"Chi va piano va lontano"—he who goes gently travels far. A quaint old proverb tells us that "It is good to have a hatch before your door"—in order, that is, that one may not rush out too impetuously, but that a momentary pause may give opportunity for a moment's consideration. One of the most startling proverbs on this need of forethought is the Arab "Live, thou ass, until the clover sprouts"—a better day is coming, despondency must give place to patience and to hope.
The manufacture of excuses has not escaped the notice of the proverb-makers and users. These excuses take two forms—the excuses that omission calls for, and those that commission needs—that black may look at least grey, if not absolutely white. A very good example of the former is this, "Am I my brother's keeper?"—originally the plea of a murderer, and ever after the excuse of those who would wrap themselves up in their selfishness, and shut their eyes, their hearts, their consciences, their pockets, to the needs of the suffering. It has been well said that "Apologies only account for that which they do not alter." In some few cases, such as "A bad workman finds fault with his tools," or "The creaking wheel blames the badness of the road," the utterance is quaint and not unwholesome, and very true to human nature; but in most of these proverbs dealing with excuses there is an actual incitement to evil, a justification of wrongdoing, an implication that people are only honest because it pays better or because the chance of knavery is for the time being debarred to them. We have so often heard the declaration that "Opportunity makes the thief," that it has lost its meaning; but if we really think it out a moment, how abominable in teaching it is! A similar saying is this, "A bad padlock invites a picklock," an insinuation that we would all be dishonest if we got the opportunity; while the Spaniards say, "Puerta abierta al santo tiento"—an open door tempts a saint. Shakespeare's utterance, "How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds makes ill deeds done," may express a sad truth, but after all we would fain believe that things are not quite so bad as not a few of our proverbs would imply: there is surely yet some little virtue and honesty left.
Fortune, good or ill, is not by any means overlooked. Thus we find the philosophic reflection, "Fortune can take nothing from us but what she gave"; and the warning, "Fortune is constant in nothing but inconstancy." We are warned yet again that "When fortune comes smiling she often designs the most mischief." All, however, is not blind chance; the hand of God is guiding; "There's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough hew them how we will." Nor is the hand of man without its influence, for "To him that is willing ways are not wanting," and "If you weave your web God will find the thread." The Italians say, "Vien la fortuna a chi la procura"—good fortune is to him who earns it; while the French declare, "Qui ne se lasse pas lasse l'adversité"—he who does not tire tires adversity, and steady perseverance will conquer ill-fortune. "La fortune aide aux audacieux," say the French again, while the Romans declared, "Fortes fortuna adjuvat"—fortune assists the brave, the classic reading of our more homely version, "Nothing venture, nothing have."
The victim of ill-fortune is reminded that "It is a long lane that has no turning"; or, as Gower puts it:
"Sometime I drew into memoire
Howe sorowe maie not euer last."
The French have a saying, "The wind in a man's face makes him wise," equivalent to the English adage, "Adversity makes a man wise, not rich," and so the Psalmist sings, "It is good for me that I have been afflicted, that I might learn thy statutes." Trouble works, however, in a twofold way, and while some it softens, others it hardens.
It is a matter of common observation that misfortunes often fall most unexpectedly, and that they seldom come singly.
"O soden hap, O thou fortune unstable,
Like to the scorpion so deceivable,
That flatrest with thy hed whan thou wilt sting."[249:A]
"Mischiefs," says an old proverb, "come by the pound and go away by the ounce," and the Italians have a practically identical saying. These calamities come sometimes in such a flood that no resistance to their attack seems of any avail, hence the quaint and homely adage, "There is no fence against a flail." The Romans had the saw, "Mustelam habes"—you have a weasel in your house, which they applied to those with whom everything seemed to turn out unfortunately: to meet a weasel being considered by the Romans an ill-omen.
It has been said that each man is the architect of his own fortune.[249:B] The statement is not wholly true, but it is sufficiently so to justify such proverbs as "As you have made your bed, so you must lie"; "As you brew, so must you drink"; and we must be prepared to take the consequences of our own fault. Zeno, the philosopher, having detected his servant in a theft, ordered him to be whipped; the servant, in excuse for what he had done, said it was decreed by the fates that he should be a thief, alluding to the doctrine of fatalism which his master maintained. And so, too, it was decreed, said Zeno, that you should be whipped. It has been well said that "Presumption first blinds a man, and then sets him running." The Germans say, "Wer da fallt, über ihm laufen alle Welt"—he that falls down all the world runs over. All are ready to bear a hand in beating the man whom fortune buffets; and, as an old proverb says, "When the tree is fallen every man goeth to it with his hatchet." This kicking a man when he is down would appear a mean and contemptible proceeding were it not dignified by being termed the survival of the fittest in the struggle for existence, and this somehow throws a halo of philosophy on the proceeding, and the kicker is seen to be working out a law of the universe, in which the kicked also has an essential place.
