The Inheritance of the Soul: Character

The purpose of John Watson's book, The Homely Virtues, is to help his readers understand the importance of character. In the future, I hope to write a few posts on his thoughts on this topic.

For now, we'll finish this series with some final thoughts from Watson:

When all has been said, it remains that the one thing we are called upon to do, the one thing for which we shall be judged, is our duty. There is some particular work which lies to every one's hand which he can do better than any other person. What we ought to be concerned about is not whether it be on a large scale or a small—about which we can never be quite certain—nor whether it is going to bring us fame or leave us in obscurity—an issue which is in the hands of God — but that we do it, and that we do it with all our might. Having done that, there is no cause to fret ourselves or ask questions which cannot be answered. We may rest with a quiet conscience and a contented heart, for we have filled our place and done what we could. The battle of life extends over a vast area, and it is vain for us to inquire about the other wings of the army; it is enough that we have received our orders, and that we have held the few feet of ground committed to our charge. There let us fight and there let us die, and so fighting and so dying in the place of duty we cannot be condemned, we must be justified. Brilliant qualities may never be ours, but the homely virtues are within our reach, and character is built up not out of great intellectual gifts and splendid public achievements, but out of honesty, industry, thrift, kindness, courtesy, and gratitude, resting upon faith in God and love towards man. And the inheritance of the soul which ranks highest and lasts for ever is character.

Fame May Not Always Mean Value

Towards the end of chapter 1 in The Homely Virtues, John Watson discusses the fleeting value of fame:

Can any one be sure who is doing the most valuable and lasting work, or how the accounts are to be struck at the close of the day? Does it follow of necessity that a woman who makes clever speeches on the platform is rendering greater service to her generation than the house mother, who has guided her household well, and secured the peace and comfort of home to her husband and children? Can the minister who preaches to thousands in the great city be certain that he deserves more of the Church than his country colleague who is quietly building up the character of young men who shall by-and-by make the strength of the city? Is a brilliant writer a greater gain to the commonwealth than a silent merchant who has extended its commerce to the ends of the earth and filled a thousand homes with plenty? It is impossible to say; it is not necessary to make comparison; it is sufficient to remember that fame may not always mean value, and that the soundest work in the world may be done by obscure people.

A Tale of Work Everyday

We continue with John Watson's words about the contributions of ordinary people:

The prosperity of a country depends on the millions of people who are doing their tale of work every day, bringing up their children in respectability and religion, and discharging humble household duties and resisting every-day temptations; the trend of national life depends upon what a multitude of people are thinking and feeling and wishing and striving; and the goodness of the commonwealth is made up of the character of an innumerable number of undistinguished folk. We may not be philosophers, nor travellers, nor statesmen, nor conquerors, yet we ordinaries have our own sphere. We are the soldiers in the army which won the battle; we are the multitude to whom the thinkers spoke; we are the voters by whom the statesmen legislate; we are the force of which historians write. There are thousands of volumes containing the record of births in the archives of the registrar-general, and the keeper is accustomed to show a celebrated entry here and there. But all the pages of all the volumes are filled with names, and each name represents a person who has been born into the world, and, in many a case, has lived to old age and has done his piece of work. Without this nameless and in numerable multitude there had been no work and no race.

Standing on the Shoulders of Ordinary Men

John Watson continues with his narrative on the ordinary man:

Bunyan gave us the Pilgrims Progress, but we do not know the names of the good old women whom he heard talking about religion as they sat in the sun, and whose words gave a new direction to his life. Lord Shaftesbury will long be held in honour in England for the social reformation that he wrought; but place, if you please, Lord Shaftesbury's nurse, who taught the lonely child the principles of godliness. The hall rings with applause when a distinguished scholar obtains his degree, but what of the country school master who first inspired him with the passion for learning? The multitude talk of a distinguished career; they do not think of the man's father, who toiled and saved and sacrificed himself that the lad might have his opportunity.

What of the great man's mother, whose name is not buzzed about in the market place? A very ordinary woman, yet she was the mother of this distinguished man. She nursed him, she trained him, she comforted him, she inspired him; it is possible that this ordinary woman, as you judge her, gave him his brains. He stands upon her shoulder, and is seen of all men, while she is unseen. Every famous life is raised upon the lives of others, as a Venetian palace rests upon the piles beneath the water. What, also, one may ask, could the extraordinary people do without the ordinary? It is the enthusiasm of a nation which places a statesman in power and enables him to carry out beneficent laws.

Fleeting Fame

Continuing with some words from John Watson, here he recounts how ordinary people do not experience fame, but so very few people do. Watson notes that fame very often does not last:

It is a consolation for an ordinary person to remember that he belongs to the vast majority of his race, and that if he be outdistanced in talk, he will succeed in the vote. Out of a hundred thousand inhabitants in a city only a handful would be recognized upon a public platform, and out of that handful some were not known yesterday, and will be forgotten to-morrow. The great man of one town may never have been heard of in the next town; his fame does not extend stations along the line. A few men have a national reputation, but it is always a question of argument whether this or that great name will survive its generation. A century in history only adds some score of names to the immortal roll of the ages. When the generations pass across the stage of time, we only identify a face here and there — a Moses, an Alexander, a Paul, a Luther, a Cromwell, a Napoleon, a Washington, a Newton, a Darwin, a Faraday — and the others, perhaps great in their day and doers of great marvels, are now reduced to shadows, to the level of the unknown.

Watson continues: "Perhaps an ordinary person may find comfort in the fact that, after all, nameless people have done some of the great works of human history."

We'll look at these people tomorrow.

Ordinary People

A few days ago, I provided a post based on the writings of John Watson, a 19th century Scottish pastor. I've done more reading on him since then. An interesting man and a heck of a good writer. He's not as orthodox as I would like: he seems to have been caught up in the higher criticism of the day, dissecting the scriptures for passages that may be truer than others. However, he seemed to be committed to Christ - his divinity and humanity - and seemed to genuine love him as Lord and savior of men.

In the first chapter of his book, The Homely Virtues, he writes an excellent chapter on the nobility of the ordinary. For many people - Christian and non-believers - nobility and greatness are achieved through public notoriety and extraordinary personal achievements. People become great when they do great things. The ordinary life is not something to be celebrated. I've never agreed with that position and I have tried to find a writer who could express that position's anti-thesis clearly and with compassion. I think John Watson is that person.

I'm going to take a few posts to share with you some of what he wrote in The Homely Virtues. At a later date, I will share the homely virtues with you along with Watson's descriptions of each. For now, I just want to focus on this aspect of his thought: the nobility of the ordinary.

Here's a brief introduction:

It sometimes occurs to one that as there are so many philanthropic societies in our day and another would make no great difference, it might be useful, as well as kindly, to establish a society for the protection of ordinary people. Its subjects would be all persons above the age of twenty-one who had never written a book, nor a magazine article, nor a pamphlet, nor a letter to The Times; who had never stood for Parliament, nor addressed a political meeting, nor taken the chair at a charitable gathering, nor moved a vote of thanks to a speaker; who do not hold any view entirely their own on the doctrine of the Christian Church, or the origin of the Bible, or the relation of the sexes, or the division of property; who are not distinguished players at anything, nor brilliant conversationalists, nor wickedly sarcastic, nor unprinted poets—persons, in fact, who do their daily duty, and pay their debts, and act a neighbour's part, and speak about the weather, and go to Church; persons who are not original nor brilliant nor erratic, who are neither inventors nor reformers nor cranks, nor anything else except law-abiding, tax-paying, housekeeping, kind-hearted citizens - commonplace people.

Sound like anybody you know?