Part 32

In the matter of dress, then, when we sum it all up, we find that the love of dress is inherent in all true men and women, and that it would be as unwise as it would be useless to strive against it; that, while no man or woman should allow themselves to become a slave to dress and fashion, still it is no less a duty than it is a privilege to cultivate this love of adornment, ever keeping it within due bounds, remembering that outward adornment should be but secondary to the adornment of the soul with all noble and great qualities.

We may admire proofs of hardiness and assurance, but we involuntarily attach ourselves to simplicity and gentleness. Gentleness is like the silent influence of light, which gives color to all nature. It is far more powerful than loudness or force, and far more beautiful. It pushes its way silently and persistently, like the tiniest daffodil in Spring, which raises the clod and thrusts it aside by the simple persistence of growing.

It is to be feared that in this stirring age, when we enumerate the elements of success, that we do not lay stress enough on the milder virtues of simplicity and gentleness. While fond of applauding the hardier virtues of energy, self-reliance, perseverance, and others of a similar nature, we are in danger of losing sight of the fact that ofttimes an exhibition of gentleness and courtesy is not only extremely pleasing in itself, but is not infrequently one of the most expeditious and efficacious modes of advancing present interests.

It is singular what power gentleness and courtesy bestows on him who practices them. The most boisterous winds only cause the traveler to wrap his cloak the closer to him, while the gentle rays of the sun speedily induce him to discard it. And thus it is with many of the pursuits of life, where sheer force of intellect or intensity of application would ofttimes end only in a failure of plans and purposes, gentleness, by its silent but powerful influence, will not only excite a feeling of good will in the minds of others, but as oil removes friction from a machine and causes it to move smoothly, so will gentleness remove apparently insurmountable objects from the pathway of our success.

Gentleness belongs to virtue, and is to be carefully distinguished from the spirit of cowardice or the fawning assents of sycophants. It removes no just right from fear; it gives no important truth to flattery; it is, indeed, not only consistent with a firm mind, but it necessarily requires a manly spirit and a fixed principle in order to give it any real value. An able man shows his spirit by gentle words but resolute actions. How often experience convinces us that a bold and brazen loudness of tones and roughness of manner cover only a vacillating spirit and irresolute actions! And on the other hand, do not history and observation show that quietness and gentleness ofttimes mark the most determined of actions? The rarest bravery of all in the world is found actively engaged accompanied by an exhibition of gentleness. And ought we not so to expect it? The person moved by a spirit of gentleness throws all the energy of his nature into action. It is not allowed to waste in boisterousness, but is guided and directed in the most appropriate channels by an understanding calm and collected.

In the captain of a canal-boat we generally expect gruffness of manner, loudness of tones, and a general lack of refinement, dignity, and gentleness; but in the commander of an ocean steamer we shall always find the quietness, gentleness, and dignity that we all recognize as such a proper accompaniment of power. So true it is that gentleness of manner is the most appropriate and general expression of true greatness and worth that we use the expression "a gentle man" to express the highest type of worth in man.

In the mechanical world do we not always find that the greater the exhibition of power the steadier and quieter the movement becomes? It is the rickety engine of but few horse-powers that goes with a fizz and a clatter, while the massive engine that supplies the motive power for acres of machinery goes almost noiselessly; and the sublimest exhibition of power in the universe—the movement of the heavenly bodies—proceeds in absolute quiet. We observe the same effect in the moral world; the master minds who have moved kingdoms and swayed the thoughts of millions are uniformly gentle and dignified in their bearings. The loud-tongued and clatter-brained fanatics merely cause a movement in their immediate vicinity.

There is a magic power in gentle words, the potency of which but few natures are so icy as to wholly resist. Would you have your home a cheerful, hallowed spot, within which may be found that happiness and peace which the world denies to its votaries? Let not loud, harsh words be uttered within its walls. Let only gentle, quiet actions there be found. Speak gently to the wearied husband, who, with anxious brow, returns from the perplexities of his daily avocations; and let him, in his turn, speak gently to the care-worn woman and wife, who, amid her never-ending round of little duties, finds rest and encouragement in the sympathy of him she loves. Speak gently to the wayward child. A pleasant smile and a word of kindness will often restore good humor and playfulness. Human nature is the same with it. It has its joys and sorrows as well as those of mature growth, and its little heart will quickly yield to the power of gentle, loving kindness.

Hearts of children are, after all, much like flowers; they remain open to the softly falling dew, but shut up in the violent downfalls of rain. Therefore, when you have occasion to rebuke children, be careful to do it with manifest kindness and gentleness. The effect will be incalculably better. Speak gently to the dependent who lightens your daily toil; kind words insure respect and affection, while the angry rebuke provokes impertinence and dislike. Speak gently to the aged ones; many are the trials through which they have passed, and now, in a little while, they will be missed from their accustomed places—the spirit will have passed to its rest. The remembrance of an unkind word will then bring with it a bitter sting. Speak gently to the erring one; are we not all weak and liable to err? Temptation, of which we can not judge, may have surrounded him. Harshness will drive him on the sinful way; gentleness may win him back to virtue.

True gentleness is founded on a sense of what we owe to Him who made us, and to the common nature of which we all share. It arises from reflection on our own failings and wants, and from just views of the condition and duty of man. It is native feelings, heightened and improved by principle. It is not deficient in a sense of true worth and dignity, but it recognizes in all men the possessors of infinite possibilities, even the possibilities of eternal life; and it treats them as brethren. It summons to its highest and best form of expression all that is noble in manhood, inspiring in purpose, grand in aim, and walks proudly therein; humbly, yet with an air of conscious dignity; quietly, yet with the insignia of power.

Since, then, true gentleness is thus significant of power, thus potential for good, and is the high and distinctive test of a gentleman, ought not all the young earnestly strive to learn that spirit of self-control, and accustom themselves to speak and act gently at all times, and, by so doing, to act as becomes a man and responsible being?

It has been remarked that the modest deportment of really wise men, when contrasted to the assuming air of the vain and ignorant, may be compared to the difference of wheat, which, while its ear is empty, holds up its head proudly, but as soon as it is filled with grain bends modestly down and withdraws from observation. Thus with true worth and merit: it is uniformly modest in deportment. It is only the shallow-pated who strive to attract attention by pretentious claims. The ocean depths are mute; it is only along shallow shores that the roar of the breakers is heard.

It is not difficult to draw the line between self-reliance and modesty on the one hand, and self-esteem and arrogant pretensions on the other. True self-reliance does not call on all men to witness its exploits. It displays itself in action. It may be reserved in deportment, but quietly and modestly proceeds in the path that wisdom points out, with a steady reliance on its own powers. Not so self-esteem. Its boast is that it is sufficient for all things; which, to be sure, were not so bad, were it not for the fact that, when put to the test by necessity, it so quickly abandons its pretentious claims, and, forgetting to use its own powers, is anxious only for the aid of others.

Modesty is a beautiful setting to the diamond of talents and genius. The mark of the truly successful man is absence of pretensions. He talks in only ordinary business style, avoids all brag, dresses plainly, promises not at all, performs much, speaks monosyllables, hugs his fact. He calls his employment by its lowest name, and so takes from evil tongues their sharpest weapon. Who made more wide and sweeping discoveries, of more far-reaching consequences, than Newton? Yet listen to his modest confession: "I know not what the world may think of my labors, but to myself it seems as though I had been but a child playing on the seashore, now finding some pebble rather more polished, and now some shell rather more agreeably variegated than another, while the immense ocean of truth extended itself unexplored before me." Thus it is always found that modesty accompanies great merit, and it has even been said that merit without modesty is generally insolent in expression.

The greatest events in the world's history dawned with no more noise than the morning star makes in rising. All great developments complete themselves in the world, and modestly wait in silence, praising themselves never, and announcing themselves not at all. If "honesty be the best policy," we can not deny that modesty, as a matter of policy even, hath a rare virtue. What so quickly commands our good wishes as modesty struggling under discouragement? what our sympathy more than modesty struck down by affliction? or what our respect and love more than modesty ministering to the distresses of others? There is no surer passport to the favors of others than modesty of deportment. It will succeed where all else has failed to waken in the minds of others an interest in our affairs. It is to merit as shades to figures in a picture, giving it strength and beauty.

Modesty is not bashfulness, though the two are often confounded. The bashfulness of timidity is constitutional, the bashfulness of credulity is pitiable, the bashfulness of ignorance is disreputable, but the bashfulness allied to modesty is a charm. There are two distinct sorts of bashfulness. The one is awkwardness joined to pride, which, on a further acquaintance with the world, will be converted into the pertness of a coxcomb. The other is closely allied to modesty. It is a painful consciousness of self, which is produced by our most delicate feelings, and which the most extensive knowledge can not always remove. In undermining and removing bashfulness, due regard is to be had to the adjacent modesty, good nature, and humanity, as those who pull down private houses adjoining imposing buildings are careful to prop up such parts as are endangered by the removal.

Bashfulness in itself can not be admired. It completely distrusts its own powers, whereas we have seen that a proper reliance on self is at all times highly commendable. Bashfulness in man is never to be allowed as a good quality, but a weakness, inasmuch as it suppresses his virtues and hides them from the world, when, had he a mind to exert himself, he might accomplish much good. We doubt not but there are many fine intellects passing for naught by reason of their bashfulness.

Modesty is far different from reserve. Reserve partakes more of the nature of sullen pride. It is haughty in demeanor, and hath not the sweet, retiring disposition of modesty. A reserved man is in continual conflict with the social part of his nature, and even grudges himself the laugh into which he is sometimes betrayed. The modest man does not refuse to perform his part socially. His only dread is that others may think he is trying to center attention on himself. The really modest man may be the most social of men. The reserved man thinks it is beneath him to mingle with the mass of the people.

Modesty never counsels real merit to conceal itself. It never bids one refuse to act when action is necessary, and the person is conscious that his powers are adequate for the performance of the task. Nor when a good deed is to be done should the modest man hesitate to come forward to do it, providing he is capable of so doing. Modesty counsels none to be backwards where duty points the way; but modesty strictly forbids that when a good or meritorious action is done that the performer should spread abroad the story of his doings. Leave that for others to do.

Modesty is the crowning ornament of womanly beauty, and the honor of manly powers. It alike becomes every age, giving new grace to youthful figures, and imparting a pleasing virtue to years. It softens the asperities of poverty and is a beautiful setting for wealth and fortune. It gives additional charms to the possessor of genius and talents, or cunningly conceals the want of the same. It is the key that unlocks alike the gate to success or the door of love and respect. It makes life pleasant to the one who exercises the virtue, and charities bestowed by its hand are worth far more to the recipient than their mere pecuniary value.

"Life without love! Oh, it would be A world without a sun— Cold as the snow-capped mountain, dark As myriad nights in one; A barren scene, without one spot Amidst the waste, Without one blossom of delight, Of feeling, or of taste!"

Love in one form or another is the ruling element in life. It is the primary source from whence springs all that possesses any real value to man. It may be the love of dominion or power which, though utterly selfish in its aims and methods, has been most marvelously overruled for good in the world's history. It may be the love of knowledge, in the pursuit of which lives have been lost and fortunes spent; but grand secrets have been wrung from nature—secrets which have contributed much for the advancement of human interests. But the love grander than any other, before which all the other elements of civilization pale and dwarf to utter insignificance, which is as powerful to-day as in the morning of time, which will continue to rule until time is ended, is that indefinable, indescribable, ever fresh and beautiful love betwixt man and woman—that love which has the power to tame the savage's heart; which finds man rough, uncultivated, and selfish; which leaves him a refined and courteous gentleman; which transforms the timid, bashful girl to the woman of matchless power for good.

Love is an actual need, an urgent requirement of the heart. Every properly constituted human being who entertains an appreciation of loneliness and wretchedness, and looks forward to happiness and content, feels a necessity of loving. Without it life is unfinished and hope is without aim, nature is defective and man miserable; nor does he come to comprehend the end and glory of existence until he has experienced the fullness of a love that actualizes all indefinite cravings and expectations. Love is the great instrument of nature, the bond and cement of society, the spirit and spring of the universe. It is such an affection as can not so properly be said to be in the soul as the soul to be in that. It is the whole nature wrapped up in one desire. Love is the sun of life, most beautiful in the morning and evening, but warmest and steadiest at noon.

Love blends young hearts in blissful unity, and for the time so ignores past ties and affections as to make a willing separation of the son from his father's house, and the daughter from all the sweet endearments of her childhood's home, to go out together and rear for themselves an altar, around which shall cluster all the cares and delights, the anxieties and sympathies of the family relationship. This love, if pure, unselfish, and discreet, constitutes the chief usefulness and happiness of human life. Without it there would be no organized households, and, consequently, none of that earnest endeavor for a competence and respectability, which is the mainspring to human efforts, none of those sweet, softening, restraining, and elevating influences of domestic life, which can alone fill the earth with the happy influences of refinement.

Love, it has been said, in the common acceptance of the term is folly; but love in its purity, its loftiness, its unselfishness is not only a consequence, but a proof of our moral excellence. The sensibility to moral beauty, the forgetfulness of self in the admiration engendered by it, all prove its claim to a high moral influence. It is the triumph of the unselfish over the selfish part of our nature. No man and no woman can be regarded as complete in their experience of life until they have been subdued into union with the world through their affections. As woman is not woman until she has known love, neither is man a complete man. Both are requisite to each other's completeness.

Love is the weapon which Omnipotence reserved to conquer rebel man when all the rest had failed. Reason he parries; fear he answers blow to blow; future interests he meets with present pleasure; but love, that sun against whose melting beams Winter can not stand, that soft, subduing slumber which brings down the giant, there is not one human soul in a million, not a thousand men in all earth's domain whose earthly hearts are hardened against love. There needs no other proof that happiness is the most wholesome moral atmosphere, and that in which the morality of man is destined ultimately to thrive, than the elevation of soul, the religious aspirations which attend the first assurance, the first sober certainty of true love.

Love is the perpetual melody of humanity. It sheds its effulgence upon youth, and throws a halo around age. It glorifies the present by the light it casts backward, and it lightens the future by the gleams sent forward. The love which is the outcome of esteem has the most elevating and purifying effect on the character. It tends to emancipate one from the slavery of self. It is altogether unsordid; itself is the only price. It inspires gentleness, sympathy, mutual faith, and confidence. True love also in a manner elevates the intellect. "All love renders wise in a degree," says the poet Browning, and the most gifted minds have been the truest lovers. Great souls make all affections great; they elevate and consecrate all true delights. Love even brings to light qualities before lying dormant and unsuspected. It elevates the aspirations, expands the soul, and stimulates the mental powers.

It were fitting that the nature of this affection, which has such power for good or ill, be thoroughly understood, and endeavors made to guide it in right channels. For love, as it is of the first enjoyment, so it is frequently of the deepest distress. If it is placed upon an unworthy object, and the discovery is made too late, the heart can never know peace. Every hour increases the torments of reflection, and hope, that soothes the severest ills, is here turned into deep despair. But, strange to say, though it is one of universal and engrossing interest to humanity, the moralist avoids it, the educator shuns it, and parents taboo it. It is considered almost indelicate to refer to love as between the sexes, and young persons are left to gather their only notions of it from the impossible love stories that fill the shelves of circulating libraries. This strong and absorbing feeling, which nature has for wise purposes made so strong in woman that it colors her whole life and history, though it may form but an episode in the life of man, is usually left to follow its own inclination, and to grow up for the most part unchecked, without any guidance or direction whatever.