The Art of Manliness - Manvotionals: Timeless Wisdom and Advice on Living the 7 Manly Virtues

by Brett McKay

  I drink to Life, I drink to Death,

  And smack my lips with song,

  For when I die, another ‘I’ shall pass the cup along.

  The man you drove from Eden’s grove

  Was I, my Lord, was I,

  And I shall be there when the earth and the air

  Are rent from sea to sky;

  For it is my world, my gorgeous world,

  The world of my dearest woes,

  From the first faint cry of the newborn

  To the rack of the woman’s throes.

  Packed with the pulse of an unborn race,

  Torn with a world’s desire,

  The surging flood of my wild young blood

  Would quench the judgment fire.

  I am Man, Man, Man, from the tingling flesh

  To the dust of my earthly goal,

  From the nestling gloom of the pregnant womb

  To the sheen of my naked soul.

  Bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh

  The whole world leaps to my will,

  And the unslaked thirst of an Eden cursed

  Shall harrow the earth for its fill.

  Almighty God, when I drain life’s glass

  Of all its rainbow gleams,

  The hapless plight of eternal night

  Shall be none too long for my dreams.

  The man you drove from Eden’s grove

  Was I, my Lord, was I,

  And I shall be there when the earth and the air

  Are rent from sea to sky;

  For it is my world, my gorgeous world,

  The world of my dear delight,

  From the brightest gleam of the Arctic stream

  To the dusk of my own love-night.”

  “One cannot always be a hero, but one can always be a man.” —Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

  The Song of the Manly Men

  FROM THE SONG OF THE MANLY MEN AND OTHER VERSES, 1908

  By Frank Hudson

  Heard from the wild and the desert,

  Echoing back from the sea,

  Faint o’er the din of the city

  Floats the song of the men that are free.

  There’s a lilt in the strenuous chorus,

  There’s joy in our labouring when

  We hear o’er the babble of weaklings

  The song of the manly men.

  ’Tis heard ’mid the ringing of anvils,

  ’Tis heard ’mid the clashing of steel,

  When the hosts go down together,

  And the shell-slashed legions reel.

  ’Tis heard from the mine and the furrow;

  From prairie, and mountain, and glen;

  Like the roll of the drums in the distance

  Comes the song of the manly men.

  The fool in his ignorant bondage

  May sneer at their fashion and speech,

  The fop and the feather-bed workman

  Make mock of the lesson they teach.

  The demagogues rant in the market

  Of things high removed from their ken:

  What are words—empty words—in the balance

  With the deeds of the manly men?

  They are vertebrate, keen, and courageous,

  These toilers, who raise the refrain;

  Their work swept away by disaster—

  Undaunted, they build it again.

  Yet ye fawn on your quacks and your idols,

  Your dreamers and mountebanks—then,

  When your country is suffering shipwreck,

  You’ll fall back on the manly men.

  The American Boy

  FROM THE STRENUOUS LIFE: ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES, 1900

  By Theodore Roosevelt

  Of course what we have a right to expect of the American boy is that he shall turn out to be a good American man. Now, the chances are strong that he won’t be much of a man unless he is a good deal of a boy. He must not be a coward or a weakling, a bully, a shirk, or a prig. He must work hard and play hard. He must be clean-minded and clean-lived, and able to hold his own under all circumstances and against all comers. It is only on these conditions that he will grow into the kind of American man of whom America can be really proud.

  The boy can best become a good man by being a good boy—not a goody-goody boy, but just a plain good boy. I do not mean that he must love only the negative virtues; I mean he must love the positive virtues also. “Good,” in the largest sense, should include whatever is fine, straightforward, clean, brave, and manly. The best boys I know—the best men I know—are good at their studies or their business, fearless and stalwart, hated and feared by all that is wicked and depraved, incapable of submitting to wrong-doing, and equally incapable of being aught but tender to the weak and helpless. A healthy-minded boy should feel hearty contempt for the coward, and even more hearty indignation for the boy who bullies girls or small boys, or tortures animals. One prime reason for abhorring cowards is because every good boy should have it in him to thrash the objectionable boy as the need arises.

  Of course the effect that a thoroughly manly, thoroughly straight and upright boy can have upon the companions of his own age, and upon those who are younger, is incalculable. If he is not thoroughly manly, then they will not respect him, and his good qualities will count for but little; while, of course, if he is mean, cruel, or wicked, then his physical strength and force of mind merely make him so much the more objectionable a member of society. He cannot do good work if he is not strong and does not try with his whole heart and soul to count in any contest; and his strength will be a curse to himself and to every one else if he does not have thorough command over himself and over his own evil passions, and if he does not use his strength on the side of decency, justice, and fair dealing.

  In short, in life, as in a football game, the principle to follow is: Hit the line hard; don’t foul and don’t shirk, but hit the line hard!

  “A man must stand erect, not be kept erect by others.” —Marcus Aurelius

  Character of the Happy Warrior

  FROM POEMS, IN TWO VOLUMES, 1807

  By William Wordsworth

  Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he

  That every Man in arms should wish to be?

  —It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought

  Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought

  Upon the plan that pleased his childish thought:

  Whose high endeavours are an inward light

  That makes the path before him always bright:

  Who, with a natural instinct to discern

  What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn;

  Abides by this resolve, and stops not there,

  But makes his moral being his prime care;

  Who, doomed to go in company with Pain,

  And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train!

  Turns his necessity to glorious gain;

  In face of these doth exercise a power

  Which is our human nature’s highest dower;

  Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves

  Of their bad influence, and their good receives;

  By objects, which might force the soul to abate

  Her feeling, rendered more compassionate;

  Is placable—because occasions rise

  So often that demand such sacrifice;

  More skilful in self-knowledge, even more pure,

  As tempted more; more able to endure,

  As more exposed to suffering and distress;

  Thence, also, more alive to tenderness.

  —’Tis he whose law is reason; who depends

  Upon that law as on the best of friends;

  Whence, in a state where men are tempted still

  To evil for a guard against worse ill,

  And what in quality or act is best

  Doth seldom on a right foundation rest,

  He fixes good on good alone, and owes

  To virtue every triumph that he knows:

  —Who, if he ri
se to station of command,

  Rises by open means; and there will stand

  On honourable terms, or else retire,

  And in himself possess his own desire;

  Who comprehends his trust, and to the same

  Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim;

  And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait

  For wealth, or honours, or for worldly state;

  Whom they must follow; on whose head must fall,

  Like showers of manna, if they come at all:

  Whose powers shed round him in the common strife,

  Or mild concerns of ordinary life,

  A constant influence, a peculiar grace;

  But who, if he be called upon to face

  Some awful moment to which heaven has joined

  Great issues, good or bad for human kind,

  Is happy as a Lover; and attired

  With sudden brightness, like a Man inspired;

  And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law

  In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw;

  Or if an unexpected call succeed,

  Come when it will, is equal to the need:

  —He who, though thus endued as with a sense

  And faculty for storm and turbulence,

  Is yet a Soul whose master-bias leans

  To homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes;

  Sweet images! which, wheresoe’er he be,

  Are at his heart; and such fidelity

  It is his darling passion to approve;

  More brave for this, that he hath much to love:—

  ’Tis, finally, the Man, who, lifted high,

  Conspicuous object in a Nation’s eye,

  Or left unthought-of in obscurity,

  Who, with a toward or untoward lot,

  Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not,

  Plays, in the many games of life, that one

  Where what he most doth value must be won:

  Whom neither shape of danger can dismay,

  Nor thought of tender happiness betray;

  Who, not content that former worth stand fast,

  Looks forward, persevering to the last,

  From well to better, daily self-surpast:

  Who, whether praise of him must walk the earth

  For ever, and to noble deeds give birth,

  Or He must go to dust without his fame,

  And leave a dead unprofitable name,

  Finds comfort in himself and in his cause;

  And, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws

  His breath in confidence of Heaven’s applause:

  This is the happy Warrior; this is He

  Whom every Man in arms should wish to be.

  “It is very sad for a man to make himself servant to a single thing; his manhood all taken out of him by the hydraulic pressure of excessive business. I should not like to be merely a doctor, a great lawyer, a great minister, a great politician. I should like to be, also, something of a man.” —Theodore Parker

  A Truly Great Man

  FROM “THE BUSY-BODY, NO. III,” 1728

  By Benjamin Franklin

  It is said, that the Persians, in their ancient constitution, had public schools, in which virtue was taught as a liberal art or science: and it is certainly of more consequence to a man, that he has learnt to govern his passions, in spite of temptation; to be just in his dealings, to be temperate in his pleasures, to support himself with fortitude under his misfortunes, to behave with prudence, in all his affairs, and in every circumstance of life; I say, it is of much more real advantage to him to be thus qualified, than to be a master of all the arts and sciences in the world beside.

  Almost every man has a strong natural desire of being valued and esteemed by the rest of his species; but I am concerned and grieved to see how few fall into the right and only infallible method of becoming so. That laudable ambition is too commonly misapplied, and often ill employed. Some, to make themselves considerable, pursue learning; others grasp at wealth; some aim at being thought witty; and others are only careful to make the most of an handsome person: but what is wit, or wealth, or form, or learning, when compared with virtue? It is true, we love the handsome, we applaud the learned, and we fear the rich and powerful; but we even worship and adore the virtuous. Nor is it strange; since men of virtue are so rare, so very rare to be found. If we were as industrious to become good, as to make ourselves great, we should become really great by being good, and the number of valuable men be much increased; but it is a grand mistake to think of being great without goodness; and I pronounce it as certain, that there never was yet a truly great man, that was not at the same time truly virtuous.

  “We need the iron qualities that go with true manhood. We need the positive virtues of resolution, of courage, of indomitable will, of power to do without shrinking the rough work that must always be done.” —Theodore Roosevelt

  The Man From the Crowd

  FROM SONGS OF THE AVERAGE MAN, 1907

  By Sam Walter Foss

  Men seem as alike as the leaves on the trees,

  As alike as the bees in a swarming of bees;

  And we look at the millions that make up the state

  All equally little and equally great,

  And the pride of our courage is cowed.

  Then Fate calls for a man who is larger than men—

  There’s a surge in the crowd—there’s a movement—and then

  There arises a man that is larger than men—

  And the man comes up from the crowd.

  The chasers of trifles run hither and yon,

  And the little small days of small things still go on,

  And the world seems no better at sunset than dawn,

  And the race still increases its plentiful spawn.

  And the voice of our wailing is loud.

  Then the Great Deed calls out for the Great Man to come,

  And the crowd, unbelieving, sits sullen and dumb—

  But the Great Deed is done, for the Great Man is come—

  Aye, the man comes up from the crowd.

  There’s a dead hum of voices, all say the same thing,

  And our forefathers’ songs are the songs that we sing,

  And the deeds by our fathers and grandfathers done

  Are done by the son of the son of the son,

  And our heads in contrition are bowed.

  Lo, a call for a man who shall make all things new

  Goes down through the throng! See! He rises in view!

  Make room for the men who shall make all things new!—

  For the man who comes up from the crowd.

  And where is the man who comes up from the throng

  Who does the new deed and who sings the new song,

  And makes the old world as a world that is new?

  And who is the man? It is you! It is you!

  And our praise is exultant and proud.

  We are waiting for you there—for you are the man!

  Come up from the jostle as soon as you can;

  Come up from the crowd there, for you are the man—

  The man who comes up from the crowd.

  “Life is too short to be little. Man is never so manly as when he feels deeply, acts boldly, and expresses himself with frankness and with fervor.” —Benjamin Disraeli

  True Manliness

  FROM EVERY-DAY RELIGION, 1886

  By James Freeman Clarke

  Manliness means perfect manhood, as womanliness implies perfect womanhood. Manliness is the character of a man as he ought to be, as he was meant to be. It expresses the qualities which go to make a perfect man—truth, courage, conscience, freedom, energy, self-possession, self-control. But it does not exclude gentleness, tenderness, compassion, modesty. A man is not less manly, but more so, because he is gentle. In fact, our word “gentleman” shows that a typical man must also be a gentle man.

  By manly qualities the world is carried forward. The manly spirit
shows itself in enterprise, the love of meeting difficulties and overcoming them—the resolution which will not yield, which patiently perseveres, and does not admit the possibility of defeat. It enjoys hard toil, rejoices in stern labor, is ready to make sacrifices, to suffer and bear disaster patiently. It is generous, giving itself to a good cause not its own; it is public-spirited, devoting itself to the general good with no expectation of reward. It is ready to defend unpopular truth, to stand by those who are wronged, to uphold the weak. Having resolved, it does not go back, but holds on, through good report and evil, sure that the right must win at last. And so it causes truth to prevail, and keeps up the standard of a noble purpose in the world.

  In a recent awful disaster, amid the blackness and darkness and tempest, the implacable sea and the pitiless storm—when men’s hearts were failing them from terror, and women and children had no support but faith in a Divine Providence and a coming immortality—the dreadful scene was illuminated by the courage and manly devotion of those who risked their own lives to save the lives of others. Such heroism is like a sunbeam breaking through the tempest. It shows us the real worth there is in man.

  No matter how selfish mankind may seem, whenever hours like these come, which try men’s souls, they show that the age of chivalry has not gone; that though, “The knights are dust, and their good swords rust,” there are as high-hearted heroes now as ever. Firemen rush into a flaming house to save women and children. Sailors take their lives in their hands to rescue their fellow-men from a wreck. They save them at this great risk, not because they are friends or relatives, but because they are fellow-men.

  Courage is an element of manliness. It is more than readiness to encounter danger and death, for we are not often called to meet such perils. It is every-day courage which is most needed—that which shrinks from no duty because it is difficult; which makes one ready to say what he believes, when his opinions are unpopular; which does not allow him to postpone a duty, but makes him ready to encounter it at once; a courage which is not afraid of ridicule when one believes himself right; which is not the slave of custom, the fool of fashion. … It does not seek display, it is often the courage of silence no less than speech; it is modest courage, unpretending though resolute. It holds fast to its convictions and principles, whether men hear or whether they forbear.