that, when the great painter
was once attending a public meeting down in Devonshire, the boy
pushed through the crowd, and got so near Reynolds as to touch the
skirt of his coat, "which I did," says Northcote, "with great
satisfaction to my mind,"--a true touch of youthful enthusiasm in
its admiration of genius.
The example of the brave is an inspiration to the timid, their
presence thrilling through every fibre. Hence the miracles of
valour so often performed by ordinary men under the leadership of
the heroic. The very recollection of the deeds of the valiant
stirs men's blood like the sound of a trumpet. Ziska bequeathed
his skin to be used as a drum to inspire the valour of the
Bohemians. When Scanderbeg, prince of Epirus, was dead, the Turks
wished to possess his bones, that each might wear a piece next his
heart, hoping thus to secure some portion of the courage he had
displayed while living, and which they had so often experienced in
battle. When the gallant Douglas, bearing the heart of Bruce to
the Holy Land, saw one of his knights surrounded and sorely pressed
by the Saracens, he took from his neck the silver case containing
the hero's bequest, and throwing it amidst the thickest press of
his foes, cried, "Pass first in fight, as thou wert wont to do, and
Douglas will follow thee, or die;" and so saying, he rushed forward
to the place where it fell, and was there slain.
The chief use of biography consists in the noble models of
character in which it abounds. Our great forefathers still live
among us in the records of their lives, as well as in the acts they
have done, which live also; still sit by us at table, and hold us
by the hand; furnishing examples for our benefit, which we may
still study, admire and imitate. Indeed, whoever has left behind
him the record of a noble life, has bequeathed to posterity an
enduring source of good, for it serves as a model for others to
form themselves by in all time to come; still breathing fresh life
into men, helping them to reproduce his life anew, and to
illustrate his character in other forms. Hence a book containing
the life of a true man is full of precious seed. It is a still
living voice; it is an intellect. To use Milton's words, "it is
the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured
up on purpose to a life beyond life." Such a book never ceases to
exercise an elevating and ennobling influence. But, above all,
there is the Book containing the very highest Example set before us
to shape our lives by in this world--the most suitable for all the
necessities of our mind and heart--an example which we can only
follow afar off and feel after,
"Like plants or vines which never saw the sun,
But dream of him and guess where he may be,
And do their best to climb and get to him."
Again, no young man can rise from the perusal of such lives as
those of Buxton and Arnold, without feeling his mind and heart made
better, and his best resolves invigorated. Such biographies
increase a man's self-reliance by demonstrating what men can be,
and what they can do; fortifying his hopes and elevating his aims
in life. Sometimes a young man discovers himself in a biography,
as Correggio felt within him the risings of genius on contemplating
the works of Michael Angelo: "And I too, am a painter," he
exclaimed. Sir Samuel Romilly, in his autobiography, confessed
himself to have been powerfully influenced by the life of the great
and noble-minded French Chancellor Daguesseau:- "The works of
Thomas," says he, "had fallen into my hands, and I had read with
admiration his 'Eloge of Daguesseau;' and the career of honour
which he represented that illustrious magistrate to have run,
excited to a great degree my ardour and ambition, and opened to my
imagination new paths of glory."
Franklin was accustomed to attribute his usefulness and eminence to
his having early read Cotton Mather's 'Essays to do Good'--a book
which grew out of Mather's own life. And see how good example
draws other men after it, and propagates itself through future
generations in all lands. For Samuel Drew avers that he framed his
own life, and especially his business habits, after the model left
on record by Benjamin Franklin. Thus it is impossible to say where
a good example may not reach, or where it will end, if indeed it
have an end. Hence the advantage, in literature as in life, of
keeping the best society, reading the best books, and wisely
admiring and imitating the best things we find in them. "In
literature," said Lord Dudley, "I am fond of confining myself to
the best company, which consists chiefly of my old acquaintance,
with whom I am desirous of becoming more intimate; and I suspect
that nine times out of ten it is more profitable, if not more
agreeable, to read an old book over again, than to read a new one
for the first time."
Sometimes a book containing a noble exemplar of life, taken up at
random, merely with the object of reading it as a pastime, has been
known to call forth energies whose existence had not before been
suspected. Alfieri was first drawn with passion to literature by
reading 'Plutarch's Lives.' Loyola, when a soldier serving at the
siege of Pampeluna, and laid up by a dangerous wound in his leg,
asked for a book to divert his thoughts: the 'Lives of the Saints'
was brought to him, and its perusal so inflamed his mind, that he
determined thenceforth to devote himself to the founding of a
religious order. Luther, in like manner, was inspired to undertake
the great labours of his life by a perusal of the 'Life and
Writings of John Huss.' Dr. Wolff was stimulated to enter upon his
missionary career by reading the 'Life of Francis Xavier;' and the
book fired his youthful bosom with a passion the most sincere and
ardent to devote himself to the enterprise of his life. William
Carey, also, got the first idea of entering upon his sublime
labours as a missionary from a perusal of the Voyages of Captain
Cook.
Francis Horner was accustomed to note in his diary and letters the
books by which he was most improved and influenced. Amongst these
were Condorcet's 'Eloge of Haller,' Sir Joshua Reynolds'
'Discourses,' the writings of Bacon, and 'Burnet's Account of Sir
Matthew Hale.' The perusal of the last-mentioned book--the
portrait of a prodigy of labour--Horner says, filled him with
enthusiasm. Of Condorcet's 'Eloge of Haller,' he said: "I never
rise from the account of such men without a sort of thrilling
palpitation about me, which I know not whether I should call
admiration, ambition, or despair." And speaking of the
'Discourses' of Sir Joshua Reynolds, he said: "Next to the
writings of Bacon, there is no book which has more powerfully
impelled me to self-culture. He is one of the first men of genius
who has condescended to inform the world of the steps by which
greatness is attained. The confidence with which he asserts the
omnipotence of human labour has the effect of familiarising his
reader with the idea that genius is an acquisition rather than a
gift; whilst with all there is blended so naturally and eloquently
the most elevated and passionate admiration of excellence, that
upon the whole there is no book of a more INFLAMMATORY effect." It
is remarkable that Reynolds himself attributed his first passionate
impulse towards the study of art, to reading Richardson's account
of a great painter; and Haydon was in like manner afterwards
inflamed to follow the same pursuit by reading of the career of
Reynolds. Thus the brave and aspiring life of one man lights a
flame in the minds of others of like faculties and impulse; and
where there is equally vigorous efforts like distinction and
success will almost surely follow. Thus the chain of example is
carried down through time in an endless succession of links,--
admiration exciting imitation, and perpetuating the true
aristocracy of genius.
One of the most valuable, and one of the most infectious examples
which can be set before the young, is that of cheerful working.
Cheerfulness gives elasticity to the spirit. Spectres fly before
it; difficulties cause no despair, for they are encountered with
hope, and the mind acquires that happy disposition to improve
opportunities which rarely fails of success. The fervent spirit is
always a healthy and happy spirit; working cheerfully itself, and
stimulating others to work. It confers a dignity on even the most
ordinary occupations. The most effective work, also, is usually
the full-hearted work--that which passes through the hands or the
head of him whose heart is glad. Hume was accustomed to say that
he would rather possess a cheerful disposition--inclined always to
look at the bright side of things--than with a gloomy mind to be
the master of an estate of ten thousand a year. Granville Sharp,
amidst his indefatigable labours on behalf of the slave, solaced
himself in the evenings by taking part in glees and instrumental
concerts at his brother's house, singing, or playing on the flute,
the clarionet or the oboe; and, at the Sunday evening oratorios,
when Handel was played, he beat the kettle-drums. He also
indulged, though sparingly, in caricature drawing. Fowell Buxton
also was an eminently cheerful man; taking special pleasure in
field sports, in riding about the country with his children, and in
mixing in all their domestic amusements.
In another sphere of action, Dr. Arnold was a noble and a cheerful
worker, throwing himself into the great business of his life, the
training and teaching of young men, with his whole heart and soul.
It is stated in his admirable biography, that "the most remarkable
thing in the Laleham circle was the wonderful healthiness of tone
which prevailed there. It was a place where a new comer at once
felt that a great and earnest work was going forward. Every pupil
was made to feel that there was a work for him to do; that his
happiness, as well as his duty, lay in doing that work well. Hence
an indescribable zest was communicated to a young man's feeling
about life; a strange joy came over him on discerning that he had
the means of being useful, and thus of being happy; and a deep
respect and ardent attachment sprang up towards him who had taught
him thus to value life and his own self, and his work and mission
in the world. All this was founded on the breadth and
comprehensiveness of Arnold's character, as well as its striking
truth and reality; on the unfeigned regard he had for work of all
kinds, and the sense he had of its value, both for the complex
aggregate of society and the growth and protection of the
individual. In all this there was no excitement; no predilection
for one class of work above another; no enthusiasm for any one-
sided object: but a humble, profound, and most religious
consciousness that work is the appointed calling of man on earth;
the end for which his various faculties were given; the element in
which his nature is ordained to develop itself, and in which his
progressive advance towards heaven is to lie." Among the many
valuable men trained for public life and usefulness by Arnold, was
the gallant Hodson, of Hodson's Horse, who, writing home from
India, many years after, thus spoke of his revered master: "The
influence he produced has been most lasting and striking in its
effects. It is felt even in India; I cannot say more than THAT."
The useful influence which a right-hearted man of energy and
industry may exercise amongst his neighbours and dependants, and
accomplish for his country, cannot, perhaps, be better illustrated
than by the career of Sir John Sinclair; characterized by the Abbe
Gregoire as "the most indefatigable man in Europe." He was
originally a country laird, born to a considerable estate situated
near John o' Groat's House, almost beyond the beat of civilization,
in a bare wild country fronting the stormy North Sea. His father
dying while he was a youth of sixteen, the management of the family
property thus early devolved upon him; and at eighteen he began a
course of vigorous improvement in the county of Caithness, which
eventually spread all over Scotland. Agriculture then was in a
most backward state; the fields were unenclosed, the lands
undrained; the small farmers of Caithness were so poor that they
could scarcely afford to keep a horse or shelty; the hard work was
chiefly done, and the burdens borne, by the women; and if a cottier
lost a horse it was not unusual for him to marry a wife as the
cheapest substitute. The country was without roads or bridges; and
drovers driving their cattle south had to swim the rivers along
with their beasts. The chief track leading into Caithness lay
along a high shelf on a mountain side, the road being some hundred
feet of clear perpendicular height above the sea which dashed
below. Sir John, though a mere youth, determined to make a new
road over the hill of Ben Cheilt, the old let-alone proprietors,
however, regarding his scheme with incredulity and derision. But
he himself laid out the road, assembled some twelve hundred workmen
early one summer's morning, set them simultaneously to work,
superintending their labours, and stimulating them by his presence
and example; and before night, what had been a dangerous sheep
track, six miles in length, hardly passable for led horses, was
made practicable for wheel-carriages as if by the power of magic.
It was an admirable example of energy and well-directed labour,
which could not fail to have a most salutary influence upon the
surrounding population. He then proceeded to make more roads, to
erect mills, to build bridges, and to enclose and cultivate the
waste lands. He introduced improved methods of culture, and
regular rotation of crops, distributing small premiums to encourage
industry; and he thus soon quickened the whole frame of society
within reach of his influence, and infused an entirely new spirit
into the cultivators of the soil. From being one of the most
inaccessible districts of the north--the very ultima Thule of
civilization--Caithness became a pattern county for its roads, its
agriculture, and its fisheries. In Sinclair's youth, the post was
carried by a runner only once a week, and the young baronet then
declared that he would never rest till a coach drove daily to
Thurso. The people of the neighbourhood could not believe in any
such thing, and it became a proverb in the county to say of an
utterly impossible scheme, "Ou, ay, that will come to pass when Sir
John sees the daily mail at Thurso!" But Sir John lived to see his
dream realized, and the daily mail established to Thurso.
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