Popular Applause
Dublin Core
Title
Popular Applause
Creator
R.P.M.
Source
http://addison.vt.edu/record=b1775388~S1
Publisher
Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University
Date
May 30, 1876
Contributor
Nathan Blake, Arian Katsimbras
Language
English
Type
article
Identifier
LD5655.V8 L4, ser.1, v.1, no.8 (June 1876), p.1-2
Text Item Type Metadata
Text
He has been but an inattentive observer of human nature, who has not discovered that of all motives which impel to action, by far the most powerful is a love of popular applause.
All men, however great their fancied independence or pretended contempt may be for the opinion of their fellow-man, are far more influenced by it than anything else.
Even the philosopher, while delving into the rich and varied mines of knowledge, though his frame is fast sinking beneath the intensities of his mental labors, though his vital energy is faintly flickering in its socket, like the mid-night taper o'er which he leans, is urged on in his laborious pursuit, not only by the love of the rich gems for which he is seeking, but far more by the inspiring thought that long after he has "shuffled off this mortal coil," his name will be registered in the temple of fame.
The poet, while revelling in the wild luxuriance and gorgeous imagery of his own creation, anticipates with delight the plaudits which will be sung to his name—the homage paid to his genius.
The statesman, too, is far more influenced in his conduct by the probable effects his actions will have on the minds of his countrymen, than by that stern integrity, that "amor patriae," which should be his most prominent characteristic. I am very far from saying that this influence ought to exist. I only assert that it does exist.
Men should love virtue for its own sake; but where this is weighed in the scales with the love of popular applause, few have moral strength enough to preserve the proper balance.
Since, then, we see that all our public actions are referable to a certain standard, does it not follow that virtue or vice will exist precisely in proportion to the reward offered for each? If virtue always met with its just reward, and vice its condign punishment from public opinion, it would produce a far more beneficial effect upon society, than all the law which the wisdom of legislators can suggest.
Yet, so far from this being the case, from some strange perversity of our nature, men are frequently found to applaud those who render themselves the greatest scourge to our race, and pass unnoticed those who have proved themselves its real benefactors. The laurels of a military chieftain. "Blood nursed and watered by a widows tears," receive their brilliancy in the eyes of the world, more from the magnitude of the sacrifice of human life, than from the justness of the cause in which they were gained. Almost apotheosized while living, marble columns rise to his memory when dead; "paeans loud as from numbers without numbers," are hymned to his praises, and even festal days appointed to celebrate the anniversary of his butcheries.
Whilst the teacher, the philosopher, minister of God himself, who have devoted their lives to civilizing, humanizing, blessing mankind, are suffered to drag along unnoticed and unhonored; and when wearied by life's toils and struggles, they sink to rest—the only requiem sung over their graves is by the melancholy murmuring of the mid-night blast.
Melancholy, indeed, would be our condition, if the master spirits who guide and direct had no other reward to look to beyond the excited plaudits of a giddy mob.
Happy it is for man that the religion which was taught by the meek and lowly "Nazarine," points us to scenes beyond this life, where vice is punished by never ending torture, and where virtue is rewarded by never ending bliss.
All men, however great their fancied independence or pretended contempt may be for the opinion of their fellow-man, are far more influenced by it than anything else.
Even the philosopher, while delving into the rich and varied mines of knowledge, though his frame is fast sinking beneath the intensities of his mental labors, though his vital energy is faintly flickering in its socket, like the mid-night taper o'er which he leans, is urged on in his laborious pursuit, not only by the love of the rich gems for which he is seeking, but far more by the inspiring thought that long after he has "shuffled off this mortal coil," his name will be registered in the temple of fame.
The poet, while revelling in the wild luxuriance and gorgeous imagery of his own creation, anticipates with delight the plaudits which will be sung to his name—the homage paid to his genius.
The statesman, too, is far more influenced in his conduct by the probable effects his actions will have on the minds of his countrymen, than by that stern integrity, that "amor patriae," which should be his most prominent characteristic. I am very far from saying that this influence ought to exist. I only assert that it does exist.
Men should love virtue for its own sake; but where this is weighed in the scales with the love of popular applause, few have moral strength enough to preserve the proper balance.
Since, then, we see that all our public actions are referable to a certain standard, does it not follow that virtue or vice will exist precisely in proportion to the reward offered for each? If virtue always met with its just reward, and vice its condign punishment from public opinion, it would produce a far more beneficial effect upon society, than all the law which the wisdom of legislators can suggest.
Yet, so far from this being the case, from some strange perversity of our nature, men are frequently found to applaud those who render themselves the greatest scourge to our race, and pass unnoticed those who have proved themselves its real benefactors. The laurels of a military chieftain. "Blood nursed and watered by a widows tears," receive their brilliancy in the eyes of the world, more from the magnitude of the sacrifice of human life, than from the justness of the cause in which they were gained. Almost apotheosized while living, marble columns rise to his memory when dead; "paeans loud as from numbers without numbers," are hymned to his praises, and even festal days appointed to celebrate the anniversary of his butcheries.
Whilst the teacher, the philosopher, minister of God himself, who have devoted their lives to civilizing, humanizing, blessing mankind, are suffered to drag along unnoticed and unhonored; and when wearied by life's toils and struggles, they sink to rest—the only requiem sung over their graves is by the melancholy murmuring of the mid-night blast.
Melancholy, indeed, would be our condition, if the master spirits who guide and direct had no other reward to look to beyond the excited plaudits of a giddy mob.
Happy it is for man that the religion which was taught by the meek and lowly "Nazarine," points us to scenes beyond this life, where vice is punished by never ending torture, and where virtue is rewarded by never ending bliss.