Originally published in Pearson's Weekly (C. Arthur Pearson Ltd.) vol.1 #28 (31 Jan 1891).
It is the custom to laugh at the Turks for their eccentric belief in Kismet, but how often do we meet with men and women who talk of their luck as a sort of evil spirit to which they attribute all their misfortunes. The ruined gambler, the vicious sybarite, the bankrupt speculator, the oft-plucked passman, the disappointed men and women, one and all, persuade themselves that they are the sufferers from "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune."
This belief grows stronger with each succeeding stroke of misfortune, retribution, or failure. Instead of perceiving and acknowledging that the fault lies in themselves, these fancied martyrs give way to despair, and spend their lives in a wearying tirade against the incubus of bad luck which their own disordered imagination has created. They see others pass them by in the race of life, succeeding where they have failed, hoping where they have despaired, and toiling in good health while they are miserable dyspeptics, reviling their wretchedness and their—luck.
Listen to the gambler, to take one example, who has just lost his last note. He execrates his luck, and Job-like, laments the day on which such an unlucky being as himself was born. Now, if a man bets or gambles in any way he has no right to grumble if he loses. The chances are all against him from the beginning.
Richelieu maintained, with good reason, that an unfortunate and an improvident person were synonymous terms; for a slight investigation of the character and habits of those who are constantly complaining of their luck would reveal the fact—which they are the last to acknowledge—that lack of energy and culpable neglect of plain duties are the prevailing characteristics of their lives. At the same time it is impossible not to see that many men who have risen in the world have occasionally found great and unexpected assistance from the very last source that they would be inclined to look to for it—namely, chance.
Without entering into a logical argument about the "divinity that shapes our ends," it will be sufficient to
state that most unlooked-for opportunities do present themselves to all men at some period of their lives. Then it is that the nature of the man asserts itself. The feeble and irresolute mind contemplates the situation, but, from sheer laziness or inability to act, hesitates until too late; the "tide" is not "taken at the flood," a lifetime of unavailing regret is the miserable result, and, of course, nothing is blamed but luck.
On the other hand, the vigorous will prompts to instant action, the opportunity is turned to account, and a step taken onwards which "leads to fortune." Depend upon it there is no such thing as getting on in the world, and succeeding in any career, through sheer force of luck. Cæsar believed in his luck, but Cæsar's indomitable will and extraordinary perseverance ensured the success which he attributed to fortune. Had he been a man of puny mind, and a mere fanatic believer in luck, he would not have jumped up with such alacrity and unconcern when he had that famous tumble upon his nose.
Sir Walter Raleigh was considered a very lucky man, no doubt, to have obtained his queen's favour; but then he deserved it for his tact. There was the opportunity, and there was his cloak. Into the mud puddle it went. He was a man of ready resources. While his companions hesitated, and were at a loss how to save Elizabeth's shoes from the dirt, he alone had his wits about him. Many a man, however, gets credit for his luck, and none for his tact and ready common sense, which are the secret of all his successes.
"But, come now," someone may exclaim, "surely he is a lucky fellow who is 'born with a silver spoon in his
mouth,' or who comes in for handsome legacy?" It does not follow at all. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred money is nothing else to its possessor. How often does a "lucky" legatee run through his newly-found wealth, and return to his former impecunious condition with the uncomfortable sensation of having made a fool of himself.
There are scores of men living now who would be ruined for life by the possession of a few hundreds a year; that is to say, they would most assuredly degenerate into those drones of society who are either contemptible nonentities or dangerous pests, A man once went to Lord Thurlow an asked him what his son had better do to succeed at the bar? "Let him his fortune," replied the chancellor, "marry, and spend his wife's, and then go to the bar; there will be little fear of his failure." When there be no need for exertion there are few who will exert themselves.
When a man loafs through life and allows his talents to rust, and his powers of being useful to lie dormant, he is an encumbrance worthy of pity, if not of contempt. By no stretch of the imagination can anyone think that he is "in luck" to be enabled to live such
a worthless existence. It is a popular notion, of course, that a man who is independent is "in luck;" but popular notions are often extremely fallacious, from being founded upon mere cursory observation. It is far more frequently a lucky thing for a man to be poor. The world would be minus many useful inventions, the roll of famous names would be sadly shortened, if fortune had made more of these so-called "lucky men" and fewer impecunious "unfortunates" who are bound to exert themselves.