large
house, and a big income, and professional success, and respect and
influence as much as any one--more, indeed, than many people.
But I soon saw that this would be a miserable reason for being tempted
by the offer, the delight of being called Rabbi. I don't pretend to be
high-minded, but even I could see that, unless there was a good deal
more than that in my mind, I should be a wretched creature to be
influenced by such considerations. These are merely the conveniences;
the real point was the work, the power, the possibility of carrying out
certain educational reforms which I have very much at heart, and doing
something towards raising the general intellectual standard, which I
believe to be lower than it need be.
Now, on thinking it out carefully, I came to the conclusion that I was
not strong enough for this role. I am no Atlas; I have no deep store of
moral courage; I am absurdly sensitive, ill-fitted to cope with
unpopularity and disapproval. Bitter, vehement, personal hostility
would break my spirit. A fervent Christian might say that one had no
right to be faint-hearted, and that strength would be given one; that
is perfectly true in certain conditions, and I have often experienced
it when some intolerable and inevitable calamity had to be faced. But
it is an evil recklessness not to weigh one's own deficiencies. No one
would say that a man ignorant of music ought to undertake to play the
organ, if the organist failed to appear, believing that power would be
given him. Christ Himself warned His disciples against embarking in an
enterprise without counting the cost. But here I confess was the
darkest point of my dilemma--was it cowardice and indolence to refuse
to attempt what competent persons believed I could do? or was it
prudent and wise to refuse to attempt what I, knowing my own
temperament better, felt I could not attempt successfully?
Now in my present work it is different. I know that my strength is
equal to the responsibility; I know that I can do what I undertake. The
art of dealing with boys is very different from the art of dealing with
men, the capacity for subordinate command is very different from the
capacity for supreme command. Of course, it is a truism to say that if
a man can obey thoroughly and loyally he can probably command. But
then, again, there is a large class of people, to which I believe
myself to belong, who are held to be, in the words of Tacitus, Capax
imperii, nisi impe
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