Self-Control, XVI. The Royal Road to Happiness

SELF-CONTROL.* BY WILLIAM GEORGE JORDAN,

XVI.— THE ROYAL ROAD TO HAPPINESS.

"During my whole life I have not had twenty- four hours of happiness." So said Prince Bismarck, one of the greatest states- men of the nineteenth century. Eighty-three years of wealth, fame, honors, power, influence, prosperity and triumph, — years when he held an empire in his fingers, — but not one day of happi- ness! Happiness is the greatest paradox in Nature. It can grow in any soil, live under any conditions. It defies environment. It

comes from within; it is the revelation of the depths of the inner life, as light and heat proclaim the sun from which th#y radiate. Happiness consists not of having, but of being; not of possessing, but of enjoying. It is the warm glow of a heart at peace with it- self. A martyr at the stake may have happiness that a king on his throne might envy. Man is the creator of his own happiness; it is the aroma of a life lived in harmony with high ideals. For what a man has, he may be dependent on others; what he is, rests with him alone. What he obtains in life is but acquisition; what he attains, is growth. Happiness is the soul's joy in the possession of the intangible. Absolute, perfect, continuous happiness in life, is impossible for the human. It would mean the consummation of attainments, the individual consciousness of a perfectly fulfiled destiny. Happiness is paradoxic because it may coexist with trial,

• From Self-Control; its Kingship and Majesty. Copyright 1889 aDd 1906 by Fleming F. Revall Company.

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sorrow and poverty. It is the gladness of the heart, — rising superior to all conditions. Happiness has a number of under-studies, — gratification, satisfaction, content, and pleasure,— clever imitators that simulate its appearance rather than emulate its method. Gratification is a harmony between our desires and our possessions. It is ever in-

complete, it is the thankful acceptance of part. It is a mental pleasure in the quality of what one receives, an unsatisfiedness as to the quantity. It may be an element in happiness, but, in itself, — it is not happiness. Satisfaction is perfect identity of our desires and our posses- sions. It exists only so long as this perfect union and unity can be preserved. But every realized ideal gives birth to new ideals, every step in advance reveals large domains of the unattained; every feeding stimulates new appetites, — then the desires and possessions are no longer identical, no longer equal, new cravings call forth new activities, the equipoise is destroyed, and dissatis- faction reenters. Man might possess everything tangible in the world and yet not be happy, for happiness is the satisfying of the soul, not of the mind or the body. Dissatisfaction, in its highest sense, is the keynote of all advance, the evidence of new aspira- tions, the guarantee of the progressive revelation of new possibili- ties.

Content is a greatlv overrated virtue. It is a kind of diluted despair; it is the feeling with which we continue to accept sub- stitutes, without striving for the realities. Content makes the trained individual swallow vinegar and try to smack his lips as if it were wine. Content enables one to warm his hands at the fire of a past joy that exists only in memory. Content is a mental and moral chloroform that deadens the activities of the individual to rise to higher planes of life and growth. Man should never be contented with anything less than the best efforts of his nature can possibly secure for him. Content makes the world more com- fortable for the individual, but it is the death-knell of progress Man should be content with each step of progress merely as a station, discontented with it as a destination; contented with it as a step; discontented with it as a finality.There are times when a man should be content with what he has, but never with what he is.

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But content is not happiness; neither is pleasure. Pleasure is temporary, happiness is continuous; pleasure is a note, happi- ness is a symphony; pleasure may exist when conscience utters protests; happiness, — never. Pleasure may have its dregs and its loss; but none can be found in the cup of happiness. Man is the only animal that can be really happy. To the rest of the creation belong only weak imitations of the under-studies- Happiness represents a peaceful attunement of a life with a standard of living, It can never be made by the individual, by himself, for himself. It is one of the incidental by-products of an unselfish life. No man can make his own happiness the one object of his life and attain it, any more than he can jump on the far end of his shadow. If you would hit the bull's-eye of happi- ness on the target of life, aim above it. Place other things higher than your own happiness and it will surely come to you. You can buy pleasure, ytu can acquire content, you can become satisfied, — but Nature never put real happiness on the bargain- counter. It is the undetachable accompaniment of true living. It is calm and peaceful; it never lives in an atmosphere of worry or of hope- less struggle.

The basis of happiness is the love of something outside self- Search every instance of happiness in ihe world, and you will find, when all the incidental features are eliminated, there is always the constant, unchangeable element of love, — love of parent for child; love of man and woman for each other; love of humanity in some form, or a great life work into which the individual throws all his energies. Happiness is the voice of optimism, of faith, of simple, stead- fast love. No cynic or pessimist can be really happy. A cynic is a man who is morally near-sighted, — and brags about it. He sees the evil in his own heart, and thinks he sees the world. He lets a mote in his eye eclipse the sun. An incurable cynic is an indi- vidual who should long for death, — for life cannot bring him hap- piness, death might. The keynote of Bismarck's lack of happi- ness was his profound distrust of human nature. There is a royal road to happiness; it lies in Consecration,

Concentration, Conquest and Conscience. Consecration is dedicating the individual life to the service of

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others, to some noble mission, to realizing some unselfish ideal. Life is not something to be lived through; it is something to be lived up to. It is a privilege, not a penal servitude of so many decades on earth. Consecration places the object of life above the mere acquisition of money, as a finality. The man who is un- selfish, kind, loving, tender, helpful, ready to lighten the burden of those around him, to hearten the struggling ones, to forget himself sometimes in remembering others, — is on the right road

to happiness. Consecration is ever active, bold and aggressive, fearing naught but possible disloyalty to high ideals. Concentration makes the individual life simpler and deeper. It cuts away the shams and pretenses of modern living and limits life to its truest essentials. Worry, fear, useless regret, — all the great wastes that sap mental, moral or physical energy must be sacrificed, or the individual needlessly destroys half the possibili-

ties of living. A great purpose in life, something that unifies the strands and threads of each day's thinking, something that takes the sting from the petty trials, sorrows, sufferings and blunders of life, is a great aid to Concentration. Soldiers in battle may forget their wounds, or even be unconscious of them, in the in- spiration of battling for what they believe is right. Concentration dignifies an humble life; it makes a great life, — sublime. In mor- als it is a short-cut to simplicity. It leads to right for right's

sake, without thought of policy or of reward. It brings calm and rest to the individual, — a serenity that is but the sunlight of hap- piness. Conquest is the overcoming of an evil habit, the rising supe- riorto opposition and attack, the spiritual exaltation that comes from resisting the invasion of the grovelling material side of life. Sometimes when you are worn and weak with the struggle; when it seems that justice is a dream, that honesty and loyalty and truth count for nothing, that the devil is the only good paymaster; when hope grows dim and flickers, then is the time when you must tower in the great sublime faith that Right must prevail, then must you throttle these imps of doubt and despair, you must master your- self to master the world around you. This is Conquest; this is what counts. Even a log can float with a current, it takes a man to fight sturdily against an opposing tide that would sweep hi s

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craft out of its course. When the jealousies, the petty intrigues and the meannesses and the misunderstandings in life assail you,

— Be like a lighthouse that illumines and beauti- rise above them.

fies the snarling, swashing waves of the storm that threaten it,

that seek to undermine it and seek to wash over it. This is Con- quest, When the chance to win fame, wealth, success or the attainment of your heart's desire, by sacrifice of honor or prin- ciple, comes to you, and it does not affect you long enough even to

seem a temptation, you have been the victor. That, too, is Con- quest. And Conquest is part of the royal road to Happiness. Conscience, as the mentor, the guide and compass of every act, leads ever to Happiness. When the individual can stay alone with his conscience and get its approval, ^ ithout using force or specious logic, then he begins to know what real Happiness is. But the individual must be careful that he is not appealing to a conscience perverted or deadened by the wrong-doing and subse- quent deafness of its owner. The man who is honestly seeking to live his life in Consecration, Concentration and Conquest, living from day to day as best he can, by the light he has, may rely ex- plicitly on his Conscience. He can shut his ears to "what the world says" and find in the approval of his own conscience the highest earthly tribune, — the voice of the Infinite communing with the Individual. Unhappiness is the hunger to get; Happiness is the hunger to give. True happiness must ever have the tinge of sorrow outlived, the sense of pain softened by the mellowing years, the chastening of loss that in the wondrous mystery of time transmutes our suf- fering into love and sympathy with others. If the individual should set out for a single day to give Happi- ness, to make life happier, brighter and sweeter, not for himself, but for others, he would find a wondrous revelation of what Hap- piness really is. The greatest of the world's heroes could not by any series of acts of heroism do as much real good as any indi- vidual living his whole life in seeking, from day to day, to make others happy. Each day there should be fresh resolution, new strength, and renewed enthusiasm. "Just for Today" might be the daily motto of thousands of societies throughout the country, composed of