force. Depending for support on a few interested followers, they govern the mass through the same passion to which they themselves are a prey. They have little left to desire; much, every thing, to fear. Tormented with terror, they at last distrust every one, even their own family, as that tyrant of old, who used to mount to his solitary bed-room through a trap-door, and draw up the ladder after him. The mighty Julius himself, the conqueror of the Gauls and Britons, of Pompey and Cato, is represented by Shakespeare, as trembling at the sight of Cassius.

Let me have men about me that are fat,
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights;
Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much; such men are dangerous.

'Would he were fatter :-But I fear him not;
Yet if my name were liable to fear,

I do not know the man I should avoid

So soon as that spare Cassius.

I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd,

Than what I fear, for always I am Cæsar.9

Cromwell, courageous as he naturally was, passed his latter years in continual alarm. Such is the natural punishment of crime.

Age is chiefly distinguished from youth by the greater prevalence of fear. The hopes of the young would be quite inconceivable by the old, were it not from the remembrance of what they once felt. Almost all the peculiarities attached to those different periods of life may be accounted for from this cir

8 Alexander of Phere.

9 Julius Cæsar, Act i.

cumstance alone. "Young men," says Bacon, "in the conduct and manage of actions embrace more than they can hold, and more than they can quiet, fly to the end without consideration of the means and degrees, pursue some few principles which they have chanced upon absurdly, care not to innovate, which draws unknown inconveniences; use extreme remedies at first, and that which doubleth all errors, will not acknowledge or retract them, like an unready horse that will neither stop nor turn. Men of age object too much, consult too long, adventure too little, repent too soon, and seldom drive business home to the full period, but content themselves with a mediocrity of success.' The correctness of this description few, I suppose, will deny. Now, most of these distinguishing characteristics may be traced to the hopefulness of youth and the timidity of age. True, it may be said, that superior knowledge and experience produce greater caution, by pointing out many dangers which youthful ignorance had never even suspected. This may be correct, and may help to account for the greater prevalence of fear or caution, as it is often called when it exists in a modified degree; but the reasoning plainly assumes that the fact cannot be disputed.

"10

As ignorance often leads to courage, so does knowledge to timidity. Very bold riders frequently lose much of their daring after having been at a school, where they first became acquainted with danger from being taught to guard against it. Old soldiers know

10 Essay of Youth and Age.

F

the perils they run much better than young recruits, and therefore for hazardous enterprises the latter are often preferable. They may be less steady, but they are better for a sudden exploit. The fears, then, of the aged may be partly owing to experience, but they are not the less real; and as years creep on they are apt to run into excess, and poison the cup of life. This consideration alone would prove to us the blessedness of youth.

III. Another and most important consequence of firm desires remains yet to be mentioned. It will not be disputed that decision of character is of the utmost importance in all our undertakings, great as well as small, and that both immediately and remotely it is eminently favourable to happiness. Now decision of character results from strong desires. In most cases where our personal good only is concerned, desire leads the way, and judgment follows after. Where the intellect is left to itself, unbiassed by any desire, the more clear-sighted the more difficulty there often is in coming to a decision. In most steps to be taken, there are so many conceivable advantages and disadvantages, that, in the want of a predominant liking, it becomes a matter of extreme difficulty to determine between them. It is this liking alone which can fix the wavering mind. Imagination soon takes the colour of the prevailing passion, and the judgment is not backward in finding out arguments to favour it, and in devising means for its gratification.

This I believe to be the order of things in all cases where we pursue any object with eagerness. When the desire which prompts us to action is the result of

a calm review of all the circumstances in which we are placed, that is, when it is entirely the offspring of reason, it is seldom sufficiently strong to give great energy to our conduct. Unquestionably violent desires tend to pervert the judgment, as all are aware. On the other hand, it has been less observed that, from the absence of desire, judgment is left like a ship without a rudder, tossed about by the waves, sometimes driven towards this shore, sometimes towards that, never reaching the port, or at least never in time. When it does arrive, the tide is already out and the harbour dry. Such is an irresolute character. Judgment has to determine what is best to be done; but what is best to one may not be so to another; for this must, in an essential degree, depend upon the likings, the permanent likings, of the person concerned. Unless, then, there be some previous likings or dislikes, how can a judgment be formed?

If a boy have a strong wish to go to sea, and if there be reason to think that the inclination will be permanent, it may be very advisable that he should go to sea, because, on this supposition, it is the line of life most likely to conduce to his happiness; whereas to another boy similarly situated in all outward respects, but without the same desire, such a course could by no means be recommended. This familiar example may serve to illustrate the truth, that, in forming our judgment as to any pursuit, our desires, our permanent desires, are and ought to be consulted. If desires we had none, or two equal but inconsistent ones, it would be impossible to come to a decision.

"Reason the means, affections choose our end."11 "Know thyself," was a maxim of the Greek sages; and no part of self-knowledge is more essential to our success and well-being than an acquaintance with our permanent as distinguished from our fleeting desires. Those who are ignorant in this respect, or who are incapable of lasting desires, pass their lives in a perpetual succession of trials which lead to no result; for they tire of everything before they can make it answer. But success in life mainly depends upon having a fixed end constantly in sight. Happy they who know their own mind, and, knowing it, pursue!

The advantages of decision of character are of two kinds, immediate and remote. When tossed about in the ocean of irresolution, at one time inclining this way, at another that, we can enjoy but little happiness. Inconstancy and doubt oppress the mind with a consciousness of weakness, and produce a painful feeling of humiliation leading to low spirits; whereas a firm decision rouses the whole soul, gives it the sentiment of its force, and communicates cheerfulness.

Viewed in its more remote consequences, decision of character really governs the world. In active life, whether public or private, political or domestic, it masters even intellects of a superior order who fail in energy of will; for while these are planning and debating, the other has begun to perform. Before speculation is finished, the time for application is

11 Night Thoughts. N. vi.