Middletown transcript., 1880-03-06
WORK, THE CONsOLER.

griphOld of things" In statelier
phrase DR.. johnson uttered the same
truth whatever withdraws us from
the power of the senses, whatever
makes the past, the distant, or the fu-
ture predominant over the present, ad-
vances US in the dignity Of human be-
ings." There is no trial of our NOR
tai lot which earnest, absorbing, and
constant toll will not tighten as no
other help can do. Even manual la
Dor, that brings only weariness to the
body and kindly sleep in its train, is
benefcent distraction. Bodily ac-
tivity deadens emotion. And as swift
walking relieves intense irritation, so
the necessity of occupation is safe
conductor to grief and pain.
But it is work that fills and rouses
the mind which is the true consoler.
History is full Of stories Of noble men
and women bufeted with hard blows
of fate who have armed themselves
with laborious patience, and made
their hearts greater than their fortunes.
Poverty is bitter, and reminds her vic
Tins, in season and out Of season, of
her rude nature. Yet Shakespeare
was right when he said, at is the
mind that makes the body rich"
When the great Erasmus was poor
student in Paris, almost in rags, he
wrote to friend: CAS- socn as get
money | will buy, first, Greek books,
and then clothes In his work he
could forget all bodily distresses.
Kepler was always poor and hampered
by his penury, but he declared at the
end of his life that he would rather
have had his inheritance Of poverty,
with his work and its successes, than
to have been the heir of the Duchy of
Saxony.
Exile and imprisonment are among
the darkest tragedies Of existence.
But Ovid, banished from the luxuri-
GUS and learned capital to the barba-
rians of Tomis, in the inhospitable
waste along the Euxine, stripped of
property, wife, and children, saved
himself from despair by labor, and,
surrounded by hopeless savagery, pro-
duced some Of the finest Of his works.
Boethius, the last and nohlest Of the
ancients, before the darkness Of the
Middle Ages fell on Europe, lying un-
der unjust sentence of death in the
tower of Pavia. forbidden books. inter-
course with tellow-scholars, preserved
his sanity and fortitude to face cruel
death by writing The Consolation Of
Philosophy. Don QuirOte, which con
vulsed nation with merriment was
the solace Of an undeserved imprison-
ment, which bodily suffering made
more uncomfortable.
The dungeon of Walter Raleigh was
his calm study. In the condemned
cell Madame Roland. less moved by
the certainty of her own fate than by
apprehension for her beloved husband,
fortified her mind against possible
madness by the composition Of her
memoirs. Lady Jane Grey and Mary
Queen of Scots, beguiled imprison-
ment of half its terrors with hard
study and careful writing.
In The weariness of disappointment,
when life has lost its SAVIOR, the same
comfort avails Arthur Helps says
somewhere that as long as there is any
thing to be done in a matter, the time
for grieving about it has not yet come.
But when the trouble is fixed and in
evitable, sorrow is to be borne like
pain. But pain we lull by all those
instrumentaIities that bring uncon-
sciousness, and pre-occupation is that
kindly mental anaesthetic which
soothes till nature shall subdue. South
ey wrote to a friend that Idleness is
the wet-nurse of Melancholy. Hum
boldt found hard study the best cure
for mental distresses and for physical
illness alike. Charlotte Br'nte told
friend that the last part Of Shirley was
composed in the anxious, restless effort
to combat mental suferings that were
well-nigh iDtolerable.
And if work be the great consoler
of man in all the lesser woes Of exist
ence, far more is its benefcent aid ef-
fective when bereavement makes us
cry out that our life is lived, and we
too would die. All down the ages the
noblest minds have bent themselves
to labor when this calamity fell upon
them. Cato the Censor made his de-
votion to public business a proverb
when his eldest son died. Goeth, in a
like aflicton. bent himself to study a
difficult science. Cicero, distracted
with the loss of his darling daughter,
gave himself up to composition, and
wrote what the world will not willing
ly let die. Hood, in bitter sorrow,
foupd it a great blessing to be able to
carry his thoughts "into the ideal from
the too strong real.' Washington
Irving, heart-broken by the death of
his betrothed, wrote in a private mem
orandum "The world was a blank to
me. 1 went into the country, but
could not bear solitude, yet could not
enjoy society. There was dismal
horror continually in my mind, which
made me fear to be alone" After
ward, when the literary pursuits which
afforded him distraction had become
the habit of his life, he wrote, "By
constantly exercising my mind, I have
in a manner worked myself into
very enviable state of serenity and
selfpossession."
1t has been truly said that a great
nature shows itself by its recoveries,
as sickness reveals the strength of the
constitution. Not less it shows itself
by its eager use of the means of recov-
cry. The generous will not sadden
others with the exhibition of their
griefs, nor will the noble yield to those
griefs beyond that first inevitable pro-
test against sorrow which is our hu-
man need. Then will they take the
hand of work, the consoler, knowing
that they shall be led onward to a
cheerful future 1t was a woman,
bruised with MANY stTipes. and whose |