“MAN IN HIS TIME PLAYS MANY PARTS.”

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume XIV, Issue 611, 10 September 1868, Page 3

“MAN IN HIS TIME PLAYS MANY PARTS.”

A Lecture, delivered ou the CSth August, before the Napier Young Men's Mutual Improvement Society, by Mr J. Stables, Vice-President. Mr. Cii.urmvx, —My appearance before you as a lecturer (('-night has not been a matter of my own choice. It. would have been much more satisfactory to me hud the responsibility of reading a public lecture iu conned ion with the Society devolved upon some one better known and more qualified for the undertaking than 1 am ; but, having accepted the task, I shall make a virtue of necessity, and, bespeaking your patience, as w ell as your generous criticism, endeavor to acquit myself of it to the best of mv ability.

It has been said that a good play needs! no prologue, and that a bad plav may be! much improved by a good prologue.! Nevertheless, although a good play is none the worse for having a good prologue, and! that a bad piny may be thereby much ira-! proved, I doubt whether you will be in-! dined to allow that a bad lecture will be much improved by a good apology or a lengthy preface. Yet I must ask your indulgence while I try to point out a few of what may bo termed the landmarks—which must be constantly borne in mind in order to arrive at a correct estimate of my jottings by the wayside, for that is a more appropriate name for my production than a corrected lecture. In the first place, then, these jottings are intended to be suggestive. In the next place, although, the opinions and reflections of thinking men on the tendencies of society, both old and young, to which reference will be made in the sequel, relate more especially (o society iu the old country, it is humbly hoped that they may afford some subjects for serious consideration in matters deeply affecting the present and future welfare of our adopted home. Again, I must not be identified with, or held to endorse to their full extent all the opinions which may be brought under review. And if the general tone be considered too censorious, remem-

her that we learn far more real good fromj him vrho fearlessly exposes our foibles than j from him who bestows upon u? injudicious| flattery. If you blame me for siding tool much with the censor, I must again nsk youj to remember that the many, very many, excellencies of which, as a nation and as communities, we have just reason to be proud, are never for an instant lost sight of. And, lastly, I at once plead guilty to the charge of being semi-professional. Do not be alarmed: the wildest stretch of my imagination will never for a moment allow me to fancy myself at the schoolmaster’s desk. But you will all agree that upon the young men and maidens, the boys and girls of the present depends the future position 1 which New Zealand will assume among ithe colonies of the British Empire, and in

its iniluencd lor good in the general civili-j ( zatiou of mankind. And now, having hastily pointed out these landmarks, which I wish you to keep iu view, I proceed at once to the subject : All t.iie world’s a stage. And all the men ami women merely players: They have their exits aud their entrances, And one man in his time plays many partt. Such was the estimate of society formed hr one who had studied it close! v.—one who could probe to their depths and assign their true value to the motives audfeeliugs ■ which prompt the actions of men in their various pursuits, and guide them in the ordinary intercourse of every-day life. These are words in which he gave utterance to his convictions some three ago. To those who can look upon the turmoils, the jealousies, the anxieties, and the multifarious pursuits of pleasure in this world with a serious, thinking mind, or with the practical eye of onr poet-philoso-ipher—somewhat of epicurean and cynic though he was—the words contain a world of meaning, and will not inaptly describe many of the evil tendencies of society at the present day. With no pretensions to imitate the great dramatist; — To hold, as ’twere, the mirror up to Mature ; to stlow Virtue her own feature, Scorn her own image, and the very age aud body of the time his form aud pressure;— and with less attempt to sermonize upon their meaning, you will admit, before 11 reach the end of these wayside jottings, that the motto is not altogether unsuitable Shakespeare evidently thought, what our most eminent thinking men have for years been asserting, that society, as it appears on the outward surface, is composed of shams and sensations. In the expressive language of Carlyle,—“Aping the genteel and sensuality, there would seem to be an entire absence of reality—a living iu an ideal world of an imaginary imllenium—a perpetual whirl of excitement, either in the ball-room, the billiard table, on the [turf, or in the intricacies of the no less exiciting, but, in the opinion of a great many, 1 much more real, anxieties of the Exchange.” ;The truth of this statement will be at once! [evident to those conversant, even in a liiuiI ted degree, with the current periodical liIferature of the day. And if more convincing proof be wanting, you buvo only to ■ pen any one of three-fourths of the most popular, because most fashionable, works of fiction published within the last fifty years. The philosopher’s cruieible has detected shams even iu those great national movements which occupy the thoughts and absorb the energies of the political and social reformers of the age. [ must again quote to you the expressive words of Carlyle. lie says: —“Free thinking, free writing, free trading, reform league, and all the other modern panacea for nil the ills (hat afllict humanity, some people tako to mean free racing with unlimited speed in the career of cheap and i »«<'/•” It cannot be denied that there is a vast amount of satirical cynicism pervading our current periodical and novel writing. ' Perhaps it may not be either profitable or t de.-irable to give too much attention to the mode of thinking and speaking suggested by this style of writing ; but we cannot 1 a fiord to neglect the lessons of our censors i To bo told our faults, ami have our foibles ’ exposed to public ridicule, may not be at

all agreeable,- yet if we would aim at excereising an influence for good, either as a ! nation or as communities, these faults and foibles must he pointed out in their true colors, if we would seriously set about correcting them. To dwell on the perfec tious certainly shows the imperfections in bolder relief ; but to dwell on the perfections will never correct the imperfections, iThese must be pointed out, and corrected !too, if we would have the picture present !an excellent and pleasing whole. And so it is with the custoa s of society. In [the social gathering, wherever it may bo, lor by whatever name known, the chief aim, I the guiding principle of mankind is that ot Igralilication and pleasure. And lit that pursuit no one will deny that man is directed and governed almost enclusively by hi? feelings. Now, wii’nont venturing amongst the arcana of metaphysics, lot me briiilv state that those feelings, although in num ber and variety their name may be termed j ’ legion, have been classified by an eminent j 'philosopher into two divisions, according Ito the department of our nature which [they occupy —feelings corporeal and i feelings intellectual: the former all usually i j termed sensations, the latter sentiments. ;.Aud according as our sensations and sen1, timents are allowed their full, free, and ■'unimpeded energy, so will the happiness land pleasure, in other words, gratification resulting from their exercise be greater • little. We have all of us sufficient pracli- ■ j cal knowledge at least, of metaphysics to fi be aware that dhi'erent feelings are ■ stronger constitutionally in some than in ’ others. We are also all of us sufficiently] tjlcarocd in that abstruse science to know;

or a sentiment cultivated, so will it obtain strength and a guiding power over the rest of our natures. j INow I proceed to point out —very curso- j rily, and in rather a disjointed manner, itj must be confessed—how the customs ol society, as we see them in our day bearing | rule, foster certain fceligs—and these not j the best —to the neglect or entire destine ! tion of others much more worthy of ouri attention. It may be true that these customs and usages have little or no power because they have few or no subjects in our little isl and or in our little community ; but you cannot too soon begin to train the sapling as you would have the tree grow. I carry with me throughout these trite, threadbare, axiomatic sentiments—“ Man, 'from his cradle to his grave is a creature of imitation” ; “ the child is father of the

j man ” ; “ men and women are but children of a larger growth.” I must not quote Latin, so I will give you a very lametranslation by saying—“ The boy copies the youth as the youth imitates the man.” These almost Drovei-bhl body this truth—as members of society we grow up as society trains us ; and we must acknowledge that we are much more given to imitate the trappings rather than that which tiif* trappings * f-y mjr attention upon the shadow rather than upon the substance.

Let us now shortly sum up the various patterns of society as we find them presented to our view, Iu the first place I must state that there is a universal and very just complaint of the disappearance trom amongst us of the scholar, —of him who devoted himself to learning for learn ing’s sake, —who found his reward iu the triumphs of intellect, and not in the giddy whirlpool of sensational pleasures. Tlu word study, it is said, lias almost disappeared from the language. Literary men read now-a-days, they do not study. And who is there that will deny that there is a sensational gratification in reading—more especially in reading of a particular kind ; aud that too the most popular, or, what is the same thing, the most fashionable ? A Milton’s little parlor, an Addison’s attic, are merely historical reminiscences of a past age. An Erskiuo Nicol, or a Noel I'aton could not in this ago depict the student standing on his chair eagerly searching for some abstruse worm-eaten volume in tho top shelf of 1 1 is book-case, while Tabby is meanwhile quietly helping herself to the beefsteak on the table. Our literary lion of the present day is a much courted and ever-welcome- guest in the dining-room and tho parlor. He can eri ticiso the cuisine ; he is actually a connoisseur of wnies. Hep.as become a commercial article, and has learned to value himself and his productions in the current coin of the realm.

Take again the man of the world. He is a cynic in reality. lie has learned to view with sarcasm tho shams, the petty and tlie selfish motives of society ; and the feeling left upon his mind, the conclusion which he draws, is anything hut-worthy of imitation. “liis cynicism is tho systematic depreciation of human nature ; tho systemai ic love of himself and pandering to Ids appetites; the systematic depreciation ol all that does not minister to his pc j’sonal ease and enjoyment; (he systematic denial of all great, virtue, hero.sni, genius, or nobleness of character (except in dead men and women) ; and the systematic attribution of mean and selfish motives to the good deeds that are daily committed in the world Education, position, and polished manners lacks goodness of heart ami Christian charity.” Withal ois most attentive to the ladies. Jvo outran exceed him in politeness. With them singular contradiction! —lu-is a universal fivorite. For lie is no marrying man. lie looks upon womankind only as so many toys wiih which to amuse and pass awav ins evening hours ; or so many ornaments with which to set oil’ a drawing-room, j Yet see him as he traverses the rooms—[now exchanging compliments with some j handsome do wager, and mum whisucring [airy nothings into the cars of her daughters.

In thus pandering to Ills personal gratifications he has only a too eager copier in his younger compeer. The young man plunges with all the freshness of youth into the vertex of sensuality. Appetite lias not yet pulled, lie prides himself on his knowledge of the language and philosophy of the demimonde. In society hois a moat faithful follower of Count Arnold fork, ills knowledge of chemistry enables him only to judge of the qualities of the narcotic weed, and the excellencies of j meerschaum. His reading may be easily guessed. His wit is confined to a too thorough acquaintance with the use of certain quaint modes of speech—more correctly termed slang expressions—which assuredly do not indicate an elevating tendency in the genera! tone of the society witli which he is most familiar. Geography does not tell him whore his homo or hi? dwelling-place is to be found—it only guides him to some out-of the-way place 1 where he “hangs out,” or “ goes to roost.” jHe never leaves or retires from a room or a meeting; hut he has some underhandi way in winch ho “slopes,” or “slides.”] t really cannot pronounce that other most frightful word—“skedaddle”—by which he indicates his departure—l verily believe it can bo correctly used only by a true lineal descendant of Brother Jonathan,! He never goes to dine ; but during some part of the day he would seem to enjoy a! “ feed” of “ grub ” or “tucker.” Neither income nor salary lias he—hi-* ideas of political economy are confined to something which he calls a “ screw,” t wisted apparently not from an employer, but from [some individual known to him as a “go|vernor.” He is never in good health, but I reports himself to his feiiows in some sort I of condition w hich lie describes as “ bang,” I —but why pursue the description further? |And yet it touches us nearly, for every jone of the expressions which our young jman deems witty, you must have heard in this our island homo.

It is with a feeling of great trepidation that I venture on the next part of the subject. And yet ccnststcncy demands that the pencil of the critic must not be confined to the exclusive delineation of the masculine models of society ; for the feminine members thereof have been blamed, and, it must be owned, with too much truth, for the position assumed by the opposite sex. I can only promise at the outset to make the critique as gentle as consistency will permit. Those at all acquainted with the writings of Thackeray and Dickens —and who are not f—cannot but be struck

■■vith the fact that their women ere either unprincipled schemers or affectionate fools. On the other hand George Eliot and similar writers pourtraj many a ty; e of noble womanhood., whose character it is both profitable and pleasing to contemplate. But here let me again repeat that we cannot afford to neglect the lessons of our censors. On this part of the subject more especially our critics of the day ara not free from the general failing of mankind. They delight to dwell upon the excellencies of the past. They hold them up to view as lar transcending even the good of the present. Hear the description of the girl of a former age;—“Time was when the phrase ‘a fair young English girl’ meant the ideal of womanhood—to us at least of home birth and breeding. It meant a creature generous, capable, and modest; something franker than a French woman and more to be trusted than an Italian; us brave as an American; but more refined; as domestic as a German, and more graceful;—a girl who could be trusted alone, if need be, because of the

innate purity and dignity of her nature, but who was neither bold in bearing nor masculine in mind; —a girl who, when she married, would be her husband’s companion and friend, but never his rival; one who would consider their interests identical, and not hold him as so much game for spoil; who would make his house his true home and place of rest, not a mere passage place for vanity and ostentation to go through; a tender mother, an indus* Irious hous-keeper,” &c. How unlike the picture with which wo are presented of Iter modern representative. But notwithstanding what cynical critics may writ-’, I fi-miy believe that the fair young English rirl of the past is still the fair young English girl of tiie present. It is true the ex« travagances of her dress, the size of her bonnet or her crinoline, or the length of her train have not escaped the censor’s criticism. The extraneous adornments of her person have been most unsparingly heldup to public ridicule. .Notwithstanding that she may be blamed with some justice in imitating too much the ridiculous coaspiouousness of those who have been selected as types by cynical critics, and although she may bo a little too fond of fun and gaiety,—l cannot endorse the opinions of those cynical critics. I most firmly believe that there are many noble examples of the fair young English girl, as well as of the genuine English youth, still to be found. Far bn it from me to disparage innocent re* creations. On the contrary, I'cannot conceive anything more enlivening, more humanizing, more elevating, than the social gathering, the evening party, or the ballroom, where innocence, beauty, and intelligence bear the sway. These are scenes—these arc proofs of our civilization of which we have just cause to be proud. The object of these references is to fix attention upon the tendencies of the social gathering when under (he guidance of feelings and motives orompied by affectation and selfishness. I would wish to fix your attention upon the fact that these extravagances arise more from the fault of early education than the natural inclination of the heart. And long may the fair young English girl continue to be the pride and the boast of our nation. Let me also draw your attention to the fact that these tendencies are not tl e growth of one year, r.or twenty ; they a.o the off priug of, I might almost say, goner* aliens of neglected or improper training. To try and trace these to their roots would involve the consideration of a subject far beyond our present scope, not to say inappropriate to a lecture room such as this. Lint to keep true to our general principle in these jottings, not to go beyond the ap-

pearance of tilings, it is a grave truth that you, young ladies, whether married or sin- ’ gle, are responsible fur the moulding of the principles and manners of the girls of the rising generation. And you, young men, have in your hands the training of the vouths that are growing up around you. (Jan you be ignorant of the fact that from the earliest dawn of intelligence they are vour most faithful pupils ? They imitate most closely your language and address; they copy your habits—ay, even to the style of wearing your hat and the cut of your coat. Great is your responsibility for their future behaviour. These conclu- • sions must be apparent to the most superifieial observer. It is nevertheless true 11 h it the evil tendencies have been greatly j fostered, if not entirely produced by the 1 1 deficiencies of early training. And to a ■|few of these 1 shall now very shortly ■I you to turn your attention. 1 must not ! omit the powerful influence which you. i! ladies exercise upon us of the rougher .! mould. Indeed the young lady of the •i present ago is held by many able writers •lof both sexes to be responsible for therein Gof cynicism which now pervades the mas- ■ I online portion of the community.

[to be concluded in our next.]