The True Citizen, How To Become One | Page 7

own good they must not be
allowed to do anything that would result in harm to themselves or to
others. Some one must oversee and direct them until they can act
intelligently. Obedience is one of the principal laws of the family. The
harmony and peace of the entire household depend upon it.
True obedience does not argue nor dispute; neither does it delay nor
murmur. It goes directly to work to fulfil the commands laid upon us,
or to refrain from doing that which is forbidden. "Sir," said the Duke of
Wellington to an officer of engineers, who urged the impossibility of
executing his orders, "I did not ask your opinion. I gave you my orders,
and I expect them to be obeyed."
A story is told of a great captain, who, after a battle, was talking over
the events of the day with his officers. He asked them who had done the
best that day. Some spoke of one man who had fought very bravely,
and some of another. "No," said he, "you are all mistaken. The best
man in the field to-day was a soldier, who was just lifting his arm to
strike an enemy, but when he heard the trumpet sound a retreat,
checked himself, and dropped his arm without striking a blow. That
perfect and ready obedience to the will of his general, is the noblest
thing that has been done to-day."
The instant obedience of the child is as beautiful and as important as
that of the soldier. The unhesitating obedience which springs from a
loving confidence is beautifully illustrated in the following incident: A
switchman in Prussia was stationed at the junction of two lines of
railroad. His hand was on the lever for a train that was approaching.
The engine was within a few seconds of reaching his signal box when,

on turning his head, the switchman saw his little boy playing on the line
of rails over which the train was to pass. "Lie down!" he shouted to the
child; but, he himself, remained at his post. The train passed safely on
its way. The father rushed forward, expecting to take up a corpse; but
what was his joy on finding that the boy had obeyed his order so
promptly that the whole train had passed over him without injury. The
next day the king sent for the man and attached to his breast the medal
for civil courage.
A cheerful obedience is one of the strongest proofs of love. "Love is to
obedience like wings to the bird, or sails to the ship. It is the agency
that carries it forward to success. When love cools, obedience slackens;
and nothing is worthy of the name of love that leads to disobedience."
We remember the anecdote of a Roman commander, who forbade an
engagement with the enemy, and the first transgressor was his own son.
He accepted the challenge of the leader of the other host, slew and
disrobed him, and then in triumph carried the spoils to his father's tent.
But the Roman father refused to recognize the instinct which prompted
this, as deserving the name of love.
Many of the restraints laid upon us result from the love of those in
authority. If we were permitted to pursue our own inclinations, our
health might be destroyed, our minds run to waste, and we should be
apt to grow up slothful and selfish; a trouble to others and burdensome
to ourselves. It is far easier to obey our parents and friends when we
recall that we have experienced their goodness long enough to know
that they wish to make us happy, even when their commands seem
most severe. Let us, therefore, show our appreciation of their goodness
by doing cheerfully what they require.
The will is supported, strengthened, and perfected by obedience. There
are many who suppose that real strength of will is secured by giving it
free play. But we really weaken it in that way. Obedience to a
reasonable law is a source of moral strength and power. Obedience is
not weakness bowing to strength, but is rather submission to an
authority whose claims are already admitted. If a man is royal when he
rules over nature, and yet more royal when he rules his brother man, is

he not most royal when he so rules himself as to do the right even when
it is distasteful?
A man who had declared his aversion for what he called the dry facts of
political economy, was found one day knitting his brows over a book
on that subject. When a friend expressed surprise, the man replied: "I
am playing the schoolmaster with myself. I am reading this because I
dislike it."
Difficulties are often really helpful. They enlarge our experience and