The Force and Importance of HABIT
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A New Year's address, delivered to the Young Men's Christian Association, in Birmingham, England, on January 4th, 1856, by John Angell James.
My young friends,
I rise to address you, standing as it were on the threshold of a new year, when the past is all gone never to return, and the future is all unknown. Happy would it be for us all, if, instead of surveying the flow of time with a sort of dreamy pensiveness, we listened with solemn and practical attention to its perpetual waterfall, tumbling into the gulf of eternity below, and sending up from its ceaseless roar, the admonition of scripture, "Redeem the time!"
It was said by the wisest of men, "Better is the end of a thing than the beginning." This of course has its limitation. In multitudes of cases however it is strikingly true. But it will be most true in the case of those who end in everlasting glory, that life which commenced amidst the weakness and helplessness of infancy, and was spent amidst the temptations, the sorrows, and the trials of this mortal state. What may be said of life in its total may also be said of everyone, of its well spent years. In whatever circumstances you are beginning this year, may you at its close have to acknowledge with joy and gratitude that its end is better than its beginning. Better may it be in every respect; better even as it regards your worldly condition; may all your reasonable and proper hopes be turned into fruition; all your fears be dissipated; your sorrows be exchanged for joys; and every day, even to the last, be a step towards a favorable end. Especially may this be the case as regards your conduct and your characters.
It may be hoped, that as the end of the year always calls for reflection, you have reflected, and that before the scenes of the last year have been lost in the haze of the past, you have asked yourselves the question, "What lessons for my guidance in the future, are to be derived from a review of past events?" To some perhaps a stern and accusing voice cries out, "Reform!" Be wise! listen to the admonition, and turn from your evil ways; then will the end of this year be far better than its beginning. Happy are others to whom the past year on its retiring said with notes of encouragement "Persevere!" Happier still will they be if they not only continue, but improve, in all that is excellent; and be among those who move upon wheels—not upon hinges. To them how much better will be the close than the commencement of the year. Let it ever be recollected that wisdom walks before time; opportunity with time; and repentance, or approbation, as the conduct may be, after time.
I have selected for the subject of my address this evening, the force and importance of habit. Could I have chosen a more interesting or momentous one? By habit is meant, "that facility in doing anything; and in cases where our emotions and appetites are concerned—that tendency to do it, which one acquires by custom." The frequent repetition of an act begets a habit. I shall not detain you by any philosophical enquiry into the origin of our habits, by which I mean an investigation into the reason why the repetition of an act produces this facility and tendency; suffice it to say that metaphysicians generally resolve it into that law of our nature which we call "suggestion," or "the association of ideas." Habit has been called "a second nature," and it has also been said, and how truly the sequel will disclose, that "man is a bundle of habits!"
I. I shall first make some remarks on habit in general. We apply the word "habit" most commonly and most properly to action, rather than to SUFFERING. And yet in ordinary discourse it is not unusual to speak of a habit of endurance. But even with this passiveness is mixed up something of activity. The mind of a person in suffering stirs and braces itself up to endure. Fortitude includes an act of the will; and one resolute purpose to endure prepares for and makes more easy a second, until the habit of endurance is acquired. And a most important habit it is. How many of the avocations of life, which to those who are not called to them appear absolutely intolerable, are rendered if not easy yet endurable by habit! Who, in other and less laborious situations can see a bricklayer's laborer, spending a whole day in the heat of summer in mounting a ladder with his great weight of bricks, to the top of a high building, without wondering by what power his physical strength held out? Habit has rendered it possible by giving strength and flexibility to his muscles and hardihood to his mind. So also as to suffering as well as to labor—custom produces a habit of endurance.
You have all perhaps read of the man who was confined thirty-six years in the Bastile, and had be come so habituated to his seclusion, that on his liberation he begged to be conducted back to his gloomy chamber. But the most remarkable instance of this I have ever met with, is the case mentioned by Sir George Staunton. He visited a man in India who had committed murder, and in order to save his life, and what to him was of still greater consequence his caste, had submitted to the penalty of sleeping for seven years, upon a bedstead studded with points of iron resembling nails, but not so sharp as to penetrate the flesh. Sir George saw him in the fifth year of his probation, when his skin had become like the hide of a rhinoceros, but still more callous. At that time he could sleep comfortably on his bed of thorns, and remarked that at the expiration of his term, he would most likely continue that system from choice, which he had been obliged to adopt from necessity. And instances of superstitious inflictions of bodily sufferings, by devotees of various religions, equally astonishing in illustration of the power of habit in the way of endurance, could be cited, were it at all necessary.
Even such cases are replete with instruction and encouragement, inasmuch as they indicate the goodness and wisdom of Providence, in endowing us with a power of bearing, with tolerable composure, the various complications of human suffering; while they also encourage us to expect that if called to bear such burdens, we shall find that custom will not fail in our case to lessen the weight of that pressure which we might be too ready to conclude to be insupportable. It may be, young men that difficulties, trials, and labors, yes, even great sufferings, await you in life. But fear not, nothing but what is common to man will befall you; nothing but what has been endured; and therefore nothing but what, by God's grace, and the power of habit, will be rendered endurable by you.
But I mean to make this lecture bear chiefly on the habit of ACTION. I repeat what I have already said that man is a bundle of habits. These are of various kinds, relating to—bodily motions, mental exercises, social demeanor, and moral and religious conduct. Look at every man in each of these departments of his active life, and you will find him the creature of habit. Few, very few, of his acts are entirely new, unaffected, and uninfluenced by other antecedent acts of the same kind. Nearly his whole course of action is made up of repetitions of previous acts. Every single thought, word, and deed, seems a link of a chain—a link which is drawn by others which went before—and draws others which follow it. You artisans, what was the skillful stroke of the hammer file or stamp today—but the effect of habit? You accountants, what was that disentanglement of a financial complexity, and that accurate drawing out a balance sheet—but the force of habit? You noble minded youth, what was that successful resistance today of a strong temptation—but the effect of habit? You liar, drunkard, swearer, sensualist, if such characters have found their way into our assembly this evening, what was that act of vice last night—but the effect of habit? Yes, wherever we go, whatever we do, we are followed, actuated, mastered by habit! How impressive is this! Of what a analyzable nature is our character and conduct! If we are this bundle of habits, how important, and how necessary is it that we should untie it, and carefully examine of what sticks and stuff it is made up. And by a previous act of caution how careful should we be what sticks and stuff we put into the bundle! Today you have been doing something, and tomorrow you will repeat it, that is increasing both your facility and your tendency to do good or evil.
2. It is of importance to remember, that though we are made up of habits, they grow out of single actions. And consequently, while we should be careful and solicitous about the habits we form, we must be no less so about the single acts out of which they grow. In making anything, attention must of course be paid to the individual elements of which it is made up. The baker who wishes to produce a good loaf of bread, must be careful about all ingredients—each must be attended to. The man who would be a good artisan, must take care of every single stroke, for his ultimate skill depends on each. The artist, who would attain to eminence, and bring out a good picture, must take care of every stroke of his brush, for his skill and success depend upon the aggregate of all his individual touches.
Just so regarding habits—we may be too apt to think little of individual acts. There are two insidious temptations to evil which have been more successful in leading to bad habits, than perhaps any others that have ever prevailed. One is, the suggestion,"Oh, it is but a little matter, even if it is wrong!" If it be wrong it cannot be little. There may I admit, be various degrees of evil by comparison, but abstractedly nothing is little that is wrong. What is relatively little leads to, and prepares the way for, what is very great. There is a germinating vitality in all evil, as surely as there is in all good—and as the latter tends to what is better, so does the former to what is worse.
A man who does evil, though it may seem little, loses his timidity and gains courage to go on to worse depths of evil. Habits that have brought ruin for both worlds in their train have begun in what at the time seemed a mere trifle, over which it was then thought that the tenderest conscience needed not to blush. The great Tempter is too skillful in the arts of seduction to alarm the mind by asking too much at once. A great sin would startle the conscience, and it must be prepared for it by the frequent repetition of little ones; the habit of these once formed, the transgressor is prepared for entering upon evils of a more flagrant nature.
The other temptation which leads to bad habits is the suggestion "Only this once!" Out of that 'only once' have come millions of instances of ruin for time and eternity. It is the devil's most artful and most deceitful bait. And that shows the importance, the infinite significance—of avoiding the first wrong step! That single act which is the first deviation from the path of rectitude contains enfolded in itself, all the folly, mischief, wickedness and ruin—of the consummation of an evil course. I read of a servant whose first act of dishonesty was snitching an unused article from the closet; and who having that once, and for the first time, tampered with conscience, went on from step to step until she acquired a habit of dishonesty, which led her to the gallows. Young man now halting and hesitating about some action, the folly and criminality of which are quite clear, urged on by the seductive voice "Only this once," yield, and you are undone! Resist, refuse, and you are a conqueror for life! Upon that single temptation, as upon its hinge, may turn your destiny. The habit of resistance may come out of that stern refusal. Your next victory will be easier, and the next to that easier still.
3. It scarcely need be said that habits are gradually, and very insidiously formed. Whether they are good or bad, they are not acquired all at once. They steal over us by imperceptible advances. My definition implies this. They are formed by the repetition of single acts. This is the most impressive view we can take of the subject. If any confirmed drunkard, swearer, gambler, or the slave of any other wicked habit, had when he commenced his downward course, been solicited to submit to wear the fetters which at last were riveted on him—he would have started with horror at the proposal, and exclaimed, like one of old, "Am I a dog—that I should do this!" And yet the man became the dog to do it. Deceit is one of the characteristics of sin, and its deceitfulness is manifested by the slow and almost imperceptible manner in which it leads the sinner on in his downward career.
We find this noticed by moral writers in every age and country. Many of the ancients used to represent it by the very expressive similitude, that the way of vice lies down hill. If you take but a few steps, the motion is soon accelerated, and becomes so violent and impetuous, that it is almost impossible to arrest it. Or, to change the metaphor, the growth of habit is like that of plants and animals, so slow that advance can only be ascertained by a comparison of distant periods or stages. Nutriment goes in particle by particle, ever increasing the bulk and strength, without either of them, at the time, being perceived by others, or without the subject being conscious of it himself.
4. There is this difference which ought to be pointed out between good and bad habits. While bad habits are formed without intention—good habits are often, and should be always, produced by design. No man in his senses sits down and deliberately says, "I will become an habitual drunkard, swearer, liar, or gamester." These customs come on, as I have shown, insidiously, and by degrees, and without design. Those who are addicted to them do not intentionally go beyond single acts. But the man who determines to attain to excellence of any kind, determines at the same time, or should do so, to go on with the repetition of single acts, until he has acquired the habit. Aware of the power of this, and often feeling the strength of temptation and the weakness of his own nature, he longs to acquire fixedness in the practice of what is right, by adding the power of habit, to the force ofprinciple—and thus stand all prepared to resist the assaults that are made upon his piety and virtue.
5. It is an undoubted fact, and a very natural one, and it should be well considered, that one habit often leads to another both as regards good ones and bad ones. In the bodily frame, one disease sometimes generates another; while also the healthy action of one part of the frame aids to keep others sound. So it is in the mental economy—one bad propensity leads to others, and one virtue to another. Smoking leads in many cases to drinking, drinking to idleness, and idleness to many vices. Extravagance leads often to stealing and lying. Immodest clothing, and love of admiration have often led to promiscuity. Bad company leads to almost everything bad.
And as all vices are related and lead to other vices; so are all virtues. Piety towards God must of necessity lead to morality towards man. Industry leads to soberness; and soberness to thriftiness. There is, however, one operation of even good habits which needs to be pointed out to you, as it may lead you wrong; and that is, carrying them so far in what may be called the line of their own direction as to run into evil. Thus, frugality may degenerate into stinginess. Beneficence may degenerate into a mischievous, undiscriminating, and lavish diffusiveness. Toleration may become indifference to truth. Deference to the opinions of others, may degenerate into slavishness of mind. It is said that many who have been reclaimed by total abstinence from the misery and poverty of drunkenness to a course of sobriety and economy, have carried this so far as to become selfish and miserly.
6. I now arrive at the facts announced by all writers, and confirmed by all observation and all experience, that habits once formed, though not absolutely invincible—are broken with extreme difficulty. Who, that has ever made the trial, will not attest this fact? Why, if we have acquired the habit of an ungraceful position of the body, or an inelegant pronunciation, or any ridiculous mode of address, and wish to break ourselves of it—how hard do we find it to get rid of it, even when the bad habit was acquired without any overt design! How much more when all the power of internal desire comes in to confirm the practice, and to resist the attempt to unmanacle the poor slave! How many smokers have determined to do battle with the pipe, and after an ineffectual struggle against the habit have been vanquished at last!
An amusing instance of this kind came under my own knowledge. A young man who had acquired the habit of smoking entered as a student for the ministry at one of our colleges, where smoking was forbidden. From peculiar circumstances a toleration in his favor was granted him. He however encountered so much petty persecution in the way of gibes and ridicule from his fellow students, who were concerned to break his habit, that he made a solemn vow he would not take a pipe in his mouth for a week. His sense of the privation was so acute and distressing that he could not conceive the agonies of starvation to be more intolerable; and he determined, when the week was ended, to resume his favorite gratification. Having made up his mind to this, he set about seeking how he could keep his vow in the letter and still enjoy at least something of his taste for tobacco smoke. One of the students took pity on him, sat by his side with a lighted pipe, drew in a large whiff, and then blew it into the mouth of the smoker. There they would sit for half an hour together. When the week was ending, he sat up until midnight—and then flew to the tobacco-box and pipe with such an eagerness as if he would have eaten both, and sat up smoking nearly all night. Behold the slavery of habit! O why will men bring themselves into bondage to such tastes, such artificial habits? Is it befitting the dignity of our rational nature? What a potency has that 'tobacco leaf' acquired over mankind!
Perhaps there is no habit so universal, and so hard to conquer as that of drunkenness. This enemy, when he has gained the complete mastery, is all but invincible. The craving of this appetite is so urgent, the misery of the inebriate when not under the influence of liquor is so intense, the stings of his conscience are sometimes so venomous, and his remorse so tormenting, the wretchedness he occasions to his wife and children is so desolating—that in addition to the gratification of his lusts, he flies to the bottle as a refuge and a hiding place from his own sorrowful reflections! Said a man of fortune and family when remonstrated with on his drinking habits, "If a glass of liquor were placed before me, my propensity is so strong, that I would drink it though I knew I should be damned the next moment!"
I once read of the case of a young man who began life with fair prospects of prosperity and happiness. He married a lovely young woman, had a family, succeeded in business, and all went well until he acquired a habit of drinking, when of course he neglected his business and came to ruin. Stung with remorse at seeing the misery he had brought upon his wife and family, he determined to reform, and struggled hard against his dreadful foe, and at length succeeded. Reformation was effected, and again the sun of his prosperity shone out from behind the clouds. All went on well for a time, until he fell again under the power of temptation, and relapsed into his former habit, and ruin again was the sequence. To break his habit, he went a voyage for two years in a temperance ship, which allowed no liquors to be carried except for medicinal purposes. He was restored to his family a reformed drunkard; and by industry and total abstinence, rose again to comfort and some measure of prosperity. Temptation of a peculiarly strong nature once more assailed him and he fell; still he determined to carry on the struggle, and as a next resource, got himself admitted into a lunatic asylum, and after some time came out to make another trial. He then went on well for a considerable time, and gave all the appearances and hopes of an emancipated slave, when a fiend, for I can call him nothing else, tempted him to take again to the fatal glass. For a while he stoutly resisted the temptation, until his seducer, knowing his weak point, as a man of somewhat proud spirit, jeered, taunted, and goaded him as being under "petticoat government," and afraid of his wife. In a fit of passion he yielded, touched the 'fascinating potion,' awoke the appetite for drinking, plunged again into the depth of intoxication, and then in a fit of despair, took poison and died the death of the suicide! His wife sent for the tempter, conducted him into the dead man's chamber, threw back the sheet which covered his face, and simply said, "Behold your victim!"
Young men, learn then how closely riveted, are the chains of habit! Still the rivets may be broken, the chains cast off, and the slave go free. Reason, reflection, resolute determination, and the help of God—will enable you to burst the strongest bonds of the strongest habit.
I have an intimate friend still living, once the miserable captive of infidelity and inebriety, and in his sins so wretched, so weary of his habits and his life, that despairing of ever conquering his deadly foe, he grasped a razor, and was about to apply it to his throat, and reeking with self-murder, rush into the presence of an angry God! Happily he was restrained, applied himself again to the struggle, and was victorious, and lived not only to become a model of sobriety and sanctity, but to be eminently useful by the productions of his pen. But though so holy a man, and so well fortified by reason, piety, and his own consciousness of the happiness of temperance—he is so afraid of his former foe and everything that could awaken it into renewed activity and assault, that he has, I believe, never from the hour of his reform, allowed one drop of intoxicating liquors to touch his palate.
Permit me now to refer to some particular habits, both bad and good.
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