Volume I Part 2 (2/2)
One of my suggestions to the young preachers, who had two sermons on Sunday to prepare, was that they should give all their strength to the evening discourse and arrange with their congregation to deliver the other from one of the old divines of English or Continental renown, which would inform as well as delight hearers. It would be an attraction to the outside public. Few congregations know anything of the eloquence, the happy and splendid ill.u.s.trations and pa.s.sages of thought to be found in the fathers of the Church of every denomination. Professor Francis William Newman, whose wide knowledge and fertility of thought had few equals in his day, told me that he should shrink from the responsibility of having to deliver a proficient and worthy discourse fifty-two times a year. Anyhow, for the average preacher, better one bright ruddy discourse, than two pale-faced sermons every Sunday.
Those who remained true to Chartism till the end of it are recorded in the following paragraph under the t.i.tle of the ”National Charter a.s.sociation,” which appeared in _Reynolds's Newspaper_, January 4, 1852:--
”On Wednesday evening last, the scrutineers appointed by the metropolitan localities attended at the office, 14, Southampton Street, Strand, and having inspected the votes received, gave the following as the result, in favour of the following nine:--
”Ernest Jones (who received 900 votes), Feargus O'Connor, John Arnott, T. M. Wheeler, James Gra.s.sby, John Shaw, W. J. Linton, J. J. Bezer, G.
J. Holyoake.
”Messrs. J. B. O'Brien, Gerald Ma.s.sey, and Arthur Trevelyan having declined to serve, the votes received on their behalf have not been recognised.
”We, the undersigned, hereby declare the nine persons first named to be duly elected to form the Executive Committee for the ensuing year.
”John Was.h.i.+ngton, City Locality.
”Edwd. John Loomes, Finsbury Locality.
”December 31, 1851.”
After I became an octogenarian, I was asked whether my years might be ascribed to my habits. I could only explain what my habits were. In the first half of my life I ate whatever came to hand, and as not enough came I easily observed moderation. But then I was disposed to be moderate on principle, having read in the _Penny Magazine_, about 1830, that Dr. Abernethy told a lady ”she might eat anything eatable in moderation.” In the second and later half of my life I gave heed to Carnaro, and sought to limit each meal to the least quant.i.ty necessary for health. The limitation of quant.i.ty included liquids as well as solids, decreasing the amount of both ”in relation to age and activity,”
as Sir Henry Thompson advised. Not thinking much of meat, I limited that to a small amount, and cereals to those that grow above ground. A tepid bath for the eye (on the recommendation of the Rev. Dr. Molesworth, of Rochdale) and a soap bath for the body every morning ends the catalogue of my habits.
My general mode of mind has been to avoid excess in food, in pleasure, in work, and in expectation. By not expecting much, I have been saved from worry if nothing came. When anything desirable did arrive, I had the double delight of satisfaction and surprise. Shakespeare's counsel--
”Be not troubled with the tide which bears O'er thy contents its strong necessities, But let determined things to destiny Hold, unbewailed their way”--
ought to be part of every code of health.
The conduciveness of my habits to longevity may be seen in this. More than forty of my colleagues, all far more likely to live than myself, have long been dead. Had I been as strong as they, I also should have died as they did. Lacking their power of hastening to the end, I have lingered behind.
For the rest--
”From my window is a glimpse of sea Enough for me, And every evening through the window bars Peer in the friendly stars.”
The principles and aims of earlier years are confirmed by experience at 88. Principles are like plants and flowers. They suit only those whom they nourish. Nothing is adapted to everybody.
Goethe said: ”When I was a youth I planted a cherry-tree, and watched its growth with delight. Spring frost killed the blossoms, and I had to wait another year before the cherries were ripe--then the birds ate them--another year the caterpillars ate them--another year a greedy neighbour stole them--another year the blight withered them.
Nevertheless, when I have a garden again, I shall plant another cherry-tree.” My years now are ”dwindling to their shortest span ”; if I should have my days over again, I shall plant my trees again--certain that if they do grow they will yield verdure and fruit in some of the barren places of this world.
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