IV

And then genuineness will bring serenity--which I take to be
another mark of the right development of the true human being,
certainly in an age passionate and confused as this in which we
live. Of course serenity does not always go with genuineness. We
must say of Dr. Johnson that he was genuine, and yet we know that
the stormy tyrant of the Turk's Head Tavern was not serene.
Carlyle was genuine (though that is not quite the first adjective
we should choose to describe him), but of serenity he allowed
cooks and cocks and every modern and every ancient sham to
deprive him. Serenity is a product, no doubt, of two very
different things, namely, vision and digestion. Not the eye only,
but the courses of the blood must be clear, if we would find
serenity. Our word "serene" contains a picture. Its image is of
the calm evening when the stars are out and the still night comes
on; when the dew is on the grass and the wind does not stir; when
the day's work is over, and the evening meal, and thought falls
clear in the quiet hour. It is the hour of reflection--and it is
human to reflect. Who shall contrive to be human without this
evening hour, which drives turmoil out, and gives the soul its
seasons of self-recollection? Serenity is not a thing to beget
inaction. It only checks excitement and uncalculating haste. It
does not exclude ardor or the heat of battle: it keeps ardor from
extravagance, prevents the battle from becoming a mere aimless
melee. The great captains of the world have been men who were
calm in the moment of crisis; who were calm, too, in the long
planning which preceded crisis; who went into battle with a
serenity infinitely ominous for those whom they attack. We