The Oak Shade, or, Records of a Village Literary Association
General
The Oak Shade, or, Records of a Village Literary Association
American literature -- 19th century
The more Peter contemplated this newly discovered subject, the more
did the apparent similarity in sympathies and habits to himself,
elicit his admiration. There is no one, thought he, so eminently wise
and philosophic as the genuine loafer. Whilst the rest of mankind are
struggling and grasping, losing to-morrow what they held with tenacious
clutch to-day, this idle philosopher looks calmly on and laughs at the
butterfly chase. He sees his fellows contending with bitterness and
jealousy for a fancied good, and beholds the only pleasure it could
afford crushed in their own hands in their eagerness to attain it. In
the conflict around him, the passions of men are arrayed against each
other, and the good sentiments of their natures compelled to yield
before the concussions they encounter. It is a struggle in which he
sees the most vicious too often carry off the greatest prizes, whilst
none retires from the field without leaving a portion of his soul
behind. Others may follow the alluring promises which tempt them, and
be carried away by the first surging wave of excitement that sweeps
along, he remains unmoved. Let the world go as it will, he betakes
himself to the sweet shade of some friendly tree, and calmly, though
rudely it may be, philosophises upon the vanities which dazzle other
eyes and bedizzen other heads, but never soften the bed of the grave,
nor promise repose beyond it. He knows that heaven is not to be
purchased by the fleeting things that charm the eye and gratify human
vanity, and the harmony of his spirits is never broken up in conflicts
to possess them. Happily the dial of time moves on, never too slow nor
too fast for him, and his even temper keeps him in a perpetual calm.
Unmoved by the discord around him, he remains content in his solitary
leisure, or quietly takes his ease with his companions, furnishing a
worthy illustration of genuine and perfect freedom. Even Tully himself
could not look upon that man as properly free who had not the privilege
of sometimes doing nothing--a privilege rightly appreciated and justly
exercised only by the loafer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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