Mark that, Carstairs.
'All the fever of some differing soul.'"
"Yes. It's good."
"That is so. It goes on:—
Bounded by themselves, and unregardful
In what state God's other works may be,
In their own tasks all their powers pouring,
These attain the mighty life you see.
A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear.
'Resolve to be thyself; and know that he
Who finds himself, loses his misery!'"
He had spoken softly and slowly, but quite distinctly; the silver cadence of his rich, cultured voice died away, and they stood together in silence for some minutes.
"In my opinion, Carstairs, that's one of the finest things in the English language. When I read that, it seemed to express exactly what I had been vaguely feeling for years past. It contains the germs, the kernel, of all the philosophy in the world. 'Resolve to be thyself.' Ye gods, think of that! Define 'yourself,' Carstairs! A German professor would fill six volumes and then not do the job. Matthew Arnold does it in one.
'Unaffrighted by the silence round them,
Undistracted by the sights they see,
In their own tasks all their powers pouring.'
There you are. Take that to heart, Carstairs. God knows how much energy you've dissipated uselessly, in thoughts on other people, hopes and fears. Lord! I've been as happy as a bird all my life. That's true religion, Carstairs. I should like to have a talk with your guv'nor on that. He's a sound man, your guv'nor, but with a weakness for worrying over other people's troubles. I never do, or very seldom. 'Keep fit, and answer the impulses of your reason.' That's my motto."