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

by Brett McKay

  This battle with Mr. Covey was the turning-point in my career as a slave. It rekindled the few expiring embers of freedom, and revived within me a sense of my own manhood. It recalled the departed self-confidence, and inspired me again with a determination to be free. The gratification afforded by the triumph was a full compensation for whatever else might follow, even death itself. He only can understand the deep satisfaction which I experienced, who has himself repelled by force the bloody arm of slavery. I felt as I never felt before. It was a glorious resurrection from the tomb of slavery to the heaven of freedom. My long-crushed spirit rose, cowardice departed, bold defiance took its place; and I now resolved that, however long I might remain a slave in form, the day had passed for ever when I could be a slave in fact. I did not hesitate to let it be known of me, that the white man who expected to succeed in whipping, must also succeed in killing me.

  “I hope I shall always possess firmness and virtue enough to maintain what I consider the most enviable of all titles, the character of an honest man.” —George Washington

  Be in Earnest

  FROM THE INAUGURAL ADDRESS OF THE LORD RECTOR

  OF THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW

  By Lord Bulwer Lytton, 1856

  Never affect to be other than you are—either richer or wiser. Never be ashamed to say, “I do not know.” Men will then believe you when you say, “I do know.”

  Never be ashamed to say, whether as applied to time or money, “I cannot afford it”—“I cannot afford to waste an hour in the idleness to which you invite me—I cannot afford the guinea you ask me to throw away.”

  Learn to say “No” with decision, “Yes” with caution; “No” with decision whenever it resists a temptation; “Yes” with caution whenever it implies a promise. A promise once given is a bond inviolable.

  A man is already of consequence in the world when it is known that we can implicitly rely upon him. I have frequently seen in life a person preferred to a long list of applicants for some important charge, which lifts him at once into station and fortune, merely because he has this reputation—that when he says he knows a thing, he knows it, and when he says he will do a thing, he will do it.

  “In great matters men show themselves as they wish to be seen; in small matters, as they are.” —Nicolas Chamfort

  The Brand of Honesty

  FROM THE SPEECH, CITIZENSHIP IN A REPUBLIC, 1910

  By Theodore Roosevelt

  The very last thing that an intelligent and self-respecting member of a democratic community should do is to reward any public man because that public man says he will get the private citizen something to which this private citizen is not entitled, or will gratify some emotion or animosity which this private citizen ought not to possess. Let me illustrate this by one anecdote from my own experience.

  A number of years ago I was engaged in cattle-ranching on the great plains of the western United States. There were no fences. The cattle wandered free, the ownership of each being determined by the brand; the calves were branded with the brand of the cows they followed. If on the round-up an animal was passed by, the following year it would appear as an unbranded yearling, and was then called a maverick. By the custom of the country these mavericks were branded with the brand of the man on whose range they were found.

  One day I was riding the range with a newly hired cowboy, and we came upon a maverick. We roped and threw it; then we built a little fire, took out a cinch-ring, heated it at the fire; and the cowboy started to put on the brand. I said to him, “It is So-and-so’s brand,” naming the man on whose range we happened to be. He answered, “That’s all right, boss; I know my business.” In another moment I said to him, “Hold on, you are putting on my brand!” To which he answered, “That’s all right: I always put on the boss’s brand.” I answered, “Oh, very well. Now you go straight back to the ranch and get what is owing to you; I don’t need you any longer.” He jumped up and said, “Why, what’s the matter? I was putting on your brand.” And I answered, “Yes, my friend, and if you will steal for me you will steal from me.”

  Now, the same principle which applies in private life applies also in public life. If a public man tries to get your vote by saying that he will do something wrong in your interest, you can be absolutely certain that if ever it becomes worth his while he will do something wrong against your interest.

  “When a man takes an oath, Meg, he’s holding his own self in his own hands. Like water. And if he opens his fingers then—he needn’t hope to find himself again.” —Sir Thomas More (from A Man for All Seasons by playwright Robert Bolt)

  My Honor Is My Own

  THE SPEECH OF MARCUS ATILIUS REGULUS TO THE ROMAN SENATE

  By Epes Sargent

  In 255 B.C., during the war with Carthage, the Roman general Regulus was taken prisoner. After five years, he was released to return to Rome in order to ask the Senate for peace or an exchange of prisoners. If this plea were accepted, Regulus would be liberated. If it were not, he gave his word he would return to Carthage. On appearing before the Roman Senate, to the astonishment of his Carthaginian captors, he advised Rome against their enemy’s overtures of peace. Despite the pleadings of his friends and family, he chose to return to captivity, where he suffered cruel torture and death rather than break his oath.

  Ill does it become me, O Senators of Rome!— ill does it become Regulus—after having so often stood in this venerable Assembly clothed with the supreme dignity of the Republic, to stand before you a captive—the captive of Carthage! Though outwardly I am free—though no fetters encumber the limbs, or gall the flesh—yet the heaviest of chains—the pledge of a Roman Consul—makes me the bondsman of the Carthaginians. They have my promise to return to them, in the event of the failure of this their embassy. My life is at their mercy. My honor is my own—a possession which no reverse of fortune can jeopard; a flame which imprisonment cannot stifle, time cannot dim, death cannot extinguish.

  Of the train of disasters which followed close on the unexampled successes of our arms—of the bitter fate which swept off the flower of our soldiery, and consigned me, your General, wounded and senseless, to Carthaginian keeping—I will not speak. For five years, a rigorous captivity has been my portion. For five years, the society of family and friends, the dear amenities of home, the sense of freedom, and the sight of country, have been to me a recollection and a dream—no more! But during that period Rome has retrieved her defeats. She has recovered under Metellus what under Regulus she lost. She has routed armies. She has taken unnumbered prisoners. She has struck terror to the hearts of the Carthaginians; who have now sent me hither with their Ambassadors, to sue for peace, and to propose that, in exchange for me, your former Consul, a thousand common prisoners of war shall be given up. You have heard the Ambassadors. Their intimations of some unimaginable horror—I know not what—impending over myself, should I fail to induce you to accept their terms, have strongly moved your sympathies in my behalf. Another appeal, which I would you might have been spared, has lent force to their suit. A wife and children, threatened with widowhood and orphanage, weeping and despairing, have knelt at your feet, on the very threshold of the Senate-chamber. Conscript Fathers! Shall not Regulus be saved? Must he return to Carthage to meet the cruelties which the Ambassadors brandish before our eyes? With one voice you answer, No! Countrymen! Friends! For all that I have suffered—for all that I may have to suffer—I am repaid in the compensation of this moment! Unfortunate, you may hold me; but, O, not undeserving! Your confidence in my honor survives all the ruin that adverse fortune could inflict. You have not forgotten the past. Republics are not ungrateful! May the thanks I cannot utter bring down blessings from the Gods on you and Rome!

  Conscript Fathers! There is but one course to be pursued. Abandon all thought of peace. Reject the overtures of Carthage! Reject them wholly and unconditionally! What! Give back to her a thousand able-bodied men, and receive in return this one attenuated, war-worn, fever-wasted frame—this weed, whit
ened in a dungeon’s darkness, pale and sapless, which no kindness of the sun, no softness of the summer breeze, can ever restore to health and vigor?

  It must not—it shall not be! O! were Regulus what he was once, before captivity had unstrung his sinews and enervated his limbs, he might pause—he might proudly think he were well worth a thousand of the foe—he might say, “Make the exchange! Rome shall not lose by it!” But now—alas! Now ’tis gone—that impetuosity of strength, which could once make him a leader indeed, to penetrate a phalanx or guide a pursuit.

  His very armor would be a burden now. His battle-cry would be drowned in the din of the onset. His sword would fall harmless on his opponent’s shield. But, if he cannot live, he can at least die, for his country! Do not deny him this supreme consolation. Consider: every indignity, every torture, which Carthage shall heap on his dying hours, will be better than a trumpet’s call to your armies. They will remember only Regulus, their fellow-soldier and their leader. They will forget his defeats. They will regard only his services to the Republic. Tunis, Sardinia, Sicily—every well-fought field, won by his blood and theirs—will flash on their remembrance, and kindle their avenging wrath. And so shall Regulus, though dead, fight as he never fought before against the foe.

  Conscript Fathers! There is another theme. My family—forgive the thought! To you, and to Rome, I confide them. I leave them no legacy but my name—no testament but my example.

  Ambassadors of Carthage! I have spoken, though not as you expected. I am your captive. Lead me back to whatever fate may await me. Doubt not that you shall find, to Roman hearts, country is dearer than life, and integrity more precious than freedom!

  “It is better to deserve honors and not have them than to have them and not deserve them.” —Mark Twain

  The Better Thing

  By Anonymous

  It is better to lose with a conscience clean

  Than to win by a trick unfair;

  It is better to fail and to know you’ve been,

  Whatever the prize was, square,

  Than to claim the joy of a far-off goal

  And the cheers of the standers-by,

  And to know down deep in your inmost soul

  A cheat you must live and die.

  Who wins by trick can take the prize,

  And at first he may think it sweet,

  But many a day in the future lies

  When he’ll wish he had met defeat.

  For the man who lost shall be glad at heart

  And walk with his head up high.

  While his conqueror knows he must play the part

  Of a cheat and a living lie.

  The prize seems fair when the fight is on,

  But unless it is truly won

  You will hate the thing when the crowds are gone,

  For it stands for a false deed done.

  And it’s better you never should reach your goal

  Than ever success to buy

  At the price of knowing down in your soul

  That your glory is all a lie.

  Words and Deeds

  FROM BEOWULF, IN GUDRUN, BEOWULF AND ROLAND

  WITH OTHER MEDIEVAL TALES, 1884

  By John Gibb

  In this selection from a re-telling of the over 1,000-year-old epic poem, the courageous warrior Beowulf comes to the aid of King Hrothgar, who is tormented by a monster named Grendel who comes to the royal hall of Heorot and devours the king’s men. On the night Beowulf is slated to take on Grendel, he defends himself from the heckling of Hunferth, who thinks Beowulf isn’t strong enough to defeat the seemingly unstoppable beast. In his reply, Beowulf demonstrates the dishonor of the man who criticizes others without having done anything himself, sets the record straight about his heroic feats, and promises to kill Grendel, a boast he will shortly make good on, showing that the man of honor backs up his words with real deeds.

  The heroes entered the hall of Heorot, where upon a lofty seat sat Hrothgar ready to receive them. Beowulf spake and said—

  “Hail to thee, Hrothgar, King of the Danes! I am the kinsman and the thane of Hygelac, King of the Geatas. The deeds of Grendel became known to me when I was dwelling at home, and wise men counselled me to go to your help. I am strong, and have done many mighty deeds. It was I that destroyed the Jotuns, and who slew the Nicors by night. Alone will I meet this wretch Grendel. I ask this one favour of thee, O King, that thou wilt commit to me and to my companions the task of cleansing Heorot from the foul foe.”

  Hrothgar answered and said, “Thou hast come as a defence to my land, Beowulf. I am filled with sorrow and shame. Grendel has robbed me of my warriors, and no one dare any more tarry in Heorot after the light of the sun departs. Thou art welcome, since thou hast come to meet the destroyer. Sit down on the benches of the hall, and join in our feasting before thou goest to encounter the enemy.”

  A bench was cleared in the hall for Beowulf and for his companions, and they sat down and drank the bright ale which was poured out for them from the flagon. A bard raised his voice and sang with a clear voice, and all the warriors rejoiced together, and there was great gladness throughout the hall.

  But Hunferth, the son of Ecglaf, who sat at the feet of King Hrothgar, was displeased. He was grieved that any hero should come to the land boasting that he could do what no one among the Danes could do. He said scornfully to Beowulf—

  “Tell me, art thou the Beowulf whom Breca overcame in a swimming match? I heard the tale. You both ventured out like foolish men among the waves in the days of winter. For seven nights you swam together, but Breca was the stronger. Thou wilt have a worse defeat shouldst thou venture to meet Grendel in the darkness of the night.”

  Beowulf answered and said, “Hunferth, my friend, thou hast drunken too much beer. Breca never overcame me in swimming, nor did any one. But if thou wouldst hear the tale, thou shalt have it. Breca and I were boys at the time, and we swam out on the wintry sea with naked swords in our hands to defend ourselves against the sea monsters. For five nights we were together upon the waves, and he could not pass me. The cold north wind blew, and there came a great storm upon the sea, and we were parted. In the darkness there came up from the bottom of the sea one of the monsters that dwell there, and it seized me and dragged me down into the deep waters. The coat of mail which I wore protected me, and I stabbed the wretch with my sword. But a great multitude of other sea monsters set upon me while I was at the bottom of the sea. I stabbed them all with my sword. When it became morning, and the sun rose, they were all washed ashore by the waves, and lay dead upon the sands. My sword had put them to sleep. Never afterwards did they hinder the sailors on their course. Afterwards I continued my journey although I was wearied, and at length the waves cast me upon the land of the Finns. I never heard that thou didst deeds such as these, Hunferth, nor Breca either. Thou didst slay thy own brothers, I know, for which thou shalt suffer the vengeance of Heaven. Hadst thou been such a hero as thou vauntest thyself, Grendel would not have laid waste the hall of thy Lord. But I, a Geat, will soon show what a brave man can do, and all men will sit down cheerfully to the mead-benches in this hall when they hear that Grendel is dead.”