history and Nature.
From the long travail of both you will learn that failure and fortune
alike may come from the slightest cause, that it is not wise to neglect
detail, and, above all, that we must know how to wait and to begin
again.
In speaking of simple duty I cannot help thinking of military life, and
the examples it offers to combatants in this great struggle. He would
little understand his soldier's duty who, the army once beaten, should
cease to brush his garments, polish his rifle, and observe discipline.
"But what would be the use?" perhaps you ask. Are there not various
fashions of being vanquished? Is it an indifferent matter to add to
defeat, discouragement, disorder, and demoralization? No, it should
never be forgotten that the least display of energy in these terrible
moments is a sign of life and hope. At once everybody feels that all is
not lost.
During the disastrous retreat of 1813-1814, in the heart of the winter,
when it had become almost impossible to present any sort of appearance,
a general, I know not who, one morning presented himself to Napoleon, in
full dress and freshly shaven. Seeing him thus, in the midst of the
general demoralization, as elaborately attired as if for parade, the
Emperor said: _My general, you are a brave man!_
* * * * *
Again, the plain duty is the near duty. A very common weakness keeps
many people from finding what is near them interesting; they see that
only on its paltry side. The distant, on the contrary, draws and
fascinates them. In this way a fabulous amount of good-will is wasted.
People burn with ardor for humanity, for the public good, for righting
distant wrongs; they walk through life, their eyes fixed on marvelous
sights along the horizon, treading meanwhile on the feet of passers-by,
or jostling them without being aware of their existence.
Strange infirmity, that keeps us from seeing our fellows at our very
doors! People widely read and far-travelled are often not acquainted
with their fellow-citizens, great or small. Their lives depend upon the
cooeperation of a multitude of beings whose lot remains to them quite
indifferent. Not those to whom they owe their knowledge and culture, not
their rulers, nor those who serve them and supply their needs, have ever
attracted their attention. That there is ingratitude or improvidence in
not knowing one's workmen, one's servants, all those in short with whom
one has indispensable s
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