s that there may be an education which, in
itself, _is_ advancement in Life;--that any other than that may perhaps
be advancement in Death; and that this essential education might be
more easily got, or given, than they fancy, if they set about it in the
right way; while it is for no price, and by no favor, to be got, if
they set about it in the wrong.

3. Indeed, among the ideas most prevalent and effective in the mind of
this busiest of countries, I suppose the first--at least that which is
confessed with the greatest frankness, and put forward as the fittest
stimulus to youthful exertion--is this of "Advancement in Life." May I
ask you to consider with me what this idea practically includes, and
what it should include?

Practically, then, at present, "advancement in life" means, becoming
conspicuous in life;--obtaining a position which shall be acknowledged
by others to be respectable or honorable. We do not understand by this
advancement in general, the mere making of money, but the being known
to have made it; not the accomplishment of any great aim, but the being
seen to have accomplished it. In a word, we mean the gratification of
our thirst for applause. That thirst, if the last infirmity of noble
minds, is also the first infirmity of weak ones; and, on the whole, the
strongest impulsive influence of average humanity: the greatest efforts
of the race have always been traceable to the love of praise, as its
greatest catastrophes to the love of pleasure.

4. I am not about to attack or defend this impulse. I want you only
to feel how it lies at the root of effort; especially of all modern
effort. It is the gratification of vanity which is, with us, the
stimulus of toil, and balm of repose; so closely does it touch the very
springs of life that the wounding of our vanity is always spoken of
(and truly) as in its measure _mortal_; we call it "mortification,"
using the same expression which we should apply to a gangrenous and
incurable bodily hurt. And although few of us may be physicians enough
to recognize the various effect of this passion upon health and energy,
I believe most honest men know, and would at once acknowledge, its
leading power with them as a motive. The seaman does not commonly
desire to be made captain only because he knows he can manage the ship
better than any other sailor on board. He wants to be made captain
that he may be _called_ captain. The clergyman does not usually want
to