An English poet will be our next witness: I mean Lord Byron, if
ever there was one who ought to have been happy according to the
standard of the world, Lord Byron was the man. He began life
with all the advantages of English rank and position. He had
splendid abilities and powers of mind, which the world soon
discovered and was ready to honor. He had a sufficiency of means
to gratify every lawful wish. Humanly speaking, there seemed
nothing to prevent him from enjoying life and being happy. Yet
it is a notorious fact that Byron was a miserable man. Misery
stands out in his poems: misery creeps out in his letters.
Weariness, boredom, disgust, and discontent appear in all of his
ways. He is an awful warning that rank, and title, and literary
fame, alone, are not sufficient to make a man happy.
A man of science will be our next witness: I mean Sir Humphrey
Davy. He was a man eminently successful in the line of life
which he chose, and deservedly so. A distinguished philosopher–
the inventor of the famous safety-lamp which bears his name, and
has preserved many a poor miner from death by fiery explosion. A
member of the ruling class in England and President of the Royal
Society–his whole life seemed a continual career of prosperity.
If education alone were the road to happiness, this man at least
ought to have been happy. Yet what was the true record of Davy’s
feelings? We have it in his own sad journal at the latter part
of his life. He describes himself in two painful words: “Very
miserable!”
A man of humor and pleasure will be our next witness: I mean Lord
Chesterfield. He will speak for himself: his own words in a
letter will be his testimony.
I have seen the silly cycle of business and pleasure,
and have no use for any of it. I have enjoyed all the
pleasures of the world, and consequently know their
futility, and do not regret their loss. I appraise
them at their real value, which in truth is very low;
whereas those who lack experience always overrate them.
They only see their gay outside, and are dazzled with
their glare; but I have been behind the scenes. I have
seen all the coarse pulleys and dirty ropes which
exhibit and move the gaudy machine, and I have seen and
smelt the burning lard candles which illuminate the
whole decoration, to the astonishment and admiration of
the ignorant audience. When I reflect on what I have
seen, what I have heard, and what I have done, I cannot
persuade myself that all that frivolous hurried
movement and pleasure of the world had any reality. I
look on all that is past as one of those romantic
dreams which the drug opium can bring about, and I do
by no means wish to repeat the nauseous dose for the
sake of the evading dream.
These sentences speak for themselves. I need not add to them one
single word.
The Statesmen and Politicians who have swayed the destinies of
the world, ought by good right to be our last witnesses. But I
refrain, in Christian love, to bring them forward. It makes my
heart ache when I run my eye over the list of names famous in
history, and think how many have worn out their lives in a
breathless struggle after office and distinction. How many of
our greatest men have died of broken hearts–disappointed,
disgusted, and tried with constant failure! How many have left
on record some humbling confession that in the plenitude of their
power they were grieving for rest, as the caged eagle for
liberty! How many whom the world is applauding as “masters of
the situation,” are in reality little better than galley-slaves,
chained to the oar and unable to get free! Yes, there are many
sad proofs, both among the living and the dead, that to be great
and powerful is not necessarily to be happy.
I think it very likely that men do not believe what I am saying.
I know something of the deceitfulness of the heart on the subject
of happiness. There are few things which man is slow to believe
as the truths I am now putting forth about the way to be happy.
Bear with me then while I say something more.
Come and stand with me some afternoon in the heart of the city of
London. Let us watch the faces of most of the wealthy men whom
we will see leaving their places of business at the close of the
day. Some of them are worth hundred of thousands: some of them
are worth millions. But what is written in the faces of these
grave men whom we see swarming out from the Bank of England and
the Stock Exchange? What is the meaning of those deep lines
which wrinkle so many a cheek and so many a brow? What is the
meaning of that air of anxious thoughtfulness which is worn by
five out of every six we meet? Yes, these things tell a serious
tale. They tell us that it needs something more than gold and
bank notes to make men happy.
Come next and stand with me near the Houses of Parliament, in the
middle of a busy session. Let us scan the faces of the
politicians, whose names are familiar and well-known all over the
civilized world. There you may see on some fine evening the
mightiest Statesmen in England hurrying to a debate, like eagles
to the carcass. Each has the power of good or evil in his tongue
which it is fearful to contemplate. Each may say things before
tomorrow’s sun dawns, which may affect the peace and prosperity
of nations, and convulse the world. There you may see the men
who hold the reins of power and government already; there you may
see the men who are daily watching for an opportunity of
snatching those reins out of their hands, and governing in their
stead. But what do their faces tell us as they rush to their
posts? What may be read in many of their wrinkled foreheads–so
absent-looking and sunk in thought? They teach us a solemn
lesson. They teach us that it needs something more than
political greatness to make men happy.
“This article originally appeared here at Bible Bulletin Board.”
