The Art of Manliness - Manvotionals: Timeless Wisdom and Advice on Living the 7 Manly Virtues

by Brett McKay

  There were shouted commands: “Detachment, forward march! Left-2-3-4! Left-2-3-4! Left-2-3-4! Left-2-3-4! First man about, left and left and left and left! Caps off!” These words sound in my ears even now. At the order “Caps off!” we passed the gate of the camp, and searchlights were trained upon us. Whoever did not march smartly got a kick. And worse off was the man who, because of the cold, had pulled his cap back over his ears before permission was given.

  We stumbled on in the darkness, over big stones and through large puddles, along the one road leading from the camp. The accompanying guards kept shouting at us and driving us with the butts of their rifles. Anyone with very sore feet supported himself on his neighbor’s arm. Hardly a word was spoken; the icy wind did not encourage talk. Hiding his mouth behind his upturned collar, the man marching next to me whispered suddenly: “If our wives could see us now! I do hope they are better off in their camps and don’t know what is happening to us.”

  That brought thoughts of my own wife to mind. And as we stumbled on for miles, slipping on icy spots, supporting each other time and again, dragging one another up and onward, nothing was said, but we both knew: each of us was thinking of his wife. Occasionally I looked at the sky, where the stars were fading and the pink light of the morning was beginning to spread behind a dark bank of clouds. But my mind clung to my wife’s image, imagining it with an uncanny acuteness. I heard her answering me, saw her smile, her frank and encouraging look. Real or not, her look was then more luminous than the sun which was beginning to rise.

  A thought transfixed me: for the first time in my life I saw the truth as it is set into song by so many poets, proclaimed as the final wisdom by so many thinkers. The truth—that love is the ultimate and the highest goal to which man can aspire. Then I grasped the meaning of the greatest secret that human poetry and human thought and belief have to impart: The salvation of man is through love and in love. I understood how a man who has nothing left in this world still may know bliss, be it only for a brief moment, in the contemplation of his beloved. In a position of utter desolation, when man cannot express himself in positive action, when his only achievement may consist in enduring his sufferings in the right way—an honorable way—in such a position man can, through loving contemplation of the image he carries of his beloved, achieve fulfillment. For the first time in my life I was able to understand the meaning of the words, “The angels are lost in perpetual contemplation of an infinite glory.”

  In front of me a man stumbled and those following him fell on top of him. The guard rushed over and used his whip on them all. Thus my thoughts were interrupted for a few minutes. But soon my soul found its way back from the prisoner’s existence to another world, and I resumed talk with my loved one: I asked her questions, and she answered; she questioned me in return, and I answered.

  “Stop!” We had arrived at our work site. Everybody rushed into the dark hut in the hope of getting a fairly decent tool. Each prisoner got a spade or a pickaxe.

  “Can’t you hurry up, you pigs?” Soon we had resumed the previous day’s positions in the ditch. The frozen ground cracked under the point of the pickaxes, and sparks flew. The men were silent, their brains numb.

  My mind still clung to the image of my wife. A thought crossed my mind: I didn’t even know if she were still alive. I knew only one thing—which I have learned well by now: Love goes very far beyond the physical person of the beloved. It finds its deepest meaning in his spiritual being, his inner self. Whether or not he is actually present, whether or not he is still alive at all, ceases somehow to be of importance.

  I did not know whether my wife was alive, and I had no means of finding out (during all my prison life there was no outgoing or incoming mail); but at that moment it ceased to matter. There was no need for me to know; nothing could touch the strength of my love, my thoughts, and the image of my beloved. Had I known then that my wife was dead, I think that I would still have given myself, undisturbed by that knowledge, to the contemplation of her image, and that my mental conversation with her would have been just as vivid and just as satisfying. “Set me like a seal upon thy heart, love is as strong as death.”

  The experiences of camp life show that man does have a choice of action. There were enough examples, often of a heroic nature, which proved that apathy could be overcome, irritability suppressed. Man can preserve a vestige of spiritual freedom, of independence of mind, even in such terrible conditions of psychic and physical stress.

  We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.

  And there were always choices to make. Every day, every hour, offered the opportunity to make a decision, a decision which determined whether you would or would not submit to those powers which threatened to rob you of your very self, your inner freedom; which determined whether or not you would become the plaything of circumstance, renouncing freedom and dignity to become molded into the form of the typical inmate.

  The way in which a man accepts his fate and all the suffering it entails, the way in which he takes up his cross, gives him ample opportunity—even under the most difficult circumstances—to add a deeper meaning to his life. It may remain brave, dignified and unselfish. Or in the bitter fight for self-preservation he may forget his human dignity and become no more than an animal. Here lies the chance for a man either to make use of or to forgo the opportunities of attaining the moral values that a difficult situation may afford him. And this decides whether he is worthy of his sufferings or not.

  Do not think that these considerations are unworldly and too far removed from real life. It is true that only a few people are capable of reaching such high moral standards. Of the prisoners only a few kept their full inner liberty and obtained those values which their suffering afforded, but even one such example is sufficient proof that man’s inner strength may raise him above his outward fate. Such men are not only in concentration camps. Everywhere man is confronted with fate, with the chance of achieving something through his own suffering.

  The Light of Stars

  FROM VOICES OF THE NIGHT, 1839

  By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  The night is come, but not too soon;

  And sinking silently,

  All silently, the little moon

  Drops down behind the sky.

  There is no light in earth or heaven

  But the cold light of stars;

  And the first watch of night is given

  To the red planet Mars.

  Is it the tender star of love?

  The star of love and dreams?

  O no! from that blue tent above,

  A hero’s armor gleams.

  And earnest thoughts within me rise,

  When I behold afar,

  Suspended in the evening skies,

  The shield of that red star.

  O star of strength! I see thee stand

  And smile upon my pain;

  Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand,

  And I am strong again.

  Within my breast there is no light

  But the cold light of stars;

  I give the first watch of the night

  To the red planet Mars.

  The star of the unconquered will,

  He rises in my breast,

  Serene, and resolute, and still,

  And calm, and self-possessed.

  And thou, too, whosoe’er thou art,

  That readest this brief psalm,

  As one by one thy hopes depart,

  Be resolute and calm.

  O fear not in a world like this,

  And thou shalt know erelong,

  Know how sublime a thing it is

  To suffer and be strong.

 
CHAPTER FIVE

  SELF-RELIANCE

  * * *

  The cowboy. The frontiersman. The pioneer.

  These images of manliness still strongly resonate with Western men because they represent an ideal and virtue they often feel lacking in their own lives—that of self-reliance.

  Our pioneer forefathers hewed a life for themselves out of the untamed soil with nothing but their wits and the sweat of their brow. They needed very little, and what they did need, they made. If it broke, they fixed it. Their nearest neighbors could be a few dozen miles away and solitude was simply a part of life.

  Today we live in a time when almost everything a man does can be outsourced to someone else. Need your oil changed? Take it to a mechanic. Have a leaky roof? Call a repairman. Need food? Order take-out.

  Even your thinking can be outsourced. A man’s every musing can be posted on the Internet or texted to friends for immediate feedback. And answers to life’s questions seem to be only a Google search away.

  While modern conveniences and technology have happily freed us from much of the drudgery, danger, and hardship that our forebearers faced on the frontier, these advancements have also left many men feeling disconnected from their lives. They are plagued with a disconcerting sense of restlessness, feeling as if they are floating through life, that life is happening to them and being orchestrated by others.

  Self-reliance is the antidote to this anxious drift. Seeking this virtue need not involve trading in your car for a covered wagon, donning buckskin pants, and retiring to a cave in the mountains. Or even erasing the pizza delivery man’s number from your phone. Rather it’s about coming to understand that a while a boy depends on others for everything, a man is able to stand on his own two feet and make his own way. It’s about fostering the confidence that even if the whole world went to pot around you, you’d still have the resources and inner fortitude to carry on. It’s about cultivating the pioneering spirit and attitude at the core of your approach to life.

  The self-reliant man doesn’t wait around for his dreams to come true or for someone to fix his problems. He gets started right away and figures it out for himself as he goes.

  The self-reliant man lives simply and frugally, without needing stuff to make him happy and avoiding the chains of debt.

  The self-reliant man doesn’t depend on others to validate his beliefs and decisions. He carves out his own path in life even if his ideas cut across the grain.

  The self-reliant man enjoys associating with others, but can be perfectly content spending time in his own company.

  In short, the self-reliant man enjoys supreme freedom and independence in all areas of his life. He is captain of his soul and master of his own destiny.

  * * *

  “Humility is the part of wisdom, and is most becoming in men. But let no one discourage self-reliance; it is, of all the rest, the greatest quality of true manliness.” —Louis Kossuth

  What Is Meant by Self-Reliance?

  FROM SELF-CULTURE & SELF-RELIANCE, 1869

  By William Unsworth

  The questions are naturally suggested, “What kind of culture is intended? And what is meant by self-reliance?” … By self-culture is intended the cultivation of the powers and faculties nature has given you, and that to the greatest degree your opportunities and circumstances will allow: and this done by and for yourselves, with a view to improve your own condition here, as far as possible, and that you may stand on higher vantage-ground hereafter. And by self-reliance is meant a firm but modest dependence on your own capabilities, your own efforts and talents, in opposition to a weak and unmanly leaning upon foreign resources and assistance. These qualities blended and combined, will wonderfully help men through the world. But if they do not possess them in some tolerably good degree, they will be the football of their fellows, the sport of circumstances, and go down to death “sore sick at heart.” They will be deeply mortified at their own fickleness, despised by others, and heartily despised by themselves.

  “If you see anybody wail and complain, call him a slave, though he be clad in purple.” —Epictetus

  The Sturdiest Manhood

  FROM THE SPEECH, “SELF-MADE MEN,” 1859

  By Frederick Douglass

  After escaping the shackles of slavery, Frederick Douglass (1818–1895) went on to become an author, newspaper publisher, and respected abolitionist. He was also a sought after and electrifying orator. During his life, “Self-Made Men” was his most popular speech. Having overcome the most oppressive of beginnings to achieve greatness, Douglass sincerely believed that such success was possible for any self-reliant man willing to put in the work.

  Self-made men are the men who, under peculiar difficulties and without the ordinary helps of favoring circumstances, have attained knowledge, usefulness, power and position and have learned from themselves the best uses to which life can be put in this world, and in the exercises of these uses to build up worthy character. They are the men who owe little or nothing to birth, relationship, or friendly surroundings; to wealth inherited or to early approved means of education; who are what they are, without the aid of any favoring conditions by which other men usually rise in the world and achieve great results. … They are in a peculiar sense indebted to themselves for themselves. If they have traveled far, they have made the road on which they have traveled. If they have ascended high, they have built their own ladder.

  Though a man of this class need not claim to be a hero or to be worshiped as such, there is genuine heroism in his struggle and something of sublimity and glory in his triumph. Every instance of such success is an example and help to humanity. It, better than any mere assertion, gives us assurance of the latent powers and resources of simple and unaided manhood. It dignifies labor, honors application, lessens pain and depression, dispels gloom from the brow of the destitute and weariness from the heart of him about to faint, and enables man to take hold of the roughest and flintiest hardships incident to the battle of life, with a lighter heart, with higher hopes and a larger courage.

  The various conditions of men and the different uses they make of their powers and opportunities in life, are full of puzzling contrasts and contradictions. Here, as elsewhere, it is easy to dogmatize, but it is not so easy to define, explain and demonstrate. The natural laws for the government, well-being and progress of mankind, seem to be equal and are equal; but the subjects of these laws everywhere abound in inequalities, discords, and contrast. We cannot have fruit without flowers, but we often have flowers without fruit. The promise of youth often breaks down in manhood, and real excellence often comes unheralded and from unexpected quarters.

  The scene presented from this view is as a thousand arrows shot from the same point and aimed at the same object. United in aim, they are divided in flight. Some fly too high, others too low. Some go to the right, others to the left. Some fly too far, and others, not far enough, and only a few hit the mark. Such is life. United in the quiver, they are divided in the air. Matched when dormant, they are unmatched in action.

  I do not think much of the good luck theory of self-made men. It is worth but little attention and has no practical value. An apple carelessly flung into a crowd may hit one person, or it may hit another, or it may hit nobody. The probabilities are precisely the same in this accident theory of self-made men. It divorces a man from his own achievements, contemplates him as a being of chance and leaves him without will, motive, ambition and aspiration. Yet the accident theory is among the most popular theories of individual success. It has about it the air of mystery which the multitudes so well like, and withal, it does something to mar the complacency of the successful.

  It is one of the easiest and commonest things in the world for a successful man to be followed in his career through life and to have constantly pointed out this or that particular stroke of good fortune which fixed his destiny and made him successful. If not ourselves great, we like to explain why others are so. We are stingy in our praise to merit, but gene
rous in our praise to chance. Besides, a man feels himself measurably great when he can point out the precise moment and circumstance which made his neighbor great. He easily fancies that the slight difference between himself and his friend is simply one of luck. It was his friend who was lucky, but it might easily have been himself. Then too, the next best thing to success is a valid apology for non-success. Detraction is, to many, a delicious morsel.

  But the main objection to this very comfortable theory is that, like most other theories, it is made to explain too much. While it ascribes success to chance and friendly circumstances, it is apt to take no cognizance of the very different uses to which different men put their circumstances and their chances.

  Fortune may crowd a man’s life with fortunate circumstances and happy opportunities, but they will, as we all know, avail him nothing unless he makes a wise and vigorous use of them. It does not matter that the wind is fair and the tide at its flood, if the mariner refuses to weigh his anchor and spread his canvas to the breeze. The golden harvest is ripe in vain if the farmer refuses to reap. Opportunity is important but exertion is indispensable.

  When we find a man who has ascended heights beyond ourselves; who has a broader range of vision than we and a sky with more stars in it than we have in ours, we may know that he has worked harder, better and more wisely than we. He was awake while we slept. He was busy while we were idle and was wisely improving his time and talents while we were wasting ours.