Discipline

The Horse said, “Now, if I didn’t have this old tight harness on, I could be happy.”  And the Harness squeaked, “All they expect me to do is to haul this heavy cart around the world and back again.”  And the Cart complained, “I could be comfortable if I didn’t have to hold up this Fat Man.  He makes me squeak in every joint.”  And the Fat Man snorted, “If my hired man wasn’t such a lunk-head, I’d trust him to drive this outfit to market.”  And the Hired Man, leaning against the barn door, groaned, “If I didn’t have to feed the Old Horse and rub him down when he comes home, I could go fishing.” 

Which shows that there is no such thing as being your own and sole boss.

The private has to mind the corporal, the corporal must mind the sergeant, the sergeant must obey the lieutenant, the lieutenant takes orders from the captain, and so on away up to the Colonel.

It’s discipline that makes the mare go—also everybody else.  Discipline chafes—yes.  But it’s minding the one higher up that spells duty.  Well, just supposing now—

The Hired Man does go fishing; the Horse falls sick through inattention.  The Cart gives up, breaks, and the Fat Man is let down.  The Harness breaks a tug—and the Horse runs away.  And that would please the Horse, be just what he wanted.  But of what service is a runaway Horse, a damaged Fat man, a broken Cart, and so on?

If we had never had discipline—well, there would be no Pyramids of Egypt, no heroism at Verdun, no exploration of Africa, no great railroads, no great paintings, no great music.

Of course, there are two kinds of discipline: that which comes from others and which is most apt to irritate the feelings, and the self-discipline which irks the soul.  The soldier can vouch for the first.  The great artist, the great musician, the captain of industry, and the great athlete—all these can speak fluently of the second.

Perhaps the Horse would say as he sought the comforting straw in his stall for the last time, “Well, I’m glad I stuck to it.  I took the Fat Man to market for fifteen years and never missed a trip.  Some record.”

The soldier will say when he listens for the last time to taps, “I saw it through.  I’m glad.”

And you—well, when you are three-score and ten, and you’re watching the game from the grandstand, you’ll say “Discipline?  Just what I needed.”