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LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 Received j^N 4 1893 ^^9 
 
 Accessions No. HQ ^2- / . Class No. 
 
m- 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
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 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
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THE CHILD. 
 
* THE CHILD: 
 
 BY 
 
 MONSEIGNEUR DUPANLOUP, 
 
 Bishop of Orleans. 
 
 TRANSLATED, WITH THE AUTHOR'S PERMISSION, 
 
 KATE ANDERSON 
 
 'TJHI7BESITY; 
 
 boston: 
 
 THOMAS B. NOON AN & CO. 
 

3 
 
 AUTHORIZATION 
 
 25 Fev., 1873. 
 St. Hyeres, 
 
 Var. 
 
 Madame, 
 
 Je siiis fort touche de la bonne lettre que vous 
 avez bien voulu m'ecrire, et je consens bien volon- 
 tiers a ce que vous me demandez. 
 
 Je vous benis bien paternellement en Notre Sei- 
 gneur. 
 
 *i* F. EvEQUE d' Orleans. 
 
14^"^^ 
 
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 Being desirous that all Parents and Teachers in 
 my country should have the advantage of the high 
 theory, and the useful and practical instructions, 
 respecting the education of the Child, contained in 
 this Treatise, I have ventured on translating it. If 
 my close adherence to the text be not consistent 
 with what critics designate pure and classical Eng- 
 lish, I trust the beauty and sublimity of this great 
 Bishop's language will be considered sufficient ex- 
 cuse. 
 
 I have the honor to remain, 
 
 The Translator. 
 
y^^' OP THR '^ 
 
 [TJHIVERSITTl 
 
 AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 Having, after long study and laborious experi- 
 ence, sought, by the most profound reflection, to 
 discover what the two fundamental rules in educa- 
 tion were, I have found them to be authority and 
 respect. For this reason, I consider I ought to 
 place these two words, so important, before all, and 
 commence with them. No doubt, the first pages of 
 my book will not suffice to demonstrate what I ad- 
 vance here ; it is the entire book which proves the 
 demonstration. I venture to say there is not a page 
 in which this truth, with its forcible and vivid light, 
 is not repeatedly met. I do not doubt, even, that the 
 penetrating glance of elevated and attentive minds 
 will, from the first, discover why the two holiest and 
 greatest sentiments which can exist in humanity on 
 earth, to wit, authority and respect, are the greatest 
 essentials in education, and appear as the founda- 
 tion, and even the chief means of the work which it 
 aims to accomplish. What is education actually } 
 what is, at the same time, the highest, the most pro- 
 found, the most general, the most simple conception 
 of it } It is this : to cultivate, to train, to develop, 
 
 9 
 
lO AUTHOR S PREFACE. 
 
 to Strengthen, and to polish all the physical, intel- 
 lectual, moral, and religious faculties which consti- 
 tute nature and human dignity in the child ; to give 
 to these faculties their perfect integrity ; to estab- 
 lish them in the plenitude of their power and their 
 action. Hence, to form man, and prepare him to 
 serve his country in the various social offices he may 
 some day, during his life on earth, be called on to 
 fill ; and thus, in a higher conception, prepare him 
 for eternal life, by elevating his present life. Such 
 is the work — such is the end of education. Such is 
 the duty of parents, when God, uniting them by His 
 supreme providence, gives through them life to noble 
 creatures, and charges them with continuing and 
 completing this entirely Divine task, of conducting 
 to happiness, by truth and virtue, these children, 
 whom he will, one day, associate with Himself in 
 His eternal felicity and glory. Such is the duty of 
 men who unite an honorable choice, a superior voca- 
 tion, a generous devotion, to authority and parental 
 solicitude ; such is the holy mission of teachers of 
 youth ; and that always and everywhere, among the 
 most learned and civilized nations, as well as the 
 least enlightened and least polished peoples. Pri- 
 vate education and public education, the most ordi- 
 nary as well as the highest, the education of girls 
 and of boys — in a word, human education — suc- 
 ceeds only on these conditions, and at this price. 
 Otherwise it is not education. Such is the law of 
 nature, and the order imposed by Providence itself. 
 What is actually in question? It is important to 
 understand it well from the first. Here is a child : 
 
AUTHOR S PREFACE. I I 
 
 it is necessary to bring him up ; but what does that 
 mean, and what is this child ? This child is man- 
 kind ; he is entire humanity ; he is man : nothing 
 more, nothing less. He has a right to the solicitude 
 of all the authorities, to the action and benevolence 
 of all the powers on earth. He has a right to every 
 respect, and he, in his turn, owes it to them. All 
 the authorities, divine and human — the Prince, the 
 Priest, the Teacher, the Magistrate, the Church, 
 home and society, have been instituted for him. 
 Moral discipline, instruction, literature, science, re- 
 ligion, all the prizes of labor and virtue ; in fine, 
 Providence and everything on earth exists for him ; 
 because he himself is on earth from God and for 
 God ! For this reason, all in this world ought to labor 
 for his education ; all ought to concur in bringing 
 him up ; all ought to perform or assist in this great 
 work. With regard to the rest, the beautiful classi- 
 cal term, which is the foundation of the language 
 adopted by mankind to designate education, suffices 
 to point out that this is not a high and fooUsh theory, 
 a magnificent speculation without possible reality. 
 Indeed, the simple enunciation of these terms carries 
 with it the clearness of real truth ; and, in order to 
 obtain the highest evidence of this, it will be suffi- 
 cient to determine the ordinary and incontestable 
 meaning of each expression ; and to prove the noble- 
 ness, the elevation, and practical force of the general 
 conceptions revealed by human language with re- 
 spect to education. Let us now enter into details. 
 
 Take the word ''education." What noble ideas, 
 what powerful action, its etymology expresses here ! 
 
12 AUTHORS PREFACE. 
 
 It is almost to draw out of nothing, almost to create ; 
 it is, at least, to draw the slumbering faculties out of 
 lethargy and torpor ; it is to give life, movement, and 
 power to the still imperfect existence. It is in this 
 sense that intellectual, moral, and religious educa- 
 tion is the highest human work that can be per- 
 formed. It is the continuation of the Divine work 
 in that which is most noble and elevated — the crea- 
 tion of minds. And, for this reason, it is also the 
 work of the highest authority. 
 
 In education, God is the source and ground of 
 authority and respect ; of the essential duties and 
 rights of all : He is the model and image of the 
 work which is to be performed ; He is the most power- 
 ful and skilled workman in it. From whatever point 
 of view I place myself in order to consider the work 
 of education, it appears to my eyes as one of the 
 most admirable reflections of the Divine power, wis- 
 dom, and goodness. 
 
 Education receives the foundation, the matter, 
 which the first creation confides to it ; it undertakes 
 to form it ; it imprints it with beauty, elevation, po- 
 liteness, greatness ; it is as an inspiration of life, 
 power, grace, and enlightenment. When the im- 
 mortal Archbishop of Cambrai undertook the educa- 
 tion of the Duke of Burgundy, he applied himself, 
 says the historian, and succeeded, in as much as was 
 in his power, in forming and realizing in his royal 
 pupil the perfection of virtue — as the artists of 
 antiquity sought to impress on their works that 
 supreme beauty which gives to human forms a super- 
 natural and heavenly expression. It has been also 
 
AUTHORS PREFACE. 1 3 
 
 said that the Duke of Burgundy was one of the 
 noblest creations of wisdom and genius. 
 
 It is to the Romans — it is to their tongue, so sub- 
 lime and so forcible, that we owe this word, so grave 
 in meaning, so energetic in expression. The French 
 have enriched the language, and even expressed the 
 action of education, by a word, the nobleness and 
 brilliancy of which contests with the sublimity and 
 energy of the Latin word. Their expression is 
 '' el ever'' — to raise up, to elevate. Beautiful word! 
 and, if the meaning proper to it seems less profound, 
 and expresses less forcibly the action — the creative 
 power of education, it adds to this fundamental con- 
 ception, beauty, ornament, and greatness. And is 
 the creative action of education really anything else .-* 
 Yes; '' elever'' is a beautiful word, thoroughly 
 French : it has dignity and greatness. It surrounds 
 education with a natural cortege of the beautiful 
 ideas which are attached to it. To elevate the soul ; 
 to elevate the mind ; to elevate the sentiments and 
 the thoughts; to elevate the character — ^^are the 
 natural conceptions of a nation, the duties and the 
 end of education. 
 
 The merit due to France is that of having promptly 
 understood all this, and worthily lent herself to it ; 
 the glory of French genius is that of having, on 
 finding this language suited to it, instinctively 
 adopted it ; and then an education expressed and 
 carried on so ought to be of the highest. Germany 
 and England have not had the same inspiration, and 
 they envy us ; for it is one of these expressions 
 which do honor to a nation ; and, applied to educa- 
 
14 AUTHOR S PREFACE. 
 
 tion, it points out all the fecundity and power that 
 exist in a word ; and how it can pick up, in passing, 
 noble and useful meanings, which, without it, would 
 have remained unperceived and in obscurity. It is 
 one of those words which not only enrich the lan- 
 guage of a people, but enrich and strengthen their 
 morals, and elevate a conception to its highest power. 
 And when this conception is that of the education 
 even of youth ; besides, when this language has 
 given to the world the expressions genms and charac- 
 ter, two words still so French, and which are found, 
 for the first time, with the elegance of their absolute 
 meaning, in our national dictionary, is it not suffi- 
 cient to justify me, if I permit myself to say that 
 our tongue possesses, in its generous energy, some of 
 those happy words, inspired from on high, which will 
 ever be the property of France } 
 
 Education, then, forms, elevates, in some manner 
 creates. It is in order to succeed in this, that it 
 cultivates, it trains, it acts, and causes to act. For 
 this reason, it is a work of high authority, and, at the 
 same time, claims from those whom it brings up a 
 respectful docility. It cultivates by physical cares, 
 by intellectual instruction, by moral discipline, by 
 religious lessons. Like an intelligent gardener, it 
 places the plant w^hich is confided to it in good earth ; 
 it waters it from a pure stream, surrounds it with 
 generous food, and thus nourishes juices, which, in 
 seconding the interior labor, assist active vegetation, 
 and cause growth, in order to give flowers and fruit 
 in the proper time. Education, then, cultivates, and 
 this is especially the duty of the teacher. But that 
 
AUTHORS PREFACE. 1 5 
 
 is not all. Education trains, and causes to act ; it 
 requires the active concurrence, the docile concur- 
 rence, the free, spontaneous, personal exercise, of the 
 pupil. As the master of a young and noble courser 
 makes him fly through space, ascend hills, draw bur- 
 dens, struggle against fatigue, and thus gives to him 
 all the suppleness, all the vigor, which he is capable 
 of ; in like manner, the teacher, in proposing certain 
 studies, certain efforts, certain exercises to his pupil, 
 in energetically inciting him, wisely directing him to 
 them, causes him, as is suitable, to labor and effica- 
 ciously contribute, himself, to his own education. I 
 have said, as is suitable ; I should have said, as is 
 necessary ; for such is the design of God, and even 
 of His providence. The child is a moral being, en- 
 dowed with liberty, and capable of action ; it is 
 necessary that he should labor to develop, to ennoble, 
 to elevate himself of himself; otherwise his educa- 
 tion is not accomplished. The law of labor is the 
 great law of human education. No one on earth is 
 created in order to do nothing. Every intelligent 
 and free creature is essentially destined to action. 
 Activity nourishes, trains, gives strength and life. 
 Idleness, or doing nothing, is annihilation — is death. 
 I do not fear to declare, also, that the principal talent 
 of the teacher consists in making his pupil enter 
 courageously into the path of labor and personal 
 application. Labor, or the exercise of the body, 
 which gives vigor to its members ; labor of the mind, 
 which forms in it judgment, taste, reasoning,' mem- 
 ory, imagination ; labor of the heart, of the will, of 
 the conscience, which forms the character, gives 
 
1 6 author's preface. 
 
 birth to modest tendencies and virtuous habits. 
 Work of the master, and labor of the pupil. 
 
 Education is, then, at the same time, culture and 
 exercise, instruction and study ; the master culti- 
 vates, instructs, labors outwardly ; but it is essen- 
 tially necessary that there should be exercise, appli- 
 cation, labor, within. It is indispensable to under- 
 stand this well. In education, what the teacher does 
 himself is a trifling matter; what he causes to be 
 done is everything. Whosoever does not understand 
 that, understands nothing of the work of human 
 education. Education, from whatsoever side we con- 
 sider it, is, then, essentially an action, and a creative 
 action ; the teacher and the pupil both essentially 
 take part in it : the teacher, with authority and devo- 
 tion ; the pupil, with docility and respect. To the 
 first belongs this powerful and fertile action respect- 
 ing the child, this real authority, which gives him 
 the right and imposes on him the duty of acting as 
 master. In education, as elsewhere, without real 
 authority there can be no legitimate action. But this 
 action is an action entirely beneficent ; for education 
 is essentially a paternal service ; the master replaces 
 and represents a father. 
 
 In the teacher, devotion should inspire and^ en- 
 courage his action ; kindness, affection, tenderness, 
 should be the foundation and the soul of his devo- 
 tion. In the pupil there should be profound docility, 
 courageous efforts, grateful and inviolable respect 
 towards an action which is a benefit ; for an author- 
 ity inspired by affection and devotion. 
 
 I have spoken of God, the parents, the teacher, the 
 
AUTHOR S PREFACE. \J 
 
 child ; I ought to speak of school-fellows. School- 
 fellow ; that is to say, the begining of society ; 
 social life, its duties and its rights ; the noble emula- 
 tion ; the force of example; the sharing of joys and 
 sorrows, labors and success ; the artless friendships, 
 the support, the mutual assistance, the fraternity 
 even ; for the school-fellow is the brother, the family, 
 when education is what it ought to be. With school- 
 fellows there will be reciprocal clashing, and, conse- 
 quently, the beneficial teaching of mutual endurance 
 and patience, true and wise equality, respect for 
 others — all such precious sentiments. There are 
 no, or very few, good educations without school-fel- 
 lows. 
 
 Such are the chief conceptions; such are the 
 rights and higher order of duties revealed by these 
 first words: — To Cultivate, to Train. 
 
 We shall now ascertain why we have said that 
 education is, above all, a work of authority and 
 respect. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 The Child ; his dispositions ; his faults 23 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 The child ; my experiences 34 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 The spoiled child 45 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The child ; some advice on his early education 67 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The respect due to the dignity of childhood is a religious respect . 82 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 On human nature in the child ; on his defects ; necessity of 
 knowing them well, and correcting them in him 92 
 
 CHAPTER VH. 
 Two important observations on the same subject 98 
 
 CHAPTER Vni. 
 
 Of the different species of defects 107 
 
 19 
 
20 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Classification of defects nj 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Profound origin of our defects ; original sin ; the triple concu- 
 piscence 126 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Pride, superbia vita, the chief source of our defects 1 30 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 On the four kinds of evil spirits which pride is father to 147 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A last word on the manner of treating the proud 1 53 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Second source of defects in man and in the child ; sensuality . .160 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 "What is to be done in order to save children from the dangers of 
 sensuality 177 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Curiosity ; levity ; third source of defects in man and in the child 187 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Of the child, and of the respect due to the liberty of his nature . . 205 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 The child; the respect due to the liberty of his intellect 216 
 
CONTENTS. 21 
 
 PAGB 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Of the child, and the respect due to the liberty of his will .... 236 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 Of the child, and the respect due to the liberty of his vocation . .253 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Nothing on earth happens by accident : there is, then, for every 
 one, and for each state, a vocation from God 279 
 
 Conclusion 2S9 
 
^TISIVEESITTj 
 
 THE CHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE child; his dispositions, his faults, his 
 
 RESOURCES. 
 
 To cultivate, to train, to develop, to strengthen, 
 and to polish all the faculties — physical, intellectual, 
 moral, and religious — which constitute in the child 
 nature and human dignity : such is the work of edu- 
 cation. 
 
 The child is, then, the personal subject of educa- 
 tion. It is important to study him to the heart, and 
 to see closely what greatness he has in him, what 
 resources he offers, and in the name of what noble 
 qualities, in the name of what superior faculties, he 
 claims the highest, the most tender solicitude, and 
 all the cares of a religious respect. Should this book 
 fall into the hands of those whom I have had the 
 happiness to bring up, they will not be surprised at 
 my language. Doubtless, in the days of their educa- 
 tion, I spoke more frequently to them of my tender- 
 ness than of my respect. Nevertheless, I did not 
 fear to disclose to themselves the secret of most deli- 
 cate duties towards their soul ; I loved to explain to 
 
 23 
 
24 THE CHILD. 
 
 them the devotion and respect with which the pious 
 teachers of their youth believed they were bound to 
 rear them. These dear children understood those 
 lessons ; and it is a homage which is to me as sweet 
 to render as it can be glorious to them to receive ; 
 they have always shown themselves worthy of being 
 pupils in the school of respect. But what, then, is 
 the child that he should be deserving of a religious 
 respect ? The child : he is man himself, with all his 
 future contained in his early years. The child : he is 
 the hope of the family and of society; he is the 
 human race springing up again ; the country which 
 perpetuates itself, and is as the renewing of human- 
 ity in its bloom. The child is an amiable creature, 
 whose candor, artless simplicity, confiding docility, 
 win affection and give birth to the most pleasing 
 anticipations; he is the blessing of God a;nd the 
 depositary of heaven — an innocent soul, the peace- 
 ful sleep of whose passions has not yet been dis- 
 turbed, whose uprightness has not yet been impaired 
 by the fascinations of lying and the deceits of the 
 world. The child is a simple and pure heart, to 
 which Religion may present herself with confidence, 
 which, as yet, has no private interests to prefer to 
 her, and which willingly permits itself to be softened 
 by her maternal voice. He is this first age of life, so 
 sweet to see ; so amiable to cultivate ; most fre- 
 quently so suitable to train ; so easy to mould to the 
 holiest duties ; and always so interesting to study 
 closely. Ah ! I understand how childhood can have 
 been so dear to the God of the Gospel. All in it 
 breathes of innocence and grace. There is in this 
 
THE CHILD ; HIS DISPOSITIONS, ETC. 2$ 
 
 first age something which comes more recently from 
 heaven, which calls forth all the blessings of the 
 Divine Hand, and depicts to us on earth the sweetest 
 charms of candor and virtue. You will say to me, 
 perhaps, it is evident you take pleasure in speaking 
 here of those children of benediction, who are inno- 
 cence, docility, and wisdom itself ; whom nature and 
 grace seem to have vied in forming, and who appear to 
 be born for the love of heaven and the delight of earth. 
 No ; I speak here of all children, whatever they may 
 be. I take this age in its widest meaning ; and I say 
 that there is in it a grace, a dignity, a nobleness, which 
 belongs to it; there is 3omething of blessedness 
 which breathes forth its celestial origin, and which 
 is not in the generality of men. Nothing has yet 
 been blighted or debased in this child, such as I 
 represent him to myself. He has never committed 
 an unworthy act with reflection ; he has not yet lied 
 with cleverness ; he has not knowingly despised or 
 hated virtue — justice, natural equity, and plain-deal- 
 ing are quick in him. No doubt he bears in him, 
 caused by the original stain, that inclination to evil 
 which is now the sad inheritance of our nature ; but 
 it is a germ hidden in the depths of his soul, which 
 has not yet received any development. No one is 
 better acquainted with the faults of the first age than 
 I, and I will presently show that I have neither any 
 wish nor any need to ignore them. The long years 
 which I have devoted to the care of children have 
 been the sweetest, but also the most laborious, of my 
 life ; and if my hair has blanched before its time, 
 it is in the service of childhood. Who elsewhere 
 3 
 
26 THE CHILD. 
 
 occupied with children has not met, does not know 
 all there is in them to reform and correct by educa- 
 tion. It is also, I say it without trouble, it is also in 
 this age one meets side by side with the happiest dis- 
 positions, the most depraved instincts — stubborn- 
 ness, passion, jealousy, lying — I will say even 
 ingratitude. It is especially at this age egotism, 
 thoughtless as it is, shows itself, prejudiced, capri- 
 cious, and eager. I have never met with more pro- 
 found selfishness than among children. When their 
 early years have been cherished in effeminacy, with 
 what secret repugnance they repulse all truth which 
 wounds them! — with what deplorable instinct they 
 seize all that is false or evil, and which flatters them ! 
 It is, above all, an inquisitive, unsteady, restless age 
 
 — greedy of possession, enemy of constraint. It is 
 this age which opens the eyes, with such dangerous 
 eagerness, on life, to discover in it every charm ; this 
 age whose glances wander with anxiety on the smil- 
 ing scene of the world, to see in it deceitful beauties 
 
 — in fine, the age in which the heart, though still so 
 young, awakens and glows for the first time at all 
 which surrounds it, soliciting with ardor the food 
 which is necessary for its desires, and hastening to 
 taste the vain pleasures which perhaps will soon tar- 
 nish its innocence. I admit all that — why should I 
 feign not to know it t It is precisely the inexperi- 
 ence, the weakness, the innumerable perils, and, 
 above all, the faults, of this first age, which interest 
 my heart, alarm my tenderness, and which claim 
 from indifference itself solicitude and paternal cares. 
 I repeat, then, childhood is giddy, inattentive, pre- 
 
THE child; his dispositions, etc. 27 
 
 sumptuous, violent, stubborn ; it is the age of heed- 
 lessness, waywardness, and pleasure; the age of all 
 the illusions, and hence almost all the errors, of this 
 age, and also all the laborious cares of education. 
 " But," added Fenelon, " it is the only age in which 
 man can count on himself to correct his faults ; " 
 and, I ask, what is more winning, and, I will add, 
 more worthy of respect, than a being so young 
 making efforts to become better ? Is it not one of 
 the most glorious and most moving privileges of 
 childhood } Mature age, and especially old age, are 
 almost without resources against their faults ; they 
 can only with great difficulty reclaim themselves 
 from the unfortunate bent they have taken, and ex- 
 tirpate the evil which has grown old with them. 
 There usually remains to them but a constitution 
 weakened and spoiled by custom. As to children, if 
 they, like men, have faults of dispositiojt, they have 
 not, at least yet, those acquired faults which the prog- 
 ress of time, the influence of habit, and the fatal 
 strength of nature, fully developed for evil, caused to 
 be justly designated vices. All is still pliant in 
 them, and all is new ; it is easy to set straight again 
 these tender plants and raise them towards heaven. 
 Nothing is worn out, nothing is deeply rooted, in 
 these young and capricious creatures. 
 
 There is nothing more lovely to see, even in the 
 midst of these faults, than the dawning reason and 
 virtue of a child — " lilium inter spinas," say the 
 Scriptures ; nothing more touching to observe than 
 the first efforts he makes against himself, to correct 
 himself. How necessary to exhort and sustain him 
 
28 THE CHILD. 
 
 then ; with what affection he must be made to com- 
 prehend that one blesses God for his courage ; he 
 must be made to feel that one is happy by it. It is 
 very necessary to convince him of it, and one can 
 never give too much tender encouragement to a child 
 who labors to conquer his temper and control him- 
 self, who is sensible of his faults, reproaches himself 
 with them, acknowledges them candidly, loves those 
 who reprehend him, and, in good time, puts his hand 
 to the great work of his own improvement. We can- 
 not, then, be too careful ; for we often deceive our- 
 selves. Yes ; too frequently we become terrified 
 without reason at the faults of early youth. Under 
 the most rugged bark there is sometimes a stock 
 living and full of sap, which will give excellent 
 fruits : so also a mild and polished exterior some- 
 times conceals a deceitful heart and the wretched 
 principles of corruption. It is especially necessary 
 to distrust those who are spoken of as fine children. 
 I do not say we should be prejudiced against them ; 
 but it is necessary to look well to them ; they 
 rarely become that which they promise. On the 
 contrary, notwithstanding the appearances of gid- 
 diness and too lively an inclination for pleasure, a 
 child may be wise, reasonable, and sensible to virtue. 
 I have many times met with these young beings, 
 who, under the turbulent exterior of their age, con- 
 cealed a reason already much matured, a clear mind, 
 a firm, decided character, even in the midst of the 
 mobility of their impressions, and I avow these were 
 the children who interested me most; that it was 
 with them I had need to guard against the prefer- 
 
THE CHILD ; HIS DISPOSITIONS, ETC. 29 
 
 ences of my heart. I do not, then, make any diffi- 
 culty in acknowledging it. The child, even he who 
 at his birth has received from heaven the happiest 
 disposition, is a weak, fickle being, who wanders 
 from desire to desire, at the mercy of his own incon- 
 stancy. It seems as if nothing can fix him ; that he 
 is incapable of applying his mind to anything — of 
 forming a resolution, of taking a serious part; in 
 everything he appears to follow fancy, the most frivo- 
 lous whims, and to have nothing steady ; all in eter- 
 nal agitation. But religious instructors may permit 
 me to say in their name, it is the work and even the 
 glory of education to conquer this fickleness and set- 
 tle this unsteadiness ; it is also the work and the 
 glory of youth. 
 
 I have helped to this triumph, and I have enjoyed 
 it. I have seen children, before their twelfth year, 
 faithful at the hours of silence, attentive to the les- 
 sons of knowledge and virtue, eager to labor, ardent 
 in the struggles of emulation, re-collected at prayer, 
 and I have said to myself: what pure joy! what 
 honor for those who brought up those children, and 
 who have contrived to form minds so mature, hearts 
 so firm, souls so thoughtful, in so early an age ! How 
 impossible not to love children — so courageous and 
 so amiable! What happiness to expend one's love 
 and cares in forming them ! How impossible not to 
 admire a childhood so noble and so pure — so gener- 
 ous and so docile ! Pardon me my prepossessions 
 for this age ; but I should admit I attach great im- 
 portance to convincing the teachers of youth that 
 the natural faults, even the faults which frighten 
 
30 THE CHILD. 
 
 them most, ought to inspire their zeal, their affection, 
 I will almost say their respect, for childhood. Let 
 them regard it closely, and they will see that the 
 most turbulent, the most restless child, has, in the 
 midst of all his faults, something true, ingenuous, 
 and natural, which is of infinite value, and merits 
 every respect. In more advanced age, alas ! our 
 good qualities have refinements which alter them : 
 he, the child, is naturally upright and sincere; as 
 yet he has nothing put on — nothing factitious ; it is 
 true he sometimes appears too much without re- 
 straint, and this is complained of. As for me, I 
 hardly complained of it ; because I found him 
 almost always without affected reserve, without 
 envy, and, notwithstanding his natural egotism, with- 
 out anxious or skilful reverting to himself — without 
 interested pre-occupation. Simple and easy, free in 
 his career, the child pauses not to compose himself 
 with art; and in these precious moments, when he 
 likes to settle himself near you, to listen to you with 
 attention, you would be surprised to see that which I 
 have seen a thousand times — how worthy he i$ of 
 the sweetest, the most intimate famiharity; how 
 deeply your culture has penetrated into that young 
 soil ; with what facility the way is found to his heart, 
 to engrave there rapidly the most profound impres- 
 sions. 
 
 Yes ; the giddiest child, I would almost say the 
 most violent, is that same who suddenly shows, to 
 those who know how to make him love them, a taste 
 for candor and truth which enraptures ; it is he who 
 suddenly causes to be perceived in his heart, when 
 
THE child; his dispositions, etc. 31 
 
 we have discovered how to soften it, I cannot tell 
 how much of sweet, innocent, gentle merriment, 
 which moves us profoundly. I persist in maintain- 
 ing this opinion : whatever may be the harshness of 
 his character and the violence of his temper, when a 
 child is without meanness, when he has uprightness, 
 courage, a heart truly sensitive, and a feeling of reli- 
 gion, it is not necessary to be anxious about him. 
 Fenelon speaks somewhere of a child who was con- 
 fided to him for some time, and who, though still 
 very young, had wit, boldness, and facility for speak- 
 ing ; but a character strong even to hardness, very 
 quick passions, violent whims, an impetuous temper, 
 and his reason not yet sufficiently strong to restrain 
 him. Once carried away he never recollected him- 
 self ; one could not contrive even to make him per- 
 ceive the wrong. He hardened himself coolly, and 
 despised correction. But it was all these faults 
 which gave Fenelon great hopes for the future of 
 this child: "His faults," said he, "come from his 
 temperament and his age. There is every ground 
 for believing that good education and more matured 
 reason will convert them into true talents. He is 
 a wine whose sharpness changes, mellows with age. 
 He has a very strong character; it is but a question 
 of softening it. Age, which matures reason, exam- 
 ple, instruction, authority, will temper this childish 
 impetuosity. Much mildness, patience, and firmness 
 is necessary. He must be led with a mild, patient, 
 and uniform firmness. There is a depth of sense 
 and strength in him from which much may be ex- 
 pected, provided he be accustomed gradually to re- 
 
32 THE CHILD. 
 
 Strain himself ; this child will then have many profit- 
 able qualities." ^ Beyond dispute, Fenelon reveals 
 here one of the most profound secrets of human 
 nature and Christian ethics, also the most important 
 to be well understood by those devoted to the educa- 
 tion of youth. The liveliest, the strongest, and the 
 happiest characters are not, indeed, those without 
 faults, without passions, and without struggles. 
 Who has not heard of the struggles and victories of 
 St. Paul, St. Augustine, St. Teresa, St. Jerome, St. 
 Francis Xavier, and so many others ? There has 
 never been question of bringing up children without 
 passions and faults : I would almost venture to say, 
 nothing could be worse than such children — noth- 
 ing more problematical than the success of their 
 education. As to me, I foresaw it always, and was 
 accustomed to say of them — " These are sleeping 
 and deceitful waters : there will come to us from 
 them more of evil than good ! " 
 
 A thousand times better those lively, impetuous, 
 passionate natures. No doubt they require to be 
 strongly governed ; but they likewise offer great re- 
 
 1 Fenelon loved children. At sixty-four years of age he charged 
 himself with superintending, in his palace at Cambrai, during an 
 autumn, the education of the young sons of the Duke de Choulncs ; 
 he spoke of them with tenderness. " Forget not," he wrote to their 
 father, "that you have promised me the dear young folk for the fine 
 season. I will be charmed with them." Another time : " I ask of 
 you your dear children, who are mine." They will not embarrass me 
 in any way ; I will be charmed with them, and will be their first tutor 
 under M. Gallet. Leave me the little folk ; they will give me pleas- 
 ure ; I will try not to be useless to them." Another time he wrote to 
 their mother : — "As to the little flock, I am charmed to have them 
 here ; I love them tenderly. They will not encumber me in any way." 
 
THE CHILD ; HIS DISPOSITIONS, ETC. 33 
 
 sources for great things. What do the masters of 
 ethics understand by the passions.^ They under- 
 stand those powerful impulses, those impetuous 
 movements of the soul, which drive it to love and to 
 hate. To what have they compared them } To 
 generous coursers, which transport and precipitate 
 the soul into the extremes of good or evil, according 
 as a firm or a lax hand takes possession of the reins. 
 Thus, though children be ardent, headstrong, and 
 fiery ; though they may have a lively imagination, a 
 mind haughty at times, an irritable temper, an exces- 
 sive sensibility, I do not feel alarmed for their educa- 
 tion ; these, at least, will not languish in mediocrity, 
 without faults, without reproaches, but also without 
 virtue. I ask for them but a hand capable of seizing 
 the reins, and cleverly directing their strong and 
 generous natures. The children who gave me most 
 trouble had at bottom an excellent heart, an elevated 
 mind, a noble soul. I found them always true, sen- 
 sible, sincere ; there were usually the most grateful 
 of all, and at heart the most docile ; they accustomed 
 themselves most courageously to obedience, to labor, 
 to the love of letters, and respect for their masters ; 
 always more prompt to enthusiasm for good than to 
 resentment for evil ; and when, at length, the happy 
 disposition which was in them triumphing, by the 
 grace of God and their education, over the faults 
 and weaknesses of their age, strengthened itself in 
 wisdom and virtue, they became, in reality, those 
 youths who promise at twenty to be the most amia- 
 ble and generous of men.^ 
 
 1 Rousseau. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE child; my experiences. 
 
 In order to improve children, not to be disheart- 
 ened by their faults, and to discover all their quali- 
 ties, it is necessary to love them, and to feel the hap- 
 piness of being loved by them ; to be interested in 
 them ; to show joy at seeing them near us ; to study 
 them with intelligence and love ; and to take pleasure 
 in chatting familiarly with them. In such conversa- 
 tions their tempers become softened and restrained. 
 All haughtiness, all harshness, disappears ; they are 
 not only polite, sociable, complaisant, sincere, play- 
 ful, grateful, and tender, but their minds become 
 elevated, their hearts open, and we discover in them 
 the most touching traits. Their souls entirely ex- 
 pand, and we sometimes suddenly perceive behind 
 this sweet, smiling little face, and in the heart of 
 this restless creature, a something great and divine, 
 which at first surprises, but which we soon venerate 
 with tenderness. Fenelon, when speaking of this 
 wonderful grace called simplicity, adds that it is the 
 evangelical pearl, worthy of being sought in the most 
 distant lands. It is a diamond of so pure a water 
 that it reflects the most brilliant lights ! The shores 
 of the Ganges, which send to us the pearls of the 
 East, have not sent us simplicity ; yet I have found 
 34 
 
THE CHILD ; MY EXPERIENCES. 35 
 
 it in the heart of a child. No doubt the candor of 
 their mien, the vivacity of their looks ; this color so 
 pure, this smile so gracious ; these words so artless 
 and so amiable ; all the innocent beauties and exte- 
 rior charms of this age possess a great power ; but 
 the charms of the heart are still more powerful. See 
 how this simplicity unknowingly inspires the child 
 with the highest virtues. We can say of him what 
 the apostle says of charity : he believes all ; he 
 hopes in all ; he seeks all that is amiable and good ; 
 he admires all that is noble and great ; he suspects 
 no evil ; he grieves not for wealth ; he enjoys himself 
 with all that is innocently pleasant. You love him, 
 he loves you ; you appear virtuous, he venerates you. 
 His actions are not dictated by ambition, malignity, 
 bitterness, nor ill-will. At the recital of a generous 
 action his heart beats, his eyes kindle. At the sight 
 of misfortune his tears flow; he understands and 
 divines the wants of misery ; he waits not till they 
 are exposed to him by some kind and eloquent 
 tongue. His eye is the quickest to discover the 
 poor man who tremblingly follows his steps ; his 
 hand is always the first to open for his relief. No ; 
 I am not surprised that Jesus Christ, when his dis- 
 ciples once disputed among themselves as to who 
 should be the greatest in the kingdom of heaven, 
 called unto Him a young child, and, having embraced 
 him, placing him in the midst of the attentive crowd, 
 said to them : "Verily I say unto you. If you become 
 not like unto this little child, you shall not enter the 
 kingdom of heaven." ^ 
 
 1 St. Matthew, chap, xviii. 
 
^6 THE CHILD. 
 
 It can be seen that I do not recount here the 
 dreams of my friendship for childhood and youth. 
 For, since the days of Jesus Christ, who has desired 
 to be the instructor and friend of this early age, 
 what teacher, worthy of his divine mission, has not 
 experienced that of which I am going to speak ^ 
 Who has not sometimes seen, with profound emo- 
 tion, in these young hearts, this ardor so beautiful, 
 this docility so confiding, this generosity so coura- 
 geous, these strong and lively inspirations, which well 
 up from the innocent soul of youth ; and, when the 
 fitting time arrives, that sublime taste, that enthu- 
 siastic admiration for virtue and truth, suddenly 
 engage them ? Ah, how much they, who value child- 
 hood and youth so little, deceive themselves ! Age 
 pure and brilliant, noble and sincere ! Heroic time 
 of life ! Admirable age ! when a religious education 
 inspires its affections, directs its efforts, sanctifies its 
 ardor, restrains its passions, corrects its faults, fore- 
 sees its errors, and embellishes its virtues. It is the 
 age of the purest thoughts, the most generous affec- 
 tions, the most faithful friendships, and, on two occa- 
 sions, especially, have I experienced it, of intrepid 
 courage for good, and even, when necessary, mag- 
 nanimous devotion. Behold the blessed privileges 
 which render childhood and youth worthy of the 
 most assiduous care and the tenderest love ! it will 
 always be with inexpressible consolation and warm 
 regard that a religious instructor rests his eye on 
 childhood, or recalls to his memory those virtues so 
 genuine, and sometimes so strong ; so artless and so 
 simple of this early youth. Pardon me, if I indulge 
 
THE CHILD ; MY EXPERIENCES. 3/ 
 
 here in some personal recollections. To them I am 
 indebted for the little authority attached to my 
 words ; to them I owe those sweet emotions of 
 ancient friendship not yet extinguished in my soul, 
 and which probably never will be, and on account of 
 which I wish to return for a moment towards a past 
 which to me is always present. During the pleasant 
 and happy years of my life devoted to the cares of 
 education, I loved to see the children who were con- 
 fided to me. It was one of my pleasures to descend 
 into their courts and gardens at the hours of their 
 recreation, to join them, and sometimes take part in 
 their amusements. Many of them may remember it. 
 Or, if fatigue did not permit the agitation (frequently 
 a little violent) of their plays, I loved to become a 
 silent and tranquil spectator, and to walk peacefully 
 among them, even in the midst of the bright effer- 
 vescence of their gayest pastimes. I found there an 
 inexpressible sweetness and peace. At times, when 
 my ministry obliged me to mix with the world and 
 its affairs, grieved by the sorrowful scenes of ever- 
 changing life, I returned to the Petit Seminaire with 
 a secret and profound satisfaction. Half-an-hour 
 with my children dispelled all clouds from my brow. 
 I forgot the world, its perplexities, its harrowing 
 cares and sad mistakes. Sometimes, looking on 
 from afar, the noise of their frolics, the bursts of 
 their merriment, their artless disputes, their prompt 
 reconciliations, the liveliness of their sallies, and 
 even their joy to see me, though only a remote spec- 
 tator, caused me joy ; then, their increasing eager- 
 ness, when they found me a nearer witness ; and 
 
 4 
 
38 THE CHILD. 
 
 judge if their raptures and success did not produce a 
 sweet refreshment in my soul, for which I thanked 
 God — asking of Him to continue to bless this lov- 
 ing, amiable, and faithful flock; this generation of 
 opening promise ; this precious deposit committed 
 to my zeal and care ; the best hope of religion and 
 country. I have seen men of the world, honorably 
 connected during many long years with all the prin- 
 cipal affairs of their country, experience the same 
 impressions at the sight of our children. I have 
 seen them moved almost to tears, whilst they con- 
 templated, under the cool shades of our house at 
 Gentilly, ^ these numerous young folk, in gay and 
 giddy swarms, dotted around, as thick and pleasant- 
 looking as the flowers of the fields, tasting, through 
 their innocent plays, such pure delight. I also loved 
 to superintend their labors. How many times have 
 I left my own occupations to surprise them at study ! 
 Yes ; it was a noble sight to behold all those chil- 
 dren collected, studious, and silent ! — those two 
 hundred young minds, intent on understanding, 
 eager to penetrate and admire the great master- 
 pieces of selected and varied literature. It delighted 
 my eyes and my heart. But of this kind, nothing 
 could equal the pleasure their examinations gave me. 
 When I heard them recite with marked self-pos- 
 session, explain with taste, interpret with fidelity, 
 warmth, and enthusiasm, the finest pages of Virgil, 
 Homer, Cicero, Titus Livius, Fenelon, and Bossuet, I 
 felt profoundly happy. What could be more consol- 
 
 ^ A little village, one league from Paris, where the Petit Seminaire 
 of St. Nicholas had a country-house. 
 
THE CHILD ; MY EXPERIENCES. 39 
 
 ing for us than to see them thus happily sensible to 
 the noble pleasures of intellectual culture and devel- 
 opment ? — their dawning reason instructing itself 
 by the light of those wonderful minds, sometimes 
 inspiring itself around the hearths of these great 
 geniuses. I marvelled that the genius of Homer, of 
 Virgil, of Bossuet, of St. John Chrysostom, should 
 journey through centuries to form an alliance with 
 those young minds, influence them, fructify and 
 elevate them almost to the proud level of their own. 
 If their pastimes and studies afforded me such pleas- 
 ure, what shall I say of their piety.!* It can hardly 
 be related. How delightful to see them collected 
 in their pious sanctuary ! What lively faith ! What 
 fervor in prayer ! On our feast-days and those heav- 
 enly mornings, the remembrance of which they can 
 never lose, the Angel of the Lord seemed really to 
 welcome them, and shelter them under his sacred 
 wing. It was on those blessed days, especially, that 
 I liked to draw near and converse with them ; to 
 look closely into their hearts. It appeared to me 
 that happiness, the peace of innocence, and all the 
 perfumes of heaven, dwelt there. No doubt, the 
 cares of the human state came in their time to 
 trouble these joys of innocence and grace; but 
 these light clouds of childhood once dispersed, I dis- 
 covered in the depth of these young souls, as it were, 
 a sky of azure, where God Himself caused to shine, in 
 an horizon of infinite purity, lights of a divine splen- 
 dor. It was then an amiable, a noble modesty ; this 
 virtue, which so profoundly ignores itself, enhanced 
 and concealed all that they did,,,. Their lightest dis- 
 
 fV^ OP THR^^^^ 
 
 UUI71E3IT7J 
 
40 THE CHILD. 
 
 course, their simplest words, had hidden ineffable 
 graces, which it became hopeless to resist. 
 
 In those sweet and familiar conversations, how 
 many times have I gleaned from the lips of child- 
 hood ideas of the most sublime simplicity ! My ten- 
 derness for them was great ; nevertheless, I could 
 but imperfectly express to them the feelings of my 
 heart ; especially for those in whom I saw grace thus 
 gradually transforming, softenings purifying, and en- 
 nobling nature. How many have there not been 
 among them of whom I can say, that I recognized 
 and loved in them God present and personified, 
 under the most amiable exterior ! Their childhood 
 was that of the Saviour ! like Him, they increased 
 in age, in wisdom, and in grace before God and men. 
 I have often asked myself. Whence comes this inex- 
 pressible charm of childhood and youth ? Why has 
 this early youth so much of grace that charms and 
 softens, but never wearies ? A friend whom I ven- 
 erate, one day replied to me : ** No doubt, childhood 
 is simplicity, candor, innocence ; but what adds to 
 all this an undefinable, irresistible charm is, though 
 the child is the joy of the present, he is especially 
 the hope of the future ! " These words struck me, 
 and recalled those which were addressed to Louis 
 XV. by a lady who was present at his consecration 
 
 — she was the Marchioness de Pisieux : — '*Ah, 
 sire," said she, " it was you who should then be seen 
 
 — you were beautiful ; beautiful as hope ! " It was 
 saying all. A child-king could not receive more del- 
 icate praise — a finer lesson. But always, and what- 
 ever may be his condition, the child is the smiling, 
 
THE child; my experiences. 41 
 
 the beautiful, the sweet, the pure hope. The Holy 
 Scriptures have lavished upon him the most gracious 
 comparisons. The child is a tender shoot, a weak 
 plant, it is true ; but which will, perhaps, one day be 
 a great tree, laden with all the fruits of virtue, and 
 casting its glorious shadow afar. He is a flower 
 ready to blow, and which promises a rich blossoming. 
 If he appears already, in his first hour, so beautiful, 
 what will he be when clothed with all the charms and 
 embellished with all the gifts of heaven } he will rise 
 up to adorn the earth. Again, the child is a weak 
 brook, a newly-born spring ; but he will, perhaps, 
 become a majestic river. The teacher is the clever 
 surveyor, of whom the Holy Book speaks : his hand 
 directs those docile waters, guiding them where he 
 pleases, and never permitting any strange, impure, 
 or bitter waters to disturb their course. Yes ; the 
 child is the hope — the hope even of heaven ; for he 
 is the heir of the eternal palms, the object of God's 
 complacency, the brother and the friend of the 
 angels. He is the hope of the earth, of which he is 
 already the riches and the treasure, and of which he 
 will one "day be the strength and glory. He is the 
 hope of his country and of all humanity, which re- 
 news itself and grows young again in him. He is, 
 especially, the hope of the family, of whom he is the 
 joy and the delight, and of whom he will one day be 
 the crown and the honor. Lovable creature! — his 
 first appearance in the world, his first smile, his 
 first look, is a sign of peace, an omen of serenity 
 for all. Gaze on him : there is no cloud on his 
 forehead ; he ignores the past, he smiles at the pres- 
 
 4* 
 
42 THE CHILD. 
 
 ent, he bounds towards the future, and seems to bear 
 every one there with him. Sometimes I also ask my- 
 self : Why does he give so much pleasure to his old- 
 est relatives ? they never weary of looking at him, 
 blessing him, listening to him, admiring his strength, 
 his agility, his grace. The brightness, the sweetness 
 of that smile, the transparency of that look, the lim- 
 pidity of that countenance; no doubt all this re- 
 minds them that -we grow old, that we wither, that 
 we die every day ; but also that we should neither 
 wither, nor grow old, nor die : and the child is to 
 them a remembrance, a reflection of that immortal 
 youth which was the primitive inheritance of our 
 nature. Nevertheless, I will say it, at the risk of 
 repeating myself, the more I reflect upon it, the less 
 I am surprised that the Son of God, in His passage 
 on earth, should have loved children, and shown 
 His joy in blessing them. Jesus Christ loved men, 
 and He blessed them all in blessing childhood, 
 which is the hope of the great human family. Who 
 is not acquainted with the scenes of the Gospel ? 
 Our Lord, passing through the towns and cities, 
 doing good, and healing the sick. The mothers, 
 always so clever at divining the hearts worthy of 
 them, hastening on His footsteps, leading to Him 
 their little children, asking of Him to bless them. 
 The children and the mothers were so numerous that 
 the wearied apostles wished to send them away. 
 But the Divine Master ordered that they should give 
 place to them : ** Suffer little children to come unto 
 me," said He ; '' the kingdom of Heaven is for 
 those who resemble them." Then taking these little 
 
THE CHILD ; MY EXPERIENCES. 43 
 
 children, He placed His hands on their heads, 
 blessed them with tenderness, pressed them to His 
 heart, and repeated : *' Suffer little children to come 
 unto me ; the kingdom of Heaven is for those who 
 resemble them." That was saying everything : the 
 price of eternal life was revealed ; the necessity of a 
 regeneration and a new innocence was declared ; and 
 henceforth the gates of the kingdom of Heaven 
 should remain firmly closed against whosoever refused 
 to descend to that age. Even if the Son of God 
 should have come from heaven to say this alone, it 
 would suffice for His glory and the happiness of man- 
 kind. Who had said it before Him I who had 
 thought and felt after this manner.? During four 
 thousand years — saving some cold words dropped 
 from the minds of a philosopher — childhood had 
 been the object of the contempt of sages and the 
 cruel carelessness of legislators ! But, in the midst of 
 universal corruption, it was the dearest and the only 
 love of heaven ; and when the Father of the family 
 came to seek again His children, when the Creator 
 came to make Himself known to His own, it was 
 not by pompous words He declared Himself. No ; 
 before showing Himself as the Master and Teacher 
 of the world, it pleased Him to reveal Himself under 
 a more touching aspect and a more tender name. 
 They understood well the greatness and the power of 
 the King of Heaven ; but it was especially as a ten- 
 der Father they understood, above all. His love ; and 
 when He said, " Suffer little children to come unto 
 me, the Kingdom of Heaven is for those who resem- 
 
44 THE CHILD. 
 
 ble them," fathers and mothers, melted by it, pros- 
 trated themselves at His feet, and adored Him. 
 
 Ah ! I understand why the prophets have exalted 
 by such magnificent praises the glory of the patri- 
 archs, and the noble pride of maternal fecundity ! 
 In concluding these lines, I will willingly cry out 
 with them, and repeat the evangelical exclamation : 
 " Blessed are the mothers whose wombs, holily fruc- 
 tified, have given to earth and heaven a numerous 
 offspring ! " " Blessed are the breasts which have 
 suckled them ! " Never has a mother placed more 
 noble jewels on her bosom ; never did a more beauti- 
 ful crown encircle her glorious forehead ! 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE SPOILED CHILD. 
 
 The spoiled child ! I could have wished not to 
 discourse on this painful subject; but I cannot avoid 
 it, especially in a book which treats of authority and 
 respect. The deadly enemy of authority and respect 
 is the spoiled child. And, on the other hand, to 
 spoil a child is to fail as sadly as possible in the 
 respect that is due to the dignity of his nature, 
 and the interest which his destiny and his honor 
 clairri. Persons at times laugh in speaking of spoiled 
 children. I have never laughed at them ; the sight 
 of a spoiled child has never drawn from me a smile. 
 Nothing is less pleasing. It is to me something 
 frightful — frightful at the present, frightful in the 
 future. Justice and truth often pierce through the 
 levity of the words of men : he is an " enfant terri- 
 ble," they say sometimes, with an agreeable careless- 
 ness, or even a certain satisfied vanity. Yes, ter- 
 rible ; and more so than they will some day wish him 
 to be ! for it is truly of the spoiled child that the 
 words of Holy Scripture may be quoted : — • " The 
 whelp will become a lion, and will learn one day to 
 devour men." (Ezechiel, xix. 6.) " What do you 
 do all day ? " said some one to a young wife. " I 
 occupy myself in spoiling my children," she said. 
 
 45 
 
46 THE CHILD. 
 
 That was, in her idea, but a sally more or less witty ; 
 but these words were more serious than she thought. 
 By them she bitterly condemned the many imprudent 
 mothers who seem, in a word, to have no other occu- 
 pation but that of spoiling their children during 
 the first part of their lives. She condemned herself 
 bitterly. She knew it later, by cruel experience. 
 ''But the children are so young," they say; "what 
 harm is there in spoiling them a little.? It is of no 
 consequence ; it is only a matter of some years." 
 No; it is for life. The Eternal Truth has pro- 
 nounced the formal oracle on it — ''The young man 
 shall be in more advanced age that which they will 
 have made him in his childhood." (Prov. xx. 6.) 
 
 There are many methods of spoiling a child : his 
 mind may be spoiled by the thoughtless exaggeration 
 of praise ; his disposition may be spoiled by allowing 
 him his own will in everything ; his heart may be 
 spoiled by occupying one's self to excess with him — 
 adoring him, idolizing him. All these methods of 
 spoiling children, this sad art of depraving an age 
 which is the hope of an entire life, may be attributed 
 to the development of those two fatal principles, the 
 sources of all human perversity — effeminacy and 
 pride. Nothing can give an idea of what children 
 become who are spoiled by effeminacy; who are 
 spoiled because too many caresses are bestowed on 
 them ; because too much tenderness is shown to 
 them ; because everything is granted to their tastes, 
 their appetites, their looks, their idleness, and their 
 wishes. They are sometimes truly little wild ani- 
 mals. They appear, and usually are, what are called 
 
THE SPOILED CHILD. 4/ 
 
 pretty children ; gracious and complaisant fawners. 
 There is no insinuating little contrivance, no agree- 
 able meanness, of which they do not possess the 
 secret, in order to obtain what they desire from you : 
 if you do not regard them closely, you find them 
 charming ; but if you suddenly perceive their clever- 
 ness and your own weakness ; if you attempt resist- 
 ance ; if you require from them the least labor, the 
 lightest application — immediately temper, angry and 
 pouting silence, or even brutal and violent rudeness, 
 reveal to you that these children — so amiable — are 
 infant deceivers ; that at heart and in truth, like 
 tamed animals, they are sensible only to the bait by 
 means of which they are tamed ; that they become 
 again wild and wicked, as soon as anything is refused 
 to their appetites. Perhaps I exaggerate. Is this 
 age, so tender, capable of so much wickedness ? 
 Here is what Fenelon and St. Augustine thought of 
 it, and what they remark, in speaking of the earliest 
 childhood : " Consider," said Fenelon, '* how from 
 this age children seek those who flatter them, and 
 avoid those who try to control them ; how well they 
 know whether to cry or to be silent, in order to 
 obtain what they wish for ; how much they have 
 already of artifice or jealousy." '* I have seen," 
 says St. Augustine, **a jealous infant! He could 
 not yet speak, but with a pale face and angry eyes 
 he looked at the child that sucked with him." Cer- 
 tainly I do not like dry, hard, and haughty children ; 
 but tender, insinuating, supple, caressing children, 
 though more amiable at first sight, are, in my opin- 
 ion, not less to be suspected, and incur the greatest 
 
48 THE CHILD. 
 
 danger in their education ; and what adds to the 
 peril is, we are easily taken by them. The cleverest 
 are often deceived in them. '' It is necessary to 
 observe," says Fenelon, ''that there are children 
 whose dispositions deceive one greatly. They ap- 
 pear pleasing at first, because the early graces of 
 childhood have a lustre which covers everything, and 
 one sees in them something tender and amiable, 
 which prevents us from examining closely and in 
 detail the features of the face." And then what hap- 
 pens ? One amuses himself with them ; sometimes 
 boasts of them ; flatters them ; and permits them to 
 be flattered by every one, by little slaves, by servile 
 women, who seek to insinuate themselves about them 
 by mean and dangerous fawning, humoring all their 
 whims, and nourishing, as if it were a pleasure, the 
 most depraved of their little passions. Soon the 
 deceitful graces of childhood vanish^ the brightness 
 becomes extinct, the tenderness of heart is lost ; 
 suddenly is discovered in them a desolating dryness, 
 a profound depravity, and, in the end, these pleasing 
 children become truly frightful ; it is perceived then, 
 but when too late, that there are no beings more hard, 
 more wicked, more haughty, more violent, more ego- 
 tistical, more ungrateful, more unjust, more odious, 
 than children spoiled by effeminacy. Pardon me for 
 dwelling on such painful details. Nothing has less 
 charm for me. I do it only through compassion, 
 through duty, through charity, in order to spare to 
 parents, to families, to children themselves, the un- 
 doubted calamities which are the necessary conse- 
 quences of the evil that I deplore. Weak and incon- 
 
THE SPOILED CHILD. 49 
 
 siderate parents who play with the rising passions of 
 their sons and their daughters, who seek but to divert 
 themselves with them during their childhood, even to 
 permitting them all kinds of excess, have not med- 
 itated on these things ; have not foreseen all they 
 will one day have to suffer from the licentiousness, 
 the ingratitude, and the passions of these unfortunate 
 children. Let them think of it, at least to-day, and 
 allow me to call all their attention to this grave sub- 
 ject. The pagans themselves understood all the im- 
 portance of it: ** Above all/' said an ancient philos- 
 opher, " above all, let the life of children be frugal, 
 their clothing simple, and of the same kind as that 
 of their school-fellows.^ Do not permit them to fall 
 
 1 Nothing is worse for children, spoils them more sadly and more 
 quickly, than vanity in dress. It is necessary to inspire them at an 
 early age with contempt for it. As for me, at the Petit Seminaire of 
 Paris, I mercilessly banished all vain refinements of dress. For ex- 
 ample, I never permitted the display of watches and gold chains. I 
 said to them : " You shall wear a gold chain when you merit it. Be 
 first in your class. It will then be a just and honorable distinction of 
 genius, labor, and good conduct." Perfumes, and those who used 
 them, I always condemned unmercifully. I said to them, and I re- 
 peated to them, when necessary, the saying of the ancients : " Hoc 
 mihi suspectum est quod oles bene . . . non bene olet, qui bene sem- 
 per olet." With respect to those who gave too much attention to 
 their hair, I repeated bluntly that which a man of great experience 
 said to me one day : " Be certain that a school-boy who combs him- 
 self with affectation, and looks after his cravat, becomes a bad 
 scholar, and is most frequently on the eve of being disorderly in his 
 behavior." Many may consider this severe ; but it is the severity of 
 experience. To return to the subject of watches and gold chains : I 
 have never relished the religion of parents who promised vanities of 
 this kind to their children, as rewards on the day of their first com- 
 munion. The day of first communion requires no reward but itself. 
 Besides, they are a real danger to the newly-born piety of those poor 
 5 
 
50 THE CHILD. 
 
 into idleness and sloth. Remove all approaches to 
 effeminacy : nothing disposes more to passion than a 
 delicate and effeminate education. The indulgence 
 granted to only sons, and the liberty which wards 
 enjoy, are inevitable sources of corruption. What 
 can become of a child to whom nothing has ever 
 been refused, whose anxious mother has unceasingly 
 dried his tears, and who has always been right in 
 opposition to his masters ? It is necessary to pre- 
 vent children from being flattered Let them hear 
 the truth ; let them sometimes understand fear, and 
 always respect ; let them have deference for their 
 superiors, and never obtain any thing by anger. That 
 which you refused them when they wept, grant them 
 when they become calm." (Seneca, v. vii. p. i6i.)^ 
 
 children. I have sometimes seen the watch more adored than God 
 Himself on this great day. Even religious and wise parents entertain 
 strong illusions, when they imagine things relating to the soul can be 
 dealt with by such means. I remember, among others, a very honest 
 man, to whom I thought it my duty to complain of his son. He was 
 a very giddy, indocile, turbulent child. I believed I ought to warn 
 the father, even in presence of the child, that, if he did not soon make 
 a serious and profound change, his first communion would be impos- 
 sible. The father was greatly moved, but the child remained insen- 
 sible. Then this excellent man began to weep ; and seeing that the 
 moment had come to spare nothing, in order to soften his son, and 
 induce hini to make an effort to improve, he turned towards him with 
 a lively emotion, and said to him : " What trouble you give me ! 
 Well, listen,' if you make your first communion, I will give you a 
 horse." He was an old officer and a great sportsman. It can be well 
 understood that his exhortation gave me but slender assistance. 
 
 1 "Tenuis ante omnia victus, et non pretiosa vestis, et similis cultus 
 cum aequalibus. In desidiam otiumque non resolvemus,'et procul a 
 contactu deliciarum retinebimus. Nihil enim magis facit iracundos 
 quam educatio mollis et blanda. Ideo unicis quo plus indulgetur, 
 pupillisque quo plus licet, corruptior animus est Non resistet offen- 
 
THE SPOILED CHILD. 5I 
 
 If I dwell on these sad remarks, I do it also 
 through compassion for the teachers of youth, in 
 order to spare them all that is most unthankful in 
 their task. All these observations are the result of 
 experiences and recollections : — 
 
 " Non ignori mali miseris succurrere disco." 
 
 In the laborious functions of public education, I 
 have never found anything more sorrowful to see, 
 more painful to bring up, than spoiled children ; and 
 I should acknowledge that all my cares, all my efforts, 
 for them, nearly always failed. I say it especially of 
 children spoiled by effeminacy — these I have always 
 found almost incurable. Children spoiled by pride 
 sometimes gave us, during long years, the hardest 
 labor ; but, thanks to the spirit of emulation, to the 
 devotion, the enlightenment of the masters, thanks 
 to the skilled education which we imparted, we have 
 often accomplished the end with time. Children 
 spoiled by pride offer, without doubt, a sad spectacle, 
 but at all times a spectacle less hideous than that of 
 children spoiled by effeminacy. Thanks to the sim- 
 plicity of his youth, the pride of a child can never 
 deeply deprave all his fine and noble qualities. 
 There are in these proud natures great resources for 
 education ; while in children spoiled by effeminacy 
 there remains nothing but corruption, vice, a savage 
 and a sensual egotism. In truth, it is intellectual, 
 
 sis, cui nihil unquam negatum est, cui lacrymas sollicita semper mater 
 abstersit, cui de pedagogo satisfactum est. . . . Longe itaque ab 
 assentatione pueritia removenda est : audia verum, et timeat interim, 
 vereatur semper ; majoribus assurgat, nihil per iracundiam exoret, 
 quod flenti negatum est, quieto offeratur. . . ." 
 
52 THE CHILD. 
 
 moral, and physical annihilation ; nothing is sound in 
 them but a depth of cowardly effeminacy, where 
 every evil, every ignominy, every moral misery, 
 springs naturally from the soil. In my compassion 
 for them, I often compared them to young shrubs 
 which a treacherous soil has nourished with poisoned 
 juices; to tender flowers withered by mischievous 
 "winds, and whose natural perfume has become an 
 odor of putrescence and death. To make the edu- 
 cation of such a child, a new creation is necessary ; 
 it is necessary not only to correct but to remake 
 nature. Prodigious undertaking! — -there must be 
 time, persistency, patience, firmness, an intelligence 
 which is rarely to be met with in the required degree, 
 and which would be even insufficient without extraor- 
 dinary grace from God. The most merciful and the 
 most powerful supernatural action only can accom- 
 plish the miracle of such a renovation. I would also 
 have hope of it before the first communion ; after it, 
 never. Certainly it was by an entirely divine inspi- 
 ration that the sage formerly pronounced these grave 
 maxims, which I am happy to bring under the notice 
 of parents. " He who loves his children never 
 wearies of correcting them, hoping thence to find his 
 happiness in them at the end of his days, and that 
 he will never see them begging at the gate." (Eccle- 
 asticus, XXX. i.) "You have children; give them a 
 good education, and accustom them to the yoke of 
 obedience from their tenderest years." (Id. vii. 25.) 
 "It is not loving one's son to spare him chastise- 
 ment : when one loves him truly, he appHes himself 
 to correct him." (Proverbs, viii. 24.) " Chastise 
 
THE SPOILED CHILD. 53 
 
 your son without losing courage, lest he reduce you 
 to the necessity of wishing him dead." (Id. xix. i8.) 
 "The horse never accustomed to the bit becomes 
 unmanageable, and the child abandoned to his 
 caprices no longer knows the rein." (Ecclesiasticus, 
 XXX. 8.) ** Flatter your son, and he will cause you 
 to tremble ; play with him, and he will grieve you."^ 
 (Id. XXX. 9.) '' Be not too familiar with him, lest you 
 soon have cause to repent of it, and that he at last 
 reduce you to despair." (Ecclesiasticus, xxx. lo.) 
 " Render him not master of his actions during his 
 youth ; watch him even to his thoughts." (Id. xxx. 
 II.) '* Bow down his head and curb him in his 
 youth : chastise him severely while still a child, lest 
 he harden himself and wish no longer to obey you, 
 and then he become the sorrow of your soul." (Id. 
 xxx. 12.) "Instruct your son then; labor to form 
 him, lest he dishonor you by a shameful life." (Id. 
 xxx. 13.) " Permit not your son to live without disci- 
 pline and rule." (Prov. xxiii. 13.) " If you bring him 
 up with firmness, you deliver his soul from death." 
 (Prov. xxiii. 14.) "Folly is, as it were, bound and 
 tied up in the heart of a child ; it is the rod of disci- 
 pline that will drive it away." " Bring up your son 
 well, and he. will refresh your heart and delight your 
 soul." (Prov. xxix. 17.) To these admirable maxims 
 I will add only one observation, which justice claims 
 in favor of one particular species of spoiled children 
 — they are worthy of great conipassion ; and at all 
 times how necessary to be guarded with respect to 
 them ! I speak of children spoiled on account of, or 
 under pretext of^ illness, weakness, or physical deli- 
 
54 THE CHILD. 
 
 cacy. The cares given to sickly children, lavished on 
 them, and with which they are constantly surrounded, 
 sometimes spoil these children in a deplorable manner. 
 Nothing is more fatal to a child than to be during 
 many years the tender and only object, constantly the 
 object, of all the cares, of all the kind attentions, of all 
 the pre-occupation, of a father, of a mother, and all the 
 servants of the house. They know not how to deny 
 him anything; the thoughts of all, the eyes of all, 
 are unceasingly turned towards him ; he is the centre 
 of every tenderness. I repeat it, nothing is more 
 worthy of compassion, because it is an evil almost 
 unavoidable, and, nevertheless, a great evil ; for many 
 long years of good health and good education will be 
 necessary to repair such a misfortune. It is well at 
 least to be warned of the danger, and to avoid all 
 that can be avoided. We should try not to give this 
 dear little invalid useless attendance ; to grant noth- 
 ing but to a real want, with a wise kindness, a true 
 solicitude. I have no hesirtation in saying, that no 
 education requires from a father or mother more wis- 
 dom, more foresight, more cleverness, more perspi- 
 cuity, than the education of these poor children. I 
 must now speak of children spoiled by pride. They 
 have very often fine and gifted natures ; but what 
 dangers their education encounters! It is impos- 
 sible to tell where their indocility, their imperti- 
 nence, their vanity, their ostentation, their hardness, 
 their naughtiness, their insolence, ever leads them. 
 If education, instead of correcting in time these 
 vicious dispositions, maintains and strengthens them, 
 they will one day make their parents feel the weight 
 
THE SPOILED CHILD. 55 
 
 of this pride, nourished with fatal complaisance. 
 Alas ! it must be acknowledged that it is most fre- 
 quently the pride of the parents which excites, which 
 develops, which gives birth to, the pride of the chil- 
 dren. Fenelon formerly remarked this, and he thus 
 traced the portrait of a child spoiled by pride : *' His 
 mother had nourished in him a naughtiness, a pride, 
 which tarnished all that was most amiable in him. 
 His disposition was good and sincere, but not win- 
 ning ; the thought of pleasing others scarcely entered 
 his mind ; he knew not how to grant with a noble 
 and generous spirit ; he appeared neither obliging, 
 nor sensible to friendship ; neither liberal nor grate- 
 ful for the cares bestowed upon him, nor attentive 
 to distinguish merit ; he followed his fancy with- 
 out reflection. The happiness of serving him was, 
 in his opinion, sufficient recompense for those who 
 waited on him. When there was question of pleas- 
 ing him, nothing should be found impossible, and the 
 least delay irritated his ardent temper. He had been 
 flattered by his mother from his cradle, and he was a 
 great example of the misfortune of those born in 
 high station. The rigors of fortune, which he felt in 
 his early youth, had not been able to restrain this im- 
 petuosity and naughtiness. His pride always rose 
 again like the supple twig which re-elevates itself in 
 spite of the efforts made to lower it." I cannot, then, 
 too frequently repeat, whether it be to parents or to 
 teachers : Take care ; the more noble and more gifted 
 the nature of the child you bring up, the more you 
 should avoid depraving it by pride. If this noble 
 nature has the determined disposition of this child, 
 
56 THE CHILD. 
 
 who might be a distinguished, and perhaps a supe- 
 rior man, you will make a tyrant, an odious being j 
 he will look upon himself as different from the rest 
 of men ; it will seem to him that all others were 
 placed on earth but to please and serve him, to an- 
 ticipate all his wishes, to adore all his caprices, and 
 address everything to him as to a divinity : like that 
 Duke of Burgundy, of whom the Duke de Saint 
 Simon tells us :** From the age of seven years he 
 was hard-hearted, passionate, almost furiously so, 
 towards inanimate things ; frightfully impetuous ; 
 incapable of enduring the least resistance, even from 
 time or the elements, without rushing into a rage 
 which caused one to fear all in his body would burst ; 
 stubborn to excess ; passionately attached to every 
 pleasure and good cheer; madly to the chase; to 
 music with a species of ravishment ; again to play, in 
 which he could not endure being vanquished, and 
 where the danger with him was extreme — in fine, 
 given up to every passion, and transported by every 
 pleasure ; often sullen, barbarous in raillery ; striking 
 the ridiculous with an accuracy which overpowered ; 
 regarding men, from the heights of his heaven, but 
 as atoms, with whom he had no resemblance whatso- 
 ever." Behold what a bad early education had done 
 for this child ! of whom the education of the Arch- 
 bishop of Cambrai afterwards made that admirable 
 prince, whom even Voltaire praises, saying, '' Under 
 his reign France had been too happy." If this gifted 
 nature, notwithstanding its talents, be vain and weak, 
 your educating his pride will make of him a fool ; a 
 silly, vile, false being, speaking of everything at ran- 
 
THE SPOILED CHILD. 5/ 
 
 dom, incapable of serious study, of eminent success ; 
 at most what is called a nice young man, that is to 
 say, a cockscomb ; useless to himself and every one 
 else, and who often, if circumstances conduce to it, 
 finishes at the age of twenty-five by dishonoring him- 
 self and his family. Fenelon, that great master in 
 education, wished that this misfortune should be 
 guarded against from the tenderest infancy, and, in 
 order that children should not become what at pres- 
 ent are called superb lions, instructs us not to make 
 silly fools of them in the beginning. My readers 
 will, I trust, judge kindly of me for bringing under 
 their notice these observations, so delicate and so 
 profound. ** The amusement," said he, ''which peo- 
 ple wish to draw out of these pretty children often 
 spoils them ; they accustom them to hazard saying 
 everything that comes into their minds, and to speak 
 of things of which they have not yet a distinct 
 knowledge; thus they acquire for life the habit of 
 judging rashly, and speaking on subjects of which 
 they have no clear ideas, which is a very evil dispo- 
 sition of -mind. This amusement drawn from these 
 children produces a still more pernicious effect — 
 they perceive that they are regarded with complai- 
 sance, that everything they do is remarked, and that 
 they are listened to with pleasure. Hence they ac- 
 custom themselves to expect that every one will be 
 always occupied with them. During this age, when 
 they are applauded, and have not yet experienced con- 
 tradiction, they conceive chimerical hopes, \vhich lead 
 to great disappointments during their lives. I have 
 seen children who thought that every time people 
 
58 THE CHILD. 
 
 spoke in private they were speaking of them, because 
 they observed it had been frequently done. They 
 imagined there was nothing in themselves but what 
 was extraordinary and admirable. It is necessary, 
 then, to take care of children without letting them 
 see that we think much of them. Point out to them 
 that it is through friendship and the necessity of set- 
 ting them right that you are attentive to their con- 
 duct, and not through admiration of their wit. 
 Again, Fenelon said : " Whatever wit one finds in 
 them surprises, because it is not expected at that 
 age. All faults of judgment are permitted to them, 
 and have the grace of ingenuity; people mistake a 
 certain vivacity of body, which is never wanting in 
 children, for that of mind. Hence it comes that 
 the childh6od which seemed to promise so much 
 gives so little. Such a one was celebrated for his 
 wit at five years of age, and sank into obscurity, and, 
 in a measure, contempt, as he grew up." There is 
 another species of little prodigies of whom it is neces- 
 sary td be distrustful. Excuse what I am- going to 
 say, and be not surprised at it. Theirs is a case so 
 delicate and so important that I cannot be^'silent on 
 what I know and think of them. I speak of those 
 little prodigies of wisdom and virtue, those children 
 naturally correct and reserved, who always appear to 
 have no faults, and grow up irreproachable. At the 
 Petit Seminaire in Paris, I felt a hidden fear, as it 
 were, an involuntary terror, every time a father or a 
 mother brought their son to me, saying, ** We have 
 never had to reprimand him ; he is truly a little per- 
 fection." I did not contradict them — it was hardly 
 
THE SPOILED CHILD. 59 
 
 possible to do it then — but I said to myself, there is 
 rugged work before me. I must have patience with 
 the child and his parents. Perhaps I surprise you ; 
 but this surprise will cease when I add what remains 
 to be said on this grave subject. Of all the observa- 
 tions which twenty-five years' experience in educa- 
 tion has caused me to make, this is the most serious, 
 the most profound, even the most sorrowful. I was 
 frightened not only when parents led their son to me, 
 saying, " We have never had to reprimand him ; " 
 but I was still more frightened, when, after many 
 years of education at the Petit Seminaire, in spite of 
 our care and our vigilance, we ourselves have never 
 had to address a reprimand to a child. When we also 
 said, ** He is perfection;" and when charmed with 
 such a work and such a success, we treated this 
 child, this young man, as perfection. And what 
 came to pass ? Self-love grew in him, silently 
 strengthened itself, and sometimes became gigantic 
 and monstrous. The child was neither effeminate, 
 nor vain, nor frivolous, nor weak. He had a serious 
 mind, steady courage, and a sensible character. 
 Frequently he possessed not only the taste, but the 
 passion, for labor. This distinguished nature, watch- 
 ful over itself, through conscientiousness and also 
 the desire for praise, mixed with a subtle pride, had 
 never to reproach himself; never was reprimanded 
 by his masters ; and avoided all faults, the greatest as 
 well as the lightest ; and, nevertheless, evil struck in 
 him its deepest roots. The following observation 
 accounts for one of the most grievous secrets of 
 human nature : The homage which this habit of vir- 
 
60 THE CHILD. 
 
 tue attracts, even the peace which it gives, has its 
 danger — it spoils the heart by too great a satisfac- 
 tion with itself, which renders it most sensitive to 
 everything that disturbs the interior peace, and, 
 when mistakes occur, revolts, exasperates, and sud- 
 denly transforms mildness into passion, if the virtue 
 be not solid, and has not been frequently tried by con- 
 tradiction. Let us add, there is, perhaps, no virtue 
 that does not cover some fault, which increases and 
 strengthens under its shade and unknown to it, like 
 those wild plants which shoot from the foot of a fine 
 tree, and only appear dangerously bristling with 
 thorns if the tree falls. I was many years before I 
 understood the danger of these premature perfec- 
 tions; but when experience at length enlightened 
 me, when I discovered the depths, and many times 
 the abysses, of pride concealed in these gifted na- 
 tures, it may be imagined that there were no chil- 
 dren to whom I gave more care and attention. It 
 was the ruin of our work in its most eminent suc- 
 cess, the ruin of education in its noblest subjects, 
 the overturning of the most beautiful edifice. I 
 have no hesitation in saying there is something 
 wanting in education when neither fault nor reproach 
 is met with. How many times have I not said, in 
 looking at and observing these, children. When can 
 I make him a just reprimand, and pierce the wound 
 which is forming in his soul — the wound which 
 gnaws it, and which at the end of a certain number 
 of years will have devoured all its good parts ? But 
 this operation must be performed at once with 
 strength and tenderness ; with strength, otherwise 
 
THE SPOILED CHlLD. 6l 
 
 an invincible resistance is met with. Sheltered in 
 an apparent respect, the child repulses all your warn- 
 ings and all your lessons. His resistance is painted 
 in his surprise, in the play of his countenance, in the 
 colors which succeed each other on it, in a certain 
 cold and wounded air, and even in his silence — the 
 token of his offended dignity. It is then that rebel- 
 lious pride mounts and roars in his heart like a wave, 
 and you obtain from him but an insolent disdain, 
 an unmanageable revolt ; it is then you must use 
 strength to break it, or all is lost. But why have I 
 also said, " with tenderness " ? Because, after you 
 have broken this pride, if the child does not feel that 
 you are inspired by the tenderest, the most devoted, 
 a paternal, I will even say a supernatural and divine 
 affection, he will retire broken, but he will soon rise 
 up again and hate you; frequently both hate and 
 despise you ; then again all is lost. On this point 
 there remain some particular remarks important to 
 be made. Those children usually revealed them- 
 selves, and their pretended perfection burst forth in 
 some great fault, about seventeen or eighteen years 
 of age, sometimes even before, and it was most fre- 
 quently on the following occasions: — If their ha- 
 bitual success suddenly failed them when they went 
 into a higher class, if, in changing the professor, 
 they met one less favorable to them, it was usually 
 then that the wound of their heart (//^^^ cordis), 
 say the Scriptures, discovered itself to their masters 
 and themselves. Sometimes they suddenly showed a 
 strange aversion to their new class, a profound indig- 
 nation against the new' professor ; they avoided him, 
 6 
 
62 THE CHILD. 
 
 and tried not to meet him in recreation ; they turned 
 aside their looks, or regarded him from afar with eyes 
 full of anxiety and resentment. At other times this 
 change was owing to the awakening of a sentiment 
 which had been dormant in their hearts, and of which 
 they themselves were ignorant during the innocuous 
 days of childhood, and on account of the active occupa- 
 tions of the young scholar. This sentiment of which 
 I speak relates to the social condition. The appear- 
 ance of fellow-scholars, whose families were of higher 
 position, richer than theirs, gave birth to bitter com- 
 parisons and impotent desires ; in the dark vexation 
 of their rebellious pride and guilty jealousy, they 
 felt an embarrassment with their parents, and were 
 less happy to see them. Their temper, their lan- 
 guage, their mien, was altered ; and we know not to 
 what should be attributed this strange and evil trans- 
 formation. It was caused by the vilest of all pride 
 having taken possession of them. 
 
 This phenomenon of perversion manifests itself 
 sometimes from fifteen to eighteen years of age, and, 
 as I have already said, in young people who have 
 never had a single reproach made to them until then. 
 Oh, what profound and skilful tenderness is neces- 
 sary to win back these poor souls — to triumph over 
 this crisis! It is the finest exercise of the gift of 
 bringing up youth, and also the most worthy of that 
 holy mission ; every means is, then, good, when in- 
 spired by the heart and devotion. One of the mild- 
 est, and perhaps the most efficacious, that I at least 
 have tried, is to go straight to the fact, straight to 
 the heart of the child. I have called him to me ; 
 
THE SPOILED CHILD. 63 
 
 said to him, tenderly, paternally, You are sad, my 
 child ; this goes badly, placing my hand on his heart ; 
 you appear to me less happy — let us see, have you 
 not become a little less good ? — that often happens 
 without one being aware of it himself ; as for me, I 
 have no reproach to make you ; but you, are you 
 satisfied with yourself and others ? Are you not 
 hurt by somebody or something ? Let us honestly 
 seek out the guilty one ; is he around you, or within 
 yourself? Is it not pride that troubles you ? In this 
 ill-humor which you cannot define, is there not some- 
 what of a grudge against God, His Providence, and all 
 the world ? It seems to me that nothing around you 
 has changed — your parents, your masters, are still 
 the same to you. May it not be you who are a little 
 changed to them ? Put your hand on your heart ; 
 let your conscience, your reason, your religion, your 
 good-nature, speak coolly before God, before your 
 best friend. Let us discover. I have often seen 
 these poor children melt into tears, look at me with 
 confusion and emotion, cast themselves into my 
 arms, and all was saved. We had no other explana- 
 tion ; there is a grief and shame in the soul which 
 rnust be spared — it is sufficient to arouse them. 
 What reflections may be made here, not only on the 
 sad infirmities of our nature, but also on the re- 
 sources which she offers when religion, coming to 
 her aid, touches and enlightens her ! There is one 
 observation, alas ! too universal, too incontestable, 
 and with it I shall conclude this chapter. Original 
 sin has impaired the most natural feelings, and also 
 the noblest functions of the human heart. I have 
 
64 THE CHILD. 
 
 spoken of spoiled children, and of the parents who 
 spoil them ; are not these children frequently an ex- 
 ample of the former of those alterations, and the 
 parents an example of the latter ? How many chil- 
 dren do we see without gratitude to their parents, 
 without affection, without respect for those from 
 whom they received life, nourishment, every care, 
 and alas, too assiduously, an education full of vanity 
 and effeminacy ! But, we must repeat in conclusion, 
 if the children be frequently so guilty, are not the 
 parents sometimes more so? Does not every sub- 
 ject we discoursed on in this chapter sadly demon- 
 strate it ? In order to be convinced, is it not suffi- 
 cient to see the trouble a father and mother have not 
 to spoil their children, and the struggles they must 
 make against themselves to avoid this misfortune? 
 Is it not sufficient to see the point where their good 
 sense and uprightness become lost, and go wander- 
 ing in a profound and grievous blindness ? Again, 
 the giddiness and thoughtlessness of young parents 
 have a fatal influence. In a word, they should reflect 
 in proper time on the principles to be followed in 
 the education of their children. Nevertheless, how 
 many alliances are contracted, how many children 
 grow up without the duties of their education ever 
 for a moment presenting themselves to the minds of 
 their fathers and mothers ; how many families, whose 
 faults and imprudences point out to us every day 
 that there are but too many parents who have not 
 the least idea of the task to be performed ! What 
 deplorable mistakes, vicious management, and dan- 
 gerous errors! How can we expect from such 
 
THE SPOILED CHILD. 6^ 
 
 teachers a regular rule, a system of education based 
 on just principles, modified according to the wants 
 that present themselves ? What can become of the 
 child given up to himself, false in his early develop- 
 ment, and deprived of healthy moral culture ? This 
 is what Fenelon asks himself in pointing out the 
 dreadful consequences of this negligence and this 
 blindness : '' What," said he, " will become of chil- 
 dren, who, in the end, make up the human species, 
 if their mothers spoil them from their earliest years ? 
 The disorders of men are frequently caused by the 
 bad education they receive from their mothers.'* 
 What, then, should they do ? They should reflect, 
 anticipate, act firmly and persistently, whatever it 
 may cost. They go on from day to day, till children 
 of five or six can hardly be endured; they are ami- 
 able, they laugh at their faults and pretty tricks, 
 they amuse themselves with their graceful sauciness,. 
 not wishing to remember that these children of five 
 or six will soon be twenty and thirty, and that they 
 will make their parents pay dearly for the misfortune 
 of having spoiled them — that is to say, lost them. 
 Montaigne says : " That a genuine and well-regulated 
 affection should spring from and increase with our 
 knowledge of our children, and then, if they will it, 
 the natural inclination keeping pace with reason, 
 cherishes them with a truly paternal friendship. 
 How frequently is it not the contrary, and do we not 
 usually feel ourselves more concerned with the plays 
 and puerile follies of our children, than with their 
 more improved actions afterwards, as if we loved 
 6* 
 
66 THE CHILD. 
 
 them for our pastime — even as apes, not as men ! " ^ 
 What Montaigne says is bitter, but not wanting in 
 justness. As for me, whenever I was condemned to 
 witness the bUndness and the weakness of these 
 parents who knew only how to spoil their children, 
 when I saw them play with these faults which be- 
 come, later on, such terrible, and sometimes such 
 cruel passions, I repeated to myself, with sorrow, the 
 words of the Scripture : '* The whelp will become a 
 lion ; he who plays with his child will some day 
 weep." A mother once expressed this with an en- 
 ergy perhaps still more frightful ; some one re- 
 counted to her that a young woman, in speaking of 
 the education of her children, and the cares it 
 brought on her, said : " It is twenty years of tor- 
 ture." " She deceives herself," replied this mother, 
 who had been enlightened by a much longer expe- 
 rience : *'it is at twenty the torture begins." 
 
 1 Montaigne, Essays, b. ii. chap. viii. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE CHILD ; SOME ADVICE ON HIS EARLY EDUCATION. 
 
 I DO not wish to dwell on these sad thoughts. It 
 is not to grieve the hearts of mothers that I write, 
 but to aid them in the sweet, though difficult, task 
 which Providence has imposed upon them. If there 
 be some among them deficient in the courage, I dare 
 not say the intelligence, to fulfil such great duties, 
 there is a much greater number to whom religion 
 and love have revealed the admirable art of bringing 
 up their children in accordance with the love of God 
 and the wishes of nature. It is of these women, 
 truly blessed by Heaven, I would ask in this moment 
 some practical advice, the light and authority of 
 which I could then present with more confidence to 
 all mothers. Let them understand — it is not a 
 treatise on elementary education that I intend to 
 offer them here, but only some advice; some 
 sketches, the bearing of which their penetration and 
 exquisite tact will know well how to seize and apply. 
 Others, elsewhere, have already written much on this 
 subject. I will, then, confine myself, to some essen- 
 tial points. Education begins even with the birth of 
 the child. All sages, all men of experience, all mas- 
 ters of ethics, the pagans themselves, have pro- 
 claimed it — the day the child opens his eyes on life, 
 
 67 
 
6S THE CHILD. 
 
 and makes his first cries heard, an entire series of 
 duties relative to his education is imposed on all 
 around him. Be not deceived ; the training of this 
 early age is the foundation, the base, of all that his 
 later development in more advanced education, and 
 even his application during the whole course of his 
 life, will receive. In everything, all depends on the 
 principles — this is a trite saying, because so true — 
 but it is especially with respect to education that we 
 must take care to adhere to the best principles, to lay 
 them down forcibly from the beginning, and follow 
 them perseveringly. Behold the terms in which the 
 great Bossuet remarks the decisive importance of so 
 commencing: .''If one occupies himself with his 
 children in good time, paternal influence and good 
 precepts can then accomplish much. On the con- 
 trary, if false and fatal maxims are once permitted to 
 enter their minds, the tyranny of habit becomes so 
 invincible in them, that there is no remedy which 
 can cure the evil. To prevent it becoming incurable, 
 it must be anticipated. And, nevertheless, what 
 comes to pass and what is done with this first age of 
 life.^" "It is given up," says Fenelon, "to indis- 
 creet and disorderly women; though," he adds, "it 
 is the age when the deepest impressions are made, 
 and which, consequently, has the greatest influence on 
 the whole future of the child." The sages of antiq- 
 uity spoke in the same manner : " You are not igno- 
 rant," said Plato, " that in everything the beginning 
 is the great affair, especially with respect to young 
 and tender beings ; it is then they may be moulded, 
 and receive the imprint which you wish to give them. 
 
SOME ADVICE ON HIS EARLY EDUCATION. 69 
 
 Considering this, shall we suffer children to hear all 
 sorts of fables invented by the first comer, and their 
 minds to take in opinions, most of them contrary to 
 those which we know that they will require in mature 
 age?" (Plato, Repub., book ii., vol. ix., pp. 105, 106.) 
 Let us, then, permit nurses to relate to children only 
 well-chosen fables, and to use still more care in form- 
 ing their minds than their bodies. It must be 
 acknowledged, that even Christian parents are some- 
 times so ignorant of their duties, so blind to all con- 
 cerning the early education of their children, and 
 especially so imprudent, so inconsiderate in the 
 choice of those to whose care they commit them in 
 their early years, that it is, unfortunately, but too 
 necessary to dwell on this point, and I consider it 
 particularly useful to bring under their notice that 
 which paganism itself formerly said on this subject. 
 Plutarch, in a treatise on the education of children, 
 expresses himself with still more force than Plato : 
 '* It is necessary to use every care in order to make 
 a good choice of the nurses intrusted with their 
 early education. In a word, if it be necessary to 
 mould the limbs of children immediately after their 
 birth, that they may not contract any natural defect, 
 we cannot too soon form also their dispositions and 
 their manners." The mind of a child is a flexible 
 paste, which receives without resistance every form 
 that we wish to give it — once strengthened by age, 
 it bends with difficulty. Seals impress themselves 
 quickly on soft wax ; in the same manner the pre- 
 cepts we give to these still tender minds easily be- 
 come imprinted, .and lea^e deep traces there. It is 
 
70 THE CHILD. 
 
 for this reason the divine Plato so expressly recom- 
 mends nurses never to entertain children with ridic- 
 ulous tales, which fill their minds with false and 
 absurd ideas. Again, from the same motive, we 
 should choose with care the young servants whom 
 we place about children to attend or be brought up 
 with them. It is particularly necessary they should 
 have pure morals ; in the second place, that they 
 know their own language, and speak it correctly. 
 Corrupt servants soon communicate to children the 
 vices of their language and their morals. The wise 
 Quintilian also has consecrated some fine pages to 
 this important subject. It would be too long to 
 quote them. I have already said, the cares given to 
 these early years are the commencement of all that 
 his application or development will receive later on. 
 Everything, then, requires the most serious atten- 
 tion. Physical education, intellectual education, 
 moral education, and religious education — nothing 
 should be abandoned to chance — nothing should be 
 done or tried at random. At this age, which, as we 
 have seen, comprises almost the first eight or ten 
 years of life, physical education is important. Some 
 authors of more or less weight have given with re- 
 gard to it numberless advices, among which many 
 are wise, though mixed with strange details and 
 thoughts, which it is impossible for us to approve of. 
 We shall confine ourselves to desiring that this first 
 education be not too soft, for it would thus develop 
 beyond measure that principle of effeminacy and 
 sensuality, which, later on, resists every effort of the 
 most serious education, and also of grace ; nor too 
 
SOME ADVICE ON HIS EARLY EDUCATION. /I 
 
 hard, as the existence and organs of the child are 
 still so frail. "What is most important then," says 
 Fenelon, '* is, not to push on children too much ; to 
 strengthen their organs, spare their health, and form 
 them gradually, according to the occasions which 
 naturally present themselves. Nevertheless, from 
 that time, intellectual education should likewise be 
 attended to." In the child, the labor of the under- 
 standing is prodigious. It is in these early years' 
 that his mind acquires, not only the use of language 
 and the knowledge of sensible objects, but in the lan- 
 guage and ^knowledge of purely spiritual matters a 
 multitude of extraordinary ideas. We know that this 
 fact has excited the admiration of all clear-sighted 
 observers, who have recognized in this secret and 
 almost entirely spontaneous work one of the most 
 surprising mysteries and greatest benefits of Provi- 
 dence. There are two systems by which children 
 may be spoiled in their early intellectual education ; 
 the one, that of not making them do anything ; the 
 other, that of making them do too much. If this 
 first education be wise and foreseeing, no doubt it 
 will take advantage of the astonishing dispositions of 
 childhood, and this wonderful opening of the mind 
 to everything, in order to give it simple, just, clear, 
 and precise ideas. But it will be doubtful of the 
 mania for creating prodigies of six or eight years old, 
 who at fifteen or twenty become children of tender 
 parts. If it be real, and without vanity, it will apply 
 itself constantly to forming the speech and all the 
 language of the child to a proper purity; it may, 
 perhaps, attach too much importance to his learning 
 
72 THE CHILD, 
 
 two or three foreign languages, which will be of lit- 
 tle use later on, in the course of his public educa- 
 tion ; and, nevertheless, his confused notions of 
 them sometimes suffice to arrest the spring of the 
 mind in more serious studies. The fault that I point 
 out here is not a trifling one. Doubtless, there may 
 be great advantages in learning and speaking at an 
 early age some foreign languages ; but if this study 
 be badly made, badly begun, badly continued, it may 
 produce the gravest inconvenience. Fenelon, in 
 speaking of the fancy which reigned in his time for 
 making young children learn Italian and Spanish, 
 went so far as to say, " that there was much more 
 to be lost than gained in this study." Again said 
 he : " Even when you can advance much the mind of 
 a child without pressing it, you should fear to do so ; 
 the danger from vanity and presumption is always 
 much greater than the fruit of those premature edu- 
 cations which make so much noise ; into a reservoir 
 so small and precious we should pour only the most 
 exquisite things." It is manifest that all this re- 
 quires great attention and rare discernment. I have 
 seen children condemned to do nothing during the 
 finest years of their youth, from fourteen to eighteen, 
 because from six to ten they had been overpowered 
 and worn out with work ; nevertheless, on the other 
 side, it is very necessary to take care, that, under pre- 
 text of not fatiguing them, children are not allowed 
 to do anything, and accustomed to live in idleness 
 and without rule. When a child comes to a certain 
 age without applying himself to anything, it is im- 
 possible to inspire in hinj a desire for study or any 
 
SOME ADVICE ON HTS EARLY EDUCATION. 73 
 
 taste for solid things ; everything serious appears sad 
 to him; everything that requires continuous attem^ 
 tion fatigues him ; the inclination to pleasure, which 
 is so strong during youth, the example of children 
 of the same age who are plunged in amusement — all 
 serve to make him fear and fly the application of an 
 orderly and laborious life. These first studies should 
 be extremely simple — I would almost dare to s^y 
 they cannot be too much so. They should consist of 
 reading, writing, the first elements of arithmetic, and 
 some ideas of history and geography. That is abun- 
 dantly sufficient for those early years. It is impor- 
 tant that all be well taught, well learned, well under^ 
 stood. Little and well — very little and very well— is 
 the great principle. The history of the early years 
 of the Duke of Burgundy shows us what intellectti^l 
 education can and ought to do for man at this age, and 
 what resources it finds in him to form and improve 
 him. We know that F^nelon, to adorn the mind of 
 his pupil, and at- the same time make him perceive 
 his faults, composed a series of Fables and Dia- 
 logues. ''We see," says M. de Bausset, "by the 
 simplicity, the precision, the clearness, of some of 
 these fables, that they are suited to a child, whose 
 intellect should not be wearied, and to whose mind 
 only that which it can understand and preserve 
 should be presented. According as the course of 
 instruction brought the young prince to understand 
 their bearing, these fables assumed a more elevated 
 style — they contained some allusions to history and 
 mythology." In developing the intellect of his 
 pupil, Fenelon took great- care not to crush- htm 
 7 
 
74 THE CHILD. 
 
 under a weight of knowledge too great for his age ; 
 and yet he knew how, skilfully, to take advantage of 
 every means to elevate the faculties of the child, and 
 suitably prepare them for the highest and finest 
 amount of great literary information. This wise 
 temperament is very rare in our days. On the one 
 hand, we see some children burdened at an early age 
 with a heavy erudition, on which the science of 
 memory has exhausted the treasury of its dates and 
 nomenclatures ; or condemned to read ridiculous lit- 
 tle moral tracts, sometimes of a despairing dryness, 
 sometimes of insipid sentiment, and always of an 
 odious pedantry, anything of which they are abso- 
 lutely incapable of understanding or feeling. This 
 caused a lady of great sense to say, wittily, ''that 
 the children brought up to read Peau-d'Ane, Prince 
 Tity, and Bluebeard, had more imagination and real 
 sense than all those poor children brought up to 
 read little pedantic tracts." On the other hand, 
 even among those destined to receive the highest 
 literary education, how many children remain with- 
 out any intellectual culture until the period of pri- 
 mary instruction arrives! — all their faculties lie-in 
 fallow. Sometimes it takes many years to draw 
 them out of this sad state — frequently the most 
 assiduous cares are not sufficient to do so ; and we 
 must consider ourselves very happy if we contrive 
 to render them capable of learning anything at fif- 
 teen or sixteen. In fine, there remains moral and 
 religious education, for which it is the duty of a 
 father and a mother, worthy of that name, to devote 
 themselves to the child from the first glimmerings of 
 
SOME ADVICE ON HIS EARLY EDUCATION. 75 
 
 his reason and understanding. They sometimes say 
 that this education is not suited for his age, and 
 under this pretext, which is a serious error, they neg- 
 lect to give the child, at the precise time it becomes 
 possible, that culture which is the most important, 
 and which he is most capable of receiving. For 
 from that time his mind is at once a soft wax, which 
 receives the impressions given to it, and an active 
 faculty which begins to comprehend — from that 
 time the propensities of the heart reveal themselves ; 
 man takes his first step, and declares himself ; the 
 features of his character become delineated ; the will 
 is exercised; the conscience formed — from that 
 time the child can acquire the first knowledge of 
 good and evil, the first love of truth and Christian 
 virtue. That such is the proceeding of nature has 
 never been disputed. Why not know how to act con- 
 sistently with it ? Why does the labor of teachers, 
 who understand their task, too frequently consist of 
 combating and uprooting the gross faults contracted 
 and nourished at this age .-* And how often do they 
 succeed in it ? Fenelon has given many sensible 
 warnings respecting this point. *' From this early 
 age," he says, ''however little good the nature of 
 children may be, they can be rendered docile, pa- 
 tient, steady, gay, and peaceable ; instead of which, 
 if they be neglected in this early youth, they be- 
 come eager and restless all their lives ; their blood 
 burns ; habits become formed ; the body, still ten- 
 der, and the mind, which has not yet shown a pro- 
 pensity for anything, incline towards evil ; it forms 
 within them a species of second original sin, which 
 
7^ THE CHILD. 
 
 is the source of a thousand disorders when they 
 grow up." Among the admirable counsels that 
 Fenelon addresses to those intrusted with the moral 
 education of early age, there are two of great im- 
 portance which I wish to point out here. The first 
 relates to the awakening of sensibility at an early 
 age in the hearts of children. "As soon as a child 
 is capable of feeling friendship, the only question is 
 that of directing his affection towards persons who 
 may be useful to him. Friendship will lead him to 
 do almost anything desired — it is assuredly a tie to 
 draw him to good, provided it is known how to make 
 use of it ; the only thing to fear is an excess, or a 
 bad choice in the object of his affections." Again 
 Fenelon said, " It is necessary to try, before chil- 
 dren shall have lost this first simplicity of the most 
 natural emotions, to make them taste the pleasure of 
 a cordial and reciprocal friendship. Nothing contrib- 
 utes so much to it as placing about them, at first, per- 
 sons who never show them any harshness, falseness, 
 meanness, or selfishness. It would be better to toler- 
 ate near them people having other faults, but exempt 
 from these. Again, it is necessary to praise children 
 for everything they do through friendship, provided 
 it be not out of place or too ardent. It is also neces- 
 sary that their parents show sincere friendship to 
 them, for children often learn even from their par- 
 ents not to love anything." (Fenelon, " Educ. of 
 Daughters.") A second counsel given by Fenelon, 
 and one which is also of great importance, is to be- 
 ware of the mania and danger of imitation among 
 children. ''It is necessary," says he, ''to prevent 
 
SOME ADVICE ON HIS EARLY EDUCATION. // 
 
 them from mimicking ridiculous people, for these 
 mocking and dissembling manners have something 
 low and contrary to honest sentiments in them. We 
 may suppose that they catch them up because the 
 warmth of their imagination, their suppleness of 
 body, joined with their sprightliness, make it easy 
 for them to put on all kinds of shapes to represent 
 what strikes them as ridiculous." This tendency in 
 children produces innumerable evils when they are 
 intrusted to foolish people, who know not how to 
 restrain themselves before them. How much benefit 
 and positive influence these wise ideas, these subtle 
 and penetrating observations, of Fenelon would have 
 on the education of early youth, if they were well 
 understood and meditated on ! That the impressions 
 of those early years, the habits acquired at this age, 
 are the strongest and most lasting, is a truth which 
 has never been disputed ; but one hardly ever be- 
 thinks himself of the practical consequences to be 
 deduced from it. Hence, laws affecting public 
 morals cannot be too severe — laws imposing wisdom 
 and circumspection on all those who have access to 
 childhood, or who are bound to give it lessons and 
 example. As soon as childhood begins to think and 
 feel, its mind and heart need a food to nourish them, 
 and this food, whatsoever it may be, changes itself 
 into their substance. The ideas, the images, which 
 present themselves to the child, gradually form the 
 stamp of his character, and, so to speak, the founda- 
 tion of his soul. While his senses and his imagina- 
 tion are full of what he hears and. what he sees, he 
 prepares for himself in silence the rule of his judg- 
 
yS THE CHILD. 
 
 ments and the motive of his actions; and it is this 
 which causes the prejudices of childhood to have so 
 incredible a strength. It is the duty of domestic 
 education to choose with great discretion the objects 
 which shall first strike the eye of the child, attract 
 his attention, and on which he will exercise the sen- 
 sibility of his heart — this is what domestic educa- 
 tion ought to do, but unfortunately does not always 
 do among us. We have been, during too long a 
 time, trained to despise everything, to profane every- 
 thing, but still to spare childhood. We know that 
 the degree of corruption in public morals renders it 
 very difficult to preserve even decency in private 
 morals. Alas ! how many children no longer find 
 safety in the paternal household, where sometimes 
 their eyes, their ears, all their senses, receive as 
 nourishment but a subtle and deadly poison, which 
 penetrates into those unhappy beings without their 
 perceiving it, and destroys in their hearts even the 
 germs of virtue — thus imparing the gifts of Nature ; 
 and frequently minds which she has qualified for 
 great deeds, so degenerate by education, that it is 
 with a great effort they rise again from it ! It is 
 especially when there is question of purity of morals 
 that the education of early youth should redouble its 
 zeal, and surround children with the most careful 
 precautions and strictest vigilance. Fenelon wished 
 that they should absolutely shun public theatres and 
 all other exciting amusements, which are only suited 
 to give children a taste for dangerous things, and, 
 besides, never fail to make them find all innocent 
 pleasures insipid. He branded without mercy the 
 
SOME ADVICE ON HIS EARLY EDUCATION. 79 
 
 guilty imprudence of so many parents who thus ex- 
 posed their children, with hearts still so tender, and 
 imaginations so lively and so fickle, to the violent 
 shocks of theatrical amusements, to the languishing 
 tones of that effeminate music, which serves but to 
 enervate the powers of the mind, and render the 
 morals of the child loose and voluptuous, and which 
 gives so much pleasure only because the soul delivers 
 itself up to the allurements of the senses, almost to 
 intoxication. Fenelon went so far as to wish that 
 children should be inspired with horror — it is the 
 expression he uses — ** horror of those poisoned 
 amusements and other corrupting vanities, naked- 
 ness of the bosom, and every other immodesty," 
 which people so frequently indulge in before chil- 
 dren, or permit to them. "Nothing," said he, **can 
 justify in these parents, before God or man, a con- 
 duct so rash, so scandalous, and so contagious for 
 their children." Since we cannot, in the state of 
 our morals, let childhood grow up in ignorance of 
 vice, it would be desirable that we could make a com- 
 pact with its newly-born faculties to suspend their 
 progress, and retain them in idleness as long as pos- 
 sible, that they might be developed without danger. 
 For minds entirely blank, not trained, and void of 
 everything, would be far less removed from wisdom 
 than those who have gathered it and carry with it 
 perfidious seeds. Then, at least, the time of the 
 second education would not be almost entirely wasted 
 in combating with and destroying the vicious im- 
 pressions made by the first ; and a man should not 
 be reduced to applauding himself as completely sue- 
 
80 THE CHILD. 
 
 cessful, when he has only succeeded in curing the 
 evil already done. At the same time, it must be 
 said, and I have witnessed it, that this first education 
 is often very well commenced and admirably con- 
 ducted in Christian families among us. God has given 
 to man, from the beginning, a natural teacher, whom 
 no one can replace. How many times has not a 
 good mother, a pious mother, found, in her own heart 
 and in the inspirations of piety, secrets of education 
 a thousand times more efficacious than any pedagogic 
 theories! I shall afford myself the consolation of 
 speaking of them in detail when I come to treat of 
 the rights and duties of maternal authority. At 
 present I shall confine myself to saying, that the 
 cares of a mother are necessary to a child, not only 
 for the first two or three years of his life, but far be- 
 yond it. Above all, I could never approve of giving 
 up to public education children of four or five years, 
 to whom nothing can replace maternal care.^ It 
 is for the mother to arouse in her child the first 
 glimmerings of intelligence, and the first love of 
 good ; to place upon his lips the first words of faith 
 and virtue ; to turn his first looks towards heaven ; 
 in a word, it is for the mother to endow him 
 with a Christian soul, as she has given to him a 
 human body ; and if there be nothing so hideous as 
 the example, happily very rare, of a mother breath- 
 ing irreligion into the heart of her son, so also noth- 
 ing is more moving and beautiful to see than the 
 spectacle of a Christian mother giving to a child, 
 
 1 It can be easily understood that I do not here condemn the Salles 
 d'Asile, nor even the Creche. 
 
SOME ADVICE ON HIS EARLY EDUCATION. Si 
 
 blessed by God, his first instruction in faith, re- 
 counting to him the touching histories of rehgion, 
 teaching him to join his Httle hands in prayer, and 
 making him Hsp with his infantine mouth the most 
 sacred Name. Such ought to be the first education 
 — I more wiUingly call it maternal education. It 
 should be carried on at the domestic hearth, pro- 
 vided the paternal household be always for this child, 
 beginning life, a school of purity, justice, goodness, 
 virtue, wisdom, and mildness — that nothing comes 
 there to spoil his heart or his mind during those 
 happy times, when thought, reason, speech, and con- 
 science are being primitively formed in him ; when 
 the first elements of his whole intellectual and moral 
 Jife are being prepared. In concluding this chapter, 
 I would wish to pledge my readers to study Fene- 
 lon's Treatise on the Education of Daughters, be- 
 cause it is an incomparable book. I wished to give 
 some extracts from it, and then L perceived I should 
 quote the entire work. Fenelon makes in it not 
 only the education of children, but especially that of 
 tutors, governesses, and mothers. Pastors and cate- 
 chists, themselves, will find there the most impor- 
 tant, elevated, and fruitful instructions, particularly 
 in chapters vi., vii., and viii., on the use of history to 
 indoctrinate into the mind of the child the first prin- 
 ciples of religion. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE RESPECT DUE TO THE DIGNITY OF CHILDHOOD 
 IS A RELIGIOUS RESPECT. 
 
 If the child appear, in the eyes of the philosopher, 
 enlightened by faith, a being worthy of a religious 
 respect, it is because, besides the graces and natural 
 prerogatives of his age, he finds something higher 
 and more divine which should inspire this respect, 
 and elevate him almost to God Himself. God is 
 actually the Creator, the Father, the Model, of this 
 child. All those artless graces on which we rest our 
 eyes with so much complaisance are the reflections 
 of the Divine Grace itself; and if his education 
 should ascend so high, and be made with so religious 
 a care, it is because, sublime- creature, he bears, in 
 the foundation of his nature, in the elevation, power, 
 and harmony of his faculties, the likeness of God. 
 This humble child is destined to a double kingdom. 
 If he carries his crown worthily on earth, the king- 
 dom of Heaven will one day be opened to him ; and 
 if we sometimes give him the name of angel, though 
 abased beneath them here on earth, it is because 
 God has lavished on him, as on the angels, life, intel- 
 ligence, and love^ and with this celestial nature all 
 the faculties^ all the gifts, all the wonderful attributes, 
 
 which flow from it. 
 82 
 
r 
 
 RESPECT DUE THE DIGNITY OF CHILDHOOD. 83 
 
 Let US make man to our image and our likeness :" 
 these admirable words, says Bossuet, " reveal to us, 
 that, in creating man, God proposed no other model 
 but Himself," and that He wished to make the fea- 
 tures of His perfection and His glory shine forth 
 magnificently in the human creature. I do not wish 
 to dilate further than is suitable on this mysterious 
 subject; at the same time, I cannot but remark what 
 a surprising trinity is to be met with in the unity of 
 a created and imperfect nature, and how lively an 
 image and surprising a likeness of the most high 
 God we catch a glimpse of in it. God is life, intelli- 
 gence, unbounded love. God is truth, beauty, supreme 
 goodness. Well, it has pleased this God that these 
 constitutive perfections of His own essence should 
 be the foundation even of being in this weak child. 
 God has wished that the highest powers of His 
 divine nature should be reflected in the dawning fac- 
 ulties of this being so lowly. This child, then, lives, 
 thinks, loves, as God lives, thinks, and loves. The 
 true, the beautiful, the good, should be the essential 
 and only object of intellectual and moral instruction 
 in his education. And it is in the perfect accord of 
 the great human faculties with the true, the beauti- 
 ful, and the good, with the truth, beauty, and supreme 
 goodness, that the principle of harmony, repose, plen- 
 itude, and power of these faculties will be found. 
 Such is the work of education. This sublime theory 
 of the faculties of man, which at present I confine 
 myself to indicating, and which further on I will 
 explain, is but the principle and foundation of the 
 theory of education itself. This theory rules the 
 
84 THE CHILD. 
 
 development and exercise of the human faculties; 
 it reveals the play, nature, and action of them in the 
 grown man as in the child; and, at the same time, it 
 is it alone which enlightens the science, languages, 
 literatures, poetry, and arts which are taught to him. 
 In all these faculties God at first entirely appears ; 
 'His name. His splendor, burst forth from all sides, 
 and cause to glitter like the light of a divine day all 
 -the beauties of human nature, and all the riches with 
 which God has endowed it. The Divine perfection, to 
 the image of which this child was created, is then the 
 end, the model, the image, the essential type, of the ed- 
 ucation which he should receive. " Let us make man 
 to our image and likeness:" the word of God could 
 not be more decisive. It is thus that God becomes 
 for this child at once the perfection of his being, the 
 immortal nourishment of his intellect, the inspiration 
 of his love, and the entire life of his soul. This 
 should explain why I have said that education was a 
 divine work, and that the respect due to the nature 
 and dignity of this child was a religious respect, and 
 should elevate him almost to God. But what it is also 
 necessary to understand here, is, that this fine and 
 great nature, that all these gifts of the Creator, re- 
 quire germination and growth, and of themselves 
 solicit development and the culture of this religious re- 
 spect. Life, intelligence, and love, wit, talent, genius, 
 good sense, good taste, will, character, conscience, 
 letters, sciences, arts, even industry, religion, moral- 
 ity, truth, virtue, — ^all these great and divine gifts of 
 humanity are without light and without name in a 
 child, and will remain buried in -the depths of bis 
 
RESPECT DUE THE DIGNITY OF CHILDHOOD. 85 
 
 nature, if care be not taken to study them with 
 respect, and cultivate them reUgiously. There is 
 the beautiful work of education ; but once more, a 
 respectful education only can satisfy such noble 
 claims, and correspond to their sublime instincts. 
 A devotion, a respect, truly, sincerely rehgious, alone 
 can suitably cultivate the wonderful gifts of the 
 Creator, elevate these fine faculties to the strength of 
 their natural integrity and establish them in the 
 power and plenitude of their action, adorn them with 
 their finest growth, and at length crown them with 
 the flowers and fruits of science and virtue. And 
 behold why education, such as I conceive it ought to 
 be, is but the most profound evidence .of the respect 
 of which human nature is worthy. High as this 
 theory may appear, it is the foundation on which the 
 edifice of the entire education rests and should be 
 raised. Ah! without doubt, this work is not easy; 
 it has vast proportions, and, in its apparent simpli- 
 city, offers numerous and imposing aspects; and 
 every time that one does not apply himself to com- 
 prehend, undertake, and do it in all its magnitude, 
 he is wanting in respect for it. Yes, every time that 
 one does not devote himself to cultivate religiously, 
 and elevate nature and human dignity in the child ; 
 every time that he neglects to form in him man such 
 as God has conceived him, man such as God has 
 created him, man such as God wishes he should be 
 formed and completed ; every time that he does not 
 this, he betrays, he violates, the respect which is due 
 to this child and his original greatness ; and, I ought 
 to add, such misfortune is not rare. Teachers of 
 
S6 THE CHILD. 
 
 youth should never forget that the child is man 
 himself, the depositary of all the gifts of God, all 
 the hopes of humanity ; and, young though he be, 
 he is already invested with all the grace, all the 
 dignity, which God has communicated to human 
 nature. The remembrance of this will suffice to sus- 
 tain the courage of teachers, and prevent them from 
 failing in the noble and -laborious task to which they 
 have devoted themselves. Certainly, when the Crea- 
 tor wished to make man, He did not labor negligently 
 or disdainfully at this great work ; it was not a play 
 for Him, as the creation of the material world had 
 been. It is worthy of remark that God no longer 
 makes use of this brief and imperious word, with 
 which he caused to come out of the eternally sterile 
 bowels of nothing the multitude of common crea- 
 tures which charm our eyes, including amongst them 
 light and the sun. No ; He meditated within Him- 
 self, pronounced a word of advice, and, if I may say 
 it, of respect — this great and immortal word, *' Let 
 us make man to our image and likeness." He then 
 acted with the gravity worthy of so solemn a work. 
 The creation of man was, above all, the result of a 
 supreme deliberation, an action entirely divine, and, 
 in fine, a breath, an inspiration of eternal life, spiracu- 
 lum vitce. Such was the greatness of the creation 
 of man ; such ought to be the work, the gravity, the 
 greatness, of his education ; such the respect which 
 is due to him. Behold what is the chief point to be 
 well understood when one takes up this labor. I 
 shall now enter into some practical details. The end 
 of education is to form man; but what does this 
 
RESPECT DUE THE DIGNITY OF CHILDHOOD. 8/ 
 
 mean, and what is the real task of the teacher? 
 Here it is. Man has, at the same time, body and 
 soul, understanding, will, heart, and conscience : God 
 has made him so. 
 
 To form man is, then, to make the child attain all 
 the development, all the elevation, all the strength, 
 all the beauty, of which his physical and intellectual, 
 moral and religious, faculties are susceptible. It is 
 to give to his body the vigor, the pliancy, the agility, 
 necessary for the good service of the soul ; but that, 
 be it understood, is still but a trifle. The pagans 
 themselves found that man is a noble spectacle only 
 when the beauty and strength of the soul are in har- 
 mony with the beauty and strength of the body.^ 
 Gratior et pidchro venieiis in corpore virtus (Virgile). 
 Mens Sana in corpore sano (Juvenal). 
 
 Again, to form man is especially to give to his 
 mind all the fine knowledge, reveal to him all the 
 noble doctrine, which will be the ornament and light 
 of his life ; it is to make him acquire all his strength 
 and all his capacity by suitable exercises and intel- 
 lectual labor; it is to develop in him judgment, rea- 
 soning, taste, penetration, memory, imagination, 
 facility of elocution ; in a word, thought and speech, 
 those two great prerogatives of humanity. To form 
 man, as God requires him, is at the same time to 
 strengthen his character, confirm his will, enlighten 
 his conscience, and inspire in his heart a generous 
 sensibility. It is to place and nourish in his soul 
 every virtuous inclination which will induce him to 
 fulfil the law of duty towards his Creator, towards 
 
 ^ Plato. Repub. book iii. chap. ix. 
 
S8 THE CHILD. 
 
 himself, society, and all his kind. Without doubt, 
 all this is a great deal, but it is not yet all; if we 
 stopped there, the work would be imperfect, or rather 
 it would be little short of utter ruin. We have al- 
 ready seen that man has numerous deplorable faults ; 
 he is fortunate when they are but defects of his good 
 dispositions. In a good education these dispositions 
 are strengthened by the defects themselves, which 
 they absorb, and over which they gradually triumph ; 
 thus in the end, and thanks to the struggle, becom- 
 ing virtues. On the contrary, in a bad education 
 these defects carry away and crush the good disposi- 
 tions, and become vices. What, then, is the great, 
 and frequently the most painful, labor of the teacher .? 
 .It is this. If he wish, as he ought to wish, to estab- 
 lish the child in the legitimate and entire possession 
 of the faculties of his nature, if he wish to make 
 him a man by that means, and a man worthy of the 
 name, he will not confine himself to increasing in 
 the heart of this child every inclination to duty, and 
 developing his good dispositions ; he will diligently 
 apply himself to study his defects, root out his dan- 
 gerous tendencies, reform his bad habits, and correct 
 his vices, if unfortunately they are already to be 
 found in this young creature ; he will anticipate, if 
 he can, the awakening of the passions, or at least 
 control them strongly and wisely at the proper time. 
 It is at this price only the work can be accomplished ; 
 and for this reason I have said that education is es- 
 sentially a work of respect. I do not know anything 
 which requires more respectful devotedness .than this 
 painful labor. Without the thought of God, without 
 
RESPECT DUE THE DIGNITY OF CHILDHOOD. 89 
 
 a religious respect for human nature, one could never 
 sincerely and courageously labor to correct, reform, 
 and elevate it. I recapitulate all this: education 
 ought to mould man, make of the child a man, that is 
 to say, give him a strong and healthy, body, a trained 
 and penetrating mind, an upright and sound reason, 
 a fertile imagination, a sensible and pure heart, and 
 all that, m the highest degree, of which the child is 
 susceptible. Such is its work; such are its benefits; 
 such the high and vast idea which ought to preside 
 over every step of human education, maternal educa- 
 tion, primary education, secondary education. Edu- 
 cation never leaves man till it institutes him in life, 
 and institutes him as man complete. It is then, 
 from this high point of view, conforniably with that 
 beautiful Latin expression which Quintilian and Bos- 
 suet make use of, that education may be called the 
 institution of man. It is then is accomplished the 
 work of religious respect due to the noble creature of 
 God» But, they will say to me, is it always neces- 
 sary to elevate it so high? May we not do less .'* 
 Where, then, are the teachers worthy of the name .'^ 
 I am not charged with resolving this last question ; 
 but I answer without hesitation, No ; we may not 
 do less. Education, under pain of being incomplete, 
 of leaving man unfinished, and, consequently, pro- 
 foundly wanting in the dignity of this beautiful na- 
 ture, should make of the child a man in all his integ- 
 rity. It should put him fully in possession of him- 
 self; it should, consequently, develop, polish, elevate, 
 all his noble faculties as completely as it is possible 
 to do it; it cannot neglect any of them. Other- 
 8* 
 
90 THE CHILD. 
 
 wise it is an imperfect work ; it is a bad education ; 
 it is a miserable work; and when it is considered 
 that this work is man himself, of whom God has 
 said, ** Let us make him to our image and likeness," 
 one is tempted to ask those unworthy teachers 
 by what right they bring a rash hand over the 
 work and the image of God, to disfigure it ; over 
 such beautiful and such pure hopes, to wither them ; 
 over such high faculties, to ruin them. We are 
 justly surprised at this guilty negligence, this 
 haughty disdain, from which education so frequently 
 suffers. In fine, we are deeply irritated with this 
 sacrilegious contempt, and, I will say, all these mer- 
 cenary, hypocritical cares, of which childhood is so 
 frequently the object and the victim. I like to think 
 that this evil arises more usually from want of intelli- 
 gence and reflection ; they do not know, and, let us 
 acknowledge, they do not attach sufficient impor- 
 tance to knowing, what this great work of education 
 is. It is true, they do not dispute the radical neces- 
 sity of it for all, nor the immense influence it has on 
 the individual, on the family, on all society; they do 
 not even refuse to recognize that its end is to mould, 
 to elevate, and make man perfect ; but that of which 
 they are ignorant, or know but partly, is, that to 
 attain this end, the essential, proper character of 
 education, is to cultivate religiously, develop and 
 strengthen, all the faculties of man, without any un- 
 worthy exception. They do not understand that hu- 
 man education ought to be like man himself, whom 
 it seeks to form, simple, uniform, constant, complete. 
 Man actually has received nothing from God that 
 
RESPECT DUE THE DIGNITY OF CHILDHOOD. 9I 
 
 education can neglect ; he is a being worthy of ele- 
 vation on every account. The integrity of his ed- 
 ucation is the providential law of his life and his 
 future. It cannot be knowingly or negligently frus- 
 trated without betraying him in the most guilty 
 manner ; and, nevertheless, they hardly ever inquire 
 for the instruments or the means which education 
 can and ought to make use of to exercise its great 
 action and accomplish its entire work with respect. 
 Hence so many deplorable educations, which are, at 
 the same time, the misfortune of the pupils and the 
 shame of the teachers. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 OF HUMAN NATURE IN THE CHILD ; ON HIS DEFECTS ; 
 NECESSITY OF KNOWING THEM WELL, AND COR- 
 RECTING THEM IN HIM. 
 
 It is necessary to return to the child, and cast a 
 supreme and profound look into his soul, and even 
 into the greatest recesses and inmost depths of his 
 nature ; for it is there that the work of education is 
 really to be done ; it is there that the obstacles as 
 well as the resources lie : it is there that every effort 
 should be brought to bear. Hoc opus, hie labor est. 
 But it should be well understood that a soul, the 
 nature of a child, is quite a world ; we may say, in 
 the words of the Holy Scriptures, it is an abyss 
 {Abysstcm es eor — Ecclus. xlii. i8) which can never 
 sufficiently be explored and enlightened. And the 
 Scriptures add of this heart of man, that it is at 
 once inscrutable and bad, Cor pravuni et inseriUa- 
 bile. (Jerem. xvii. 9.) Inscrutable as the heights of 
 heaven and the depths of earth, SictU eoeluin sursiim 
 et terra deorsuni. (Prov. xxv. 3.) And, nevertheless, 
 if one has not scrutinized this abyss, if one has not 
 fathomed this heart in every way, he is unsuited to 
 the great work of education ; for, once again, it is not 
 92 
 
ON HUMAN NATURE IN THE CHILD, ETC. 93 
 
 on the surface, but in the interior of the soul, that this 
 work is to be done. It must be an every-day labor 
 and study ; and, willingly applying to this knowledge 
 of children the words of St. Paul, I will say to mas- 
 ters, HcBc inedita7^e in his esto, insta in illis. The 
 heart of the child is the book which must be pon- 
 dered on and searched into unceasingly ; it is a 
 never-ending study ; there will always be something 
 to discover in it, and you will be suited to your work 
 only in proportion as you become clever in reading 
 this living book and fathoming all its secrets. The 
 interior radical obstacle springs up again unceas- 
 ingly ; it is the foundation even of human nature 
 which is spoiled ; these are the defects and vices, 
 the fatal germs of which are in us, as a consequence 
 of original perversion. Plato has said, "The new- 
 born child is not good ; but he may become so if he 
 be well brought up." Certainly not; the new-born 
 child is not good. The evil germs are within, and 
 wait but age to blow. It is with these evil germs, 
 and sometimes with the most vicious inclinations, 
 in a word, it is with the profound defects of this 
 nature, that the struggle must be carried on, but 
 with the aid of means for education far superior to 
 all those that Plato ever knew. It has been said 
 that the human soul is, in the child, a blank tablet, 
 where nothing has yet been written : it may be so, 
 though there is much to be said thereon ; but at 
 least it has certainly already its virtualities, all its 
 powers ; and if it be fertile for good, unfortunately it 
 has also an undoubted fecundity for evil. The mal- 
 adies from which the human soul suffers, and conscr 
 
,94 THE CHILD. 
 
 quently the education of the child, are as innumerable 
 as those from which physical life and health suffer : 
 education, the physician of the soul, whose mission 
 is the cure of these ills, should, like the physician of 
 the body, begin by studying them well, so as to know 
 them. well. In this soul there is not only evil, but 
 there is good ; there are not only defects, but there 
 are good dispositions ; education, at the same time 
 that it corrects the faults and cures the evil, should 
 also develop and elevate the good dispositions, and, 
 as St. Paul says, ** conquer the evil through the 
 good." For this there must be not only great zeal, 
 but great discernment, and the emmployent of seri- 
 ous remedies, without which the ills of humanity can 
 never be cured. 
 
 In one of those admirable parables, of a divine 
 simplicity, by which our Lord formerly instructed 
 his disciples, the parable of the cockle and the good 
 grain, there is a striking image of that which is the 
 great rock of education, and also the great duty of 
 the teacher. Without doubt, this parable may be 
 applied in all its details, and, above all, to the mixture 
 of the good and the wicked on earth ; but we may 
 likewise, in some manner, usefully and truly apply 
 it to the mixture of good and evil dispositions which 
 are to be found in children and every human crea- 
 ture. God — and this is especially true with respect 
 to children brought up in a house of Christian edu- 
 cation — God has abundantly sown in these children 
 
ON HUMAN NATURE IN THE CHILD, ETC. 95 
 
 the good grain ; at first, through the good incUna:- 
 tions which he has given them at their birth, then by 
 Baptism and the other sacraments, and by all the 
 early graces of a good education. There is »o na- 
 ture, however sterile or disagreeable it may appear, 
 which has not its rich depths of valuable qualities, 
 which education should cultivate and develop ; but 
 there is likewise in the nature of every child, not 
 excepting the most amiable, side by side with the 
 good qualities, all that multiplying family of numer- 
 ous faults, all those vicious germs, of which we 
 have spoken, and which are, according to the evan- 
 gelical parable, the cockle among the good grain : 
 the enemy has come during a fatal night, and in the 
 midst of the good seed has cast the bad, and with- 
 drawn himself: super semitiavit zizania, et abiit. 
 Then, when the seed grows, the cockle suddenly ap- 
 pears in the midst of the good plants, showing itself 
 like a dead, drooping grass, like noxious weeds. 
 
 What happens then } The servants of the father 
 of the family are quite surprised : they ought not to 
 be so; for, since the original fall, this mixture is 
 natural, inevitable, and should be expected ; but per- 
 sons are deceived so easily ! indignation soon suc- 
 ceeds surprise : they wish — and on the moment, as 
 the Gospel says — to tear up this fruit of maledic- 
 tion : vis colligitnus ea ? That is to say — no longer 
 to use a figure of speech otherwise so clear — par- 
 ents, or the directors of a house of Christian educa- 
 tion, after having been ministers and witnesses of 
 the most abundant favors from God, recognize with 
 terror, that, parallel with their work, another work 
 
96 - ^THE CHIiBv 
 
 has been done — - and that, in souls where grac-e had 
 been profusely shed, unexpected faults and vices 
 have silently sprung up, which compromise all their 
 labor. Alas ! they do not easily consent to ac- 
 knowledge that it is sometimes during their sleep 
 that the evil has been done, and that they have not 
 always, perhaps, been sufficiently watchful : Ditfu 
 dormirent homines ! Then one of two things comes 
 to pass : either they delude themselves as to the evil 
 which they feel they have not the courage to strive 
 against — each takes his part, and again enters into 
 his sleep ; or they become transported, and would 
 wish without delay to ravage the whole field, in order 
 to tear up with one stroke all this cockle, that it may 
 no longer trouble them, and that they may take their 
 repose again. But, in the culture of souls, it does 
 not suit to act thus ; this headstrong zeal is not true 
 zeal. Like the servants in the Gospel, they must 
 have recourse to the wisdom of the Master of the 
 harvest, and recollect the answer given by the father 
 of the family to the laborers, who knew not how to 
 repair the evil caused by their sleep but by the fire 
 of a passing and destructive zeal : Vis imus et col- 
 ligimtis ca ? said they. No, he replied to them : Ne 
 forte colligentes zizania, eradicetis siniiil cum eis et 
 Uiticiim. This answer is profoundly divine. As- 
 suredly, there is no question of allowing to subsist 
 in souls the faults which spring up in them. The 
 necessity of extirpating the bad seed is manifestly to 
 be deduced from these terrible words of the father of 
 the family : "■ At the time of the harvest I will say to 
 the reapers, Gather first the bad grass, and tie it in 
 
ON HUMAN NATURE IN THE CHILD, ETC. Q/ 
 
 sheaves, to cast it into the fire." The salvation of 
 the souls in which this impure germs displays itself 
 manifestly depends on the extirpation of their de- 
 fects ; but great prudence and most careful precau- 
 tion must be used, in order not to tear up the wheat 
 at the same time with the cockle. If the evil germs 
 be not destroyed in good tirne, when the last harvest 
 arrives all will be lost. But in this first harvest of 
 souls, cultivated by education, great care is neces- 
 sary not to extirpate the good dispositions with the 
 bad; they sometimes touch so closely; and, if one be 
 not very attentive, there is great danger of taking 
 one for the other ; for this work of discernment and 
 enlightened extirpation, it is necessary to study well 
 the depths of human nature, that is to say, to know 
 the defects that shoot from the bottom of the heart, 
 and may stifle there the grace planted by God : it is 
 necessary to know them, and, at the same time, to 
 know their remedies. It is also necessary to study 
 well the good inclinations of nature, and that which 
 may be drawn from them. In a word, it is neces- 
 sary to recognize the distinct nature of good and 
 evil ; of the good and evil germs, their different 
 roots, their numerous ramifications. And this is 
 what impetuous zeal, false zeal, can rarely decide. 
 This zeal is almost always as indolent as passionate. 
 It knows only how to repose in a deplorable sleep, or 
 to wake up abruptly, tear up all, overturn all, and 
 destroy everything in a soul. True zeal has another 
 spirit, another mode of action. It is to it that the 
 instructions we are about to read are addressed. 
 9 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TWO IMPORTANT OBSERVATIONS ON THE SAME SUBJECT. 
 
 Youth is the proper time for the correction of 
 faults. Whatever evil germs may be hidden in the 
 soul of the child, thanks to God, they never render 
 his education impossible. It is written that God 
 has made man curable : sanabiles fecit. Education 
 — a Christian education — is singularly powerful, 
 and frequently works miracles ; it is the glory, nay, 
 the triumph, of education, to struggle with a difficult 
 nature, conquer, correct, and transform it. But the 
 chief point in this work is to begin in good time ; 
 otherwise it is soon compromised, not to say impos- 
 sible. In childhood and youth the faults have not 
 yet struck deep roots, nor acquired rapid growth. 
 All is still tender and weak. Later on, habit will 
 become — and habit soon becomes — second na- 
 ture, the resistances of which are terrible. The 
 story of the solitary of the Thebaid and his palm- 
 tree is known ; but it may be useful to bring it again 
 under the notice of parents and masters : — Wishing 
 to make a young man understand the importance of 
 beginning in good time to correct his faults, he 
 showed him a vigorous palm-tree, which, during many 
 98 
 
ON HUMAN NATURE IN THE CHILD, ETC. 99 
 
 years, spread its shade around; he ordered him to 
 tear up this old inhabitant of the desert ; but when, 
 after unheard-of exertions, the young man could not 
 even succeed in loosening it, the solitary pointed out 
 to him another tree, newly planted, and told him to 
 try his strength against it. A few efforts sufficed to 
 throw the young palm-tree on the ground. It is thus 
 that, in youth, faults easily yield to the pressure of 
 good will; whilst, later on, strengthened, hardened 
 by age, they become like another nature, and fre- 
 quently can only be rooted out with terrible diffi- 
 culty : for this reason, a man, venerable by his expe- 
 rience, his wisdom, and his virtues, as well as his 
 great age, said, in speaking of the education of the 
 Petits Seminaires, that it nearly always decided 
 everything, whether good or evil, for the entire life. 
 This is true. I have already discoursed at great 
 length on this particular point. I will add but a sin- 
 gle word. The correction of the faults of children 
 should not be reserved till the period of their public 
 education : it is in the family itself, and as soon as 
 they begin to display themselves, they should be 
 recognized, combated, and extirpated, if such can 
 be done. It is true, there are some faults which ap- 
 pear later on, when certain circumstances provoke 
 their appearance ; but nearly all manifest themselves 
 during the tenderest years, in the spontaneity of 
 this first blossoming of childhood. Well, it is then 
 our eyes should be open and always watchful to 
 everything which indicates, everything which re- ^ 
 veals, a hidden fault. Are parents usually solicitous 
 to do this .'* So far from seeking to discover the 
 
lOO THE CHILD. 
 
 faults of their children, will parents consent even to 
 recognize them when pointed out to them ? Oh ! 
 they are extremely clear-sighted with respect to all 
 the amiabilities of these dear children ; they know 
 very well how to see in them what they have, and 
 even what they have not ; but as to faults, it is an- 
 other thing ; they are blind to them : paternal and 
 maternal tenderness places a veil over their eyes. 
 This blindness, more or less voluntary on the part of 
 parents, is one of the greatest miseries of early edu- 
 cation ; and their weakness in correcting these faults 
 when at length they burst forth, their impotence in 
 arming themselves with a salutary rigor to set right 
 these natures, more or less spoiled by flattery or effem- 
 inate complaisance, are not less fatal. Is not this 
 what too frequently occurs in the effeminacy and ener- 
 vation of the morals of our time ? The ancient sever- 
 ity of the fathers and mothers of families is very rare 
 to-day : they begin by adulating the child, looking on 
 him as a little perfection ; then, when this pretended 
 perfection at last appears what it is, absolutely insup- 
 portable, they free themselves of it. After having 
 treated the child as a graceful idol, and being amused 
 with him during his first years, when the burden of 
 paternity is less heavy, or the enjoyment of it more 
 lively, when the burden weighs upon them, when 
 the caprices of the idol are a little less easy to sat- 
 isfy, they send the idol to school. They reserve to 
 themselves seeing him again on certain appointed 
 days, amusing him, being amused by him, but so as 
 not to keep him too long, and to place, before diffi- 
 
ON HUMAN NATURE IN THE CHILD, ETC. lOI 
 
 culties shall have had time to arise again, the grates 
 of the college between him and them." ^ 
 
 Certainly, by this time the evil is already great, 
 and the education of the child much compromised ; 
 at the same time, nothing is yet to be despaired of. 
 A child at ten or twelve years of age may have 
 deplorable habits, but they are not inveterate. The 
 life of a good house of education may suddenly 
 break them off, and, as it were, open a new era; 
 rule, study, piety, may happily take the place of 
 whim, caprice, of indolent labor; but it is time, 
 without further delay, to seize the child vigorously, 
 and take up energetically, and from the ground-work, 
 the education so deplorably commenced. I repeat 
 it, the great duty of the teacher, his noblest and 
 most laborious mission, is to be met with here — Hoc 
 optcSy hie labor est, 
 
 II. 
 
 // is not sufficient to know the defects of children well ; 
 it is necessary to make them know them. 
 
 Thus, then, it is a work of profound correction 
 and extirpation that there is question of doing ; del- 
 icate, courageous, persevering, and indispensable 
 work. Without this work, we might give a varnish 
 of politeness to the surface, and gild the outside ; but 
 
 1 M. de Champagny, from whom I borrow these penetrating re- 
 marks, adds : " They expend at the feet of this little tyrant, in his 
 early years, all the solicitude, all the cares, all the caresses, all the 
 funds of tenderness, with which they are provided. But the funds 
 become exhausted, tenderness becomes wearied, indolence super- 
 venes ; at the period when serious education ought to begin, they 
 9* 
 
I02 THE CHILD. 
 
 that would be doing nothing : the work within, the 
 work to the heart — to the root — is the necessary 
 work. 
 
 It is there, in accordance with the forcible lan- 
 guage of the Holy Books, that it is necessary to root 
 out and to plant, to destroy and to build. Yes ; to 
 the teacher of youth, to him also, it is said, as to 
 the prophet. Ego posui te tit evelias et desiruas, ui 
 (Edifices et plantes. Every teacher of youth who does 
 not understand it thus, understands nothing of his 
 real mission. Virgil, in his graceful language, for- 
 merly said to the cultiv^ator of new vineyards, 
 '* When the season of spring arrives, and when the 
 promised fruit covers the tree with abundant flowers 
 and bends down its odorous branches, oh ! then, then 
 observe it ! " — Coiitemplator item, ciun se mix plii- 
 riina sylvis. Indiiet in floreni, et ramos ciirvabit 
 olentes. For all these flowers will not one day give 
 fruit ; some of them are false hopes, which will de- 
 ceive the cultivator. I will say the same to the cul- 
 tivator of youth : this age is properly the season of 
 spring; everything opens and blossoms in those 
 young plants, in those young souls ; but look well 
 into them ; contemplatoj- — consider attentively what 
 there is in the heart, in the calix of these flowers, 
 and see if they promise good or bad fruits. Look 
 into them closely, and that, at the same time, for 
 your own instruction, so that, being better enlight- 
 
 have no longer heart for the work ; the child, too much fawned upon, 
 becomes ungovernable ; they hasten to remit to the cares of public 
 teachers the undertaking of his education, commenced with so much 
 love, but so badly commenced ! " — On Home Education. 
 
ON HUMAN NATURE IN THE CHILD, ETC, IO3 
 
 ened, your influence may have a more serious effect, 
 and also, when you shall have discovered the truth, 
 for the instruction of the child, in order that he may 
 unite his action with yours against himself. For it 
 ought not to be forgotten, in order to correct defects, 
 the master alone can do nothing : the child cannot 
 remain passive in such a work : he should co-operate 
 in it by a free concurrence ; but, to do that, he must 
 be enlightened with respect to himself. To labor for 
 the correction of his defects, he must first know 
 them, and know them through the master ; of him- 
 self, and by himself alone, he could not acquire this 
 knowledge. Frequently men cannot do it ; how 
 could a child do it ? We are aware the knowledge of 
 our defects is as difficult as it is necessary ; hence 
 nothing is more uncommon. He knows his faults 
 easily; and, no doubt, that is something; but he does 
 not know that which, nevertheless, may be much 
 more necessary — the defects which are the origin of 
 them. He knows the names of the gross vices in 
 general, and sometimes he even casts a rapid glance 
 on himself to see if he be defiled with them ; but 
 because the defects, of early youth especially, have 
 not yet arrived at the degree of malignity which 
 makes them vices, he finds himself pure from these 
 great stains, and considers himself in safety. And, 
 nevertheless, the defects most to be feared grow then, 
 and become strong in the privacy of the soul. 
 
 In a house of Christian education, for example, it 
 is difficult for young people not to know their faults. 
 In the prescribed duties of each day, a thousand cir- 
 cumstances recall them to mind, and, consequently, 
 
I04 THE CHILD. 
 
 transgressions are too evident not to be perceived ; 
 they are facts on which it is impossible for them to 
 shut their eyes. They acknov^ledge their faults 
 then, and make resolutions on the subject ; but these 
 resolutions are seldom efficacious, because they do 
 not strike at the source of the faults they commit ; 
 because they do not really know their defects ; they 
 do not wish to acknowledge their real defects ; they 
 seldom examine themselves on their hidden defects ; 
 and, I add, nothing is more difficult to find than one 
 who can aid us to know ourselves — one who will 
 make us know our defects. It is easy enough to find 
 a friend who consents to warn us of our faults ; but 
 it is very difficult to find one who consents to ,en- 
 lighten us on our defects. Warning a person of his 
 faults is a different matter from enlightening him 
 on his defects. The one is simple, even easy, 
 enough ; the other requires not only great zeal, but 
 discernment of mind and a courageous sincerity. 
 Among men, friendship and truth may here be of 
 great assistance ; and, nevertheless, how rarely one 
 loves a friend truly enough to enlighten him on his 
 defects ! But among young people, among children, 
 especially, what can these friendly admonitions be, 
 save and except warnings on their faults rather than 
 on their defects ? and that can be imagined. Young 
 people want the experience and the qualities requi- 
 site for discerning defects ; and frequently, even when 
 they do perceive them, they have neither the neces- 
 sary authority to make them known, whether they 
 wish or not, to those of their school-fellows who have 
 not thought of asking such a service of them, nor 
 
ON HUMAN NATURE IN THE CHILD, ETC. IO5 
 
 the courage to declare them even to those who inter- 
 rogate them on the subject. Who, then, can render 
 this important service to young people save those 
 whose office makes it a duty — directors, professors, 
 masters, and parents also ? Children are perfectly 
 sensible of this, as the words, full of good sense and 
 simplicity, which one of them wrote to his superior, 
 prove, saying, *' You only can be my great mon- 
 itor." But I should add here, in speaking of the 
 defects of children, I think of others as well as chil- 
 dren ; and while recommending masters to study 
 their pupils attentively, that they may know them 
 well and assist them to correct themselves, I recom- 
 mend them to do first, on their own account, and for 
 themselves, the same work. I take this grave admo- 
 nition to myself also. No one can speak of the de- 
 fects of human nature, without being, as the Church 
 somewhere says, memor conditionis sucSy without 
 thinking of himself and his weaknesses. No one 
 here on earth is actually in better condition than his 
 brethren ; no one has a right to cast the first stone 
 at his neighbor; and when it is one's duty to give 
 such grave instructions, and, if I may so express my- 
 self, lecture others, he must, above all, be well pre- 
 pared himself. After all, each of us is chiefly inter- 
 ested here ; each has seriously much to do for 
 himself. St. Augustine said, ** There is no fault 
 committed by a man of which another man may not 
 be capable, if the grace of God do not preserve him 
 from it." We are all kneaded with the same leaven ; 
 we all partake, as St. Paul formerly said, of the same 
 mass of original corruption ; and, as each is the 
 
I06 THE CHILD. 
 
 workman more immediately charged with the care of 
 his own salvation, with knowing himself well, know- 
 ing well his own defects, and laboring to correct 
 them, it is incontestably here that each should begin. 
 Moreover, knowledge of one's self is the best means 
 of knowing others ; and from every point of view, 
 the greatest service which a teacher can receive, is, 
 beyond dispute, that of being enlightened by a true, 
 sincere friend on his personal defects. Who does 
 not know one of the wisest maxims proclaimed by 
 antiquity — Nosce te ipsum ; and St. Augustine's 
 most frequent prayer to our Lord was, Novenm te, 
 noveritn me I 
 
 One year, when I was Superior of the Petit Semi- 
 naire of Paris, during six weeks I spoke for half an 
 hour every evening, to all the masters and pupils, on 
 this important subject. Not only had they the cour- 
 age to listen to the harsh, painful matters I had to 
 speak of ; but, without my knowledge, they took 
 notes, and that in short-hand, of what I then said, 
 and these form the foundation of the present work. 
 Be that as it may. At the Petit Seminaire of Paris, 
 I did not consider the house in good working order 
 until I had directed the efforts of all to the study 
 and correction of defects, until I had inspired the 
 children with the real desire of knowing all their de- 
 fects, and the masters with the zeal to admonish and 
 enlighten them ; and, the better to fulfil this duty, to 
 admonish and enlighten themselves first. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OF THE DIFFERENT SPECIES OF DEFECTS. 
 
 The question then is, for all and each to know his 
 own defects, and even those of others, if it be his 
 mission to correct them ; the question is that of dis- 
 cerning them in the faults which manifest them, in 
 the secret recesses of the heart which conceals them, 
 and by the side of the excellent qualities with which 
 they are to be found mixed, and of which they are 
 sometimes but the excess or the abuse. All this 
 study, all this discernment, is difficult. Yes, diffi- 
 cult : for, firstly, there are some defects which we do 
 not know ; secondly, there are some we do not wish 
 to know ; thirdly, there are some we know, but 
 which we do not wish to correct. There are some 
 defects which we do not know ; nothing is more dan- 
 gerous ; they germinate, become rooted, and silently 
 take possession of the soul; and, when they have 
 borne the bitterest fruits, it is generally too late to 
 uproot them ; at least it becomes very difficult. The 
 soul is then like an old, rugged, knotty trunk, that 
 has cast deep, interwoven, living roots into the 
 earth ; this trunk opposes to the arm which wishes 
 to move it an obstinate resistance ; and if, after 
 great toil, we succeed in uprooting it, the soil where 
 it had buried its roots is completely upturned. I am 
 
 107 
 
I08 THE CHILD. 
 
 about to give an example, very common in houses of 
 education, of those hidden, unperceived defects, 
 which, for want of knowing them, are imprudently 
 allowed to increase. Here is a child, sensible, docile, 
 laborious, intelligent, full of ardor and emulation : he 
 has good marks, good places — has always given sat- 
 isfaction. But gradually, with the pleasure of suc- 
 cess and praise, legitimate, without doubt, but little 
 watched over, self-love, vanity, and pride glide into 
 the heart of the child, spread themselves, and insen- 
 sibly increase in it. Nevertheless, while all goes on 
 well, no one perceives anything ; but a check arrives, 
 or a cloud comes over his conduct ; the child de- 
 serves a bad place, or receives a bad mark ; suddenly 
 vexation displays itself, vanity is wounded, pride be- 
 comes irritated, and a sudden, unexpected burst re- 
 veals in this child, believed to be so good and docile, 
 a terrible defect which was never suspected, but 
 which was there, growing every day, already old and 
 deep-rooted, and which, unknowingly, was nourished 
 as a* pleasure. Thus one may have in him envy, 
 temper, sensuality, anger, and many other defects ; 
 because we are ignorant of them, we believe him 
 exempt from them ; because they have not yet burst 
 forth, we think they do not exist, and we do not 
 labor to cure them. What do I say .^ as in this child, 
 perhaps we cherish them, and, by deplorable impru- 
 dence, feed the fire which smoulders under the ashes. 
 And the misfortune is so much the greater, because 
 time alone is powerless to enlighten him ; on the con- 
 trary, the longer this ignorance lasts, the more pro- 
 found it usually becomes. Thus we pass long years 
 
OF THE DIFFERENT SPECIES OF DEFECTS. ICQ 
 
 with defects that every one perceives, every one suf- 
 fers from ; which have on a thousand occasions pro- 
 duced fruits of bitterness, and their existence was not 
 even suspected. In this manner we find people arrive 
 at the age of forty, fifty years, and beyond it, without 
 ever having the least suspicion of a defect which has 
 been the misfortune of their lives. At length, some 
 day, a courageous friend, taking advantage of a fa- 
 vorable opportunity, dares to call their attention to 
 the evil: — "You believe that .^^ " they say to him 
 quite surprised. '' Yes, examine yourself from this 
 point of view, and you will see that there is there 
 what explains such imprudence, such misfortune, 
 perhaps all your vexations, all your faults." What 
 then } either they recognize their defects, and a 
 superhuman courage is necessary for the enterprise 
 of correcting them and keeping them from falling 
 into despair, or they close their eyes to them, and 
 persevere in their blindness', which renders the mis- 
 fortune irreparable. Secondly, there are, then, some 
 defects which we do not know ; but, what is still 
 worse, there are some we do not ivish to know. The 
 degree to which this extends, even among children, 
 is really extraordinary. For example, there are chil- 
 dren naturally false, dissembling, insincere, without 
 frankness, untruthful ; untruthful from taste, from 
 vice of nature ; will they acknowledge this shameful 
 defect to themselves t No, they are deficient in sin- 
 cerity with respect to themselves as well as to others; 
 they will lie to themselves as they lie to everybody. 
 The truth is, that, if they do not see their defects the 
 greater part of the time, it is also true, and still more 
 
no THE CHILD. 
 
 grievous to add, they hardly ever wish to see them. 
 There is in the bottom of the heart a secret tendency 
 to self-love which makes them not wish to know 
 themselves, in order not to have to condemn them- 
 selves ; or, again, sometimes it is a secret indolence 
 which does not permit them to try and make the 
 necessary efforts to correct themselves. Here are 
 the two unacknowledged sources of this voluntary 
 ignorance, self-love and indolence. Noluit intelligcre 
 nt bene ageret, says the Scripture. Or rather, if they 
 consent to cast their eyes on their exterior defects, 
 they never consent to open them to their interior de- 
 fects, to the defects in the depth of their nature, be- 
 cause that touches too closely on self, that is to say, 
 on what they hold nearest and dearest in the world. 
 On all this they take the part of flattering them- 
 selves, and defend themselves against others to the 
 utmost. They will not endure anything touching 
 what they call conscience, chaj^acter ; the slightest 
 contradiction on this point irritates ; the least obser- 
 vation wounds ; every reprimand exasperates. It is 
 curious, but profoundly sad, to see these poor people, 
 watchful, on their guard, and, as may be said, armed 
 from head to foot against whosoever wishes to at- 
 tempt making them become a little better informed. 
 Again, they consent to be warned of a fault; that is 
 an exterior, striking fact ; it comes under notice, it 
 may well be agreed to ; besides, it may be accidental, 
 and does not imply a vice of nature ; but as to a de- 
 fect, it is another thing ; that is in us, it is ourselves, 
 they feel the whole bearing of the warning in this 
 place, and it immediately protests, by a kind of in- 
 
OF THE DIFFERENT SPECIES OF DEFECTS. Ill 
 
 stinctive instantaneous repulsion ; for this reason, in 
 admonishing, to pass from a fault to a defect is 
 always a delicate affair, which is endured with diffi- 
 culty. The above is a very common, but very dan- 
 gerous disposition, even among children ; it is only a 
 father, a mother, a clear-sighted superior, a watchful 
 and zealous director, a professor heartily devoted to 
 his pupils, who can prudently, usefully, efficaciously, 
 admonish them ; but the essential condition of suc- 
 cess is, that these admonitions be given with great 
 friendship and kindness ; they will only be received 
 with docility if the child be convinced of the affec- 
 tion of him who gives them, and he must always feel 
 it, even in the heat of words. Thirdly, in fine, there 
 are defects which they know, but do not wish to 
 correct ; and in this case there is positive infidelity 
 to duty and virtue — an infidelity as guilty as fatal ; 
 and alas ! it is necessary to add, that this very fre- 
 quently occurs. From all we have already gone 
 through on this subject, we must then conclude that 
 it is of the highest importance to know one's defects, 
 and as soon as possible ; that it is necessary to 
 wish to know them, and consequently the means of 
 seeking them out ; in fine, that one can never be ex- 
 cused for not wishing to correct a defect when he 
 knows it. We should add, for the strongest reason, 
 a defect should never be flattered ; we may say, also, 
 that none should ever be neglected, whether it be 
 serious or slight. A defect flattered, or even simply 
 neglected, insensibly increases, and in the end be- 
 comes predominant. Then if it be serious, and of a 
 certain nature, the consequences may be incalcula- 
 
112 THE CHILD. 
 
 ble ; the evil can no longer be arrested : we have 
 some truly terrible examples of this kind. I will 
 now mention two of these defects, which may easily 
 become predominant when neglected; but I will here 
 only point out to masters and young people those 
 two domestic tyrants, which are the two plagues 
 most to be feared at this age ; I mean effeminacy 
 and pride. Their ravages are really frightful ; they 
 tyrannize despotically over souls ; they sometimes 
 retain them in the most complete and disgraceful 
 servitude. I shall refer to them again shortly and 
 in detail. I shall now give the reason of the surpris- 
 ing predominance of certain defects in the soul ; it is 
 necessary to understand it well ; it relates to the 
 sources, even the deepest, of our nature ; it is because 
 since original sin there is not a bad germ in us, how- 
 ever trifling or pitiful it may be, which has not a ten- 
 dency to increase, if it be not combated ; which has 
 not a tendency to take possession of all, rule all, cor- 
 rupt all ; while, on the contrary, there is no good dis- 
 position which has not a tendency to decay, if it be 
 not cherished, and if we be not intent on strengthen- 
 ing it. And for this reason, also, we should never 
 neglect a good disposition ; a virtue, a grace, how- 
 ever trifling it may appear, if neglected, will per- 
 ish. Hence so many vocations become lost, so many 
 futures shipwrecked, because the first grace has been 
 neglected. Vast subject! which of itself alone 
 would furnish matter for the gravest instruction. 
 Let us now enter into details. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CLASSIFICATION OF DEFECTS. 
 
 We do not mean to write a treatise on psychology 
 or ethics here, and it is by no means our intention to 
 give a philosophical and complete classification. 
 We write for practical men, for masters, or rather 
 for young minds, who have less need of a learned 
 analysis of the human soul than of precise indica- 
 tions easy to be remembered. Without occuping 
 ourselves to know whether, from a scientific point of 
 view, the following division is correct, we simply say 
 that the defects, whether positive or negative, may 
 be classed, according to their kind, as corporal de- 
 fects, intellectual defects, and moral defects. 
 
 Firstly, the corporal, physical, exterior defects. 
 We consider it indispensable to describe them here, 
 because they are of more importance than is gen- 
 erally supposed. What do I say ? They may have 
 the most serious influence in after-life on the success 
 of the work which we shall be called on to perform. 
 Education has not only a hold on such defects, but 
 it can do much towards making them disappear, or 
 at least considerably lessening them. We ought to 
 mention that there are some to whom they cling 
 during life, because they have never been admon- 
 ished of them with courageous and enlightened char- 
 lo* in 
 
114 THE CHILD. 
 
 ity. For example, apathetic dulness, coarse or awk- 
 ward manners, a bad pronunciation, and many other 
 defects of the same kind, may deprive us of the re- 
 spect, confidence, and consideration required by us 
 from many people, who can only know us through 
 our exterior relatione ! And these arc defects of 
 which one can never rid himself, unless he labor to 
 do so in good time. Again, for example — excuse 
 such details — certain disagreeable infirmities, v/hich 
 one is himself ignorant of, a bad breath, a disagree- 
 able odor from the feet, a want of neatness, and such 
 like things, may inspire an unconquerable disgust for 
 the most sensible and bcst-intentioned persons. 
 There arc precautions to be taken, and which people 
 do not take, because they have not been warned of 
 these defects and their remedies. Hov/ many times 
 have I not seen persons, men of consideration, 
 obliged to hold a council, in order to know how they 
 might render acceptable to a friend an admonition on 
 these points, so delicate and important, nevertheless- 
 80 simple ! Thus, again, a discordant voice, ridic- 
 ulous gestures, a vulgar or harsh accent, may annul 
 the effect of the most eloquently written and most 
 learnedly composed sermon. I repeat it, there are 
 defects thai it is certainly useful to know ; for then, 
 if there be still time, they may be corrected. Never- 
 theless, how rarely is advice, even on these defects, 
 however harmless they may be, gratefully received ! 
 And how few tender and devoted friends are to be 
 found, even sensible directors, who will dare or think 
 of admonishing on them ! It is a great, and some- 
 times an immense, service to render. If it be so 
 
CLASSIFICATION OF DEFECTS. II 5 
 
 necessary to know even one's physical defects, how 
 much more so is it to know the defects of one's 
 mind, his intellectual defects ! But, it must be said, 
 it is here especially that every one is completely 
 ignorant, or wishes to be ignorant, of himself. And, 
 on the other hand, how difficult to find a sincere and 
 courageous monitor for such defects ! These defects 
 are of different kinds, and more or less serious. 
 For example, there is want of taste, which, in a 
 writer or a preacher, will give to whatever he pro- 
 duces, though at the same time brilliant and solid, 
 affectation, inflation, intemperance, oddity; in a 
 word, may draw him into the most grievous and ridic- 
 ulous errors. There is the want cf judgment, espe- 
 cially practical judgment, errors cf which, in the 
 principal events of life, may cast a person into the 
 falsest paths, precipitate him into enormous, and fre- 
 quently irreparable, mistakes ; in fine, causing him 
 to wander, and make others, if it be his duty to 
 direct them, wander at every step. And who will 
 endure being warned of this defect, the only remedy 
 for which can be the knowledge of it, and mistrust 
 of self.'* There is the want of what is called wit, or 
 rather the want of imagination. No doubt, it is not 
 necessary to have an amount of wit or imagination ; 
 but it is indispensable that we should not think we 
 have it when we have it not : for the sensible man- 
 agement of life, it is necessary to know how far a per- 
 son is certain on this point ; otherwise he will apply 
 himself to matters for which he has not capacity, 
 and in applying himself to them he will but lose his 
 time, and accumulate follies. 
 
Il6 THE CHILD. 
 
 There is the more serious want of penetration, 
 elevation, extent of mind. This is a serious, but 
 common, defect. With such a defect one can never 
 be intrusted with certain work, certain important 
 functions, certain delicate matters, without being ex- 
 posed to taking false measures ; narrowing, lowering, 
 and perhaps stifling, the finest works. It is neces- 
 sary at least that he distrust himself with reference 
 to this, consequently know himself, and, in order to 
 do that, suffer being admonished. There is, even 
 in the mind, a certain want of sensibiHty, of which 
 I will say a few words, because this defect is very 
 serious, and prevents one on many occasions from 
 accomplishing the most useful work, because he 
 knows not the road to the heart, because he cannot 
 adapt himself to the pleasures or the sorrows of 
 others, and give timely encouragements or efficacious 
 consolations. Well, there are these defects, and 
 many others quite as serious, which it is as impor- 
 tant to know, and of which no one, as we have 
 already said, has the courage to inform us, because 
 to inform a person of a mental defect wounds him 
 to the quick. 
 
 There is scarcely one with which we can bear to 
 be reproached, except want of memory; this we 
 willingly enough acknowledge. With respect to all 
 others, we do not know them, we do not wish to 
 know them ; whether it be through presumption, we 
 believe ourselves capable of everything ; whether it 
 be through indolence, we do not wish to make any 
 effort; in fine, whether it be through giddiness, we 
 cannot listen to anything serious. I repeat, there is, 
 
CLASSIFICATION OF DEFECTS. 11/ 
 
 nevertheless, hardly any of these defects, however 
 profound they may be or appear to be, of which we 
 cannot correct ourselves at least partly, or the dis- 
 astrous consequences of which may not be prevented, 
 if we have the happiness to be informed of them, 
 the good sense to permit ourselves to be informed 
 of them ; the good will to attempt what we are capa- 
 ble of, so as to improve ourselves ; and, finally, the 
 modesty to keep to those works which can really lead 
 to good. 
 
 But it may be said to me, Are there really effica- 
 cious remedies for these serious defects ? Thanks to 
 God, there are, and remedies almost infallible ; and 
 these are, humility and application. 
 
 There is hardly any one, however mediocre his 
 mind may be, to whom we cannot say, Be humble, 
 and have the intention, and you can do great things. 
 Humility is not only supreme justice, but also su- 
 preme wisdom. It is not an easy matter to persuade 
 vain and frivolous minds of this. Nevertheless, it 
 can be done in education ; and I have often seen it 
 succeed. At present I know men, priests, who have 
 become very useful, even distinguished ; some of 
 them occupy the first rank, who nevertheless were, 
 and would have remained, of ordinary nature, but 
 for the benefit derived from their education and the 
 docility of their youth. Thanks to this double bless- 
 ing, from ordinary natures they have yielded ex- 
 traordinary fruits, suppHed the deficiencies, developed 
 their qualities, drawn from themselves all that God 
 had placed in them, and, in this manner, have be- 
 
115 THE CHILD. 
 
 come elevated even above their nature : to-day they 
 serve the church and society gloriously. 
 
 The moral defects, of which we have now to 
 speak, are evidently the most serious ; for, if they 
 are not themselves actually sins, they are, at least, 
 the sources of sin. Among these defects, there are 
 some I will call natural, because they belong to the 
 character, the nature, the spiritual, and sometimes 
 even the physical, constitution of the individual ; the 
 others I will permit myself to designate the super- 
 natural, because they are especially opposed to the 
 virtues of grace, and are in man a most marked 
 effect of the loss of original justice.^ 
 
 The natural defects of a moral kind are very fre- 
 quently founded in a quality which may become 
 valuable, if the want of which it is the exaggera- 
 tion, and of which it makes a deformity, be supplied. 
 For example : a cool, discreet, reserved character 
 sometimes appears concentrated and savage ; never- 
 theless, experience has taught me that these charac- 
 ters frequently conceal under this apparent coolness 
 a profound sensibility, and are capable of the truest 
 and most devoted affection. What is necessary, 
 then, in bringing them up, is to open and expand the 
 heart, inspire them with a more overflowing sensi- 
 biUty, a mild and affectionate affabihty : there is 
 
 1 In what sense, and from what point of view, I use the word 
 "supernatural," may be seen; for I am not ignorant of, and by no 
 means intend to contradict, the utterance of the Cotmcil of Trent, 
 which declares man, by the sin of Adam, not only stripped of the 
 gifts of grace, but wounded ever in the gifts of nature — viilnerata in 
 naturalibus. 
 
CLASSIFICATION OF DEFECTS. IIQ 
 
 then found in such natures only a reserved dehcacy, 
 which, leaving itself to be divined, has but the 
 more charms, — the gravity, dignity, composure, and 
 precious dominion of the soul over itself. A firm 
 character is prone to harshness ; a lively character, to 
 bluntness. If these defects be carefully corrected, 
 there will remain of the firmness only activity and 
 zeal. 
 
 There are some children who have what may be 
 called a melancholy nature, a most tender heart, and 
 a very reflecting mind. That is very dangerous — 
 at least, unless the child should have good judgment, 
 a firm character, and solid piety. Too reflecting a 
 mind wearies the tender heart, grieves it : after- 
 wards come the inevitable disappointments of life, 
 the frictions ; such a nature cannot bear them. 
 What care the education of these children require ! 
 I have said, that, by the side of these defects, there 
 is generally a good quaUty to be met with, of which 
 they are the exaggeration and corruption : neverthe- 
 less, there are some of these natural defects which 
 do not disguise any good quality ; hence they are the 
 more dangerous. A frivolous, vain, capricious, rest- 
 less character produces disagreeable consequences, 
 frequently even the most unhappy. Giddiness, in- 
 clination to chattering, and indiscretion, are, in every 
 position, grievous, and sometimes very dangerous ; 
 but it can be easily imagined at what point, espe- 
 cially in a certain age and certain positions, these 
 may become the source of the most serious incon- 
 venience. Giddiness may cause a priest to forget 
 the most sacred of his duties ; gossiping and indis- 
 
120 THE CHILD. 
 
 cretion are, on thousands of occasions, the causes of 
 discord, and sometimes give birth to the most terri- 
 ble misery. We can never make children compre- 
 hend sufficiently that the faults which they commit 
 every day — trifling in themselves, perhaps — are not 
 so if they consider the principles from which they 
 arise, and the consequences that these evil princi- 
 ples may lead to ; that the faults should be less re- 
 garded than the defects from which they proceed ; 
 that this defect which now, in their restricted life, 
 causes them to commit small faults, will, later on, 
 cause them to commit capital ones, if it remain in 
 them ; and remain it will, if they do not courageously 
 attack and uproot it. It is by such considerations 
 that the watchful severity of their masters should 
 be justified in their eyes, and they induced to arm 
 themselves with a generous will against their own 
 defects. 
 
 I will say with respect to the correction of moral 
 defects that which I said of intellectual defects : 
 many, though they cling, like the latter, even to the 
 nature of the individual, may also, like them, be cor- 
 rected or diminished by constant practice of the 
 virtues opposed to them ; true humility knows how 
 to discover them, and Christian perseverance in duty 
 can uproot, or at least lessen, them. No ; there is no 
 man who cannot, by humility, and fidelity to duty, 
 improve himself, and pursue a useful career ; no weak 
 character that cannot strengthen itself; no harsh 
 character which cannot render itself endurable ; no 
 irascible character which cannot soften itself. But, 
 to arrive at such desirable and uncommon results, 
 
CLASSIFICATION OF DEFECTS. 121 
 
 how much zeal and light is necessary for those whose 
 office it is to admonish, direct, and improve souls ! 
 How much docility is necessary for those who ought 
 to accept advice, sometimes so painful to hear, 
 though so important to be followed ! All that we 
 say respecting the zeal of masters and the docility 
 necessary in children may be applied with particular 
 truth in certain cases and to certain natures, among 
 which want of harmony, of equilibrium, and the 
 strongest contradictions, are to be met with. The 
 degree to which this sometimes extends is wonder- 
 ful. For example, we meet in a young man an inex- 
 plicable mixture of frivolity and seriousness, of van- 
 ity and sense, of mildness and harshness, of sight 
 and bUndness respecting himself, of nobility of soul 
 and moral wretchedness, firmness of mind and 
 weakness of character, rectitude of judgment, up- 
 rightness, and goodness of heart, with weakness of 
 will, and insensibility of conscience, — natures whose 
 contrasts stupefy the attentive observer, so much are 
 they extraordinarily strong and extraordinarily weak, 
 deep and frivolous, tender and suddenly dry and 
 harsh, having a frankness sometimes admirable, 
 nevertheless capable of such dissimulation that they 
 seem to have the simplicity and composure of can- 
 dor, a quick, clear, understanding, and a conscience 
 so obscure that it appears to be extinct, a gratitude 
 in which feeling and delicacy share the expressions, 
 and which can suddenly give way to the most un- 
 grateful appearances ; again, no character more firm, 
 or which assumes more pretension to courage, and 
 at the same time more deficient in moral force. 
 
122 THE CHILD. 
 
 Yes ; in the course of my life I have often seen the 
 want, of harmony, I was about to say a divorce, be- 
 tween the different powers of the soul — the under- 
 standing, the heart, the will, the conscience ; and 
 this in the highest order of souls and natures. Yes, 
 I have seen souls of the most uncommon, penetrat- 
 ing, spontaneous intelligence, even with a feeling 
 and noble heart, capable of the most grievous fail- 
 ings and most painful errors ; reason neither en- 
 lightening the heart nor the conscience, moral sense 
 totally deficient, a great uprightness, a lively sim- 
 plicity created for truth, a candor created for light, 
 and all this suddenly wind up with lying ; a heart 
 profoundly tender, but this heart without light and 
 strength, wavering in darkness, and this depth of 
 sensibility becoming an abyss of misery. These 
 natures are frightful ; in spite of the superiority of 
 mind and the dispositions of the heart, a deplorable 
 moral deficiency may be met with, and consequently 
 the greatest misfortunes occur during life. How im- 
 portant it is to study such natures, and do every- 
 thing to assist them ! But frequently the best edu- 
 cation is not conducted in this manner. These con- 
 trasting natures weary and exhaust the masters : 
 they do not know how to penetrate, to define, to 
 govern them ; few are capable of the intelligent, 
 constant, study necessary for that ; few have an eye 
 sufficiently penetrating, a hand sufficiently pliant 
 and strong.. Also, how many times are they given 
 up ! how many times have I heard it said of these 
 children, of these young people, in a dejected tone, 
 "They are unaccountable"! Yes, but it is for you 
 
CLASSIFICATION OF DEFECTS. 12$ 
 
 to define them, and to do everything in order to 
 accompHsh this end ; it is for you to attend to them, 
 to regard them closely, to beware of illusions, pre- 
 judices, and especially dejection ; it is for you to 
 remedy all this want of equilibrium, to harmonize 
 all these contrasts, find out their deficiencies, take 
 hold of their weak points, opposing their strength to 
 their weakness, their resources to their defects, 
 especially to enlighten those natures with respect 
 to themselves; point out to them the danger; in 
 fine, to determine the definitive preponderance of 
 good qualities in them in such a direction as to con- 
 quer their defects. But for a work of this kind — 
 for so difficult a cure — I will say piety is the indis- 
 pensable auxiliary ; it is piety only that can save 
 souls in such great peril ; piety alone can harmonize 
 such natures — serve them as ballast and counter- 
 poise, invincibly strengthen the understanding and 
 the conscience, shelter the heart forever. 
 
 This is evidently one of the most delicate, most 
 difficult matters in education. As to me, nothing 
 has ever cost me more care and more trouble than the 
 culture of these souls. Permit me to repeat here, in 
 all its warmth and rude frankness, the speech which 
 I one day addressed, with tender severity and merci- 
 less truth to one of them. These words were useful 
 to his soul ; they may be so to others likewise : " Of 
 all the powers in your soul, understanding alone re- 
 mains upright. But, strange as it may appear, the 
 most singular rupture seems to have taken place be- 
 tween it, your conscience, and your heart. From 
 this understanding, so clear, so quick, sometimes so 
 
 U3JI7ERSITT)] 
 
 t 
 
124 THE CHILD. 
 
 luminous, light scarcely ever descends into con- 
 science, causing it to say, with a firm and decisive 
 judgment. This is good, this is evil. Again, still 
 less light in this poor heart to make it love, sincerely 
 love, what is good, what is amiable ; to make it 
 note, seriously note, what is bad, what offends God. 
 This evident rupture of such an understanding with 
 the conscience and the heart is something mon- 
 strous to view closely, as I have been obliged to do. 
 It would make one wish himself blind, in order not 
 to see the profound change, the singular abasement, 
 as it were, a headlong descent of its natural eleva- 
 tion, in what remains of this understanding, this 
 ardor, this uprightness, which is still so quick to 
 recognize the truth. There is sometimes a shocking, 
 even a gross, lowering of its primitive dignity, and 
 that often to the most fantastic vulgarity. The 
 moral levity of this poor intellect is still an enigma 
 to me, and does not suffice to explain the bhndness 
 and impenetrable mystery of your conscience. You 
 are aware I have given up fathoming it; I have 
 receded before what St. Paul calls the mystery of in- 
 iquity — mysterium iiiiquitatis . The frightful ser- 
 pent — the Liar — has passed there. Let me say 
 more; he has sojourned in it. The ideas of good 
 and evil, the principles of faith even, all have been 
 disturbed — virtue, innocence, religion; it is difficult 
 to say what this poor conscience firmly believes. 
 But it must not be forgotten, that, if the measure of 
 iniquity in your conscience has not been filled up 
 until these latter days, the foibles, the defects, ob- 
 scuring this conscience, have not ceased to increase 
 
CLASSIFICATION OF DEFECTS. 125 
 
 since your ninth or tenth year, if I remember rightly 
 what you told me of those early times. In a word, 
 under pain of exposing yourself to the most fright- 
 ful danger, and of seeing yourself, one day of your 
 life, burst into the most unforeseen and irremediable 
 scandals, you ought never to forget the terrible moral 
 void, the disastrous deficiency, which, in this chief 
 point, I have found in your soul. I repeat it, in my 
 long career I have never seen anything which sur- 
 prises me more, anything which leaves me more anx- 
 ious, than your future. My hope is in your docility, 
 your confidence, your firm and very faithful resolu- 
 tion, even to this day, of observing your rule, and of 
 telHng to those who direct you, not only your faults, 
 but your defects, your whims, your contrasts, your 
 deficiencies, such as this great and sad circumstance 
 now makes known to you." 
 
 But let us leave for a moment these details ; let us 
 go still farther to the bottom of these matters ; let 
 us penetrate to the origin, even to the root, of these 
 defects. 
 
 II* 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 PROFOUND ORIGIN OF OUR DEFECTS : ORIGINAL SIN : 
 THE TRIPLE CONCUPISCENCE. 
 
 The moral defects which we name supernatural, 
 have more particularly, as we said in explaining this 
 word, their source in original sin, and are, above all 
 others, opposed to the more special virtues of grace ; 
 they form in us, we may say, a second nature, so 
 deeply enrooted are they found to be. No one is en- 
 tirely exempt from their taint, and it is the evil which 
 lies deepest in our moral nature, since the heart of 
 man has been corrupted. Assuredly the light which 
 can most completely inform us, in this respect, ought 
 to come from Him who knows, better than we do, all 
 our disorders, and even the depths of sad humanity in 
 in us. One of the most striking proofs of the divinity 
 of the Holy Scriptures is the energy, the clearness, 
 the profundity, with which the Bible reveals to us 
 those of our vices which are the sources of all others. 
 We admire there the eye of God, probing human 
 nature with a piercing look, and discovering all that 
 is deepest and most hidden in man. Here is what 
 St. John the Evangelist says on this subject : Omne 
 qiiod est in imindo conaipiscentia carnis est, et concii- 
 piscentia occulorum, et superbia vitce. These three 
 phrases give the fullest explanation of the foundation 
 126 
 
PROFOUND ORIGIN OF OUR DEFECTS. 127 
 
 of human affairs. Ancient philosophy, in the wisest 
 of its sayings relating to the present question, has 
 never pronounced anything to equal this simple 
 verse of St. John. Without the light of these words, 
 the moral world — entire humanity — would be an 
 enigma. All the evils of human nature proceed from 
 these three sources : nevertheless, there is one of the 
 three that may be considered the most prolific, and 
 to which all may be referred ; it is pride — superbia 
 vitcE. In addition to all the hideous and numerous 
 offspring entirely its own, it is also, if we look 
 closely into it, the father of the two other sources of 
 evil indicated here. The Scripture itself, in another 
 passage, teaches this sad and mysterious unity of 
 the causes of our vices : Iiiitimn cmnis peccati su- 
 perbia. 
 
 However, in order thus to trace back every evil to 
 pride, the most serious reflection, and sometimes 
 very difficult research, are necessary ; the explicit defi- 
 nition given by St. John of the three sources of all evil 
 in us, — pride, sensuality, cupidity, — is, I say, most 
 suitable to make every one comprehend how the de- 
 fects and vices which afflict humanity arise. But it is 
 a very remarkable fact, that, in these three profound 
 words with which the evangelist sums up all the 
 evil of the human heart, he addresses himself to 
 young people, even to children, as well as grown 
 men ; because this concupiscence is in children and 
 the young as well as in men ; because children and 
 young people are the men of the future ; because 
 childhood and youth are life in its gerrn. Hence in 
 these young hearts are the seeds of all which should 
 
128 THE CHILD. 
 
 spring up and appear later on. It is, then, in this 
 early age that the triple concupiscence should be 
 combated, under pain oE seeing it afterwards put 
 forth terrible and vigorous shoots. But it must be 
 also wrestled with during our whole life. It is for 
 this reason St. John calls all ages to this work — 
 fathers, as well as sons ; masters at the same time as 
 their pupils ; old men, as well as young men, and 
 children themselves. He addresses himself to all, 
 without exception : to fathers, scribo vobis, patres ; 
 to young men, to youths, to children, vobis jtivencs, 
 adolescentes, infantes. And St. John himself gives 
 his reason for thus specially appealing to youth, be- 
 cause it is the age of generous zeal, of valiant strife : 
 Scribo vobis, adolescentes, quia vicistis nialigmnn — 
 " I write to you, young men, because you have con- 
 quered the enemy and the evil." Saibo vobis, ju- 
 venes, qttoiiia7n fortes estis — " I write to you, young 
 men, because you are strong." Yes ; in spite of the 
 degeneracy of the age, Christian youth is strong ; it 
 has in it a divine source of strength and virtue, of 
 which the apostle says, Et Verbtim Dei manct in 
 vobis — "And the Word of God dwells in you." 
 Behold why Christian youth is strong: it has in it 
 the Word of God, the revealed lights and inspira- 
 tions of faith; and through these divine virtues it 
 triumphs over the Evil Spirit — et vicistis malig- 
 num ! 
 
 You, then, who bring up the rising generation, and 
 who also have in you the Word of God, the super- 
 natural strength of faith and grace, call Christian 
 youth, and guide it to the holy strife, to the struggle 
 
THE TRIPLE CONCUPISCENCE. 1 29 
 
 against the enemy, against evil, against the triple 
 concupiscence, — all the success of its education de- 
 pends upon that. I have already said, and I repeat 
 it, whosoever does not know, that, in the great work 
 of education, it is against the triple concupiscence 
 he must struggle, knows nothing, does nothing. 
 Owing to their foundation, the principles of educa- 
 tion partake of the same idea with the highest Chris- 
 tian ethics, which always point out this triple concu- 
 piscence as the eternal enemy of -the soul and of 
 salvation, and teach that it must be unceasingly mor- 
 tified, crucified, bound to the three branches of the 
 Cross ; thus proving that the great doctrine of Chris- 
 tian mortification, which is the main point of the 
 medicinal morality of the Gospel, is also the sinew 
 of all real education. And here, again, the words of 
 St. Paul become admirably verified : Pietas ad om- 
 nia iitilis est — ''Piety is useful for all things." It 
 is on this account, that, in a house of Christian edu- 
 cation, so much importance is attached to piety. 
 Let us now enter into all the details of this sad and 
 important subject. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 PRIDE, SUPERBIA VIT^, THE CHIEF SOURCE OF OUR 
 DEFECTS. 
 
 I. 
 
 Pride ; its Nature. 
 
 Pride, the principal and most fruitful of deadly 
 sins, occupies a sad and wide space in human life. 
 No vice extends its empire farther. It is to be met 
 with in all men, all ages, all states of life. It blends 
 with everything ; it invades every place ; it is the 
 universal evil. As Bossuet admirably says, ** It is 
 this vice which has flowed into the depths of our in- 
 terior with the words of the serpent, who said to us, 
 in the person of Eve, ' You will be as gods ' — eritis 
 siciit dii. We have swallowed this mortal poison ; 
 it has penetrated even to the marrow of our bones, 
 and our whole soul is Infected with it." ^ Again, it 
 is the temptation of every creature. The dream of 
 pride in every soul is to ascend — in his mind, in his 
 heart, in his life ; to exalt itself, to intoxicate itself, 
 with its own excellences. Pride is, then, at the same 
 time, the oldest malady of our nature, and the most 
 dangerous wound that the ancient enemy of man- 
 kind could have given us ; and he has given it of a 
 
 1 Treatise on Concupiscence, chap. x. 
 130 
 
pride; its nature. 131 
 
 frightful depth to the hearts of all. Besides, this 
 is the vice which breaks out soonest in us. There 
 are some that lie dormant in children for a greater 
 or less length of time ; pride, on the contrary, devel- 
 ops itself in them at an early age, and sometimes to 
 an extraordinary degree. There are some children, 
 already at ten years of age or even sooner, literally 
 prodigies of pride. Sad to say, virtue itself is not 
 safe from its taint ; like a gnawing worm, pride 
 glides secretly into the purest hearts, spoiling and 
 corrupting the best actions, the finest virtues. We 
 sometimes meet souls who would be great, who 
 would be noble, who have love and zeal for the good, 
 the beautiful ; but pride, which is at the bottom of 
 these souls, breathes over them a mischievous blast 
 which blights all their charms. 
 
 Plato somewhere says, " The greatest evil of man 
 is a defect that is born with him, which every one 
 excuses in himself, and, consequently, which no one 
 ever labors to rid himself of ; it is what is called self- 
 love." Plato knew well how to point out this evil ; 
 but to indicate the remedy, and especially to make 
 acceptable ^ the radical treatment of so profound an 
 evil, is what neither Plato nor any one could ever do. 
 Hoc Plato nescivit, says St. Jerome. Jesus Christ 
 has done it, and it is in this He has shown Himself 
 to be God : " Learn of me to be meek and humble of 
 heart." Admirable words ! We see here the Divine 
 Physician at once putting his hand precisely on the 
 evil place, and applying the remedy to the sharpest 
 wound of our nature. We shall soon speak of all these 
 hideous vices which pride gives birth to in the soul. 
 
132 THE CHILD. 
 
 Nevertheless, nothing is more difficult to be observed 
 and well defined than pride, because its fecundity is 
 prodigious, and its disguises and artifices are innu- 
 merable. Sensual from its foundation, it has its sub- 
 tleties and its cunning — sometimes the most un- 
 heard-of refinements ; it conceals, transforms itself : 
 it is at once the most prolific and most deceitful of 
 defects ; it almost always clothes itself in appear- 
 ances which are but so many wiles. Thus pride 
 appears firm and high, and it is most frequently 
 weak, low, frivolous, restless. It appears noble and 
 great, and at bottom is base, even coarse. Siiperbia 
 non est niagniticdo, sed tumor, says St. Augustine. 
 Yes, with its immoderate pretensions, it has incred- 
 ible littleness ; with its false and vain greatness, it 
 falls into arrant meanness. Strange ! with all its 
 artifices, it tends to delude and dupe itself especially ; 
 it wishes to impose on others, and most frequently 
 deceives only itself. By a just chastisement, it finds 
 shame where it wished unduly to find glory. It is 
 because pride is actually, when we examine it to the 
 bottom, when we scrutinize well its nature, founded 
 on a lie ; it is injustice, it is even lying. In veritate 
 non stetit, say the Scriptures, in speaking of the 
 first of the proud, and the prince of pride. But what, 
 then, is pride } Pride, says the catechism — we can- 
 not do better than borrow from its numerous defini- 
 tions — is an esteem and ill-regulated love of self, 
 which causes one to prefer himself to others, and 
 relate everything to self, and nothing to God. That 
 is evidently supreme injustice in a being who is noth- 
 ing and has nothing of himself ; or, rather, who has 
 
pride; its nature. 133 
 
 of himself only miseries too real by the side of the 
 advantages he has received from God, and which he 
 arrogates to himself as if they came from him It 
 is an arrogant and indecent forgetfulness of the foun- 
 dation of his being, which is all borrowed, and re- 
 mains in everything and always dependent on God. 
 To God alone belongs all glory ; He owes it to Him- 
 self, He gives it to Himself. He demands it; it is 
 due to Him ; and to wish it for self is to wish for 
 what does not belong to self ; it is to ravish from 
 God that which He alone merits ; it is to commit a 
 robbery, a real sacrilege. Pride must be very unjust, 
 and much out of place, in a created and dependent 
 being, since, according to the clever and sensible 
 remark of Fenelon, "pride is obliged to conceal 
 itself, and can only escape public derision by seem- 
 ing to forget itself." To be actually glorious is to 
 be vain. Glory is only admired whilst it is con- 
 cealed, and he who displays it is odious and despised. 
 Let the man of the world, otherwise most admirable, 
 openly demand to be admired ; let him ingenuously 
 display his glory — he becomes the plaything of those 
 whose admiration he would have if he did not ask 
 it. What, then, is this affair so disproportioned to 
 the condition of man that he cannot be forgiven for 
 pretending openly to it ? Such a pretension feels in 
 itself the need of dissimulation ; falsehood, which is 
 so odious and contemptible in every other matter, is 
 the only means of making pride endurable ; and the 
 simplicity, which is everywhere, else amiable, be- 
 comes here odious and ridiculous. It is because 
 pride is not in its place in the creature ; it is because 
 
134 "THE CHILD. 
 
 every one instinctively feels that it is there misplaced 
 and unjust. And again, on this account, it is, and 
 appears, indecent. Yes, there is a decency, because 
 there is a justice, in modesty, in humility; and there 
 is an indecency in pride, because there is an injus- 
 tice and a usurpation in it. Modesty is the bashful- 
 ness of the soul; pride is the incontinence of it. A 
 proud soul is a soul which no longer contains itself. 
 Hence the affinities of concupiscence of the mind, 
 of pride, with shameful concupiscence. Modesty, 
 purity of soul and body, consists in containing itself, 
 in maintaining the dignity of self. Pride, vanity, 
 self-love, like immodesty, consists in not containing 
 itself, not respecting itself, in flattering, in miserably 
 worshiping self. Pride is, then, the ostentation, the 
 immodesty, the impudence, the incontinence, of the 
 mind; as impurity is the impudence, the immodesty, 
 the incontinence, and in a manner the pride, of the 
 the body. Pride is likewise a shameful vice ; it must 
 be blushed for like the others ; one may feel the 
 temptations of both in spite of himself, but he must 
 blush for them. And for this reason it is a vice so 
 abhorred and odious. Pascal has said, " Self is hate- 
 ful ; " self, that is to say, the pride which sees but 
 self, thinks but of self, which is occupied only with 
 self, which refers everything to self. God and men 
 have a horror of it ; and the punishments which God 
 reserves for it prove how culpable it is ; they are 
 sometimes frightful. It is related that a thunderbolt, 
 having one day secretly struck a column in a church, 
 kindled there a hidden fire, which in course of time 
 became a terrible conflagration, and ended by leading 
 
THE SAD FECUNDITY OF PRIDE. I35 
 
 to a dreadful fall : thus it is with the chastisements 
 of pride, — they are often strokes of lightning. 
 Pride is in itself its own terrible chastisement ; the 
 haughty soul is sufficiently punished through the 
 evils that pride gives birth to, through the vices of 
 which it is the father. We are now going to say a 
 few words on this subject. 
 
 II. 
 
 TJie sad Fecundity of Pride, 
 
 There is really cause for being frightened when we 
 consider the long train of defects, vices, and crimes, 
 which pride engenders. Nevertheless, it is right 
 and necessary to study, and cause to be closely 
 studied, this grievous spectacle. It is the best 
 means of inspiring in young people hatred of a vice 
 which is but too much allied with the frivolity and 
 presumption of their age, and to give them the en- 
 ergy and courageous will indispensable for combating 
 and triumphing over it. Whosoever believes himself 
 pure from all pride deludes himself greatly. There 
 is a very simple and safe proceeding by which one can 
 recoo^nize this vice in himself or others : let him re- 
 gard the conduct and the acts ; let him examine if he 
 cannot discover some fruit of this pride ; it is easily 
 seen : most certainly, then, the root is there, and 
 deep and flourishing in proportion as the fruits are 
 more abundant and more evil. Firstly, disobedience, 
 that is to say, the want of submission to the orders 
 of lawful superiors, or revolt against the direction 
 and advice of those whose office it is to guide us ; 
 
136 THE CHILD. 
 
 from whence does it proceed, if not from pride ? 
 One wishes to have only his own will for rule ; he 
 believes himself superior to every one, and perfectly 
 capable of governing himself; hence he counts as 
 nothing the wisest and most legitimately established 
 authority. In a house of education it is the over- 
 throw of all rule, all discipline, all respect. Educa- 
 tion essentially supposes docility. It is evident that 
 a child, a young man, has need of being guided. 
 No man has every light, every experience, all sense, 
 of himself alone ; but especially a young man — 
 what light, what experience, what knowledge, can he 
 have } No : whosoever in early age believes himself 
 capable of directing himself, is averse to submission, 
 rebels against obedience, is manifestly tainted with 
 an intolerable pride, of which, alas ! he will be the 
 first victim. Teachers of youth, impress well on 
 your pupils that it is necessary, during the whole of 
 life, to distrust self, to accept advice, to respect 
 authority. Never has the following speech come 
 from the mouth of a sensible man, " I know what I 
 have to do, and do not need the advice of any one ; " 
 but when a young man, a child, uses this language, 
 it is a great pity and a great misfortune. No doubt, 
 in a house of education, indocility and disobedience 
 may come from giddiness ; we should then be more 
 indulgent in its repression. But when they proceed, 
 as most frequently happens, from pride, oh ! an in- 
 flexible firmness is necessary, and especially to at- 
 tack this disobedience in its source, that is to say, in 
 pride. Let us not forget that it is always pride that 
 must be striven with in disobedient children. Pride 
 
THE SAD FECUNDITY OF PRIDE. 1 3/ 
 
 has Still many other consequences : violent passions, 
 hatreds, sometimes ferocious revenges, usually have 
 hardly any other origin than pride. In an inferior de- 
 gree, it engenders envy, that is to say, the base sorrow 
 one feels at the well-being of his neighbor; jealousy, 
 which drives him to the wish of dispossessing him 
 of his wealth, in order to enjoy it in his place, and 
 torments him with regret for remaining deprived of 
 it. Pride likewise inspires one with pleasure at the 
 misfortunes of another, a secret intention to injure 
 him, scandal, and calumnies; these are so many 
 hateful impulses of the heart against every superior- 
 ity that wounds and humiliates us ; it is, at least, a 
 malignant delight in what procures the abasement of 
 others, and in that way seems to elevate us. Every 
 time that a man discovers in his heart, or the heart 
 of others, any one of these evil shoots, he may be 
 certain that pride is there ; bitter root of bitter 
 fruit : Radix amaritiidinis. When this pride has 
 another offensive passion, such as the eager love of 
 gain, of money, as an auxiliary, the amount of self- 
 forgetfulness, insolence, ingratitude, or crimes, it 
 may inspire, is incredible. The portrait of envy, of 
 jealousy, has many times been drawn, La git la som- 
 bre envie, a V xil t'nnide et loitchete ; they can never 
 be depicted so base, so odious, as they really are, 
 especially in youth ; for they have much less right to 
 be among young people than among men. They be- 
 come particularly wretched ; they destroy sincere 
 and pure friendships, they pervert and poison noble 
 and fruitful emulation ; they substitute for the gen- 
 erous sentiments of this age a bitter gall, a sharp 
 
138 THE CHILD, 
 
 rancor ; they narrow hearts that would require 
 expansion ; they depress souls which would need 
 elasticity. Besides, it is difficult to attack this un- 
 happy passion directly, because it dissimulates as 
 long as it can ; nothing is more vile in the heart, 
 nothing more painful to point out. How, then, com- 
 bat it ? To souls debased in this manner by a sad 
 pride it is necessary to show all the nobleness of a 
 brave emulation, the sweetness of a loyal friendship, 
 and the duty of great Christian charity. It is neces- 
 sary to inspire them with kindness of heart also ; 
 for pride is the great enemy to kindness of heart. 
 Pride is positively wicked. It is hard, tyrannical, 
 violent, cruel. It needs a victim, which it torments 
 for its pleasure. It loves stinging raillery, mockery, 
 sarcasm ; it delights in tears ; as it increases, it will 
 love blood. I have said somewhere that children are 
 naturally wicked ; it is especially of proud children 
 that this must be said. Children in whom pride pre- 
 dominates do not respond to affection ; they refer 
 everything to themselves ; they admire nothing ; 
 they do not love : if they sometimes appear to love 
 a master, it is because this master flatters them. 
 They seem to love their parents, but only while they 
 receive presents from them. In truth, they are pro- 
 foundly ungrateful. It is necessary to speak to them 
 frequently of the great and beautiful virtue of grati- 
 tude — to make them sensible of the nobleness, the 
 sacred duty of it ; to brand before them ingratitude ; 
 to point out to them the baseness, the disgrace, and 
 the blackness of it sometimes. On all that they 
 must be spoken to plainly, without sparing them ; I 
 
THE SAD FECUNDITY OF PRIDE. 1 39 
 
 would even say it is necessary not to use delicacy. 
 Experience has taught me that such children have 
 no delicacy, and, grossly blind to themselves, they do 
 not understand it. Let us continue this sorrowful 
 enumeration. The desires, the ardent dreams, of 
 greatness, of glory, of renown, more precocious, 
 more frequent, than is supposed among children, in 
 a word, foolish ambition, also reveal a heart given up 
 to pride. He whose mind relishes the name of 
 learned, of great orator, of great man ; he who 
 dreams of pompous titles, ideas of honors, of bril- 
 liant dignities, in his future, — may, without fear of 
 error, be warned that he should suspect himself of 
 pride. The danger of such dreams is great beyond 
 measure. These desires soon dissolve, leaving in 
 the heart a depth of grievous vexation or blind 
 hatred, which* at least poisons life, and frequently 
 breaks out in a terrible manner. In the sad times 
 which we live in, this disposition of mind is particu- 
 larly dangerous. The impulse which has precipi- 
 tated so many young souls into anti-social Utopias 
 has very often had for starting-point and origin the 
 disappointments of a precocious, ardent, and mis- 
 taken ambition. Perspicacious masters, those who 
 do not rest on their present foresight, but think of the 
 future, should regard it very attentively. Again, it 
 is very necessary to mention anger — impetuous 
 emotion of the soul, which prompts it to repulse 
 with violence all that displeases it. Abuse and im- 
 precations, daughters of anger, are the outbursts of 
 a pride which can no longer be cautious, which be- 
 comes exasperated against that which wounds it, 
 
140 THE CHILD. 
 
 and seeks at every expense a brutal superiority. 
 Likewise all these defects, which sometimes so sadly 
 disfigure the best dispositions, and suddenly place, 
 as it were, a veil of ugliness over the face of the 
 child who gives himself up to them, — pouting, mur- 
 muring, impoliteness, churlishness, insolent answers, 
 — what are they but the proud rebellion of a mind 
 which considers itself above propriety, and does not 
 wish to acknowledge its errors or weaknesses .'* and 
 what is more common in a house of education .'' 
 How many children lose the fruit of their excellent 
 qualities, draw upon themselves bitter anger, merited 
 reprimands, and, what is much worse, prepare for 
 themselves in real life a deplorable future ! Vanity, 
 which is an ill-regulated desire for esteem and praise ; 
 ostentation, which prompts us to display the wealth 
 and talents we possess ; presumption, which gives 
 us too conceited an idea of ourselves, and causes us 
 to say more than becomes us, undertake more than 
 we can perform ; haughtiness, arrogance, even ill- 
 temper, — are the well-known daughters of pride. A 
 clear-sighted master will immediately point out to 
 him who falls into these different faults the vice with 
 which he is tainted. But that which young people 
 do not sufficiently know, and have great need of 
 knowing, is the fatal consequences of all these de- 
 fects, born of pride. For example, how many things, 
 at the least ridiculous, and frequently dangerous and 
 culpable, do not vanity and ostentation cause young 
 people, and even men, to do and say ! Again, to 
 speak only of the vain searching after adornment, 
 the imprudent indiscretion of speech among young 
 
THE SAD FECUNDITY OF PRIDE. I4I 
 
 people — from whence do they come ? Will you say 
 that the exaggerated care of his toilet and of his 
 person is but frivolity, and of no great consequence 
 in a young man ? Such would be a serious error. It 
 is something more than the indication of an empty 
 head and little mind. All those who have experience 
 of young people know that virtue itself, in all that is 
 most essential to it, is compromised by these misera- 
 ble futilities, which develop in a young man tastes, 
 habits of mind and character, incompatible with the 
 generous energy, the solid sense, and bashful reserve, 
 without which virtue cannot be maintained. 
 
 It is for this reason that Fenelon, who saw clearly 
 the danger of it in youth, did not fail to anticipate 
 and attack this species of vanity and foolish pride. 
 He says, ** It is true, we may seek neatness, suita- 
 bility, and decency in the clothes necessary for cov- 
 ering our bodies ; but, after all, these stuffs which 
 cover us can never become a vain and affected orna- 
 ment. A young man who loves to adorn himself 
 foolishly, like a woman, is unworthy of wisdom and 
 glory." The faults which ostentation and the frivo- 
 lous desire of making one's self valuable cause, dur- 
 ing life, are innumerable. Blinded, and at the same 
 time intoxicated, one loses his discernment ; he no 
 longer understands the bearing of words ; he does 
 not suspect their snares ; he compromises himself, 
 delivers himself up to them, — he loses himself. 
 
 Fenelon, that great master, who has so profoundly 
 fathomed all the recesses of the heart, understood 
 well the gravity of this danger for young people ; 
 and we are sensible, from the manner in which he 
 
142 THE CHILD. 
 
 speaks of it, how much he had been struck by it. 
 There is an admirable passage of his, which I have 
 frequently brought under the notice of my pupils, 
 and in which this peril is pointed out with surprising 
 perspicacity : *' Seduced by adroit praise, the son of 
 Ulysses allowed himself to go on making a long 
 recital of his adventures, and in this recital he told 
 all; he could not be silent on anything; hence he 
 cast himself into frightful danger, which his master 
 saw well, but of which he himself had not even the 
 slightest idea. As soon as they were alone. Mentor 
 hastened to make him observe it. * The pleasure of 
 recounting your adventures,' said he to him, * has 
 carried you away ; you have charmed the goddess in 
 explaining to her the dangers from which your cour- 
 age and industry have drawn you ; hence you have 
 only prepared for yourself a more dangerous captiv- 
 ity. The love of vain-glory has caused you to speak 
 without prudence. She has engaged you in recount- 
 ing these histories, to learn from you what has been 
 the fate of Ulysses ; she has found means of speak- 
 ing a long time without saying anything ; and she 
 has drawn you into explaining to her all she wished 
 to know : such is the art of a flattering and impas- 
 sioned woman. When, O Telemachus ! will you be 
 sufficiently wise never to speak through vanity, and 
 when will you know how to keep silent on all that is 
 profitable to you when it is not beneficial to speak .? 
 Another time, learn to speak more soberly of all that 
 can attract praise for you.' " 
 
 I have not yet said anything of susceptibility, 
 which does not, like vanity or ostentation, seek for 
 
THE SAD FECUNDITY OF PRIDE. I43 
 
 praise, but which becomes offended with the sHghtest 
 reproach, the least suspicion ; it is a false tenderness 
 for one's self which denotes scarcely less of pride. 
 There are some children, some natures, which are 
 truly sensitive ; we cannot give them a warning, ad- 
 dress to them a reprimand, or the mildest advice, 
 without their becoming grieved, shocked, or irritated. 
 At the least word from a schoolfellow or a master 
 you will see them redden or grow pale. We feel that 
 there is in them a chord on which the hand must not 
 be put ; a tender spot which must not be touched 
 even with the point of the finger. The education of 
 children with such a disposition is much to be 
 dreaded, and the correction of their faults is ren- 
 dered extremely difficult. We can only arrive at re- 
 claiming young natures so susceptible by prudently 
 and mildly urging them on to the end. There is still 
 another species of minds among whom the suscep- 
 tibilities of pride are somewhat singular. They are 
 men who seem to be in the world only to save ap- 
 pearances. They value but the stamp. Frivolous 
 at heart, serious only in the exterior, they can judge 
 gravely, but only surface-deep ; people whose char- 
 acter, through their weakness and fanaticism for de- 
 corum, becomes lowered by the glance of an eye. 
 This, again, is a grievous kind of pride. Lying, 
 which disguises a painful truth ; cupidity, which is 
 never satisfied with what it has ; and especially 
 harshness to the little and poor, to servants, to every 
 one with whom we have dealings and who are be- 
 neath us, and a thousand other defects of this kind, 
 may be all referred to pride. Everywhere it is love 
 
144 THE CHILD. 
 
 of self, egotism ; it is self which rules ; self to 
 which all is sacrificed ; self which is adored. Hypoc- 
 risy, which wishes to conceal under a mantle of 
 honor the shameful passions that devour it, is also a 
 daughter of pride. The proud hypocrite is, of all, 
 the most to be dreaded. Again, it must be said that 
 pride is the father of increduUty, apostasy, impiety ; 
 this is, alas ! too well known. If a man no longer 
 believes in religion, or pretends to no longer believe 
 in it, it is from one of two causes, — either because 
 he elevates his weak reason above everything, he wor- 
 ships it ; or more frequently, especially in youth, he 
 gives way to the petty vanity, still more contempti- 
 ble, of wishing to distinguish himself from the crowd, 
 and appear strong-minded. Qicomodo potestis credere, 
 says our Lord, vos qui gloriam ab invincem accipitis f 
 Profound and terrible words of Him who scrutinizes 
 the thoughts and hearts of men. 
 
 In a house of Christian education, doubts against 
 faith are frequently enough caused by pride and van- 
 ity, or the cowardliness of human respect. As soon 
 as a young man becomes proud, you may be certain 
 his faith is in jeopardy; and, if you wish to save his 
 faith, hasten to use a remedy for pride. This incre- 
 dulity through pride, pitiful even in a grown man, is 
 truly a misery without name in a young man, who 
 knows nothing, and can know nothing ; who ima- 
 gines that he contains more wisdom in his little head 
 than the greatest minds of the world, who have be- 
 lieved with pleasure. It is, more especially, this 
 foolish incredulity of the young that Bossuet strikes 
 with terrible ridicule : '* What have they seen, these 
 
THE SAD FECUNDITY OF PRIDE. I45 
 
 uncommon geniuses ? " In fine, it must be said that 
 impurity, though it may be the immediate fruit of 
 effeminacy, is also very often the fruit of pride, 
 tJiroiLgJi cJiastisement. 
 
 God punishes pride, in deHvering it up to ignomin- 
 ious passions. Tradidit illos in passiones ig^iominice, 
 says St. Paul. Experience offers proofs of this, as 
 unexceptionable as sorrowful. A director of souls, 
 a priest charged with bringing up youth, cannot be 
 ignorant of this great danger from pride. When he 
 sees pride increase in a child, in a young man, other- 
 wise pious and regular, let him tremble for this 
 menaced virtue, and let him warn him of it ; terrible 
 falls are not far off, if pride be persisted in. Such 
 is, in part — for we have not spoken of all, we cannot 
 speak of all — the fatal and disgraceful generation of 
 defects that pride gives birth to. The chief point is 
 to know all that well ; for it is the key to the science 
 of morals. Pride is the most profound, the most an- 
 cient, the most universal, the most grievously fruitful, 
 malady of our fallen nature ; it is the generating prin- 
 ciple of evil in us. To be ignorant of it, or to know 
 it but imperfectly, would necessarily have the most 
 fatal consequences. But to know it in an abstract 
 manner is not sufficient; not to recognize in one's 
 self this vice, and its ramifications so multiplied, the 
 unmentionable detail of faults of which it is, every 
 moment in life, the unhappy origin, would be a 
 deplorable blindness. Pride is so fertile in poisons 
 for our poor mind and our sad heart, we may say 
 with truth, that humility alone — its antidote — could 
 restore good sense and virtue to human nature. 
 13 
 
146 THE CHILD, 
 
 However long the enumeration we are, making may 
 already be, it is, nevertheless, very incomplete ; noth- 
 ing less than an entire moral treatise, embracing the 
 highest questions of psychology, society, family, re- 
 ligion, even of politics, would be necessary to com- 
 plete it. However, before leaving this subject, we 
 wish to speak again of the four kinds of evil spirits 
 that pride is the source of, and one or other of which 
 frequently stains the best composed characters, the 
 purest virtues, and, in a house of Christian educa- 
 tion, the most pious children. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ON THE FOUR KINDS OF EVIL SPIRITS W^ICH PRIDE 
 IS FATHER TO. 
 
 The first of these is the spirit of indociHty. In- 
 docility is not disobedience ; it is more and lew A 
 child can be very indocile in obeying. Indocir^ (in 
 the sense of the Latin word, mdocilis, which does 
 not permit of explanation) means that one is full of 
 confidence in his own lights, and has no confidence 
 in the lights of others. He has no faith in any one. 
 He respects not the mind, the authority, of any one. 
 Indocility is still less in the exterior act than in the 
 interior disposition, in the mind and in the heart ; 
 for this reason the Scripture says, Cor malum incre- 
 diditatis. 
 
 The immediate inconvenience of this spirit of in- 
 docility is to deprive the indocile young man of the 
 lights of those who, by their knowledge, wisdom, ex- 
 perience, and devotion, are called to be his guides ; 
 of leaving him to walk alone and unsupported, ex- 
 posed to all the falls which his vanity and inexpe- 
 rience will not fail to meet occasions of ; and causing 
 him to waste, in unprofitable attempts or ruinous 
 trials, time or faculties, the fruits of which would 
 have been, perhaps, otherwise precocious and cer- 
 tain. And, hence, what misfortunes later in life! 
 
 U7 
 
148 THE CHILD. 
 
 what a source of numberless faults, and how impor- 
 tant to prevent these misfortunes by docility in 
 youth ! how many talents become sterile, how many 
 become even fatal, how many happy natures pine 
 away, how many fall into evil, in consequence of 
 this secret pride, which renders them indocile to the 
 lessons oL authority, experience, superiority, devo- 
 tion, and closes beforehand every path to wise ad- 
 vice ! for who will venture on exposing himself to 
 give advice, the inutility of which he foresees ? 
 Wel^I should say this terrible indocility is the 
 gre Jevil of Christian youth. 
 
 The youth of the age is grossly disobedient ; pious 
 youth is sometimes profoundly indocile. Innate 
 pride is to be found among all men under the form 
 of self-esteem, disguised, perhaps, but deep-seated, 
 and which gives birth to a surprising spirit of resist- 
 ance. It is the chief point to understand in educa- 
 tion ; and a man should not make education his oc- 
 cupation if he does not understand that. 
 
 The second kind of spirit that we wish to point 
 out, as a consequence of pride, is the spirit of inde- 
 pendence. This is not, like the preceding one, at- 
 tachment to one's own lights ; it is attachment to 
 one's own will ; a very subtle defect, clever at dis- 
 guising itself, even under a virtuous exterior. There 
 is something flattering for a soul in being able to say 
 of itself, ''What I will, I will firmly." Without 
 doubt, that is fine ; but it may serve to conceal the 
 most unreasonable obstinacy and an unbridled pride. 
 A person is not firm because he does not yield even 
 to the reasonable and lawful will of others, and be- 
 
THE FOUR KINDS OF EVIL SPIRITS, ETC. I49 
 
 cause he wishes to make his own will triumphant 
 everywhere ; he is but stiff-necked and imperious. 
 Besides, this pretended firmness frequently conceals 
 a real weakness ; it is evident more strength is 
 necessary for ruling one's self, and bending sponta- 
 neously to reasonable advice, in spite of the conquer- 
 ing resistances of pride, than hardening one's self in 
 a vain and foolish haughtiness. It is a great misfor- 
 tune for /U ^cieU^ w^en this spirit of indepei^cjence 
 prevails, w-nen no olie can give up hjj^^wnkyilL in^ 
 order to place himself under that of others. Notli- 
 ing is more specially dangerous than to bring such a 
 spirit into the Church. It is, nevertheless, the evil 
 of the age; and, sad to say, — what should arouse the 
 most serious attention of the directors of seminaries, 
 — ecclesiastics themselves are not exempt from it; it 
 is the air we breathe, and in which we live ; one is natu- 
 rally more independent to-day, at twenty years of age, 
 than he was at fifty under Louis XIII. Whosoever is 
 still ignorant of this disposition of the youth of our 
 day is not capable of being beneficial to it. But it 
 is for skilled Christian education to re-act energet- 
 ically against this detestable spirit, which now 
 breathes everywhere, and, more or less, inspires all 
 youth ; it is for education to combat with and replace 
 it by the noble and generous docility which so well 
 becomes young people, especially those formed in the 
 school of religion. 
 
 The spirit of contradiction is the third kind of evil 
 spirit engendered by pride. It is a whim ; a most 
 disagreeable mania. The spirit of contradiction ren- 
 ders a man unendurable to every one. There are 
 13* 
 
150 THE CHILD. 
 
 some minds so constructed, nothing can be said be- 
 fore them that they will not support the opposite of 
 it ; they would believe themselves without character 
 if they agreed with the opinions of others. Some- 
 times it is an inexpressibly mistaken love of truth, 
 an unseasonable frankness, a puerile simplicity, 
 which never sees the inconvenience of speaking its 
 mind ; it is still more frequently a secret pride and a 
 foolish self-sufficiency. Such minds believe them- 
 selves obliged to contradict at once everything that 
 does not agree with their views ; they become infat- 
 uated in their ideas, and we see them unceasingly, 
 with a ridiculous pertinacity, become stubborn in in- 
 terminable and sterile discussions. Nevertheless, 
 into what errors are they not frequently drawn from 
 having embraced, without knowing well why, and 
 only for the sake of contradiction, some opinion 
 which afterwards they have not the courage to aban- 
 don ! This mania of contradiction is most frequently 
 caused by a little mind puffed up with pride. 
 
 A superior man, with a truly noble heart, does not 
 hesitate, as soon as he perceives his error, to adopt 
 boldly an opinion, the justness of which he had not, 
 at first, quite seen, though, by so doing, he should 
 lose the opportunity of displaying his resources in 
 discussion, and condemn himself to silence. In any 
 case, he will never dispute for the love of disputing, 
 and he will have the politeness, as well as good sense, 
 to allow many things to pass which there would be 
 more inconvenience in raising than in neglecting. 
 
 To find a name for the fourth kind of spirit pro- 
 duced by pride, we are obliged to call it — if we may 
 
THE FOUR KINDS OF EVIL SPIRITS, ETC. I5I 
 
 use the expression — the spirit of justification. It is 
 the mania of always justifying one's self; of excus- 
 ing one's self, ever and anon, right or wrong; of 
 never being willing to admit a fault : volens jiistifi- 
 care se ipsiim ; like the Pharisee in the Gospel. 
 There are some young people whom we can never 
 bring to admit their most evident faults ; they will 
 say they believe themselves impeccable ; and if they 
 fall into any material, flagrant faults, impossible to 
 be denied, they are always perfectly innocent in in- 
 tention. Their first thought, as soon as we make a 
 remark to them or approach them, is to seek any 
 excuse whatsoever, and afterwards they stick obsti- 
 nately to it. They are right beforehand ; they do 
 not even examine if what is said to them has a foun- 
 dation ; they combat it all at once. Nothing betrays 
 more of secret pride than such a disposition, and, I 
 will even say, nothing is more calculated to set the 
 mind astray and narrow the heart. A just mind, 
 aided by a good, simple, honest heart, will seek out 
 the true side of a reproach, and what foundation 
 there is for a remark ; hence it will acquire valuable 
 knowledge of itself, and at the same time it will, by 
 this simplicity, show itself superior even to its fault. 
 On the contrary, the mind which I speak of, full of 
 pride and vanity, closes its eyes on all that is most 
 certain and most evident in its faults, and becomes 
 ingenious in imagining reasons for its exculpation ; 
 such is its chief solicitude, its first impulse, — a sure 
 indication of a little mind and a barren heart. It is 
 very important to make young people, tainted with this 
 grievous malady, understand well that this sad spirit 
 
152 THE CHILD. 
 
 of justification is everything that is most miserable; 
 and, on the contrary, how honorable and glorious is 
 the plain, noble avowal of a fault. The first thing 
 that an upright and sincere young man ought to ac- 
 knowledge is, that at no age are we more exposed to 
 be mistaken in a thousand ways than in youth ; and, 
 consequently, at no age, also, should we be more dis- 
 posed to allow ourselves to be reprehended and ad- 
 monished. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A LAST WORD ON THE MANNER OF TREATING THE 
 PROUD. 
 
 Certainly we do not think we have spared pride; 
 and after what we have said — though we may not have 
 said all — if pride did not appear to an upright young 
 man supremely dangerous and hateful, it would be 
 because this vice still exercised over his heart a very 
 powerful fascination. Yet it must not be forgotten, 
 that, in education, the obstacles may become the 
 means," and that it shows the talent, and is the duty, 
 of the person educating, to convert the obstacles into 
 the means. Self-love, perilous as it is, may itself 
 become a valuable auxiliary. It is a devious power, 
 but it is a power ; it is less necessary to break it than 
 to direct it. Self-love always tends to flatter and 
 exalt those of whom it has possession ; but some- 
 times these excesses themselves are evidences of a 
 generous nature, capable of ascending very high, if 
 pride did not frequently cause it to descend so low. 
 What is necessary, then, is, not to stifle this generos- 
 ity of nature, this haughtiness of soul, but to take 
 possession of and rule it. It deceives itself, not in 
 its aim, but in its object. Two things are necessary 
 to draw it away from the wretchedness in which it is 
 being caught and lost, and turn it towards an object 
 
 153 
 
154 I'HE CHILD. 
 
 worthy of it — towards its real object; to give it its 
 food ; point out its end ; in fine, to take possession 
 of it for good and great deeds. There are, then, two 
 ways of treating self-love, — it must be checked at 
 first, and then roused ; its errors must be repressed, 
 and its energies directed. This work is often very 
 delicate, and it is not, and cannot be, performed in 
 the same way for all children. Here, as is always 
 the case, the complex and varied nature of children 
 requires to be closely observed ; the means of re- 
 pression or encouragement should be well adapted to 
 the characters. 
 
 There is a self-love that it is necessary to know 
 how to spare, to watch, to wait for, to seize only at a 
 favorable opportunity, and to attack, but with great 
 precaution; there is a self-love that must. be striven 
 with in front, and without sparing ; stricken as soon 
 as it displays itself, and humiliated even to the dust. 
 The first is to be met with among weak, feeling, 
 delicate characters, without great vigor or elasticity. 
 A direct, harsh, merciless humiliation would dis- 
 hearten and break them ; a paternal reprimand, a 
 friendly advice, firm and mild, a lesson full of in- 
 struction, will humble them, but will permit them to 
 raise themselves again. The other species of self- 
 love is to be met with among energetic and strong 
 characters, and it starts up with insolence ; the sud- 
 denness, the harshness, of the punishment makes 
 them bow down the head, without, however, taking 
 away their elasticity and their courage. Neverthe- 
 less, even there, and in the just severity of the most 
 rigorous reprimand, it is necessary to let them see 
 
THE MANNER OF TREATING THE PROUD. 1 55 
 
 that it is with the pride, and not the person, that we 
 contend ; otherwise they will not listen to anything ; 
 they will become hardened. These strong natures 
 are frequently accessible to tenderness ; harsh, vio- 
 lent, without regard, and without respect, while they 
 obey pride, they will recover, when pride is con- 
 quered, and when urged by an affectionate word, their 
 natural goodness. 
 
 There is here again, as always, the favorable mo- 
 ment to be seized ; the fitting time is necessary in 
 point of correction more than in every other matter. 
 Self-love, which is so afflicting in education, so deli- 
 cate to manage, so difficult to correct, presents other- 
 wise, I have said, occasions of which it is easy to 
 make great use. This fiery nature may not accept a 
 reproach, and, indeed, may start into a passion when 
 you wish to repress it. Well, without ever weaken- 
 ing or softening, seek for and find the opportunity 
 of animating it by praise. The power of a com- 
 mendation suitably given, with limits and delicacy, 
 is sometimes surprising. I have known a child so 
 full of vanity, so filled with himself, so impatient of 
 correction and of obedience, that, at the least remark 
 or command from his tutor, it was rare when he did 
 not reply at once with insolence. The tutor, who 
 had a firm hand, chastised him on the moment, by a 
 word terrible for impassibility and truth, with a calm 
 but inflexible measure; nevertheless, -he gained 
 much more, he managed him much more easily, 
 when praise had been able to anticipate the repri- 
 mand — when, during the morning, he had been able 
 to find any occasion whatsoever, sometimes apropos 
 
156 THE CHILD. 
 
 of nothing, to make him, with moderation, a merited 
 compUment. Fenelon recognizes not only advan- 
 tages in, but the necessity of, treating children thus, 
 and he recommends giving them at proper times 
 suitable encouragement. " If," says he, " we never 
 praise children when they do well, we run the risk of 
 disheartening them. Though it may be feared praise 
 causes vanity, it is necessary to try and make use of 
 it to animate children without intoxicating them. 
 We see that St. Paul frequently employs it to en- 
 courage the weak, and to make correction pass more 
 mildly. The Fathers have made the same use of it. 
 It is true, that, to render it beneficial, it must be 
 seasoned in such a manner as to take away the ex- 
 aggeration, the flattery, of it, and at the same time 
 refer all good to God, as the source of it." 
 
 Pride is, then, a passion that may be skilfully 
 governed, not by yielding to it, but in a manner de- 
 ceiving it by cleverly and calculatingly caressing it, as 
 we caress a fiery horse with the hand in order to re- 
 strain and calm him. Again, pride is a passion that 
 it is possible to convert into a noble emulation and 
 generous eagerness. It is necessary to incite youth to 
 good and great deeds ; to fill it with enthusiasm and 
 admiration ; for that, it is important to know what 
 gives pleasure to these young and ardent souls, and 
 win them by means of that which they love. In 
 general, children are scarcely sensible of, and have 
 little admiration for, cold and solid parts. But ex- 
 traordinary, heroic, valiant deeds please them ; bat- 
 tles, missions, martyrs, great conversions of souls, 
 excite their admiration ; and this enthusiasm is bene- 
 
THE MANNER OF TREATING THE PROUD. 1 5/ 
 
 ficial ; for this reason it is of consequence to prompt 
 them to it ; when they find this noble aliment for the 
 fire of their hearts, it is no longer immersed in 
 wretchedness. P'eats of strength, agility of body, 
 dexterity at games, victory in racing, also fascinate 
 them. All these are good, without danger, and con- 
 sequently may be used, and become excellent as di- 
 verting remedies. In short, there is an art in train- 
 ing self-love, in checking it, and even in making use 
 of it, to lead to good. When one finds himself in 
 face of a proud, indocile, disrespectful nature, let 
 him calmly, persistently, zealously study every form 
 of that pride ; all its tints, all its sallies, all its whims, 
 all its shadows ; let him watch attentively every mo- 
 ment ; let him apply with firmness and prudence 
 every remedy. Such natures are rarely sterile for 
 good ; they may give way to terrible excesses, but 
 they are also capable of great deeds. There is in 
 these souls a seed of generosity, and it is a great re- 
 source; this seed is damaged, impaired, and, out of 
 the abundance of its sap, puts forth insolent and 
 haughty shoots ; but the sap is there, the germ is 
 there ; it must be purified, ennobled ; then wonder- 
 ful fruits may spring up ; and it is the duty of edu- 
 cation to do everything in order to produce them. 
 
 As a termination to this long chapter, permit me 
 to place here, in its first crudeness and warmth, a 
 note given by me to a very young professor, carried 
 away and unknowingly ruined by pride, and who, 
 frightened by the danger he was in, one day sin- 
 cerely asked me to tell him the whole truth respect- 
 ing his pride, and to spare him in nothing. I sent 
 
158 THE CHILD. 
 
 to him the following lines, which he had the courage 
 to receive and meditate on, and which were of great 
 benefit to his soul. "There is," I wrote to him, '*a 
 great wound in your soul — a deep wound which un- 
 ceasingly enlarges. You sometimes forget it, but it 
 is there, and it threatens to invade everything in 
 your soul — all your ideas, all your sentiments, all 
 your affections. There is in you a love towards 
 yourself of unmeasured strength ; it is a something 
 unrestrained which rules and transports you, often 
 unknown to you. Nevertheless, most frequently the 
 wish to know yourself would be sufficient ; but you 
 prefer illusion. You have a horror of being irritated 
 by your fellow-professors or your superior ; the slight- 
 est admonition irritates you, raises your indignation 
 to an extraordinary point ; it is frightful to see. I 
 have sometimes been deeply grieved to the heart by 
 it. To-day, I thank God, you seek for His light ; 
 but you are usually not in earnest, you do not wish 
 to be enlightened. You delude yourself on defects 
 that you find intolerable in others. You hold on to 
 your strict duty only by a tie almost forced. Your 
 love for yourself inspires in you a secret hate of the 
 authority of others, and makes you exercise your 
 own with an inflexible harshness. You have an evi- 
 dent and secret ambition. You love distinctions, 
 honors ; the least of them puffs you up ridiculously. 
 On the other hand, you beheve yourself called to 
 perfection ; and there is not a religious congregation 
 who would wish to keep you after a three-months' 
 novitiate. You have been flattered for a long time ; 
 you are no longer flattered here — it is that which 
 
THE MANNER OF TREATING THE PROUD. 1 59 
 
 you cannot endure. I repeat, take care ! there is in 
 all this great danger. Sometimes you would wish to 
 act better, to avoid real evil, to do real good ; but 
 there is in you a principle which stifles everything, 
 and unceasingly gains ground ; when it will have 
 gained all, invaded all, you will be ruined; and al- 
 ready, under very austere, very ecclesiastical ap- 
 pearances, there is almost nothing priestly in your 
 soul. You have scarcely either any charity or real 
 zeal ; charity and zeal are visibly becoming extin- 
 guished in your heart ; you have hardly ever a 
 thought for the spiritual advancement of your chil- 
 dren. Once more, take care ! Vastiias et sterilitas ; 
 behold that with which the Scripture threatens the 
 proud, * You are devoured by pride, and necessarily 
 will be sterile.' Again the Scripture says, Sicut 
 lignum aridiim in deserto. Do you wish that I should 
 give you a trait of your character which will aid you 
 to know yourself .'' You admire nothing, you never 
 praise any one ; that is decisive. You will, I fear, 
 end badly ; or rather, no ; your desire and the grace 
 of God will save you, and you will end well." 
 
 He has really ended well ; he has become a gen- 
 erous and devoted priest. What happiness to meet 
 with sincere and courageous souls, that do not rebel 
 against truth respecting themselves, and who, once 
 enlightened, generously put their hands to the work ! 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SECOND SOURCE OF DEFECTS IN MAN AND IN THE 
 CHILD : SENSUALITY. 
 
 There is, besides pride, another deep wound of 
 the human heart, another generating source of de- 
 fects and vices without number in man and in the 
 child ; it is sensuaUty, that is to say, the inordinate 
 desire for the pleasures of the senses. St. John calls 
 it cojicupisceiitia carnis ; St. Paul, effeminacy: Neqtie 
 molles, says he ; and it is actually nothing else but 
 an unworthy and cowardly effeminacy of the mind, 
 the heart, and the senses. We ought to make here, 
 from the point of view regarding education, a partic- 
 ular study of it, because it is for education a danger to 
 be feared, and the source of the most painful difficul- 
 ties. We shall first speak of the origin and disorder 
 of it ; then of the fatal sway it exercises over human 
 life, especially over children and young people ; and, 
 in fine, we shall seek out what resources education 
 prepares to combat it, and what are the remedies pos- 
 sible for opposing it. 
 
 If we wish to understand properly what this disas- 
 trous wound of human nature is, and the particular 
 difficulties it creates for education, it is necessary to 
 160 
 
SECOND SOURCE OF DEFECTS, ETC. l6l 
 
 go back to the chief source of all evil, even to the 
 original fall. ** God made man upright," says the 
 philosopher; ''and this uprightness," as Bossuet ex- 
 plains, *' consists in the mind being perfectly submis- 
 sive to God, the body likewise being perfectly sub- 
 missive to the mind. But the revolt of the spirit 
 against God led to the revolt of the flesh against the 
 spirit." And again Bossuet says, " Since original 
 sin, the passions of the flesh, by a just punishment 
 of God, have become tyrannical; man has been 
 plunged in the pleasures of the senses ; and, accord- 
 ing to the words of St. Augustine, instead of being, 
 as he ought to be, through his primitive immortality 
 and the perfect submission of the body to the mind, 
 spiritual even in the flesh, he has become carnal in 
 mind." Through original sin the primitive equilib- 
 rium has been broken, and the sad result of this 
 rupture has been a frightful predominance of the 
 body over the soul. Hence in us a strong desire for 
 sensuous pleasures, and an irregularity, the disorder 
 of which is something more humiliating and more 
 vile even than pride. Pride is a usurpation, a crim- 
 inal madness, but in which still sparkles a trace, a 
 remembrance, of dignity; it is the mind of man 
 being honored by itself, and being exalted at the ex- 
 pense of truth and justice. Sensuality has nothing 
 in it but vileness ; it is the most miserable of the 
 captivities of the soul ; it is the mind becoming sub- 
 ject to the flesh. The sensual man has no other end, 
 no other God but his body : Quoricfu Dens venter esty 
 St. Paul energetically says. Who does not feel that 
 there is here a deplorable forfeiture, a frightful degra- 
 
1 62 THE CHILD. 
 
 dation, and the overthrow of all the nobility of hu- 
 man life, in this insult given to the nature and dig- 
 nity of man ? Man is the king of creation. But 
 how — through his senses, through his body ? Cer- 
 tainly not ; in this relation, there are animals who 
 vie with him. There are some of them, who, in cer- 
 tain respects, prevail over him ; who are more agile 
 and stronger than he. There are some who do what 
 he could never do ; who wander over the bosom of 
 the waters, who hover in the immense spaces of the 
 air. Man is the king of creation through his mind, 
 through his intelligence, through his soul. It is 
 through his soul he is reasonable, through his soul 
 he is free, through his soul he is immortal, through 
 his soul that he has sway over all nature. That 
 which should reign in man, that which should govern 
 his life, is, therefore, his soul. 
 
 The body is but a slave, and should only obey. 
 Nevertheless, what does sensuality ? It reverses 
 this divine order ; it causes the body to predominate 
 over the soul ; it enslaves the soul to the senses. 
 The body has its instincts, its appetites ; sensual, 
 earthly, carnal, impetuous, blind, regarding neither 
 reason, nor faith, nor honor. The soul has its tastes 
 and its wants, its aspirations and its tendencies ; 
 noble, elevated, pure, wise, reasonable, accepting rule 
 and bridle. But the sensual inclinations oppress the 
 aspirations of the soul. For this reason there is a 
 struggle, a necessary struggle, eternally between 
 these two powers so opposed. It is necessary to 
 choose, — whether the senses shall be repressed, gov- 
 erned, subjected to reason, to faith, to honor, and, the 
 
SECOND SOURCE OF DEFECTS, ETC. 163 
 
 soul being mistress, life shall be maintained in its 
 dignity ; or whether the senses shall rule, shall en- 
 slave the soul, and life become debased. 
 
 Alas ! I speak of struggles ; and how many men 
 are there who no longer strive, who abdicate, who 
 wantonly deliver themselves up to this debasement 
 of their life, this shameful servitude of the soul ! 
 Certainly the evil is profound ; it lies even in the 
 bowels of human nature. It is universal; sensual- 
 ity, in one way or other, causes every one to feel its 
 pricks. It is this degrading yoke, as the Scripture 
 says, which weighs on all the children of Adam, 
 from the day they came from the womb of their 
 mother till the day they re-enter the bosom of their 
 common mother, the earth. It is the most terrible 
 result and most manifest token of this original for- 
 feiture, by which the human creature, who wished to 
 elevate himself to the height of God, fell even below 
 his own nature, and paid by the most grievous humil- 
 iations the madness of his pride. I know well that 
 childhood is not the age in which this inclination 
 breaks out in its full force ; nevertheless the evil lies 
 deep in the child himself, and it is often to be found 
 there exercising a dreadful sway. At this age every- 
 thing favors sensuality. I speak not only of these 
 sad hereditary seeds in the souls cf all the children 
 of Adam ; I speak of the predominance cf the phys- 
 ical life over the intellectual and moral life ; I speak 
 of the development of the senses which comes be- 
 fore that of reason ; and in fine, if all must be said, 
 of the senseless manner in which the greater number 
 of parents bring up, in this respect, their very young 
 
164 THE CHILD. 
 
 children. I ought to dwell on this point, which 
 has results for ultimate education that the greater 
 number of parents, in their blind tenderness, do not 
 seem even to suspect, but which are not less fatal. 
 I ought to point out this danger, too much despised 
 and too common. Do they comprehend, do they ap- 
 pear to comprehend, the sad but too real truths 
 which we are speaking of ? Do they dream of the 
 presence of this dreaded enemy called sensuality in 
 the souls of children, and of the extreme danger 
 there is in developing this unfortunate inclination in 
 childhood, and furnishing it with its stings ? There 
 is really room to doubt it, when we see the care 
 which the greater number of parents take to cultivate 
 and humor it in every way in their children. What 
 do fathers, and especially mothers, think of — I do 
 not say in the newly-born child, but in the child who 
 already begins to understand matters, and whose 
 dawning intellect is capable of culture and advance- 
 ment — for example, in the child of four or five years 
 old ? What is it they give most care to in this child 
 — what is it they nourish in him — what is it they 
 develop in him ? Is it the reasonable creature ? is it 
 the mind, the heart, the soul.'* No; it is the mate- 
 rial creature ; the body, the animal life. Yes ; there 
 are thousands of poor little children brought up in 
 this manner : overwhelmed with physical cares ; satu- 
 rated with dainties ; their little faces, their little per- 
 sons, idolized ; all the most foolish, and sometimes 
 the most ridiculous, fripperies sought for, to clothe 
 them ; they are adorned, as it were, for public exhi- 
 bition, then they are flattered, they are incensed. 
 
SECOND SOURCE OF DEFECTS, ETC. 1 65 
 
 they are adored. This excites pity, and is an evil to 
 see. Let no one speak here to me of necessity, or 
 of health; necessity has a measure — the senseless 
 mania that I denounce knows it not, and health itself 
 suffers from these pitiful cares. But it is especially 
 the souls of these unfortunate children that suffer 
 from this ; the physical development stifles not only 
 that of the mind, but vanity, thus excited, germi- 
 nates, and takes total possession of these poor intox- 
 icated little heads ; effeminacy establishes its ernpire 
 in them, enervates, numbs, paralyzes them ; inspires 
 them with an inexpressible indolence, a horror of 
 effort and labor, which destroys all their energy, all 
 their activity, and prepares for their future education 
 the most serious difficulties. I confine myself to 
 pointing out here the two principal of them, — sloth, 
 and injury to morals, 
 
 II. 
 
 I say that sensuality, especially when favored by 
 an effeminate education, inevitably engenders in chil- 
 dren a deplorable slothfulness. It may be asked, are 
 not all children idle .'' Without doubt they are, and 
 who does not know it.? But it is necessary to know 
 also that there are two kinds of idleness. There is 
 the idleness which has its origin in the thoughtless- 
 ness of the age; that is not the most dangerous, and 
 in the end we succeed in curing it ; it is necessary 
 to wait, without trifling with it, till the character, the 
 mind, the reason, and the body itself, attain a certain 
 development. The love of labor, especially mental 
 labor, cannot spring up immediately. Childhood, 
 
1 66 THE CHILD. 
 
 naturally lively, uncertain, and eager, can keep still 
 neither its body nor its tongue; it talks, laughs, 
 and continually jumps about, without reflection or 
 system ; it prefers play to serious matters. That 
 will pass away. Much patience, and also much en- 
 couragement, is necessary with such children-^ 
 something which excites and takes hold of them ; 
 much persistency, with a firmness always benevolent, 
 and sometimes indulgent : in a word, never to permit 
 the child to become indolent, or to get the better of 
 you ; but also neither to crush nor dishearten him. 
 I can scarcely recollect having ever despaired of a 
 child idle through thoughtlessness and giddiness, or 
 have sent away such children. When we know how 
 to win them, we bring it to an end sooner or later, and 
 oftentimes very soon. But there is another idleness, 
 — the inertness which arises from a weak nature, 
 without energy or elasticity ; this idleness is almost 
 incurable, at least unless one applies himself to its 
 cure in very good time by well-contrived means 
 equally mild and firm. But an early education, such 
 as that which I depicted just now, is one of the 
 greatest ^obstacles such a cure can meet with. The 
 cares, efforts, and perseverance that will be required 
 later on to save a child thus brought up, in order to 
 make a worker of him, to make a man of him, are 
 incredible. And how many times do they fail ! Let 
 parents take care, then, and not create beforehand 
 terrible and almost unsurmountable difficulties for 
 the education of their children. One fails so much 
 the more, because this intellectual and physical 
 effeminacy is usually accompanied by effeminacy of 
 
SECOND SOURCE OF DEFECTS, ETC. 16/ 
 
 the heart, a sort of moral apathy, and insensibUity. 
 Now, Fenelon has rightly said of it, " Of all the 
 troubles of education, none is to be compared with 
 that of bringing up children deficient in sensibility. 
 Quick, feeling natures may fall into terrible disor- 
 ders ; the passions and presumption may hurry them 
 away ; but they have also great resources, and can 
 be reclaimed, though far gone — instruction is in 
 them a hidden germ which puts forth shoots and 
 bears fruit when experience comes to the aid of rea- 
 son, and the passions cool ; at least, we know by 
 what means we can render them attentive and arouse 
 their curiosity. They have in them a something 
 which causes them to become interested in what 
 is taught to them, and their honor may be piqued ; 
 instead of which we have no hold on indolent na- 
 tures. All the thoughts of the latter are distractions; 
 they are never where they ought to be ; even correc- 
 tion cannot sting them to the quick ; they hear all, 
 and feel nothing. This indolence renders the child 
 negligent and disgusted with everything he does ; 
 the best education, then, runs the risk of shipwreck, 
 if we do not hasten to get before the evil during the 
 earliest years of childhood." Is it this that effemi- 
 nate education, unfortunately so general in the pres- 
 ent day, does for young children ? Thanks be to 
 God, when it does not prepare another danger still 
 more to be feared : I speak of the danger to their 
 morals. 
 
 in. 
 
 I border here on a subject particularly delicate and 
 painful ; I touch one of the greatest wounds of man 
 
l68 THE CHILD. 
 
 and the child, also one of the most terrible rocks in 
 the way of education. I shall have some severe 
 words to say — without doubt, I shall surprise more 
 than one mother, ignorant of the perils around her 
 dear child, and perhaps confiding too much in an 
 innocence, which, during a long time, has not existed. 
 But, since I am led to treat here of such a subject, I 
 must have the courage to speak the necessary truths, 
 and to tell them to all those who have need of hear- 
 ing them — to children, to masters, to parents them- 
 selves. Ah ! if there be anything beautiful, amiable, 
 heavenly, on earth, it is innocence in a young man, 
 in a child ; a heart, a soul, which evil has not yet 
 approached, which is ignorant of it, or has been pre- 
 served from its stains ; an innocent, candid, virginal 
 soul, which has retained all its freshness, all its 
 bloom, all its perfume. Who can describe the grace, 
 the charm, the nobility, the dignity, the honor, of it ! 
 It is sweet to meet with such a soul on earth — to 
 contemplate, to love it. We recognize in it without 
 trouble, we are sensible of, an indescribable sign of 
 happiness, some reflection of itself on a mild and 
 pure physiognomy. We are charmed at seeing all 
 the early limpidity of this countenance, all the inno- 
 cent candor of this mien, and this amiable face. 
 This soul has not only all its grace, but it has still its 
 first sap, its ardor, its vigor, its power ; as it were, 
 nothing in it has been defiled, nothing has been ex- 
 hausted ; life flows on in its primitive abundance — 
 it keeps its faculties, with all their treasures, their 
 wealth of energy, intact ; with its grace and strength 
 it retains all its tenderness. Vice, which might 
 
SECOND SOURCE OF DEFECTS, ETC. 1 69 
 
 have defiled it, cooled or extinguished its flame, 
 having never breathed over it, that pure flame, that 
 flame of good and holy affections, lighted up by God 
 himself, has been preserved there as in a sanctuary. 
 We know that a man, too celebrated for his unbelief 
 and scandals, has, in a moment of sincerity and frank- 
 ness, uttered this very true speech : " I maintain, a 
 young man who has retained his innocence up to 
 twenty years of age, is, at that age, the most gener- 
 ous, the best, the most amiable, of men." Such is 
 innocence in a child, in a young man — more charm- 
 ing, more touching, perhaps, in this happy age, which 
 is ignorant of everything, and in which strife against 
 innocence has not yet come to disturb it; though 
 more worthy of respect, and in some manner more 
 sacred in a heart which already feels its place dis- 
 puted, but which guards it, and in which it then be- 
 comes virtue. But what a holy and dreadful charge 
 for a father, for a mother, for masters, to guard this 
 soul, this heart, during childhood and through youth, 
 even to mature age ; to lead it to the age of man- 
 hood through all the perils of ignorance and tempta- 
 tion, without permitting this purity, this beauty, this 
 charm, to be blighted ; without permitting this 
 crown to be lost ! What a w^ork ! what incompara- 
 ble happiness ! and also what invaluable service ! It 
 must be admitted with a sigh, that it is rare, and it 
 is here we may well cry out, in sight of such uni- 
 versal shipwrecks, apparent rari. We live in an evil 
 age, where innocence is vainly sought for; we 
 scarcely longer meet among us those countenances 
 full of candor, in which the sweet attractions of this 
 15 
 
I/O THE CHILD. 
 
 amiable virtue shine. Innocence ! innocence ! child- 
 hood itself is no longer acquainted with you — it 
 blushes for you. This age has lost its artless charm, 
 since frightful corruption seems to sit by its cradle 
 in order to watch its awakening. The child of our 
 days appears ripened before his time by vice — pre- 
 cocious and damaged fruit, which libertinism gathers 
 during the morning of life, and, without trouble, de- 
 taches from virtue ; soon becoming a prey to all the 
 ravages of vice, it disappears in the bloom of life, 
 leaving behind an odor of death. Here is what too 
 frequently becomes of youth, and even of childhood, 
 among us. But let us hasten to say, also — and let 
 it be sufficient consolation and encouragement for 
 those whose sacred duty it is to bring up and save 
 children for God — all do not perish in this ship- 
 wreck. No; whatever may be the weaknesses of this 
 age, and the wretchedness of the corrupted times 
 in which we live, we can never be justified in be- 
 lieving that childhood is fatally cast, as it were, into 
 a pasture of vice, while there are happy examples of 
 young people retaining their chaste innocence to the 
 epoch of priestly education, or even, in the world, to 
 the hour of a blessed marriage, bearing witness that 
 parents and the religious teachers of youth have at 
 their disposal efficacious means for saving this age, 
 so tender and so exposed. Yes, there are still among 
 us, thanks to Heaven, virtuous. Christian families, 
 profoundly blessed by God, in which piety and good 
 morals are cultivated. Noble traditions, great ex- 
 amples, simple and strong virtues, form there, as it 
 were, an atmosphere of honor and purity, which the 
 
SECOND SOURCE OF DEFECTS, ETC. I /I 
 
 child inhales from his birth, amid which he happily 
 grows up, which creates for him a healthy and pure 
 temperament, and which gives him, with the instinc- 
 tive horror of evil, holy habits of modesty, decency, 
 and respect. There are houses of education, where 
 so strict a guard is placed around the youth whose 
 innocence they shelter, that evil is averted, and 
 under the eyes of God, and the wings of religion, 
 virtue is preserved and strengthened for the strife of 
 the future. I have had the consolation of living in a 
 house, of which a religious, one of the holiest and 
 most clear-sighted — the Pere de Ravignan — could 
 say to me after a retreat, '* I do not know if there 
 be in the world a house where there can be more in- 
 nocence than in yours." I recall to mind with emo- 
 tion one day — it was Easter Monday — when a man 
 of great intellect, great experience, a celebrated 
 laureate of the University, a Christian, and other- 
 wise very virtuous, dining with us at Gentilly, under 
 our trees, already verdant and in blossom, and seeing 
 the pure joy of these children, the candor of their 
 countenances, the innocence of their frolics and their 
 shouts, said suddenly, turning towards me, " What 
 happiness to think that perhaps there is not one of 
 these children who may not be pure and in favor 
 with God! " ^ Yes, childhood can be saved, and, if it 
 be lost, it is frequently because it has not been suffi- 
 
 1 He was, nevertheless, a very original and very amusing man ; 
 very strong in Latin verse. Some moments after, as the children 
 were singing a hymn according to their fashion in honor of the Holy 
 Virgin, he suddenly cried out, " Ah, there is a mortal sin ! " It was a 
 false verse. 
 
172 THE CHILD. 
 
 ciently watched over, either at college, or even some- 
 times, it must be said, at the domestic hearth. 
 There is here a terrible responsibility and a very 
 grave subject for the meditation of parents and those 
 who fill their place, for the ravages of evil are fre- 
 quently frightful. It is enough to cause a shudder ! 
 Yes, when vice has taken hold of a poor child, a 
 poor young man, it is impossible to describe what it 
 makes of him, whither it drives him. When this 
 evil becomes contagious, and, like the plague, grad- 
 ually spreads in a house of education, or any other, 
 it is terrible to see the victims it strikes, the ruins 
 it heaps up. Mothers ! mothers of families ! watch, 
 watch aver your children in your houses, at your 
 sides ; for there, even there, close by you, and, so to 
 say, under the shadow of your wings, the evil may 
 seize and devour them. There are perils close by 
 you, around you, among you. Professors, directors, 
 superiors, open your eyes ; be vigilant ; behold the 
 enemy, the dreaded enemy ; if he penetrate, if he 
 enter, he will devastate your house, he will ruin all ; 
 he will cast victim upon victim, dead upon dead ! 
 Nevertheless, when this evil has possession of a 
 young heart, its sad and lugubrious symptoms may 
 be quickly perceived. What sudden change has been 
 wrought in this child ? He was merry, frank, loving ; 
 behold him suddenly sad, restless, gloomy, defiant, 
 dissimulating. He has no longer his candid smile, 
 his blooming countenance, his open heart, his ex- 
 pansive soul ; something has passed over his physiog- 
 nomy, and has cast, as it were, a veil on it ; some- 
 thing is there, in that heart, which contracts it; 
 
SECOND SOURCE OF DEFECTS, ETC. 1 73 
 
 something he does not wish to show, Hke a shameful 
 secret that he hides. The poor child ! whither is a 
 first step about to conduct him } At first he hesi- 
 tated, he blushed, he trembled ; soon he no longer 
 hesitates, he no longer blushes, he no longer trembles. 
 One fall leads to another; one abyss decoys to an- 
 other; weakness increases, habit becomes formed — 
 terrible habit, which triumphs over will, reason, honor, 
 faith, conscience, everything. He no longer hears 
 anything, he no longer sees anything ; it becomes 
 a frenzy. Insensibility, impudence, get the better of 
 him. He inflicts outrage upon outrage, ignominy 
 upon ignominy. Who will stop him in his disorders ? 
 Who will recover him from such a weakness } Who 
 will break off such habits .'* Who will burst such 
 bonds } Alas ! who does not know that there is 
 nothing, nothing in the world, so difficult to correct 
 in a child as secret habits of impurity ^ And whither 
 will they conduct him ? What is to become of him ? 
 What will become of his education, his future, his 
 life ? Vice will soon have blighted, killed, everything 
 m him — his body first — his health receives a mortal 
 taint. Poor child, scarcely beginning life, he has ex- 
 hausted and dried up its sources. This frail organi- 
 zation, which has not yet acquired its development, 
 its consistency, its strength, he abuses in every way ; 
 he undermines, he corrupts, he destroys it. Nature 
 cannot be outraged with impunity — outraged nature 
 revenges itself, and its vengeance is terrible ; some- 
 times slow, it always comes. The fresh coloring of 
 that young face has already disappeared, and given 
 place to an accusing paleness ; his eyes have become 
 15* 
 
174 THE CHILD. 
 
 extinguished ; precocious lines already furrow his 
 forehead ; his whole constitution wears out and de- 
 cays — life goes on, death arrives — an old man at 
 twenty years of age ; see him verging towards his 
 grave, where, as the Scripture says, " his vices shall 
 descend with him, and dishonor his ashes." Behold 
 the fruits of vice for so many unfortunate children 
 and young people ! — a premature death, or at least a 
 debilitated life ; the health impaired for ever. The 
 ruins of mind and heart are not less great. In these 
 shameful habits the mind loses its elasticity and its 
 vigor, its delicacy and its grace ; enervated by vile 
 enjoyment, plunged in the mire of the senses, it be- 
 comes blunted, it becomes numbed, it wallows in 
 sloth and torpor. The imagination, possessed by a 
 settled idea which it pursues, tormented by impure 
 phantoms, can no longer turn away from them ; it 
 has neither intellectual vigor nor moral power ; the 
 exercise of thought only wearies ; love of good finds 
 there a surfeited heart, when it does not find it har- 
 dened ; the sensual child no longer labors, no longer 
 studies, no longer loves. He no longer loves : sen- 
 sual vice profoundly impairs the character, and kills 
 the heart in those who gives themselves up to it. 
 The child was born good, sweet and amiable, simple 
 and sincere ; he had a candor of soul, and a mild 
 serenity of temper, arising from the peace of a pure 
 conscience ; but, since the fatal habits of vice have 
 invaded him, that equality, which had its source in 
 the calmness of the soul, is no more than a peevish, 
 capricious, whimsical temper ; that candor, which 
 displayed his whole soul, shows but gloomy and hid- 
 
SECOND SOURCE OF DEFECTS, ETC. 1/5 
 
 den thoughts. He has lost, with his innocence, that 
 which constituted his greatest charm. In like man- 
 ner, the source of the best and purest affections 
 has been dried up in that worn-out heart. It has 
 been remarked, that corrupted children are incapable 
 of gratitude, and have not any elevated or generous 
 feeling. The habit of egotistical enjoyment inter- 
 dicts disinterested pleasures ; and the most withering 
 reproach has been inflicted as a chastisement by the 
 writer whom I indicated just now as rendering an 
 unsuspected homage to virtue : " I have always 
 seen," says Rousseau, " that children corrupted at an 
 early age become wicked and cruel. They know 
 neither pity nor mercy. They will sacrifice father, 
 mother, and the entire universe, to the least of their 
 pleasures." To enjoy is everything for them ; the 
 rest is nothing. Nevertheless, sensual children 
 sometimes have the air of having a good heart ; but 
 it is necessary not to be deceived by it — it is a false 
 appearance. The appearance of sensibility in chil- 
 dren should be studied with great care by masters ; 
 it is in the highest degree important to look well into 
 the source of it, and see if it come from the heart, or 
 the senses : if it come from the heart, it is good, 
 valuable, and a great resource for the education of 
 the child ; but, if it come from the senses and the 
 evil tenderness of an effeminate heart, it is false and 
 very dangerous. There must be no doubt on this 
 point. Nothing is more egotistical and harder than 
 a corrupted child, whatever appearances he may have. 
 That caressing tenderness which he sometimes 
 evinces, and which resembles the blossom of affec- 
 
1/6 THE CHILD. 
 
 tion, has sad roots, an evil nature ; if we look closely 
 into it, we shall not be slow to see that this flower is 
 mud. It is necessary to be kind to such children, 
 but rarely tender, except with great gravity; they 
 must never be permitted, but with extreme reserve, 
 sensible manifestations of their effeminate tender- 
 ness ; for example, never to embrace them, or allow 
 one's self to be embraced by them. They require 
 much compassion, but it should be firm and dignified. 
 These children resemble damaged fruit : look at an 
 apple — while we do not see that there is a worm in 
 its heart, it seems sound and good ; let us open it, 
 we find there but rottenness. But this is enough on 
 these sad subjects. It is enough to make whosoever 
 is charged with bringing up childhood understand 
 the fears and all the vigilance necessary on this 
 point. Let us now see how we can prevent and 
 combat so great an evil. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 WHAT IS TO BE DONE IN ORDER TO SAVE CHILDREN 
 FROM THE DANGERS OF SENSUALITY. 
 
 It is to parents solely that I first address myself, 
 for the care of preserving their children concerns 
 them above all others. Among the duties of pater- 
 nal and maternal authority, there is none more seri- 
 ous, more delicate, more sacred. Carelessness, even 
 thoughtlessness, in this respect, would be, not alone 
 unpardonable, but they cannot be imagined in parents 
 — I do not say Christian — but those having simply 
 the commonest tenderness for their children. If 
 every honor confided by God to his creatures has a 
 corresponding duty, so much the more serious as the 
 honor is greater, what solicitude is there not imposed 
 on those who have received from God the incompara- 
 ble deposit of the soul of a child — the deposit of 
 such weakness and such innocence ! In order to 
 express my idea, I will borrow from the Scriptures a 
 simple and forcible expression : I will say that parents 
 should watch over their children as over the apple of 
 their eye. But do they always sufficiently under- 
 stand in practice all that is comprised in this high 
 and holy obligation, and even to what point solici- 
 tude and prudence must be carried ? May they not 
 be, and are they not, too frequently, cutpabi^cjiffnorant 
 
178 THE CHILD. 
 
 and deplorably deluded on this subject? I will say 
 at once, it is at a very early age, from the first years, 
 and, if I may say so, from the cradle, that it is neces- 
 sary to think of preserving soul and body from 
 effeminacy and its frightful results, to lay the foun- 
 dation of good morals in children by a strict educa- 
 tion and the extreme of vigilance. But what means 
 must they use, and to what precautions must they 
 have recourse ? Some details are required here. On 
 account of the gravity and sanctity of the subject, I 
 may be excused those mto which I am going to 
 enter. I will simply give my idea on each matter 
 relating to it. It is of supreme importance to accus- 
 tom children to modesty, to decency, in every thing 
 respecting themselves ; to inspire them with a great 
 bashfulness. In order to arrive at this, it is neces- 
 sary to watch well over their going to rest, their 
 sleeping, and their rising; to take care to cover them 
 well ; especially never to allow them to sleep to- 
 gether, nor with other persons ; to abstain from all 
 familiarity with regard to them — nevertheless, with- 
 out affectation ; to watch their plays ; to make them 
 avoid all unsuitable behavior among themselves ; 
 never to permit them any kind of rude, indecent 
 liberties, as is sometimes done under pretext of 
 amusing tricks. On all these matters, children must 
 be given, from the earliest age, elevated and pure 
 precedents. It is strictly necessary never to permit 
 ourselves the most trifling liberty whatsoever before 
 them. The ancient maxim should always be under 
 the eye of every family, especially every Christian 
 family, Maxima debetur ptiero reverentia : si quid 
 
SENSUALITY — HOW TO SAVE FROM. 1/9 
 
 titrpe paras, iie Ul pueri conteinpseris annos. Woe to 
 the parents of whom Tacitus has said, ** It is some- 
 times the parents themselves who habituate their 
 children to licentiousness and vice, instead of honor 
 and virtue " — Quajidoque etiam ipsi parentes nee pro- 
 bitati neqiLe modestice parviilos assiiefaciiuit, sed las- 
 eivice ct libcrtati. (Dial, de Orator. 29.) And (Quin- 
 tilian, book i. c. 4), Nos dociiimus, ex nobis andierunty 
 etc. — '' It is we ourselves who have instructed them in 
 evil ; it is from us they have learned it ! " Let them 
 always remember, then, to watch with strict atten- 
 tion every word they utter at the domestic fireside : 
 children always listen, and understand more than 
 they suppose ; and a single word may do them mor- 
 tal injury. Carefully remove from their sight every 
 dangerous object, — bad books, bad pamphlets, bad 
 newspapers, whether illustrated or not, or bad pic- 
 tures. This is the gravest, the strictest duty. What 
 is to be said of the negligence of certain parents in 
 this respect, and of everything that is to be seen ex- 
 hibited on the tables of certain drawing-rooms } I 
 cannot resist citing here an incredible example of 
 imprudence and laxity which I myself witnessed. A 
 young man of fifteen years of age had received for 
 his new-year's gift, magnificently bound, a complete 
 collection of the works of a contemporary author, a 
 poet and celebrated novelist, whose name I shall not 
 mention. Every one knows he has written too much, 
 and sometimes too freely, for his entire works to be 
 placed with impunity in the hands of a young man. 
 I one day entered the house of this child's parents, 
 accompanied by a respectable magistrate. The boy 
 
l80 THE CHILD. 
 
 was there with his books. " What are these beauti- 
 ful volumes.^" asked the magistrate. The' mother, 
 witli some embarrassment, named the author. The 
 magistrate could not prevent himself from evincing 
 surprise. " But at least," replied he, " I hope this 
 
 young man will not read these , nor these ." 
 
 " He has already read them," answered the boy. I 
 went out on the moment, in order to relieve the 
 mother from the visible restraint my presence had 
 placed upon her. Imprudent mother! how had she 
 understood her duty ! And the volumes had been 
 sent by a near relative ! 
 
 Another point which again requires the greatest 
 vigilance from parents is that of servants, children's 
 maids, valets, coachmen, grooms ; I will go further, 
 and, at the risk of surprising not a few, I will say 
 even nurses. How many times have we not said 
 that parents do not sufficiently understand all the 
 injury their grievous negligence, their too much 
 blind confidence, in this respect, may cause to chil- 
 dren ! One day, a mother, driven to despair by hav- 
 ing her son sent away from an educational establish- 
 ment for a shameful fault, in a transport of passion 
 said to the superior, '' If my son is acquainted with 
 evil, sir, it is in your house he has learned it ; he was 
 pure when I confided him to you ! " But the supe- 
 rior, being unfortunately better informed, replied to 
 her, "No, madam, it is not here your son has learned 
 evil. You have in your house, at . the present mo- 
 ment, a domestic who has all your confidence; it is 
 he who has ruined your son. Interrogate your child 
 yourself." These people, even though they may not 
 
SENSUALITY HOW TO SAVE FROM. l8l 
 
 be, as is too often seen, known corrupters, are so 
 coarse in their education, their manners, and their 
 language, that children left to them can easily learn 
 many evil things, if they be not well and closely 
 watched. It is necessary to be not less careful re- 
 specting the companions who visit them : children 
 learn evil from one another, and it is in this way 
 they usually go wrong. Every mother must know, 
 that, owing to the unhappy times we li\e in, every 
 little companion may be dangerous for her child ; 
 and it is there she must begin to exercise her watch- 
 fulness. The greater number of children, especially 
 in towns, have, from the earliest age, lost their inno- 
 cence in different degrees. Not one who may not 
 have drunk more or less poison ! not one who does 
 not know at least something, if not everything, of 
 evil ! not one among the sons of Adam who may 
 not have instincts, sensual tastes, extremely to be 
 dreaded, with respect to purity ! not one, who, if he 
 be not rigorously watched over, may not be capable 
 of those liberties, those improper familiarities, which 
 can so quickly lead to everything bad ! Children 
 who are permitted to visit freely are always a danger 
 to each other. As I write for the instruction of 
 every one, parents as well as masters, I ought to 
 Speak of everything, and not shrink from any useful 
 detail. I will then say, Keep your eyes open with 
 fear and vigilance, not only on the little compan- 
 ions who visit your children, but likewise on male 
 and female cousins, among whom familiarities are 
 frequently but the more dangerous, on account of 
 being more easily carried on. I go further, and not 
 i6 
 
1 82 THE CHILD. 
 
 without reason : watch over even brothers and sis- 
 ters. Yes, when there are many children in a family, 
 who put on or take off their clothing in the same 
 room before one another, and who may often find 
 themselves alone together, there is a danger for both 
 which demands all the vigilance of parents. Why 
 should I be obliged to speak of these matters .? and 
 will parents believe me ? I shall have at least per- 
 formed my duty by telling them : it is frequently 
 under their roof, and almost under their eyes — closed 
 by an unhappy and false security — that evil befalls 
 their children ; and how can they prevent it ? They 
 do not even suspect it. All this is grievous to speak 
 of ; but it is the truth. Yes ; in spite of the presumed 
 innocence of their age, children, whatsoever they 
 may be, must be distrusted, and have a watchful eye 
 over them in everything. I will plainly ask parents 
 — blind, weak, as they are, regarding the most evi- 
 dent defects, the least pardonable faults, of their sons 
 and their daughters — do they sincerely, freely, wish 
 for the preservation of their innocence ? or do they 
 at least attach to this great and supreme matter all 
 the importance that it deserves ? There is certainly 
 room to doubt of it. They excuse, they color, they 
 find reasons for, everything in children. For in- 
 stance, a child shows too lively an inclination for 
 pleasure ; the mother tells you, " Oh ! there is no 
 room for anxiety ; it is not what one imagines ; it is all 
 simply an open-hearted and undisguised nature." But 
 he betrays himself by an obscene word; it is purely 
 a sally of playful humor ; he has never seen anything 
 wrong. And they thus answer everything; excuse 
 
SENSUALITY HOW TO SAVE FROM. 1 83 
 
 everything. I declare, I have jfrequently found the 
 children less insupportable by their vices than the 
 parents by their whims. I have but one question to 
 put here to those unfortunate parents : Do you, or do 
 you not, wish your children to be innocent ? Well, 
 use the means then — all the means — necessary for 
 it. Nothing is superfluous. But no ; I fear you do 
 not wish it. There is, however, at least one thing 
 you wish : you desire health, renown, fortune, long 
 life, for them, and affection for yourself. You de- 
 sire at least all that. Well, blind as you are, know 
 that it is but on condition of being virtuous that 
 these things are to be secured. If you desire these, 
 wish for what gives them ; do not be inconsistent. 
 But no; you do not seriously desire even that; you 
 give everything up to chance. If you seriously de- 
 sired it, would you cast these poor children — for 
 how can I forget this danger.? — would you cast them 
 into these public schools, I ought to say these gulfs, 
 that we know of ? 1 do not attack, I do not name, 
 any of them ; in fine, we know that authoritative 
 voices, from all parts, have been loudly raised against 
 them. There are such houses where a child is cer- 
 tainly ruined if he enter ; and you place him there ! 
 Well, I maintain, myself, that parents cannot con- 
 scientiously, for any reason, or on any account, place 
 their children in such houses. They will say. What 
 are we to do.'* Everything except what you do. 
 Though you may have much to say, and much to 
 allege, God will not excuse you. You will not have 
 done what you ought, what you could have done, for 
 your child. It may be you do not place him in one 
 
184 THE CHILD. 
 
 of these houses of perdition ; you keep him at home; 
 you give him a tutor. But you will choose this tutor 
 among a thousand — observe what I say — among 
 a thousand .'' In fine, suppose the tutor excellent ; 
 do you believe, that, in providing him, all is done, and 
 that your child can no longer need other assistance .'' 
 To confine myself to one of the most important 
 needs, do you think that his piety can be sustained 
 in such a manner as to preserve his heart from all 
 dangerous impressions within and without, from all 
 the snares that surround — even in the best- watched 
 houses — the innocence of a poor child, if you do 
 not give this new-born and weak piety the necessary 
 support of sound instruction and the sacraments ? 
 Ere long, there are indications, alas ! too certain, 
 which cause you anxiety. You come to seek us, to 
 confide to us your anxieties, your vexations ; your 
 tears, to ask our advice : but will you follow this ad- 
 vice ? We can never prevail upon you to do that ; 
 necessarilly, we propose in such a case the indispen- 
 sable aid of regular, frequent confession. Oh ! but 
 that cannot be ; there would be such a master to be 
 inconvenienced, such a lesson to be lost. You do 
 not wish it ; and, nevertheless, you wish your son to 
 be saved : you wish an impossibility. I will then 
 say to those mothers who require to hear it, You be- 
 lieve our word to be more efficacious than it is ; you 
 send your children to us once, twice, at rare and long 
 intervals ; what do you wish us to do ? Can such 
 habits be cured, even in persons of mature age, much 
 less in children, except by very frequent confession ? 
 Nevertheless, you become re-assured ; you congratu- 
 
SENSUALITY HOW TO SAVE FROM. 1 85 
 
 late yourselves : ** Oh ! my son confesses to Father 
 So-and-so, who is a saint." Well, as for me, I tell 
 you, that, with your method of directing your chil- 
 dren, even a saint could do nothing for them. If 
 you wish that, this saint should do anything, send 
 your child to him frequently and regularly, and in- 
 duce the child to perform with docility all that his 
 confessor desires him. Pardon this warmth of lan- 
 guage ; I am drawn into it by the ever-recurring re- 
 membrance of what I have seen caused by the blind- 
 ness and inconsistency of certain parents on this 
 very serious point. No ; I cannot express as forcibly 
 as I wish how much constant, attentive, steady solici- 
 tude is required in everything on the part of parents, 
 in order to preserve their young children from the 
 evil that surrounds and attacks them on all sides. I 
 recapitulate. It is during the tenderest age that it is 
 necessary to be warmly solicitous and watchful over 
 a young child ; it is then that precaution should be 
 carried into the most trifling details : the manner of 
 putting on his clothes-; the care of removing from 
 him everything not strictly conformable to modesty ; 
 to be careful in inspiring habits of decency and re- 
 spect ; at the same time, to keep from his sight and 
 hearing everything that may be perilous ; to banish 
 from the domestic fireside every loose word, every 
 book, every scandalous object ; in fine, to watch over 
 everything that surrounds him — and every one who 
 approaches him — servants, companions, relatives, 
 even brothers and sisters : all these cares are neces- 
 sary in order to save children, and present them 
 pure and innocent, to the masters whose office it will 
 16* 
 
1 86 THE CHILD. 
 
 be to continue the home education. And at last, 
 when they must be confided to a college or a master, 
 be strict — very strict — in the choice, and never 
 relax in vigilance. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 curiosity; levity; third source of defects in 
 
 man and in the child. 
 
 Pride and sensuality are terrible vices, that must 
 be attacked boldly, and forcibly subdued. When a 
 soul is capable of this struggle, however profoundly 
 enrooted these vices may be, nothing is to be despaired 
 of ; and, the efforts of the teacher meeting with a 
 happy concurrence in the soul of him whom he 
 brings up, the work of education is still possible. 
 But what strongly compromises it, what brings to 
 it, I will almost say, the most hopeless of obstacles, 
 what too frequently renders the most devoted cares, 
 the most skilful masters, unavailing, is a third and 
 unhappy defect, which causes everything to glide 
 over the child, and does not permit anything to pene- 
 trate into his soul. I speak of levity, daughter of 
 that deadly vice which the apostle names concupis- 
 cence of the eyes, concitpiscentia octilounn. Concu- 
 piscence of the eyes is to be met with in the child, 
 in the young man, as well as the grown man, but 
 under a particular form. In the child it is fickle- 
 ness, heedlessness, giddy curiostiy. Now, the fickle, 
 heedless, inquisitive soul, open on all sides, allows 
 everything to be lost, and keeps nothing ; no serious 
 work is possible with it or in it. I have had to 
 
 187 
 
1 88 THE CHILD. 
 
 Struggle very particularly against this defect. I 
 know all the difficulties it brings into education ; I 
 have been obliged to combat it, at one and the same 
 time, in the children and in the masters. I had, one 
 year, in one of the seminaries that I directed, among 
 some excellent masters, many young professors, good, 
 but too young in age and character, heedless on 
 their own account, and also on account of the chil- 
 dren ; thoughtless in mind and heart, and who did 
 not sufficiently understand the gravity of their mis- 
 sion, or all the importance of their duties. I had 
 also some children of the same stamp, who never 
 looked seriously on anything in their education or 
 their life. For a time I feared that the spirit of 
 levity was being introduced into the house, and 
 then all the rest was hopeless. I ought to dwell 
 on this capital defect, and hold on this subject, 
 addressing all who require to hear me many conver- 
 sations, in which I shall apply myself to make all the 
 miseries and dangers of levity comprehensible. It is, 
 indeed, very important that children should know it 
 well. This defect, the most usual at their age, and 
 also too frequently the most excused, is not the less 
 a fatal defect, and may, if it be persisted in, if it be 
 not combated, ruin not only childhood, but the whole 
 life. It is more than necessary that men charged 
 with so grave a work as education should understand 
 all the gravity and seriousness it requires on their 
 part, and how incompatible levity of mind and dispo- 
 sition is with it. In fine, I will add, that parents 
 also must be very sensible of all the mature reflec- 
 tion that the dignity of father and mother claims 
 
CURIOSITY, LEVITY, ETC. 1 89 
 
 from those who bear it, and that it cannot rest se- 
 curely on thoughtless heads. 
 
 I say, then, there is in the child a kind of eager, ' 
 restless curiosity, opening his eyes and his desires to 
 everything, and which is exactly characterized by the 
 name of conctipiscentia oadoi'um. It is the opening 
 of the eyes and the soul to everything outside that 
 attracts and seduces it ; it is all the thoughtless, in- 
 discreet, unrestrained inclination of seeing every- 
 thing ;\ it is an unbridled curiosity for evil as well as 
 good, a passionate cupidity; hence it is that love of 
 pleasure degenerates into this vice. Moralists also 
 say, with reason, that the concupiscence of the eyes 
 touches closely on concupiscence of the flesh. Who 
 has not observed, even among the most innocent 
 children, that love of amusement and pleasure is 
 usually very lively — the wish to see everything, to 
 hear everything, to feel everything t This love of 
 pleasure, of enjoyment, betrays itself at first by 
 the love of play, the passion for amusement, which 
 sometimes becomes a frenzy in them. It is an early 
 and real danger, and must be watched. But what is 
 most to be feared is the pleasure of the eyes, or the 
 desire of seeing everything ; the pleasure of the ears, 
 or the desire of hearing everything ; the pleasure of 
 the taste, or the desire of tasting everything. It is 
 very dangerous for a child, or a young man, to allow 
 his soul to be thus not only accessible to every seduc- 
 tion, but passionately tending towards them. At a 
 
1 90 THE CHILD. 
 
 certain age, especially when man begins to be ini- 
 tiated into the secrets of life, the love of visible ob- 
 jects may, if the young man do not watch over him- 
 self with strict attention, cause a tbousand tyrants, 
 vile as they are imperious,, to penetrate him. From 
 that time he will have lost all dominion over himself; 
 he will be dispossessed 'of his soul, and drawn into a 
 whirlwind of illusions, whose plaything he will un- 
 ceasingly be, until, after the most grievous mistakes, 
 after virtue, duty, labor, career, have all been sacri- 
 ficed, he falls into a frightful void. This passionate 
 cupidity, this eagerness for seeing everything, this 
 taste, this habit of living and casting one's self 
 abroad, usually engenders an unbounded restlessness, 
 an everlasting dissipation, which hurries away the 
 moments, the hours, the days, the whole life, of a 
 young man. This love of pleasure, when it is not, 
 as among young children, the need of motion, is, if 
 it be not the source of vices, at least the door and 
 entrance for them. Fenelon says, " It opens the 
 soul like a dismantled fortress to all the attacks of 
 the enemy." When this defect has not a real depth 
 of good sense as a counterpoise, when it is not alone 
 a weakness of age, which wears out with the increase 
 of years, but an inherent vice in the nature, in the 
 character, it is to be dreaded beyond measure. I 
 know that this is not the idea always entertained of 
 it ; people are sometimes deceived, and very sadly so, 
 with respect to-lt As this defect, appears to belong 
 more to the age than to the child, as it is very fre- 
 quently accompanied by amiable or brilliant qualities, 
 they hope it will pass away ; while waiting, they ex- 
 
CURIOSITY, LEVITY, ETC. I9I 
 
 it, and delude themselves as to its serious con- 
 sequences. Certainly Fenelon did not take this 
 view of it when he said that levity extinguished all 
 piety, rendered one incapable of all serious applica- 
 tion, and consumed every virtue. For my part, I 
 know few vices more dangerous, and that require to 
 be more seriously combated ; when levity becomes 
 persistent, it is one of the most terrible obstacles to 
 education, and sometimes the ruin of an entire life. 
 The truth is, there is nothing to be done for thought- 
 less beings, or by thoughtless beings. ' It is very 
 proper that I should distinguish the trifling frivolities 
 of early age from that fundamental and essential de- 
 fect called levity. Levity, thus understood, is so 
 grave an affair in my eyes, that, if it were permissi- 
 ble to assert that there are some children incapable 
 of being brought up, I would say, without hesitation, 
 they are heedless children. And how will you bring 
 up such natures } All the labor of education, all 
 the most skilled cares, are ruined beforehand by this 
 unfortunate defect, which, as I have said, causes 
 everything to glide over the surface, and does not 
 allow anything to penetrate to the bottom. Why do 
 I say to the bottom.? — there is no bottom in them. 
 A heedless soul is a soul open on all sides, and closed 
 nowhere ; the bottom is wanting. In vain you lavish 
 on it the most elaborate teaching ; it is a sieve ; all 
 passes through, and nothing remains in it. A heed- 
 less child retains nbthing, can do nothing, hears 
 nothing ; what will you do with such a child } It is 
 not thus with other defects. They may be attacked 
 boldly, and conquered after a sharp struggle. Pride 
 
192 THE CHILD. 
 
 can be humbled, transformed, and even sometimes con- 
 verted into energy for good. There is also a hold on 
 sensuality — it may be combated ; but a heedless, rest- 
 less, fickle soul, is it not, so to say, unseizable ? For 
 this reason, levity is so much to be dreaded, and so 
 terribly compromises, if it be neglected, if it be 
 allowed to subsist, the work of education. By it, in- 
 deed, all correspondence of the child with your best 
 cares becomes impossible, and all your efforts remain 
 stricken with sterility. The lamentable results of this 
 defect are, inattention, irreflection, inconstancy, gid- 
 diness, in everything. Who has not remarked what a 
 prodigious point incongruity of behavior attains in 
 the heedless child ? We see him present a spectacle 
 of the most surprising variability ; the most sudden, 
 the most unexpected, changes. One day good, the 
 next day bad ; now sensible, now relapsing into heed- 
 lessness ; fervent one moment, lukewarm the next ; 
 in heaven to-day, perhaps in hell to-morrow. 
 
 There are certain epochs of the year when the 
 atmosphere is unsettled and the weather variable; 
 the wind changes twenty times a day ; sunshine sud- 
 denly succeeds rain ; then the clouds soon return : 
 we know not what to say of this weather ; the most 
 experienced is at fault. Thus it is in a heedless 
 child or man ; we can never know an instant be- 
 forehand what he will be, or what he will do the mo- 
 ment after. Just now, he was possessed by a mad 
 gayety ; at present, behold him sad and gloomy to 
 excess. What has happened to him .'' We know 
 not what idea has crossed his mind, and there is a 
 cloud over his countenance ; the thurider will soon 
 
CURIOSITY, LEVITY, ETC. I93 
 
 kirst forth, with a torrent of rain ; but this emotion 
 will soon pass away — nothing is profound in a heed- 
 less soul ; the instant after you will see him plunge 
 into a madcap joy. A poor soul, given up to curi- 
 osity, to levity, is really like the waves of the sea, 
 delivered up to every wind. It is easy to understand 
 that nothing steady, nothing serious, is possible in 
 such a soul. Not a germ of virtue, not a principle, 
 can take root there; it is not only an unstable earth, 
 a moving sand, it is the mobility of a shadow. Plant 
 a tree in the sea ; assuredly it will not strike root 
 there, nor will it give you fruit. Fatal to study, 
 fatal to virtue, fatal to the future ; behold, imprudent 
 parents or masters, this levity of childhood, which 
 causes you no anxiety, and which, perhaps, you find 
 even amiable, and worthy of every indulgence ! You 
 intend to make a heedless child study ; but what prog- 
 ress will he make ? He hears not, he reflects not ; 
 neither does he seize or retain anything; all your 
 explanations, all your lessons, fall to the ground for 
 him. And what progress will he make in virtue ? 
 Virtue is energy, is constancy ; such a nature is in- 
 capable of effort, and especially of persevering effort. 
 His virtue, if he has any, comes and goes by fits and 
 starts. He may have some aims towards good, but 
 he soon falls back into the restlessness and vulgarity 
 of his habitual conduct. His good resolutions are 
 not sustained ; they vanish on the first occasion. 
 Virtue dwells in the soul, in the depths of the child ; 
 but, according to the words of the Gospel, all is on 
 the surface, nothing is deep-rooted, in a heedless 
 child : Non habet radicem, sed est temporaneus : he 
 17 
 
194 THE CHILD. 
 
 has no root, everything is ephemeral in him. And, 
 at the same time, the power of running to waste is 
 frightful in heedless souls ; how they can squander 
 the gifts of God, graces, faculties, natural and super- 
 natural means, is not possible to describe. It is to 
 these sad natures that the words of St. Bernard most 
 properly apply : " Vases full of flaws, which let 
 everything escape" — Pleni rimarum, undeqiiaque 
 dijlitiimis. What serious future can be prepared 
 in this condition } and how sorrowful it is to see 
 these poor children going on, with a smile on their 
 lips, and I know not how much careless gayety in 
 their hearts, to the ruin of their life, and perhaps of 
 their eternal future ! Ah ! unfortunate young man, 
 you laugh, you jest, unceasingly ; you thus abuse the 
 most useful talents, losing every day the most valu- 
 able time of your every- day life in frivolities, in 
 nonsense, when it is not in errors. Nevertheless, 
 your education is not progressing, your defects 
 become strengthened, your virtues lost, your piety 
 extinguished ; graces dry up, time flows on, the 
 kingdom of God escapes you : where are you going .'* 
 Nevertheless, God had designs for you. Perhaps 
 He had given you a high vocation ; what has be- 
 come of it 1 Ah ! you laugh ; as for me, I weep — 
 I weep over the abuse of gifts from God, over 
 the waste of graces, over the sorrowful lowering 
 of your soul and your life. I weep over a lost 
 man. Yes, you might have become a man, a laborer 
 for God in society or in the church, and you will 
 never be but a silly, vulgar being, of a fruitless 
 and barren mediocrity. Ah ! you will make God 
 
CURIOSITY, LEVITY, ETC. I95 
 
 and yourself bankrupt. Is there a greater misfor- 
 tune in the world ? 
 
 ^» rier 
 
 II. 
 
 The great evil to young people is in not being suffi- 
 ciently brought into contact with mature age ; in not 
 considering sufficiently that they ought one day to 
 be men, and that the man will have to suffer a long 
 time, perhaps always, for the faults of the child. 
 The great injury done by parents and masters is 
 in not sufficiently pointing out the future seriousness 
 of life, its labors, its duties, its dangers. They fool- 
 ishly say, ** Levity lasts but for a time; it passes 
 away; it is only a matter of patience; let us wait." 
 That is a great error. Without doubt, levity is es- 
 pecially a defect of childhood ; setting aside the re- 
 sults of it, it may be corrected, and age will much 
 assist ; but age alone will not correct it. Levity, 
 when one does not begin seriously with it, becomes 
 strengthened by habit, changed into a second nature, 
 clings to one through life, and is never to be got rid 
 of. A heedless child, if he be not corrected in child- 
 hood, becomes a fickle man, still more incorrigible, 
 and nothing can be more disastrous. For what is he 
 but a fickle man } Is he brought up a man ? is he 
 even a man ? does he deserve to get that name } 
 Perhaps he is a magistrate, a priest, the father of a 
 family : but if he be the plaything of inconstancy 
 and perpetual restlessness ; if he never lay himself 
 down to anything, and unceasingly change ; if he 
 never resemble himself ; if he never be on the mor- 
 
196 THE CHILD. 
 
 row what he was the day before — what do I say, if 
 he vary from hour to hour, from moment to moment, 
 who can count on him, for ah instant, in anything ? 
 Well, there are some men who are thus all their life, 
 because they were left so in childhood ; inattentive, 
 thoughtless, whimsical, restless, without steadiness 
 or consistency ; like the leaf swept away by the 
 wind, like wave driven by wave, or the bird borne on 
 by the caprice of his wing. I ask, are these men ? 
 and if levity, which, after having ruined education 
 and childhood, may ruin the whole life, is a matter to 
 be neglected ? or, rather, is it not during the entire 
 life one of the most menacing dangers .-* In fine, 
 what is such a life ? who governs it ^ is it the fickle 
 man who governs his life } No ; he is governed 
 from the outside by circumstances, by the thou- 
 sand incidents of each hour; or, rather, he is not 
 governed ; he is pushed, tossed about by chance : 
 once more, such a man is a plaything, the incon- 
 sistent and fragile plaything of every one and every- 
 thing ; he has been compared, and not without 
 reason, to a dancing-jack, which acts at will by he 
 knows not what thread moved by a strange hand. 
 What dignity, what honor, can rest on him ? Where 
 is his gravity, his earnestness, his capacity, his firm- 
 ness — where are his anchors, or his helm.? What 
 foundation can be made on such a man ? To count 
 on him, to found anything on him, is to count on the 
 wind, to build on water or sand ; to count himself as 
 some one, to expect of him reflection, foresight, re- 
 sults of energy or will, any perseverance whatsoever, 
 would be to take him for a man, and he is, alas ! but 
 
CURIOSITY, LEVITY, ETC. IQ/ 
 
 a child. The Holy Scripture speaks somewhere of 
 the child of a hundred years, Piier centum annoriLin. 
 Well, yes, there are some men, who, even in mature 
 age, even with gray hairs, have not yet come out of 
 childhood, who .are always children, on account of 
 the levity, the thoughtlessness, the restlessness, the 
 caprice, the weakness, and the inconsistency, of their 
 character, Piter centtim annonim. The Scripture 
 adds a terrible word, Puer centum anjioriim peribit 
 — ''The child of a hundred years shall perish!" 
 Yes, he shall perish ; the perils to which levity of 
 disposition exposes him are frightful and number- 
 less ; perils for the honor and dignity of life ; perils 
 for the soul ; perils for himself ; perils for others 
 also, if he be not advised and guided by others. A 
 frivolous man never appreciates anything at its value ; 
 he treats the most serious, even the most holy, matters 
 lightly ; he jests, he foolishly laughs, at everything. 
 Look at him ; he has railed at such a man, such an 
 action, such a virtue. Did he understand well what 
 he did, what he said } No ; but, nevertheless, he has 
 Slid and he has done it ; he has sent forth this raillery, 
 this sarcasm, this satirical speech ; has he foreseen 
 where it may be borne } does he know that this speech 
 is going, perhaps, like a keen arrow, to pierce a heart 
 that he loves, bring discredit on one whom he es- 
 teems, compromise a work in which he is interested } 
 how do we know, perhaps to scandalize and ruin a 
 soul } No ; he did not think of it ; but, nevertheless, 
 the words have been said and the injury perpetrated. 
 How many of the accidents and misfortunes of life 
 are the result of thoughtlessness and levity ! They 
 17* 
 
198 THE CHILD. 
 
 will say afterwards, '* I did not dream of it." Well, 
 it is precisely there they are wrong. Is it that it is 
 not necessary to consider these matters ? What is 
 levity but absence of thought.^ and why have intelli- 
 gence, reason, reflection, been given to him ? 
 
 It is not necessary that levity, to create calamities, 
 should be inspired by spitefulness ; it may be met 
 with in souls otherwise most talented ; but it fetters, 
 it paralyzes, it sometimes destroys the best gifts ; 
 when it comes in the way of great deeds, pure and 
 tender acts, noble affections, nothing is more deplora- 
 ble and more grievous to see. From levity springs 
 frequently, without any interior malice, a spirit of 
 playful scoffing, which prevents the earnest attention 
 and deep penetration of the mind being brought to 
 bear upon matters that most need being felt and 
 deeply enjoyed. I say, without any evil intention — I 
 mistake ; for this levity necessarily implies a certain 
 want of heart. A better heart, a stronger, a more 
 elevated mind, would not have such levity. We can 
 never, no, never, feel secure with respect to a frivo- 
 lous man ; we must tremble every moment, lest we 
 see him commit some serious folly. Such a man 
 does nothing so quickly as commit himself to a folly. 
 He is unceasingly driven, by want of thought, pre- 
 cipitation, a moment of temper, a whim, a transport 
 of passion, into indiscreet, imprudent steps, the con- 
 sequences of which he has not calculated ; he soon 
 perceives that he has rashly entangled himself, taken 
 a false course, placed himself in a wrong path ; he 
 sees it, but he is there — the evil is done. He has 
 passed for a good priest, and a moment of forgetful- 
 
CURIOSITY, LEVITY, ETC. I99 
 
 ness has sufficed to make him lose his reputation, the 
 fruits of his ministry, public confidence. He should 
 have reflected, and said within himself, " Whither 
 will this word reach ? whither will this step, this con- 
 nection, this companionship, this habit, lead me ? " 
 But the maxim of ancient philosophy, /;/ omnibus 
 respice Ji?iein, seems to have no existence for heedless 
 souls ; as incapable of reflection as of foresight or of 
 resistance, they go on by chance, they follow an im- 
 pulse, they give themselves up to a whim, a transport, 
 an intoxication ! Behold them accumulating impru- 
 dence upon imprudence, rashness upon rashness, folly 
 upon folly ! We may say, like a madman who recedes 
 and dances on the brink of a precipice, or who 
 balances himself on a swing, suspended by a thread, 
 over an abyss, a spring seems to raise him to the 
 sky ; suddenly he falls back with all his weight into 
 the abyss ; this terrible play cannot last long. His 
 head turns, he falls, and into what a gulf ! This is 
 the story of an infinite number of men and young 
 people. Confide any serious affair to a thoughtless 
 man, you may fear everything. He will compromise 
 it by a thousand inadvertencies, and will infallibly 
 cause it to fail. A frivolous man does not under- 
 stand what responsibilities are; he does not see what 
 the serious concern he is charged with claims from 
 him, what he owes to it ; and, instead of sacrificing to 
 the serious business which he has to perform other 
 matters less important, he will sacrifice all that is 
 most serious to frivolities. Ah ! the earnest man — 
 the man who understands the bearing of matters, and 
 treats them according to their bearing ; who knows 
 
200 THE CHILD. 
 
 what it is to have a command, a mission, to be 
 intrusted with a confidence, — and how much dis- 
 cretion, how much attention, how much dihgence, 
 and frequently even what sacrifices, the great af- 
 fairs of life claim from him, — here is the man on 
 whom we may count ; but let us never count on a 
 thoughtless soul, who does not attach to these mat- 
 ters the importance they merit, and does not know 
 how to treat them with the discretion and the deli- 
 cacy, with the application, the promptitude, the per- 
 severance, and the devotion, they require. 
 
 And what danger if a frivolous man mix himself 
 in the management of others ! Now, unfortunately, 
 it happens that men of character, incapable of guid- 
 ing themselves, have — in consequence of their levity 
 and this habit of not regarding matters seriously, of 
 not weighing the gravity of duties — nevertheless 
 the mania of meddling in the management of others, 
 rashly advising and deciding with a peremptory tone, 
 with as much self-possession as ignorance, and taking 
 the helm in hand, without any mistrust of them- 
 selves, without suspecting even difficulties. What 
 guides ! " Woe," says the Scripture, '' to the town 
 whose prince is a child" — Vce civitati ciijiis rex piier 
 est ! He is an insane pilot who consults the weath- 
 ercock of the vessel instead of the compass; who 
 looks to the deceitful lights of the shore, instead of 
 guiding himself by the regular course of the stars, 
 following brilliant, but irregular, ephemeral meteors, 
 and cannot avoid causing a shipwreck. And, if this 
 levity be met with in a man whose office it is to di- 
 rect souls, what a still greater misfortune ! 
 
CURIOSITY, LEVITY, ETC. 201 
 
 Let youth, especially those being brought up for 
 the priesthood, understand well — let those who arc 
 charged with their education not leave them igno- 
 rant — that the levities of early age cling to the man 
 all his life, that he brings them everywhere with him. 
 (The priest, if he come into the world with this 
 moral weakness, and if a firm, clerical education do 
 not rid him of it, will carry it into the functions of 
 his priesthood, into his most delicate relations with 
 men, and even into that dreaded ministry, of which 
 it is said, Ars artiiim regimen animariim. What 
 a pastor, alas ! what a director of souls, he will be ! 
 Behold whither levity of disposition may conduct 
 one ! And what is still more terrible for men of this 
 stamp is, they are ignorant of the wrong they do to 
 themselves and others ; they have not even a suspi- 
 cion of the faults they accumulate, the misfortunes 
 they cause. By the deplorable habit which makes 
 them treat everything lightly, even their souls, their 
 conscience, their business, and their duties, and never 
 seriously interrogate or examine themselves, they 
 may find themselves without their knowledge in the 
 most grievous state before God, and charged with 
 the most dreadful responsibilities. So also, in life, 
 they may allow themselves to be drawn farther 
 than they would ever wish to go, if they had origi- 
 nally foreseen the consequences. Levity is usually 
 the dupe and slave of the malice of others, who 
 make use of it for their own ends ; it is the instru- 
 ment, and the culpable instrument, rather the first 
 cause, of crime. We sometimes think that the un- 
 fortunates who give great scandals are perverse souls, 
 
202 THE CHILD. 
 
 villains. Well, no ! Frequently they are but heed- 
 less, weak souls, who are found, in some delicate 
 occasion, with strong passions unmortified, or who 
 have been drawn on by others. 
 
 In the great French Revolution, notorious crimes 
 were committed by thoughtless minds, directed by 
 monsters. The worst of characters is that of not 
 having one. Every one, except a sensible man, can 
 make a frivolous man do all he wishes. It is right 
 to say, that, in general, man is still more weak than 
 corrupt ; he almost always has more of levity than 
 of malice. Do you believe, that, were it not for this 
 terrible levity, a young man would have committed 
 such an enormous fault ? No ; he has too good a 
 heart, too upright a mind ; but he did not reflect, 
 and he could not resist. Do you, likewise, believe 
 that this father, this mother, of a family, this honor- 
 able man, this magistrate, this priest, would, but for 
 want of thought, but for levity, have fallen into such 
 forgetfulness of himself and his duties.-* No; a 
 thousand times no, never ! Fatal levity, which con- 
 ducts men into paths they would not wish to tread ! 
 which brings misfortune on families, shame on life, 
 dishonor on religion ! Fatal levity, which ruins 
 more men even than wickedness does ! Yet it must 
 be said, however frivolous and superficial a soul may 
 be, there is something grievously profound in it ; it 
 is the indestructible root of the three great concu- 
 piscences. Levity may cover them, but they are 
 there, and one moment or other may break out; it is 
 thus we see light, soft earth cover and secrete, under 
 ephemeral flowers, infectious sinks and smouldering 
 
CURIOSITY, LEVITY, ETC. 203 
 
 volcanoes. This dreadful peril must be averted by 
 education at any price ; pointed out and combated in 
 every way by those whose task it is to bring up men 
 for society and for the church. 
 
 It is that to which, I am happy to remark, the rule 
 of an educational establishment is admirably suited ; 
 for it is rule that restrains and supports ; it is rule 
 that steadies these restless natures, which accustoms 
 them to effort, obliges them to watch and conquer 
 themselves ; which gives them order, perseverance, 
 constancy, self-possession, earnestness. But Chris- 
 tian fervor and piety, still more than rule, is su- 
 premely efficacious here. Indeed, solid piety gives 
 to frivolous souls habits capable of counterbalancing 
 and neutralizing, at least partly, this terrible defect ; 
 to wit, habits of reflection and habits of mortifica- 
 tion. Hence, by the serious thoughts that a sincere 
 practice of piety inspires, by the efforts it incites to 
 and sustains, the two great deficiencies which give 
 room to levity in a soul are supplied. And it is thus, 
 as we have unceasingly stated, that piety is, in all 
 things, the greatest resource of education — Pietas 
 ad omnia titilis est. 
 
 But in order to make use of and sustain these two 
 great and powerful means, to aid in the constant ob- 
 servation of rule, and to nourish fervent piety, that 
 which is again and above all necessary here is the 
 watchful, assiduous, paternal care of the masters. 
 For if they do not follow attentively these poor na- 
 tures of children, given up to themselves, they will 
 make no progress in anything. And on the other 
 hand, if I be permitted to say it, a very particular rea- 
 
204 THE CHILD. 
 
 son claims for thoughtless children these special cares. 
 They are ill, and their malady has something less re- 
 pulsive in it than haughty pride or shameful sensual- 
 ity. The most interesting, the most amiable, class of 
 invalids, still more to be pitied than blamed, how 
 much of the tenderest interest becomes attached to 
 those souls which rush on, inconsiderately and jest- 
 ingly, to their ruin ! How much of the most affec- 
 tionate and most constant cares may be always lav- 
 ished on them, and we may frequently have the 
 consolation of seeing that these cares have not been 
 useless ! 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 OF THE CHILD, AND OF THE RESPECT DUE TO THE 
 LIBERTY OF HIS NATURE. 
 
 I HAVE said the child himself should labor, by a 
 personal concurrence, by a free, spontaneous, gener- 
 ous action, in the great work of his education ; it is 
 the law of Nature and of Providence. This concur- 
 rence of the child is so necessary, that no education 
 can be carried on without it ; and no assistance, no 
 foreign teacher, however clever and devoted he may 
 be, can ever supply it. Whatever one may do, he 
 will never bring up a child without himself, or in 
 spite of himself. He must make him willing to be 
 educated ; he must cause him to do it for himself 
 and by himself. This child is not a passive and in- 
 active being, a shrub, a plant. No ; he is an intelli- 
 gent and thinking creature. Again, take care, the 
 plant itself has an innate principle of vegetation, a 
 sap, a germ, a root of life. It is but dead wood that 
 can be shaped and fashioned without caution, with- 
 out consulting it, without expecting anything of it. 
 The child that you bring up is not a dead wood; he 
 is a sublime being, capable of truth and virtue, of 
 knowledge and love ; he is an active, powerful, su- 
 preme creature : gifted with conscience and liberty, 
 he should necessarily act in his own development. 
 i8 205 
 
206 THE CHILD. 
 
 This action, this concurrence, is essentially free ; it 
 may, it ought to be stimulated, sustained, encour- 
 aged ; it ought not to be constrained or forced. 
 
 The beautiful and holy teachings of Christianity 
 as to the liberty of man, as to his noble destiny, and 
 the respect which is due to him, may be seriously 
 and profoundly applied here. Indeed, the most 
 active principle in the child, the most energetic, the 
 most fertile for his education, is human liberty ; yet 
 on one condition ; which is, that it be respected. 
 Respected as is proper, governed without violence, 
 directed with wisdom, the liberty, the personal action, 
 of the child becomes, under the blessed influence of 
 Divine Grace and the authority which presides over 
 his education, the admirable resource, the soul, the 
 life, of this entire education. In a word, as I have 
 already had occasion to remark, in education what 
 the teacher does himself is a trifling matter; what 
 he causes to be done is everything : I mean that 
 which he causes to be done freely. Once more, 
 whosoever does not understand this, understands 
 nothing of the work of human education. 
 
 The education of the son of Louis XIV., by Bos- 
 suet, offers a sad and memorable example of this. 
 Bossuet wrote great works, admirable works, for the 
 education of the Dauphin. i He did not make him 
 do anything, not even indifferently, — the education 
 was null. Without doubt, it was not the teacher was 
 wanting to the pupil, but the pupil to the teacher. 
 
 1 Among others, the " Discourse on Universal History " and " Sa- 
 cred Politics." 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS NATURE. 20/ 
 
 Bossuet did not perceive it soon enough. The son 
 of Louis XIV. had a vulgar nature ; it was too 
 magnificently cultivated : such elevated care and 
 strong culture stifled it. Bossuet was too grand for 
 him ; and that great man was deceived here by his 
 own genius ; he labored for posterity while suppos- 
 ing he was laboring for that child. If Bossuet had 
 had as much flexibility of mind and patience as he 
 had strength and greatness, he would have descended 
 to the level of that feeble intelligence ; he would 
 have caused it to do what it was capable of : that was 
 not done, and we know the results. The memoirs 
 of the time tell us, that the Dauphin, at more than 
 forty years of age, son of that King of France whom 
 the Emperors of Germany called "The King," and 
 father of a King of Spain, passed entire days lean- 
 ing on his elbows, his eyes fixed on a naked table, 
 stopping his ears. His youth had thus flowed on 
 under the teachings of Bossuet. He had been sen- 
 sible of the presence of this immense genius only by 
 the weariness and uneasiness that his early years 
 and feeble nature experienced from it. The too 
 powerful teacher had wearied and disheartened him. 
 In the same manner, later on, the Dauphin lived in 
 the grand age, and he only perceived it by the re- 
 straint and formality of his sad existence. This de- 
 plorable indifference accompanied him even to the 
 end of his insignificant career. Such was the result 
 of an education, where, according to the expression 
 of Cardinal Beausset, '' the teacher was everything, 
 and the pupil nothing." Never has example proved 
 in a more decisive manner what I said just now, and 
 
208 THE CHILD. 
 
 which I repeat, that in education, what the teacher 
 does is a trifling matter; what he causes to be done 
 is everything. I always understand what he causes 
 to be done freely. No doubt, evil must be repressed ; 
 but never force nor compel one violently to be good ; 
 it is otherwise no longer good. Stimulate, dispose, 
 exhort them to be good ; but never force them. 
 Violent constraint in education, as elsewhere, injures 
 the development of nature ; that is to say, the very 
 work it should perform well. If there are so few 
 successful educations, it is because there are so few 
 really free, spontaneous, generous, as it is fitting they 
 should be. I do not fear to say, the great evil of 
 education in France, during these fifty years, is, that 
 it is deficient in freedom. The liberty of the child 
 is not respected. Intellectual liberty, moral liberty, 
 all is constrained. 
 
 The law of Nature, the law of Providence, every- 
 thing, is despised. Have we not heard the pres- 
 ent century proclaim and set up in principle this 
 strange assertion, that French youth ought to be 
 cast in a mould, and struck like a piece of money 
 with the same effigy .'* I have already had the oppor- 
 tunity of refuting these sad words and the fatal 
 error contained in them, no doubt unknown to those 
 who uttered them ; but I will say frankly, the more 
 I meditate on them, the less I comprehend them; 
 the more they obscure, in my eyes, all that is noble, 
 elevated, ideal, delicate, free, divine, in the work of 
 education. I find the vulgarity of this image repug- 
 nant to our beautiful French tongue. And, never- 
 theless, is it not there .? What have they tried to 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS NATURE. 2O9 
 
 realize with violence among us ? It is not alone the 
 liberty of families, their primitive and inviolable 
 rights,^ that have been despised ; it is also, it is es- 
 pecially, the liberty and sacred rights of childhood. 
 As for me, I declare, while I can occupy myself, at 
 home or abroad, with the education of youth, I will 
 respect human liberty still more religiously in the 
 smallest child than in the grown man ; because this 
 latter will, at least, know how to defend himself 
 against me ; the child cannot. No ; never will I out- 
 rage childhood to the extent of considering it as a 
 matter that I can cast in a mould, in order that it 
 should come out with the imprint my will would 
 give it. 
 
 The child, regarding him from our point of view, 
 is man himself; the depositary of all the gifts, all 
 the hopes, all the dawning powers, of humanity, 
 clothed with every grace, every energy, every human 
 dignity. Behold what must be respected ! But you 
 say, He is so weak ! It is a serious error ; you do 
 not know him ; he is stronger than you. Besides, 
 were he as weak as you say, he should still be, his 
 weakness especially should be, respected. His 
 power, also, must be respected. It is not to be 
 despised. This child, weak as he is, may conquer 
 you. You can strike him, you can crush him ; he is 
 not conquered ; it is you who are : his will, his soul, 
 invincibly resist you; and you have done nothing 
 but a stupid and barbarous action ! As for him, he 
 will despise and hate you. And what can you do to 
 hinder him from despising and hating you.? I un- 
 
 1 M. Guizot. 
 18* 
 
2IO THE CHILD. 
 
 derstand you ; you reply to me, that you have the 
 resource of hating and despising him in your turn. 
 That is much ; but what will you gain by it ? You 
 will, on account of his money, perhaps, continue to 
 bring him up ; but, when the youth of a great coun- 
 try shall have been brought up in this fashion, what 
 will the country gain by it ? No ; I have hardly 
 ever seen a greater display of moral 'force than that 
 which the weakest children have exerted against 
 those of their masters, who knew only how to con- 
 strain them with violence in their childhood. There 
 are sometimes in these young souls depths of con- 
 tempt, frightful in their simplicity and justice. It 
 is, of all human contempts, that which I should least 
 wish to face. 
 
 From the beginning of my priesthood. Providence 
 devoted me to the work of education. The chief sen- 
 timent that I then brought into the accomplishment 
 of my duties towards children was a warm affection 
 for their age ; I loved them tenderly ; I could not meet 
 a child of twelve years old without experiencing an 
 involuntary emotion ; without thinking how happy I 
 should be if I were called to cultivate his mind and 
 his heart ; if I could teach him to love God and vir- 
 tue, and, especially, prepare him for his first Com- 
 munion. To-day, after twenty-five years of devotion 
 to this work, when I ask myself. What is the, most 
 profound sentiment that I have carried away from 
 it and preserve ? I discover it is the sentiment of 
 respect for childhood. Yes ; what I particularly 
 learned during these pleasant and laborious years is 
 to respect children. I will say more, — and those of 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS NATURE. 211 
 
 them who may read these pages will not take offence 
 at these words, when they shall have well understood 
 them, — I have learned to fear them. The respect 
 with which any child, whatsoever he may be, inspires 
 me at present, and I feel this impression is hence- 
 forth ineffaceable in my soul, is a religious respect, 
 mixed with fear, at the sight of these young and 
 powerful creatures, whose faculties are so free, so 
 strong, so invincible. This sentiment has become 
 almost a weakness of mind and character in me. 
 But no ; I am wrong in saying it ; there is no trace 
 of weakness here. It is true, I can no longer see a 
 child of three years without experiencing a certain 
 terror, without reflecting profoundly on him, without 
 considering that his will is independent of mine. 
 Actually, young as he is, he can exercise his will 
 without me, in spite of me, against me. He may be 
 killed, but he cannot be compelled to will in spite of 
 himself. What is he to speak of — a child of 
 three years ? and what matters three years more or 
 less ? He has my nature, he has yours ; he is 
 human nature entire. He is a superior being, gifted 
 like you and me; your likeness and mine, a power 
 equal to ours. Ah ! you count this child as nothing ; 
 he amuses you ; you play with his rising will ; you 
 constrain it without reason, or you yield to it with- 
 out prudence. Well, in this dreaded play you will 
 be vanquished, and you will learn sooner or later, at 
 your own expense, what a fault it is to treat a child 
 with levity, and without respect, or rather with harsh- 
 ness, and without love. As for me, I do not know of 
 a greater disorder, and I willingly repeat this speech 
 
212 THE CHILD. 
 
 of a philosopher : " No ; there is no being more deli- 
 cate and more sensitive ; no one whose guidance re- 
 quires more profound art; no one who must be 
 treated with more caution or regard." 
 
 Faults, errors, in this respect, may be numerous, 
 infinitely varied, unfelt, unperceived, and almost 
 always past remedy. I will try to point out some of 
 them. There is at first a rock to avoid, which one in 
 a measure draws near, as he makes greater efforts to 
 attain the end he wishes to arrive at. Education is, 
 indisputably, a great work — a work of perfection ; 
 it is indisputably a supreme type that we must seek 
 to realize in this work ; but even that is a great dan- 
 ger. The finest theories, the most perfect plans, the 
 strictest rules, those containing the most absolute 
 perfection, are not the most difficult to be found; 
 but, on account of being perfect, they become im- 
 practicable and injurious. What is essential, and 
 what is very difficult to secure, is this even tempera- 
 ment ; to quote St. Paul, this ** sobriety of perfec- 
 tion," without which all theories, all rules, are defi- 
 cient in wisdom. 
 
 It is still more necessary to spare the weakness of 
 the child than to draw from him all the fruits he is ca- 
 pable of producing. It is always a great fault to force 
 Nature ; she resists and breaks, or rather she gives 
 way, and becomes weakened. Moreover, the con- 
 straint of excessive perfection is always injurious to 
 the real strength and development of character ; one 
 becomes disgusted with that which he has for a long 
 time been forced to be in spite of himself ; and one 
 hour of freedom has frequently destro3^ed the ephem- 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS NATURE. 213 
 
 eral labor of many years. There are two equally 
 pernicious methods of corrupting nature and de- 
 praving children. They become as grievously per- 
 verted by oppression as by spoiling. Let teachers 
 of youth not forget that indulgence towards children 
 is always nearer to justice than severity is; alas! 
 and with men also; for, if children are little men, it 
 must be acknowledged men are often grown children. 
 When one devotes himself to the work of education, 
 he requires an inexhaustible fund of indulgence. 
 This indulgence is equity itself. Every one ought 
 always, in the words of the Church, be inemor coii- 
 ditionis sues. Let us never forget what we were, not 
 only at their age, but what we are in more advanced 
 age. No doubt, also, there are simple and fixed 
 principles on which all good education is founded, 
 and which may be always followed, while keeping to 
 the lessons of experience and the lights of a sound 
 philosophy. But though these principles may be un- 
 changeable, and to swerve from them in the bringing 
 up youth be necessarily vicious, it is not the less 
 true that the disposition of every child — what the 
 hand of Providence has placed in him — his tastes, 
 and his different capacities, must be studied. It is 
 not less true, that each must be brought up for the 
 state to which he is called, and, at an early age, 
 given habits that will one day render it easy for him 
 to fulfil his duties. We have said, and nothing is 
 more certain, even as in medicine there is no uni- 
 versal remedy for all maladies, all constitutions, so 
 also the science of teaching cannot give uniform 
 rules for every character. The great principle which 
 
214 THE CHILD. 
 
 rules and enlightens everything here is, that educa- 
 tion ought to follow and aid nature, never violently 
 to restrain or force it : and for this reason, though 
 immutable in its higher principles, education ought 
 to infinitely vary its action, its means, and its forms. 
 There is nothing which education ought to have 
 more aversion to, more horror of, than the common 
 type, the mould in which all natures are violently 
 cast. Fenelon says somewhere, "Where will ycu 
 find two faces which wholly resemble each other ? " 
 The minds of men are not less different than their 
 faces. Education, which is to improve nature, and 
 whose glory it is to co-operate in the work of Provi- 
 dence, ought not to have less variety in all that it 
 performs than nature and Providence Himself; it 
 ought to adapt itself to all characters, take the forms 
 of all minds, and find, in the treasures of its devo- 
 tion and its power, wherewith to bring them up, 
 wherewith to mould them with different and new 
 features every day. In a word, education is a work 
 of infinite variety ; nothing is less suitable to it than 
 narrow and uniform views, harsh measures, inflexi- 
 ble means, forced action. Its general principles, its 
 great laws, are unchangeable; but the application 
 perpetually varies, and, on that account, gives birth 
 in a higher degree to the absolute perfection to which 
 education should aspire. I sometimes said to my 
 worthy fellow-laborers, "An educational establish- 
 ment is a sphere of intellectual activity and immense 
 thought. The centre is immovable ; the foundation 
 of its principles is unchangeable ; but from thence 
 springs an action of never-ending variety, which be- 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS NATURE. 215 
 
 comes extended, restrained, modified, renewed, ac- 
 cording to the different natures on which it is exer- 
 cised, and of which it seems to take every form, in 
 the same moment that it takes possession of, and 
 moulds them like to the supreme type. It even 
 takes possession of them only on condition of being 
 transformed into them ; like a virtue, a precious es- 
 sence, which takes the different forms of the vases 
 of gold, of iron, or of clay, that it is poured into ; 
 or rather like the grace ^ of God itself, which sub- 
 mits to different transformations, suiting itself to the 
 heart into which God causes it to flow. Divine 
 grace penetrates, strengthens, vases of clay. Some- 
 times it converts them into vases of gold. It softens, 
 it polishes, vases of iron, and renders them as bril- 
 liant as solid. It labors to transform all into vases 
 of honor." ^ However suitable these comparisons of 
 the Holy Scriptures may be, it remains to be said, 
 that education can only succeed in forming souls, 
 according to the variety and nature of their talents, 
 by continually varying in power, weight, dimen- 
 sion, form, position, method, and action, all its re- 
 sources. To act otherwise is to submit the child to 
 an intellectual, moral, physical constraint ; and some- 
 times even a religious constraint, which throws his 
 faculties into a profound perturbation ; changes and 
 imbitters his nature ; and frequently goes to the ex- 
 tent of causing him to reject far from him, as an 
 odious yoke and an insupportable tyranny, all the 
 cares of a forced and constrained education. 
 
 ^ Multiformis gratia Dei. — S^. Paul. 
 
 2 Vasa aurea Vas in honorem. — Ibid. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE CHILD ; THE RESPECT DUE TO THE LIBERTY OF 
 HIS INTELLECT. 
 
 There are many important aspects under which 
 the education of the child, and the respect due to 
 the dignity of his nature, may be particularly con- 
 sidered. I will try to point out, successively, how 
 fatal are moral, intellectual, and even physical con- 
 straint, to education. And let it not be thought that 
 intellectual constraint can be less fatal. I have seen 
 disastrous consequences from it, and I ought to 
 mention them here. I have already spoken of the 
 culpable weakness of some parents, who do not re- 
 gard sacrificing the instruction of the mind, and 
 moral education itself, to the effeminacy and the 
 physical cares of their children. I ought to speak 
 here of quite another defect : I mean the haughty 
 hardness of other parents, and the odious cupidity 
 of too great a number of teachers, who, in order to 
 obtain for their own name the glory of prizes at 
 competitions, or the honor of brilliant examinations, 
 condemn poor children to labor without relaxation 
 the whole day and part of the night during entire 
 months, thus causing those weak bodies and those 
 organs, that nature has not yet strengthened, to suc- 
 cumb under the weight of continued fatigue. I have 
 216 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS INTELLECT. 21/ 
 
 seen young people, brilliantly gifted, who, from ex- 
 cessive labor at too early an age, had been reduced 
 to impotence — to intellectual imbecility — all their 
 lives. 
 
 In former times, Plutarch wrote these remarkable 
 words respecting this : *' I know some fathers who 
 are really enemies of their children. Ambitious of 
 seeing them make the most rapid progress, and ob- 
 tain an extraordinary superiority in everything, they 
 overload them with a forced labor, the weight of 
 which crushes them. The result is a discourage- 
 ment which renders the sciences hateful to them. 
 Plants moderately watered grow easily ; but too great 
 an abundance of water stifles the germ in them. 
 Thus it is the soul becomes nourished and strength- 
 ened by well-managed labor ; excess overwhelms it, 
 and extinguishes its faculties." The father of Blaise 
 Pascal had entirely opposite ideas, and pursued a 
 very different method in the education of his family. 
 His daughter, Jacqueline Pascal, relates that this 
 wise father, in bringing up Blaise, and applying him 
 to study, followed the principle of always keeping 
 the child below what he was capable of. Let us 
 study, in the memoirs of the time, what the educa- 
 tions of Fenelon, Bossuet, M. Olier, were ; we shall 
 see therein an admirable tempering of the strength 
 of labor and caution for the weakness of early age ; 
 a clever mixture of prudence and eagerness, grave 
 condescension and prudent austerity. It was thus 
 that all those great men who regenerated France 
 during the first half of the seventeenth century, and 
 prepared all the splendor of the reign of Louis the 
 19 
 
2l8 THE CHILD. 
 
 Fourteenth, were brought up. We have said educa- 
 tion is, without doubt, essentially progressive; but 
 we have also said its method of proceeding should 
 never be violent, nor its progress hastened ; the 
 child will not bear it; his liberty will be injured, and 
 even the foundation of nature impaired: his physi- 
 cal, intellectual, moral, and religious development 
 is necessarily a work of time and patience. If you 
 wish to make a man of this child, it is necessary to 
 labor at it, — as Providence itself did, — with respect, 
 with time, with gentleness. You will otherwise dis- 
 turb this soul ; you will yourself defeat your whole 
 work, and your most ardent efforts will but remove 
 you farther than ever from the goal. It is in order 
 to arrive more surely there, and by an idea of the 
 highest wisdom, that education has, as we have seen, 
 been divided into three different periods ; namely, 
 maternal education, primary education, secondary 
 education. Unfortunately, this wise and progressive 
 tardiness is not always observed. One of the most 
 frequent of intellectual constraints, and the most de- 
 serving of compassion, is that of forcibly engaging 
 poor children in the study of ancient languages, for 
 which they have but little taste, indifferent capacity, 
 and, besides, in which they are not offered any real 
 help to aid them in the success of so difficult a 
 labor. I believe, and I unhesitatingly proclaim, that 
 the study of three languages, of three great litera- 
 tures — French, Greek, and Latin — is the most 
 powerful means we have for the highest intellectual 
 education ; but still the mind must be capable of it. 
 Now, among those who make their classes without 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS INTELLECT. 219 
 
 making their studies, in our establishments for pub- 
 lic instruction, how many of them are there abso- 
 lutely incapable of doing anything else ! How many 
 are there, in consequence of Greek and Latin, con- 
 demned to ignorance and stupidity, through the de- 
 plorable carelessness of which they are the victims ! 
 When sixty, eighty, and sometimes a hundred, are 
 crowded into one class, is there any possibility what- 
 soever of these unfortunates studying or succeeding ? 
 What do all others, save those prepared for competi- 
 tion, become, and what can they become ? Who 
 occupies himself with them ? Who can occupy him- 
 self with them ? The most zealous professor is 
 obliged to leave them languishing in the most de- 
 plorable neglect of all labor. He asks but one thing 
 of them ; it is, not to move, to be silent. Silence 
 and immobihty are the conditions of peace and exist- 
 ence for them. It is necessary that they be as if 
 they were not there ; however, they are condemned 
 to be there, and that for the space of ten years, ten 
 of the most ardent years of their mettlesome youth ! 
 Those unfortunate beings will thus pass all the long 
 hours of their sad days, becoming pale over authors 
 they do not and cannot understand ; reading, or at 
 least having forced under their eyes, books they will 
 never comprehend ; writing themes in which there 
 is neither sense nor any form of human thought or 
 speech, and that at the epoch when all the most 
 active faculties of the mind ought to be developed in 
 them. How can one not see that it is making them 
 submit to the most brutal intellectual tyranny that 
 ever existed } Speaking only of their studies, would 
 
220 THE CHILD. 
 
 you wish to know what they become with such a sys- 
 tem ? Here is what the professor of philosophy, in 
 one of the most important lycees of France, pub- 
 lished a short time ago with respect to the average 
 of university studies : ** This average is now so low, 
 that the question is, Can it be still lowered ? Every- 
 where, even in Paris, whither our habits of centrali- 
 zation despatch every year the most brilliant subjects 
 from the provinces, the medium of the classes is de- 
 plorably weak. In Paris there is an abyss between 
 the first five or six and the rest of the class ; there 
 is another between the ten following and what is 
 called the tail of the class. Now, this tail is inter- 
 minable ; so much so, that there is no serious differ- 
 ence between the twentieth and the sixtieth. The 
 sixtieth is at zero, the twentieth is infinitely low. 
 It is the same thing in the departments, except that 
 the class is decapitated of the five or six choice 
 pupils included in the Parisian lycees, and who seem 
 to absorb for their own benefit all the sap of the uni- 
 versity. This statement becomes verified in the 
 most irrefragable and grievous manner at the exam- 
 ination for the degree of Bachelor of Arts. The 
 faculties are not very exacting; and, nevertheless, 
 the proportion of candidates refused for not know- 
 ing how to translate passably is really formidable. 
 As to the oral examinations, I pray, with all my 
 heart, that God may never lead a German or an Eng- 
 lishman there to witness them ; or, at least, that he 
 will spare my national self-love the sorrow and hu- 
 miliation of finding myself beside him. I have not 
 courage to say more regarding them ; they can be 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS INTELLECT. 221 
 
 witnessed." Why should we be surprised that stud- 
 ies thus carried on, that such teaching, should have 
 inspired so many minds among us, otherwise distin- 
 guished, with a supreme contempt and a sort of hor- 
 ror for Greek and Latin .? I do not speak strongly 
 enough ; among many this sentiment goes to the ex- 
 tent of a contempt and horror of books and all liter- 
 ary instruction. I could quote here a multiplicity of 
 my experiences.^ 
 
 How many young people, how many men, among 
 us, whose lamentable story this is ! I am going to 
 speak of those who have neither taste nor marked 
 capacity for Greek or Latin, and whom a system of 
 necessary and frightful neglect condemns to annihila- 
 tion. I ought to speak of those whose culture has 
 not been neglected, whom teachers worthy of the 
 name exert themselves to instruct, but who, through 
 viciousness and ingratitude of mind, are incapable of 
 the instruction they are compelled to receive. This 
 
 1 I knew, I still know, one of the cleverest of our architects, who 
 had the misfortune of undergoing in his childhood this odious con- 
 straint. However, he ended by shaking off the yoke ; and his par- 
 ents came to the decision, in spite of the advice of his masters, of 
 breaking up the course of what they called his studies, and setting 
 him to the art of drawing, for which he had a remarkable taste and 
 talent. " It is that which has saved me," said he to me ; " but for it, 
 I was morally and intellectually ruined. I acknowledge, even though 
 unwillinglj^ I preserved for a long time an instinctive dislike to books, 
 for which I blushed ; but I have had much to do ; pardon this remem- 
 brance and this language." He then said to me, smiling, " Fifteen 
 years were necessary to remove the disgust the college had inspired 
 in me for books and haricots. I hated one as much as the other ; 
 and it was only last year that I could eat haricots without repug- 
 nance, and read with pleasure a translation of Virgil." 
 19* 
 
222 THE CHILD. 
 
 is again a great misfortune. We have, without ex- 
 ception, a sad and notorious instance of this kind in 
 an education of which I have already had occasion 
 to speak, that of the Grand Dauphin. Madame de 
 Maintenon^ wrote, "The late Monseigneur, at five 
 or six years old, knew a thousand Latin words, and 
 not one when he was his own master." Madame de 
 Caylus wrote,2 ''The harsh manner with which he 
 was compelled to study gave him so great a disgust 
 for books, that he formed the resolution never to 
 open one when he should be his own master ; he has 
 kept his word." But people will say to me. What is 
 to be done with those children incapable of, and who 
 display absolutely no taste, no talent, for, the study 
 of languages or literature ? What did you do your- 
 self with them ? — for doubtless you must have met 
 with them. The answer is very simple ; it is neces- 
 sary to study their nature ; to seek out, to discover, 
 what they are capable of, and apply them to it, with- 
 out reference to the ordinary rules and general 
 methods of instruction ; it is what I have many 
 times had occasion to do, or advise enlightened par- 
 ents to do. Though languages and letters may be 
 the most powerful means of intellectual education, 
 there are others which have their value also. I shall 
 explain this in detail when I shall treat of high liter- 
 ary education. At present it is sufficient for me to 
 say, that a child must be applied only to the studies 
 for which he has capacity ; it is necessary to give his 
 education a possible foundation ; to labor at his in- 
 
 1 To Madame de Ventadour, June i6, 17 15. 
 I 2 Souvenir de Madame de Caylus. 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS INTELLECT. 223 
 
 tellectual development in a medium that will not 
 stifle it. All this is the plainest good sense. Every 
 other mode of action is revolting; and, lest these 
 words should appear very severe, I will add, that in 
 my eyes there is so criminal an abuse of authority 
 in it, that I do not know anything which affects me 
 more sorrowfully. The committing of such violence 
 to a child, to his liberty, and the weakness of his 
 nature, has always inspired me with real horror. I 
 ought to point out here another constraint imposed 
 on the greater number of children among us, and to 
 which persons generally wish to close their eyes. I 
 speak of the simultaneous study of French^ and 
 Latin, to which they are sometimes at the tenderest 
 age condemned ; it is, even for the most talented 
 children, truly odious intellectual tyranny, the con- 
 sequences of which are frequently lamentable ; and, 
 nevertheless, what is more usual ? How is it we do 
 not see that the simultaneous study of two so dif- 
 ferent grammars, to which, through a superabun- 
 dance of zeal, the Greek grammar is sometimes 
 added, crushes these young minds, overturns their 
 memory, disturbs and embarrasses their whole intel- 
 lectual development ? How can we wish to see 
 these little intellects becoming ruined by these fan- 
 tastic conflicts of heterogeneous declinations, of con- 
 jugations without relation, of nouns and articles.^ 
 How can you maintain that syntaxes, methods, rules 
 so opposite in themselves, will appear simple and in- 
 telligible to them, and that they will assign to each 
 
 1 In this country we should read, "of English." — JVoU of Trans- 
 lator. 
 
224 THE CHILD. 
 
 object its part and its place? But though they 
 should have only this multitude of words, signifying 
 the same thing, and having no resemblance, must it 
 not be more than they could do to retain either one 
 or the other ? Do we not know that it is almost im- 
 possible, at this age, to take in analogies, compre- 
 hend general relations, abstract dissimilarities, be- 
 cause a child does not judge, compare, nor deduce, 
 hardly reasons ? Simple ideas or comparisons are 
 necessary for him ; and besides, what would his 
 terms of comparison be ? Until then he knows only 
 what his own language has been on a level with, 
 and made use of to express his early wants ; he 
 scarcely sees farther. Does not the most ordinary 
 good sense demand that his mind be first strength- 
 ened ; that he be made to understand, as perfectly as 
 possible, his mother-tongue, which he already speaks 
 and comprehends, in which at least he is not 
 thrown into a barbarous and unknown region ? And 
 then, when he shall suitably possess this tongue, 
 when he shall have well taken in the general prin- 
 ciples, the grammar, the syntax, the method, and the 
 orthography, it will be no longer a labor and an em- 
 barrassment to him, but an instrument, a means, a 
 power, for studying, for conquering another. It is 
 the want of observing and understanding these mat- 
 ters, so simple, that causes this tender age, so deserv- 
 ing of some mercy, to be still so cruelly tormented. 
 And to what does it tend.? To disgust it, sometimes 
 for ever, with study ; or, at least, grievously retard 
 the first steps in its career. I ask again, of what use 
 are the eighth, ninth, and even tenth classes, in 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS INTELLECT. 225 
 
 which these poor children pine for years ? Whoever 
 has followed closely these wretched classes, whoever 
 has seen with his own eyes the weariness, the dis- 
 gust, of the masters, the despair and torture of the 
 pupils, will, without any doubt, share my opinion 
 regarding them. As for me, my experience once 
 gained, my resolution was soon taken, and immuta- 
 ble ; from that time, whatever might be even the 
 prayers of the parents, I never consented to admit 
 into the Petit Seminaire of Paris any children not 
 suitably prepared by a solid primary instruction to 
 receive secondary instruction. To place by force in 
 the hands of these unhappy children the three gram- 
 mars, French, Greek, and Latin, to compel them to 
 apply themselves simultaneously to them, appeared 
 odious to me; again, it was in my eyes an intolera- 
 ble abuse of paternal and magisterial authority. But 
 you will ask me, What did you do, then t Something 
 very simple. For example, I sent these young chil- 
 dren to the house of the good Brothers of the Chris- 
 tian Doctrine, at Passy ; they remained there two 
 or three years, occupied only with primary instruc- 
 tion ; and, when they were afterwards brought back 
 to me, they then commenced with greater facility to 
 study the Latin and Greek grammars. They had no 
 longer the disgust of pining whole years over the 
 principles of grammar, which they had successfully 
 studied in their mother-tongue; all the preliminary 
 and general notions were known beforehand. No con- 
 fusion remained in their minds ; their dawning facul- 
 ties had been suitably cultivated and strengthened by 
 natural exercise in an idom which they understood 
 
226 THE CHILD. 
 
 easily, and listened to with pleasure. Moreover, and 
 uncommon enough, they knew how to read and write 
 correctly, even from dictation. In fine, their minds 
 were already adorned with much accessory knowl- 
 edge of history, geography, arithmetic, and even 
 drawing. In a word, they were children really in- 
 structed in everything they ought to know; they 
 replied to all my questions with confidence. I read 
 in the vivacity of their looks the happy certainty 
 that they had acquired their little knowledge, and 
 their eagerness to conquer more. And when at 
 length I admitted them to study the humanities, 
 when I declared them deserving and capable of it, 
 when the Latin and Greek languages were placed 
 before them, it was a pleasure, honor, and not a tor- 
 ture, to them ; it was, as it were, opening a new field 
 to their young minds; it was a brilliant conquest 
 proposed to their ardor. From eight to ten, eleven, 
 or thereabout, they had received good primary in- 
 struction. From ten or eleven to sixteen or seven- 
 teen, they passed easily and gloriously through the 
 whole course of the humanities ; from sixteen, 
 eighteen, or nineteen, their intellectual education 
 was completed by the study of the sciences and 
 philosophy. In fine, at eighteen, nineteen, or 
 twenty, these young people were ready for every- 
 thing ; and, save one or two exceptions, I have never 
 known them to be refused at their examinations. It 
 was thus I acted whenever the wisdom of parents 
 permitted me, and it is thus we should always act. 
 Such a course renders a considerable service to 
 youth, to families, to the country, and will cause this 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS INTELLECT. 22/ 
 
 tyrannical and besotting system, which I have 
 pointed out, to disappear, and with it those sad 
 classes, called the tenth, ninth, and eighth, which are 
 but a lost and hateful time for children, after which 
 they know neither Latin, Greek, nor French, and, 
 besides, become especially incapable of learning, of 
 knowing, anything else. But I may be asked. Do 
 you wish to modify profoundly the general system 
 and universal order of studies ? No ; I wish but for 
 two matters : Firstly, that a professor be a sincere, 
 honest, compassionate man, and not retain in his 
 class fifty or sixty pupils with whom he does not 
 and cannot occupy himself, and who are becoming 
 stupefied ; that poor children, without taste, inclina- 
 tion, preparation, or before the time they shall be 
 capable of it, be not condemned to study the learned 
 languages. Moreover, I consider that writing, read- 
 ing, the grammar of their own language, elementary 
 and universal history, geography, fables, drawing, 
 music, the elements of arithmetic, the simplest and 
 most interesting ideas of the natural sciences, can 
 and ought to occupy more agreeably and more use- 
 fully the first years of youth, than the study of Greek 
 and Latin. I do not wish to modify anything in the 
 system of the humanities ; it is here simply a ques- 
 tion of order and time. I would confine myself to 
 delaying the study of Latin for a year, or even two. 
 I would commence later, but in order to finish 
 sooner. This study, coming in due time, would be 
 more easy, more prompt, and more certain ; the 
 delay would be found more speedily repaired. Not 
 only can they acquire it better^ and more of it, but 
 
228 THE CHILD. 
 
 they can acquire it more quickly. And in that 
 way, without interfering with the general system of 
 the humanities, I would but happily uproot and 
 overturn a bad routine, a barbarous habit, which 
 favors, at the expense of this age, so deserving of 
 compassion, the negligence of some, and cupidity of 
 others. The study of mathematics has also become 
 among us one of the most unfortunate of intellectual 
 constraints; I ought to point out the dangers of it. 
 People are sometimes surprised at seeing certain 
 pupils of our trained schools, of the PolytecJinique 
 itself, tending to a deplorable mediocrity in every 
 respect. I am never surprised at it. The laws of 
 weak nature, in these young people, undergo the in- 
 evitable consequences of the premature instruction 
 forced upon them. They have been applied to the 
 study of the exact sciences before their mind, being 
 sufficiently developed and strengthened, was capable 
 of it ; they have not been able to sustain the weight ; 
 mathematics have crushed them ; so far from being 
 brought up by their education, they have not even 
 been instructed ; they have been dried up, exhausted, 
 and ruined forever. In order to understand this 
 well, it is necessary to recollect that the faculties of 
 man cannot ripen nor become wholly developed but 
 according to the laws of a successive and measured 
 progression. It does not enter into the order of 
 Providence that they should all attain at the same 
 time their strength, their maturity, their natural 
 power. We therefore see memory first appearing, 
 imagination then revealing itself, moral feeling after- 
 wards. Nothing is more tardy in children than 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS INTELLECT. 229 
 
 thought. They have certain natural ideas ; but these 
 are almost always ideas which spring from their im- 
 agination; nothing is more rare among them than 
 connected thought and purely intellectual operations. 
 Connected thought, whether it be abstract or com- 
 plex, almost always confounds them ; in a word, re- 
 flection is singularly weak in them, judgment very 
 indifferent, and consecutive reasoning nearly impos- 
 sible. In that state of things, what comes to pass ? 
 Mathematics are frequently too great, too difficult, a 
 study for these young pupils. Without any doubt, 
 mathematics, by a useful and vigorous exercise, by 
 laborious intellectual gymnastics, strengthen and per- 
 fect reflection, judgment, reasoning ; but they abso- 
 lutely exact that these faculties shall already have 
 acquired a certain vigor, a certain development ; 
 otherwise they crush them. Experience, in this re- 
 spect, has always led me to the same conclusion. I 
 have always observed, every time a premature or ab- 
 sorbing predominance in education has been granted 
 to mathematics, that great misfortunes resulted from 
 it : sensibility, imagination, these two noble and bril- 
 liant faculties, companions of reason, become griev- 
 ously extinguished ; you mutilate, sometimes in a 
 frightful manner, that amiable nature ; you impair 
 its moral dignity as well as its intellectual power. 
 Mathematics, when studied before their time, actually 
 injure even those faculties which they exercise at the 
 expense of the two others; for, in extinguishing 
 these latter, they deprive the former of all the assist- 
 ance they might expect from their companions ; and 
 reason itself becomes dried up without being more 
 
230 THE CHILD. 
 
 strengthened. Moreover, as mathematics most fre- 
 quently exercise the accuracy of the mind only on 
 geometrical and material abstractions, they disturb, 
 and sometimes even impair, moral feeling, if it be 
 not very strong in the soul. Not only do they rob 
 the intellect of the grace, the brilliancy, the generos- 
 ity, the warmth, which imagination would have com- 
 municated to it, but they deprive it also of moral 
 exactness, that is to say, real greatness of soul, and 
 all that is noble in the human intellect. I have 
 said, and maintain, these are great misfortunes ; yes, 
 it is a great misfortune for a young man and his fam- 
 ily. What do they gain by it in the end .-* They 
 sometimes make one mathematician more, but fre- 
 quently, also, a man less. And, as I indicated farther 
 back, we are frequently condemned to regret the 
 absence of both. Certainly I am not one of those 
 who despise human science and learned schools. 
 The Polytechnic has rendered great services to our 
 country, and we may be proud of its professors. 
 Yes, learned men are worthy of every encouragement, 
 and of being nobly rewarded for intelligence and labor. 
 I have always respectfully admired these great and 
 generous minds, whose most profound investigations, 
 whose powerful calculations, have mounted to the 
 heavens, and descended to the bottom of the abysses ; 
 whose wonderful discoveries extend to the most distant 
 ages, penetrate all nature, and unveil her most hidden 
 secrets. I willingly cry out, Felix qtci potiiit rertim 
 cognoscere caiisas ! I willingly render solemn hom- 
 age to Laplace, Bertholet, Lavoisier, Cuvier, and so 
 many others. I pause ; for, in speaking of the dead. 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS INTELLECT. 23 1 
 
 I draw too near to the living, and I do not wish to 
 wound their modesty by my praises. But it is pre- 
 cisely my admiration for those names, great in 
 science, and my respect for science itself, which 
 causes me to require that it be not debased by deliv- 
 ering it to young minds still unworthy of it, and in- 
 capable of raising an intelligent and sensible glance 
 to its beautiful light. Science, which ought to en- 
 lighten them, stupefies and blinds them then; after 
 these deplorable and impotent attempts, those poor 
 young people are often condemned to fix but weak- 
 ened and stupid eyes, and the uncertain glance of an 
 extinguished or wandering intellect, on literature and 
 human science. Besides, I cannot forget that the 
 princes of science, and the greatest philosophical 
 geniuses, have thought and spoken on this grave 
 subject as I do. These astounding words of Des- 
 cartes were recently quoted to me : *' The study of 
 mathematics renders one unfit for that of philoso- 
 phy." I myself read in the works of that great 
 man, "There is nothing more empty than occupy- 
 ing one's self with numbers and imaginary figures, 
 as if one wished to arrest his knowledge with such 
 trifles, and, by applying himself with so much care 
 to these superficial demonstrations, to give up, in a 
 manner, the use of his reason." ^ 
 
 1 Here is what the learned author of the Life of Descartes re- 
 counts : " His own experience had a long time before convinced him 
 of how little utility mathematics were, especially when they were cul- 
 tivated only for themselves, without application to other matters. 
 From the year 1620, he had entirely neglected the rules of arithmetic. 
 His attachment to geometry subsisted a little longer in his heart ; but 
 we may say it had already fallen away in 1623, if it be true, that, in 
 
232 THE CHILD, 
 
 Who does not know the distinction made by Pas- 
 cal between the spirit of exactness and the spirit of 
 geometry ? Every one has read in his " Thoughts " 
 the well-known passage, where, in exalting the merits 
 of geometry, he mocks geometry which is only 
 geometry, and finds it ridiculous, false, and insup- 
 portable, because it wishes to treat delicate matters 
 geometrically. Leibnitz, also, has expressed his sen- 
 timents on this subject with all the gravity and 
 usual elevation of his views. After having spoken 
 of the epoch in which some celebrated authors 
 turned their attention towards the study of nature 
 and mathematics, he adds, '' This is not the place to 
 explain in what this kind of study now appears to 
 me defective, and how it happens that the disciples 
 of some of those great men, though surrounded by 
 so much assistance, nevertheless did not perform 
 
 1638, he professed that he had neglected geometry for more than fif- 
 teen years " (p. 402, vol. iii., of his Letters). " He was not surprised 
 at seeing the greater number of clever men, even those of the most 
 solid genius, nut delay in neglecting or rejecting, as foolish and puerile 
 amusements, sciences of this kind, as soon as they had made their first 
 essays in them. He found nothing which appealed to him really less 
 substantial than occupying one's self with purely simple numbers and 
 imaginary figures, as if one ought to keep to these trifles without car- 
 rying his views farther. He saw they were even something more than 
 useless, and he believed it was dangerous to apply one's self too seri- 
 ously to these superficial demonstrations, arrived at more frequently 
 by chance than by industry or experience, and which a])peal to the 
 eyes and the imagination rather than the understanding. His maxim 
 was, that this application caused us insensibly to give u]) using our 
 reason, and exposed us to lose the path its light had traced out for us 
 (De Directione ingenii, reg. 4). These are partly the motives which 
 induced him to give up pure mathematics." — (Baillet, Hist, of Des- 
 cartes, p. Ill, art. 12, edit, of 1691, book ii. chap, vi.) 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS INTELLECT. 233 
 
 anything worth commemorating. I shall merely re- 
 mark, that, since this period, the study of antiquity 
 and solid erudition has, in some manner, fallen into 
 contempt." — (Letters of Leibnitz to M. Huet, Bishop 
 of Avranches.) Bossuet held the same opinion, and 
 expressed it in his own way, in a letter dated May 
 2 1st, 1687, addressed to a young mathematician: 
 " Do you believe, sir, it follows- that one can be very 
 capable of taking part in matters relating to the- 
 ology because he has a knowledge of physics and 
 algebra, or even understands some of the general 
 truths of metaphysics.'*" Fenelon spoke still more 
 energetically: ''Mistrust," said he, ''the bewitchery 
 and diabolical attractions of geometry." — (Vol. v., 
 p. 514, Correspondence.) He did not wish the Duke 
 of Burgundy to study too much mathematics, lest 
 they should cause him to lose infinite time in foolish 
 researches, and render him too angular. — (Corre- 
 spondence and Memoirs of the Education of the 
 Duke of Burgundy.) Certainly, after such authori- 
 ties and such reasons, I may be permitted to add in 
 conclusion. It is a great misfortune for a nation 
 when a thoughtless impulse gives to mathematics, 
 before their time, a predominance in the studies of 
 youth ; if these studies be successful, we may per- 
 haps have a great number of accurate geometricians 
 and useful engineers ; but we may also have a great 
 number of men with indifferent talents.^ One class of 
 
 1 France had already, earl}' in the beginning of this century, 
 gained a first and deplorable experience of it. Here is what M. de 
 Poirson, one of the most eminent members of the corps of instruc- 
 tion, publishes : " From this new plan of public teaching, in which 
 20* 
 
234 THE CHILD, 
 
 training will pass for the highest intellectual culture 
 of the country ; it will be forgotten that there is an ex- 
 actness and elevation of view, which are not alone 
 the elevation of mathematics and the exactness of 
 trigonometry, profoundly desirable in human society. 
 All ambition, every effort, is being turned to this side ; 
 each year many thousands of young minds, from 
 thirteen to eighteen, shall be condemned to interrupt 
 all intellectual and moral education, all development 
 of thought and language, in order to devote them- 
 selves only to algebra and geometry. We shall see 
 them, each year, present themselves for examinations 
 almost impossible for every one ; some hundreds of 
 candidates will with great trouble be received, and 
 all the others will fall back on themselves disheart- 
 ened, on their mutilated studies, their weakened 
 faculties, their exhausted youth, their ruined future. 
 But what is to be done ? Will it be necessary to 
 close all those schools which prepare for so many 
 
 mathematical sciences predominate, results the most instantaneous, 
 the most deplorable, and most easily perceived, are produced. With- 
 in six years, almost all youth have become shamefully ignorant. Some 
 private schools, though exceptions, still nourish feeble remains of en- 
 lightenment ; in all other parts of France they have become extinct. 
 In the year 1800, the pupils of the special government schools who 
 had passed their twentieth year apprised an astounded country that 
 some of its subjects prepared to enter the public offices would be 
 found unfit for the position in consequence of deficiency in literary 
 knowledge, being unable to render their ideas into language, to ex- 
 press themselves in a clear and correct manner, or produce an intelli- 
 gible report without faults of orthography. It was not the empire of 
 intelligence alone which was menaced in our country." (Collection of 
 Laws and Rules regarding Public Instruction, vol. i. pp. 37, 38, 46, 
 47. — Explanation of the Reasons for the Law of 1802, by Fourcray, 
 vol. ii. p. 62. — Fourcy's History of the Polytechnic School, p. 214.) 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS INTELLECT. 235 
 
 important public services, in which, each year, are 
 recruited for the artillery, the naval service, the 
 mines, the public works, naval construction, etc., 
 men designed to put in motion, to give direction to 
 those great works ? Without doubt, no ; but what 
 should be done is, to retard sufficiently the period of 
 admission to these schools, in order that the young 
 people who aspire to it can be brought up to the alti- 
 tude of science without being crushed before their 
 time by labors beyond their strength. Here is what 
 should be done, and I affirm what no one can dis- 
 pute. All will then go on better : we shall not have 
 less learning; on the contrary, we shall have more 
 real learning, and an ardent and generous youth will 
 no longer be compelled to submit the liberty of its 
 tastes, and the most legitimate of its dislikes, to the 
 most hateful intellectual constraint that has ever 
 been imagined. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 OF THE CHILD, AND THE RESPECT DUE TO THE 
 LIBERTY OF HIS WILL. 
 
 I HAVE pointed out the dangers of intellectual con- 
 straint — those of moral constraint are still more to 
 be dreaded. Certainly it seems hardly possible, 
 that in a country, in an age, like ours, the moral lib- 
 erty of youth can be seriously menaced. At the 
 same time, let us not be in a hurry to trust to appear- 
 ances ; we shall, perhaps, be cruelly deceived by them. 
 There may possibly be many errors in this respect ; 
 and I have seen some results so disastrous, that I 
 may be permitted at least to point them out rapidly. 
 I will first say, that good educations, the most care- 
 ful, the best carried on, have always had to guard 
 against themselves. Fenelon asks, ''What do we 
 see in the greater number of educations } No lib- 
 erty, no enjoyment, always lessons, silence, a cramp- 
 ing posture, correction, and threats." He adds, " An 
 exactitude and a seriousness, of which those who 
 require them would not themselves be capable, are 
 often demanded from children." Again he says, 
 " Those who govern children will excuse nothing in 
 them, and everything in themselves." Let it be un- 
 derstood, then, this is not an idle dissertation ; noth- 
 ing is more practical, more important, and I believe 
 236 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS WILL. 23/ 
 
 more useful, at the present, than to recall the princi- 
 ples which govern the question. If education be, as 
 we have seen, a work essentially founded on author- 
 ity and respect, it is also essentially a work of human 
 liberty ; for religious and moral education is not, and 
 never can be, a work of constraint and violence. 
 Without doubt, it is necessary that authority should 
 be grave and firm at bottom ; but it is also necessary 
 that its action should be mild and pliant, in accord- 
 ance with the admirable expression of the Holy 
 Scriptures: Attingcns ad finem fortiter^ stiaviterqiie 
 disponens omnia. 
 
 Plato speaks of the different threads which ought 
 to enchain us in life. He says, *' There are some 
 of iron, which are tight and hard ; but there is one 
 which is of gold, and full of gentleness ; it is the 
 thread of reason. I willingly admit that education 
 ought to have the pliancy and strength of a chain 
 of gold, which leaves to him whom it retains the 
 freedom of his movements, and makes itself felt by 
 him only at a moment when he may be in danger 
 of swerving from good or precipitating himself into 
 evil." No doubt it is necessary that children be 
 stimulated, but without violence, by their moral edu- 
 cation. It must check them without constraining 
 them ; in a word, it is necessary that children be free, 
 under the powerful, active, and vigilant action of 
 education. It is necessary to know how to induce, 
 restrain, arrest, or direct their will, form their con- 
 science and their heart, without forcing them or im- 
 pairing their nature. This is what Quintilian for- 
 merly expressed by this speech : Stndium discendi, 
 
238 THE CHILD. 
 
 vohmtate,qu(Ecogi no7t potest, constat — " Study, virtue, 
 education, depend on the will not being constrained." 
 It is necessary to make them desire, choose freely, 
 and love goodness, truth, justice, honesty, greatness. 
 I say freely, for Fenelon says, " One does not love 
 only in as much as it pleases him to love." In order 
 to succeed in this, it is necessary to enter into the 
 depths of the hearts of those children ; it is neces- 
 sary to have the key to them ; every spring must be 
 set in motion ; they must be persuaded ; mild insin- 
 uation and paternal cares are necessary ; it must be 
 by a father or mother ; in a word, the great art of 
 educating souls, that of making one's self loved, and 
 winning confidence, is required in order to succeed 
 in persuading. It is necessary to understand that 
 this task has an antipathy to all anger, impatience, 
 harshness, and severity ; dry and absolute authority, 
 military discipline, the material force of which I 
 speak just now, will never accomplish it. Ah ! with- 
 out doubt, as Fenelon said again, it is more easy to 
 reprehend than to persuade ; it is shorter to threaten 
 than to instruct ; it is easier for haughtiness and hu- 
 man impatience to strike those who resist them, than 
 to bend mildly to the voice of reason. But what 
 comes to pass by that t Every one becomes silent, 
 every one endures it, every one becomes disguised, 
 every one acts and appears willing ; but nothing is 
 true, nothing is real, nothing is sincere. Moral edu- 
 cation is absent; violence is endured with impa- 
 tience, and in the endurance it becomes hated, and it 
 is actually hateful; and then what becomes of au- 
 thority and respect.^ Fenelon had so much pro- 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS WILL. 239 
 
 found, SO much delicate caution for the liberty as 
 well as the dignity of nature in children, he wished 
 not only that force should not be used with them, 
 but even that their reasons should be discussed, that 
 they should be induced to speak of the requirements 
 of their education, in order to test their discernment, 
 and give them a taste for what they should perform. 
 And is it not, indeed, manifest that what they do 
 without taste and against their will, that which they 
 do by compulsion, benefits them not, and most fre- 
 quently, like what they are forced to eat without 
 hunger, injures and disgusts them. It is only what 
 they accept lovingly, what enters naturally into their 
 minds and hearts, that really nourishes their souls, 
 that is converted into their own substance, and, if I 
 may venture to say it, which becomes their mind 
 and heart. The real aim of moral education is only 
 that of persuading minds and hearts, and of bringing 
 them up with a sincere love of virtue. How can we 
 hope to accomplish this by material force, by servile 
 fear, by imperious authority.? No; if we wish to 
 render children reasonable, it is necessary to speak 
 reasonably to them, and they will listen ; if we wish 
 to render them virtuous, it is necessary to treat them 
 with confidence ; they are moved by it, and become 
 grateful and cheerful. Fenelon went so far as to say 
 that cheerfulness and confidence should be their 
 ordinary disposition. A mind controlled by fear is 
 always a weak mind; fear only cramps education, 
 and consequently renders it superficial. The greater 
 number of children who are brought up in this man- 
 ner, have, when their education seems completed, to 
 
240 THE CHILD. 
 
 begin it again. After ten years, nothing has been 
 done for them. People are sometimes terrified by 
 lively and turbulent children ; as for me, they never 
 inspired me with fear : I was much more afraid of 
 those whom I called sleeping waters. After the ex- 
 periences of which I have spoken in the chapter on 
 spoiled children, what I am about to say may appear 
 less surprising. The truth is, I did not like children 
 who had never rebelled against me ; it was the 
 former who gave me uneasiness ; it was for them I 
 dreaded the uncertainties of the future, and the 
 awakening of the still slumbering passions. What 
 a fault it is not to be able to endure anything from 
 children ! Fenelon formerly said, with real warmth 
 of temper, to those parents and impatient teachers 
 who were always reprimanding their pupils for mak- 
 ing too much noise, " Permit a child to play." Do 
 you not understand that his age requires, above all, 
 noise, space, sun, movement ? It is sufficient to 
 see them, in order to comprehend it; it is their na- 
 ture, it is their life. Give them, then, a large play- 
 ground, gardens, walks ; otherwise you put them to 
 the torture. Remove walls and barriers ; it is in the 
 country, in the midst of fields and verdure, that chil- 
 dren ought to be brought up. Is it not surprising 
 that they can be induced to labor and remain im- 
 movable for ten Oi twelve hours each day } Do not 
 refuse them liberty, at least during their recreation. 
 Look at them then ; it gives one pleasure to see 
 them ; for it is liberty itself, the most amiable, and 
 also the most innocent form of it. They are con- 
 tent, provided they have change of place ; let them 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS WILL. 24I 
 
 have it. Fenelon pleasantly said, *'A shuttlecock 
 or a ball is sufficient;" at present it is a ball or a 
 hoop. Guard well, then, against restraining them in 
 their plays ; guard against interdicting noisy recrea- 
 tions. These are what they love best, the diversions 
 by which the body is called into full activity. Love 
 them as they do. Their bodies will one day be less 
 disposed to move; in the meanwhile take them as 
 they are, or do not charge yourself with their educa- 
 tion ; for what can they do except impatiently endure 
 your restraint, and rush eagerly to their plays while 
 they can ? ^ As for me, I asked one favor only from 
 our children ; that was, not to utter wild yells ; again, 
 when the weather and their temper seemed gloomy, I 
 had toleration for them, and reserved my admonitions 
 until some days after, when they had forgotten it. 
 
 Without doubt we may, and sometimes ought to, 
 restrain children in their plays. Again, we may 
 sometimes direct them, prompt them ; but that is 
 always a very delicate matter. To give one's self 
 trouble about their plays is almost always lost 
 trouble ; they themselves invent enough of them ; it 
 is sufficient to permit them to do so ; we should at 
 most only make overtures to them: but let them 
 always feel that they are free; it is what they re- 
 quire, it is their right. To wish to force them, to 
 determine their taste on this head, in fine, to de- 
 sire, even through kindness, that they should play 
 more, to make them play in this way, is to continue 
 the class during recreation ; it is not understanding 
 that recreation is the legitimate relaxation from the 
 
 1 Fenelon. 
 
242 THE CHILD. 
 
 class; that this hberty of a moment is the just, the 
 necessary, indemnification for so long a constraint ; 
 it is exposing one's self to hear the most turbulent 
 among them come up with a respectful simplicity, 
 and say, what I heard once, and have never forgot- 
 ten, '' M. le Superieur, if you knew how amusing 
 ourselves like that wearies us ! " This pert little fel- 
 low was quite right. Ah ! how differently the im- 
 mortal friend of youth, whose authority and words I 
 love so much to quote, thought ! He not only wished 
 that children should be permitted to play freely dur- 
 ing their hours of recreation, but he went so far as 
 to desire for young children " that study be hidden 
 under the appearance of liberty and pleasure. Mix 
 instruction with amusement ; let wisdom show her- 
 self to them but at intervals, and with a smiling 
 face ; guard against fatiguing them by indiscreet 
 exactitude." Again he said, *' Let' us suffer chil- 
 dren sometimes to interrupt study by little diverting 
 sallies. They require these distractions in order to 
 relax their minds. Free curiosity stimulates their 
 minds more than constraint. Permit their eyes to 
 wander a little ; for a child to see is to live. We 
 should even permit them from time to time some 
 digression or some play, so that their minds may be 
 set at large ; then let us gently lead them back to 
 the task ; too exact a regularity, in order to require 
 from them uninterrupted studies, injures them much. 
 Those who govern them often affect this regularity 
 because, in order to profit by every moment, it suits 
 them better than continual subjection." 
 
 One of the most serious, the most frequent, incon- 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS WILL. 243 
 
 veniences of contrained education, is that of casting 
 children into dejection, sometimes into despair, of 
 breaking in them the most powerful springs of wis- 
 dom and virtue. Their minds become obscured, 
 their courage disheartened ; if they be lively, they 
 become irritable ; if they be dull, it renders them 
 stupid. 1 Without doubt, there are natures that must 
 be controlled by fear ; but it must then be used as 
 violent remedies are in the extremity of illness ; for 
 we always run the risk of impairing the constitution 
 and wearing out the organs. I dwell on this point, 
 because nothing is more difficult than to convince 
 young teachers, especially young professors, of it. 
 However, all the most eminent men are unanimous 
 respecting this. A philosopher said, *' Children 
 should be induced to love goodness by gentleness 
 and persuasion, never by harsh and humiliating pun- 
 ishments ; such ill-treatment disheartens and repels 
 them." Quintilian, also, has admirably expressed 
 himself on the danger of intellectual or moral con- 
 straint in education : " Nothing dejects the minds of 
 children so much as having a master who is too 
 severe and too difficult to please ; they become fretted 
 and despairing ; they look on everything with hatred ; 
 fear, which never leaves them, prevents them from 
 making any effort. We should imitate the vine- 
 dressers, who spare the vine while it is young; they 
 are careful in pruning it then, for they know it fears 
 the steel, and that it may suffer from the least wound. 
 I am not so ill-instructed on the ability and in- 
 clinations of every age as to wish that a child be 
 
 1 Fenelon. "^-^^^^^^^ 
 
 (iUalVEESITTj 
 
244 "THE CHILD. 
 
 severely pressed, and perfection in his work be re- 
 quired of him all at once ; it is necessary to be care- 
 ful especially of making him hate the sciences dur- 
 ing the period when he should still love them, lest he 
 be disgusted forever by the bitterness which at one 
 time they caused him to feel." ^ This was Seneca's 
 idea also. Is it just to rule children with as m.uch 
 strength and harshness as those animals deprived 
 of reason ? An experienced groom never startles 
 his horse by redoubling his blows ; it becomes 
 skittish and restive if it do not occasionally feel a 
 caressing hand. In the same manner, a sensible 
 teacher does not unceasingly threaten his pupils ; 
 servile fear blunts their courage, extinguishes their 
 ardor. But there is a much greater danger in moral 
 constraint ; it is that of making them hypocrites. 
 Children are naturally timid and full of false shame ; 
 it is true, they are also naturally simple and open- 
 hearted ; but restrain them ever so little, or give them 
 cause to fear you, and they become constrained, and 
 never recover their early simplicity. The means of 
 preventing so great an evil is, to accustom them to 
 speak openly of their inclinations regarding all law- 
 
 1 Ne illud quidem quod admoneamus indignuni est, ingenia puero- 
 rum nimia interim emendationis severitate deficere ; najn et desferaut 
 etdolent, et novissime oderimt, et quod maxime nocet, dum omnia timent, 
 nihil cottantur. Quod etiam rusticis notum est, qui froiidibus teneris 
 non putant adhibendam esse falcem^ quia reformidare ferrum viden- 
 tur, et cicatricem itondum pati posse. (Quintilian, vol. i. p. 245.) 
 Nee sum adeo aetatum imprudens, ut instandum teneris protinus 
 acerbe putem, exigendamque plenam operam. Nam id in primis 
 cavere oportebit, ne studia, qui amare nondum potest, oderit, et 
 amaritudinem semel perceptam etiam ultra rudes annos reformidet. 
 (Quintilian, vol. i. p. 34.) 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS WILL. 245 
 
 ful subjects; in order to do that, they must be al- 
 lowed great liberty in expressing their thoughts and 
 laying open their souls ; otherwise this early artless- 
 ness of the natural emotions, which is so precious, 
 becomes stifled in them. If they be never left free 
 to evince their weariness, if they be always in sub- 
 jection, if they be forced to hke certain dull people 
 or certain tedious books which displease them, if 
 they be represented harshly, while they are display- 
 ing what they naturally are, everything soon becomes 
 for them a source of dissimulation and a motive for 
 disguise. They become politic, dissembling, indiffer- 
 ent to goodness, and secretly inclined to evil : in vain 
 do they appear more docile than other children of 
 the same age ; they are no better. What do I say ? 
 You have taught them to outwardly repress all their 
 inclinations. What comes to pass ? All their bad 
 habits, all their defects, increase, and ripen in silence. 
 Their flexibility conceals a rebellious will ; their de- 
 ceitful disposition veils them from every eye ; you 
 never see them in their natural state, never know 
 what they are at heart ; and, in fine, their evil nature 
 does not fully display itself until it is too late to set 
 it right. It was the fear of all these disastrous re- 
 sults that caused Fenelon formerly to say, "Never 
 put on, without extreme necessity, an austere and 
 imperious air which makes children tremble. You 
 close their hearts and repel their confidence, without 
 which no fruit can be expected from education. 
 Bring yourself to love them ; let them be free with 
 you, and do not fear allowing yourself to see their 
 defects. In order to succeed in it, be indulgent to 
 
 21* 
 
246 THE CHILD. 
 
 those who do not disguise themselves before you. 
 Do not appear either astonished or irritated by their 
 evil inclinations ; on the contrary, compassionate 
 their weakness. Sometimes the inconvenience, that 
 they will be less restrained by fear, arises ; but, on 
 the whole, confidence and sincerity are more bene- 
 ficial than rigorous authority. Besides, authority 
 will not be permitted to find its place, if confidence 
 and persuasion be not sufficiently great ; it is neces- 
 sary to begin always with an open-hearted, gay, and 
 familiar manner." 
 
 But, I may be asked, must firmness never be made 
 use of in education ? Certainly I am very far from 
 thinking or desiring anything of the kind. I have 
 already said, education is a task of firmness. I do 
 not know a human task which requires more of it, 
 and on a future occasion I shall speak of this great 
 and indispensable quality in the teacher. For the 
 present, I say that firmness is not violence. I do 
 not know of anything more firm than that which is 
 gentle, nor of anything more weak than that which 
 is violent. But it is especially when conscience is in 
 question that children must be persuaded and in- 
 duced to desire goodness, so that they desire it freely 
 and independently of constraint. It is especially 
 when faith, religion, and piety are in question, that 
 it is necessary to be guarded from using compulsion 
 towards them. Fenelon eloquently says, " No hu- 
 man power can break through the impenetrable in- 
 trenchment of liberty in a soul." And be not 
 deceived, a soul of twelve years has in this way a 
 power of incredible resistance. Constraint will for 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS WILL. - 247 
 
 them convert faith into a false tongue, piety into 
 odious formality, religion into a yoke of overwhelm- 
 ing hypocrisy. We shall only succeed in making 
 them despise it if we oblige them to play there the 
 part of a lying character, in which it is more impor- 
 tant than elsewhere that moral liberty should act in 
 all its plenitude. No, it is necessary that children 
 spontaneously find religion to be beautiful, amiable, 
 august. In vain have you worked if they have a 
 sad and gloomy idea of it, if piety and virtue appear 
 to them under the frightful image of violence, whilst 
 irregularity presents itself to them under a pleasing 
 aspect and with appearances of liberty. All is 
 ruined ; you have labored in vain. Why does religion 
 present itself to the immense majority of children 
 coming out of establishments for public instruction 
 as cold, harsh, stupid, blighting ? It is because it 
 has never been anything else for them ; because 
 nothing has ever been done to give them any other 
 idea of it ; it is because, thanks to official constraint, 
 they have never had anything free, anything gener- 
 ous, anything spontaneous, in their hearts ; no real 
 piety, no faith. Ah ! without doubt, I do not desire, 
 that, under pretext of respecting moral and religious 
 liberty in youth, it should be thrown into indiffer- 
 ence and scepticism. This extreme excites horror. 
 It is sufficient to point it out in order to denounce 
 it ; but neither do I wish, that, under pretext of giv- 
 ing them a religious and moral education, religion 
 should become an outward form, faith an imposed 
 study, piety a habit of hypocrisy, hence a horrible 
 scandal. Whosoever you may be, priest or laic, 
 
248 THE CHILD. 
 
 teacher or father of a family, if in the religious and 
 moral education of children you know only how to 
 command, to constrain, to make the evangelical and 
 moral law be observed to the letter, you know noth- 
 ing. You do not understand the first principles of 
 educating souls ; you have not the chief idea of this 
 great work. When God and religion, man and his 
 conscience, are in question, to strike, to reprehend, 
 to correct, is nothing ; it is necessary to cause them 
 to be loved ; but take care, in order to do that, you 
 must love them yourself. 
 
 Permit me to ask you how you are in this respect. 
 Without any doubt, if you wish to make a display of 
 religion ; if it suffice for you to reduce these poor 
 children to the exact performance of certain external 
 actions, beat the drum or toll the bell, every one 
 rises up, every one marches ; if you wish it, even if 
 you have the determination, and they know it, every 
 one trembles ; you are obeyed ; and I see all the 
 classes in your establishment advance towards the 
 chapel, all your pupils keeping step, in close ranks, 
 in regular squadrons, under the guidance of their 
 masters of study. I will quote the Archbishop of 
 Cambrai to you : " There is an admirable police ; and 
 I desire a sincere religion." Where is it.? What 
 have you done for it > The more you wear out these 
 children with a cold and imperious constraint, in 
 order to make them outwardly fulfil their religious 
 duties, so that official inspection may never find 
 them defaulters, the more you compel them to put 
 on a masked and hypocritical religion. Is this what 
 you would wish } Who could say it .? Who would 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS WILL. 249 
 
 venture to believe it ? As for me, I never believed 
 it. And then, when this odious constraint has been 
 endured for ten years ; when this child, thus placed 
 between a chaplain who preaches and hears confes- 
 sions, professors who have no belief, and the princi- 
 pal of an establishment who imperiously obliges 
 every one to progress ; when this child becomes a 
 young man — from his fifteenth to his twentieth year 
 — a wound, festering with hatred and irreligion, is 
 being secretly formed in the bottom of his heart ; 
 he begins to suspect that an odious comedy has been 
 played to him,i and sometimes twenty years are 
 necessary in order to revive in that desolate soul a 
 spark of religious belief, a breath of love and life. 
 Certainly, those matters I have pointed out here are 
 indescribable misfortunes ; and, nevertheless, I have 
 not yet depicted all. What if, at the same time that 
 an outward constraint compels him to be religious, 
 there be an interior constraint, a constraint in the 
 depth of the soul, forcing him not to be so ? If he 
 be at the same time, as it were, forced not to believe, 
 and, nevertheless, obliged to act always as if he be- 
 lieved ; if there be educational establishments ^ where 
 the observances of religion are publicly fulfilled, and 
 privately devoted to contempt ; where compulsion is 
 exercised in favor of incredulity and vice ; where 
 bitter raillery pursues artless and pure virtue ; where 
 childhood cannot love God without becoming the 
 object of the most insulting banter; where he must 
 
 1 M. de Lamartine. 
 
 2 I do not apply this name ; such houses do not merit such a 
 name ; but I do not wish to indicate any thing or any one. 
 
250 THE CHILD. 
 
 every day hear faith treated as superstition, piety as 
 hypocrisy, and reUgion as fanaticism ; where he can- 
 not pray sincerely and collectedly without being ex- 
 posed to the basest treatment ; if there be educa- 
 tional establishments where poor children must hide 
 themselves in order to receive their God ; where even 
 the day of their first Communion they must try to 
 escape from, the looks and the derision of their older 
 companions ; if masters themselves be met with giv- 
 ing odious names to the most touching evidences of 
 lively faith, to the last remnants of the sincere piety 
 carried from home ; if there be educational establish- 
 ments where evil morals are, as it were, a necesity, 
 and where innocence is inevitably shipwrecked ; 
 where the source of the evil is not only in the pupils, 
 but in the domestics and the inspectors ; where 
 abuses become propagated, not alone by example and 
 seduction, but are forced upon them, sometimes even 
 by violence and threats,^ — if all that be true; and if 
 there be, at the same time, a country where Christian 
 parents, where fathers and mothers of families, can 
 be induced by constraint or indifference to place their 
 children in these houses, in order to prepare them 
 for the examinations necessary for any profession or 
 a career ; and if in these same houses, besides this 
 frightful immorality and irreligion, youth be con- 
 demned, at the same time, to submit to the most 
 
 1 We know tliis is what M. Lallemand, Professor of the Faculty 
 of Medicine at Montpellier, and invested with this title by the Coun- 
 cil of Public Instruction, who had chosen him on account of their 
 confidence in him, reveals, as the results of his most attentive obser- 
 vations on the subject. 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS WILL. 25 I 
 
 fatal intellectual constraint that ever existed, under 
 masters who have not time to care, or even to know, 
 the greater number of their pupils ; if it be the 
 destiny of many of these poor children to vegetate 
 thus under the weight of hopeless weariness, in 
 stupidity of mind, in continued debasement of char- 
 acter, in annihilation of heart, detesting these ac- 
 cursed places as one detests a prison, and having no 
 longer life or soul but to sigh for the day of enfran- 
 chisement ; and if, on coming out from thence, and 
 before presenting themselves to enter any liberal 
 career, these young people should meet with an ex- 
 amination to be undergone, such as would cause a 
 miserable failure to the greater number among them, 
 and reduce them afterwards to fall back on them- 
 selves with all the weight of their disappointed 
 future and their blighted youth ; if entire genera- 
 tions be thus devoted by this deplorable rule, I 
 would ask, what nation is sufficiently unfortunate to 
 be obliged to submit to so strange a social tyranny ? 
 I would ask, what youth is this, devoted to an intel- 
 lectual and moral slavery so disastrous ? I would 
 ask if there be not some oppressed conscience coura- 
 geous enough to send forth a cry of sorrow ? I would 
 ask what this nation has done in order to be judged 
 unworthy of the noblest of liberties, — the liberty of 
 the soul ? I would ask the name of this nation : 
 what is its faith, its credibility, its place in the orbit 
 of truth and justice in this world ? I would ask what 
 hidden, mysterious, frightful power weighs on its 
 destiny ? I would ask everything ; I would ask if 
 this nation has been one day cursed ? If it should 
 
252 THE CHILD. 
 
 always be so ? I would ask if these fathers of fami- 
 lies have sworn never to be fathers ? if these mothers 
 have forgotten the rights and sacred duties of mater- 
 nal authority ? And if at length I should be told, 
 This is the great, the generous French nation ; well, 
 I would hide my face in my hands, and I would say 
 with the philosopher, ^tas parentum, pejor avis, 
 tulit nos nequioreSy mox daturos progeniem vitio- 
 siorem. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 OF THE CHILD, AND THE RESPECT DUE TO THE 
 LIBERTY OF HIS VOCATION. 
 
 No one is placed on earth in order to do nothing ; 
 there is a state, an office, a labor, for each. I cannot 
 conclude what I ought to say regarding the child, 
 and the respect due to the liberty of his nature, with- 
 out treating of a question which is in this place the 
 most serious and most decisive, which is to be found 
 at the bottom of all others, and the solution of which 
 appears to me indispensable for the perfect enlight- 
 enment of the difficulties that we have up to the 
 present been examining. I wish to speak on. the 
 great question of a vocation, and of the choice of a 
 state for each. Be it understood that this question 
 concerns, in the highest degree, the liberty of the 
 child, his happiness in this world and the next. It 
 also touches on the greatest interests of the family 
 and social order. In speaking of it, I will say every- 
 thing that I consider necessary. At the same time, 
 I will not allow myself to be drawn into an infinity 
 of details ; but I shall lay down at least the general 
 and incontestable principles of the matter. There 
 are three positive truths. First, no one is placed on 
 earth in order to do nothing ; there is, then, a labor, 
 a rule of duties, a state, for each. Second, nothing 
 
 22 253 
 
254 THE CHILD. 
 
 on earth happens by chance. Providence governs 
 everything here, the most trifling events, and, with 
 much more reason, the greatest; there is, then, for 
 each and every state a vocation from God. Third, 
 education should prepare every one for his state, his 
 vocation ; this is the consequence of that which pre- 
 cedes. 
 
 Firstly — No one is placed on earth in or- 
 der TO do nothing. I ask of my readers the de- 
 sire of following me strictly in all the grave and pro- 
 found considerations which I ought to bring under 
 their notice. It is here, especially, I have need to 
 appeal to their most serious and re collected attention. 
 The matters I have to speak of will be at times very 
 delicate, perhaps even painful. I will speak of them 
 with caution ; but, however, with the simplicity and 
 frankness which my conscience, the great concerns I 
 treat of, and even my respectful devotion for those 
 of. whom I am about to speak, command. There are 
 different kinds of parents, who determine, with sin- 
 gular sincerity, not to require their sons to do any- 
 thing in this world ; and who, in order to justify 
 themselves, bring forward motives or excuses, rea- 
 sons or errors, of different natures. I have met with 
 some, very virtuous, who, having a horror of the cor- 
 rupt society of the present age, said, " All states 
 are perilous. In such times, the only matter to be 
 looked to is his salvation. Since our children are 
 condemned to pass through this sad world, they shall 
 avoid, at least as far as possible, the contagion of it." 
 It is true, this class of parents is not very numerous. 
 I have seen others who said, '' I cannot allow my 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS VOCATION. 255 
 
 sons to take part in passing events ; my political 
 opinions are opposed to them, my honor, the honor 
 of my family, does not permit me to do it." These 
 latter were most frequently to be met with some 
 years ago ; the circumstances which dictated this 
 language to them have changed. In fine, I have 
 seen a much greater number of fathers of families 
 who considered they found in their wealth sufficient 
 reason for exempting their sons from ail serious 
 labor, and leaving them without any occupation on 
 earth. It is to these I shall first reply. When par- 
 ents in this category came to confide their sons to 
 me, and I said to them, " What shall he one day 
 have to do, and what do you intend him to be ? " 
 some of them appeared offended. The most benevo- 
 lent were good-naturedly surprised ; and all seemed 
 to tell me. You do not know us ; we are not what 
 you think. Each actually said to me, " But my son 
 does not want anything. His future is certain. I 
 have labored for him. He will enjoy my wealth, 
 without being obliged to labor in his turn." To all 
 that, I had, and at present still have, but one answer 
 to make ; it is the words of the ancient philosopher : 
 Homo nascittir ad laborem, sicut avis ad volatum 
 (Job, V. 7) — " Man is born to labor as the bird is to 
 fly ; " so that living without laboring is not only liv- 
 ing outside the conditions of human nature, it is ex- 
 tinguishing, it is stifling, it is annihilating life in 
 one's self ; it is not living. Be not deceived on this 
 point. The words of Job, in their simplicity, con- 
 ceal a very profound meaning. Yes, man is born to 
 labor ; that is to say, for action, for life ; for he lives 
 
256 THE CHILD. 
 
 — is somebody — only by what he does. Whosoever 
 does nothing, is nothing, and never will be anything. 
 Observe well ; I am not going to speak here of the 
 sweetness of labor, and the happiness it confers on 
 those who love it ; I am not going to speak of the 
 protection it affords to virtue, and how it guards it ; 
 I will not even speak of the influence labor has on 
 the character, and what strength it communicates to 
 it. I wish to speak only of one view respecting it; 
 which is, that labor is the necessary condition of life 
 for every man coming into this world. It is essen- 
 tially his vocation ; rich or poor, he ought to fulfil it. 
 Those who are not poor, and do not consider it 
 necessary to work in order to gain their living labori- 
 ously, do not understand sufficiently how they need 
 it, in order to preserve, to ennoble, to elevate, the life 
 which they received from God. Liberty is much 
 spoken of at present ; I have spoken of it myself ; 
 but the law of liberty is the law of labor. Liberty, 
 activity, labor, are matters closely allied. For this 
 reason, frivolous or idle people are not made for lib- 
 erty. What I should especially call attention to is, 
 that labor is the great law of creation. God, in cre- 
 ating the world, in giving us life, has performed a 
 noble and divine work; and we ourselves ought to 
 labor in order to live ; that is to say, in order to pre- 
 serve, to develop, to elevate, the life God has given 
 us. Look at all the great faculties of the soul ; what 
 are they ? Active powers, which require labor. To 
 condemn them to inertness, to deny them this gener- 
 ous activity, which essentially distinguishes them 
 from matter, is to disparage, to degrade, to annihilate 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS VOCATION. 25/ 
 
 them. The corporal faculties themselves cannot be 
 preserved or developed but by exercise; that is to 
 say, by labor. All the physical, intellectual, and 
 moral powers of man, which grow and increase ac- 
 cording as man uses them energetically, droop and 
 run to waste when they are allowed to pine in idle- 
 ness ; in a word, whosoever does nothing in this world, 
 by that same does wrong; he becomes depraved, 
 he destroys himself; and this is one of the mean- 
 ings of the well-known saying, taken from the Holy 
 Scriptures: "Idleness teaches every evil" — Omncm 
 malitiam dociiit otiositas. Bossuet fearlessly gave 
 these forcible instructions to the son of Louis XIV. 
 I have often admired how energetically this holy 
 bishop exerted himself to make severe truths pene- 
 trate the mind and heart of that young prince. " It 
 is not without some benefit," said he to him, " and in 
 order that you should not make use of them, that 
 God has given you intelligence and all those noble 
 faculties which enlighten you, and aid you to recall 
 the past, to know the present, to foresee the future. 
 Whosoever does not deign to profit by the gifts of 
 heaven, necessarily makes enemies of God and men. 
 For it must not be expected that men will respect 
 him who despises that which makes him man, or 
 that God protects him who makes no account of his 
 most excellent gifts." In continuation, Bossuet an- 
 nounces to his pupil, that all the faculties of his 
 intellect will soon be annihilated, if they be not 
 cultivated by labor : "Do not commence in inatten- 
 tion and idleness a life which ought to be so occupied 
 and active. The consequence of so beginning will 
 
 22* 
 
258 THE CHILD. 
 
 be, that, being born with much genius, you can only 
 impute to yourself the extinction or inutility of this 
 admirable hght, which is bestowed upon you as a rich 
 gift from God. Of what use are well-made weapons 
 if you never take them in your hands ? So, likewise, 
 of what benefit is genius if you do not apply it .'* It 
 is so much loss. And as it is with dancing and 
 writing, if you give them up, you come, through 
 want of habit, to forget both ; so also, if you do not 
 exercise your mind, it becomes torpid, it falls into a 
 kind of lethargy; and, whatever efforts you may 
 afterwards desire to make in order to shake it off, 
 will be too late. Shameful passions will spring up in 
 you ; love of pleasure and passion will incite you to 
 all sorts of crimes ; and, the light which alone could 
 have guided you being once extinguished, you will 
 be placed beyond counting on any assistance." It 
 is, then, true that education should not maintain that 
 nothing is to be done, and even hinder anything from 
 being done. It is, then, true that all on earth, rich 
 or poor, are called upon to do something — have a 
 labor, a vocation, to fulfil on earth. It is, then, true, 
 whatever may be said of man's inclination to idle- 
 ness, and whatever the natural indolence of his char- 
 acter and mind may be, that labor and activity are 
 an essential condition of his life, and a requirement of 
 his nature. " By an admirable economy, every crea- 
 ture pleases himself in using his powers ; the soul de- 
 lights in the play of its faculties, it enjoys it as much 
 as it can ; so that its true repose is to be found even 
 in labor." ^ 
 
 1 M. Ozanam. 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS VOCATION. 259 
 
 It was not alone after man had become guilty and 
 sinful that labor was imposed upon him as a law ; 
 during his happy sojourn in the ancient Eden, in- 
 nocent man was obliged to labor : Posiiit eiini in 
 Paradiso vohiptatts, ut operaretttr eiini (Genesis). 
 Labor was one of the conditions of his happiness, of 
 his dignity, of his existence. It is true, labor, which 
 ought to be but the charm and ornament of his life, 
 soon became a part of his punishment ; this formida- 
 ble decree, which still pursues the most remote of 
 his posterity, was soon pronounced against him, 
 "Thou shalt eat thy bread in the sweat of thy brow" 
 — In sndore vidttis tin vesceris pane (Genesis). 
 "■ But a merciful Will soon also causes the chastise- 
 ment to repair in a manner the fault, and man, in 
 courageously submitting to the humiliation, finds 
 another source of greatness. By fructifying the 
 earth with his sweat, as the sun fertilizes it with his 
 heat, and the clouds with their rain, he enters into 
 the regular order of the universe. God employs him, 
 and consequently rehabilitates him ; as soon as he 
 becomes useful, his merit begins. Here is the Chris- 
 tian dogma of labor, the profound meaning of which is 
 no longer understood." ^ Certainly, after such strong, 
 such noble reasons, after such religious motives, I 
 have the right to say to those to whom I am at pres- 
 ent expounding my ideas. You wish to be something 
 in this world ; you wish to live, and do nothing. 
 Well, all moral and social laws, all natural laws, are 
 opposed to this. Idleness is the inevitable ruin of 
 
 1 M. Ozanam. 
 
260 THE CHILD. 
 
 all the faculties. These faculties are essentially 
 active ; they require j^erpetual culture, development, 
 that is to say, labor, or else they will remain in or 
 fall into fallow. The Scripture says, they produce 
 but troubles and thorns : spinas ac tribulos. Bitter 
 fruits, wild fruits ; indeed, the only fruits they can 
 produce while they remain uncultivated. You wish 
 to be something in this world, and to do nothing ; but 
 this is really an absolute impossibility ;" you would 
 do wrong. And, moreover, doing nothing in this 
 world is foolishly desiring to escape the great law of 
 human nature, which is for man not only the law of 
 his preservation, his improvement, and his life, but 
 which is for him, since the original fall, at the same 
 time the law of expiation and regeneration. And 
 by what right do you desire that this universal law, 
 this sentence, which commands you to fill up all the 
 days that separate your birth from your death with a 
 noble and religious labor, should not be accom- 
 plished for you or your children } You are rich ; 
 this excuse, instead of justifying you, renders your 
 idleness more culpable. I will say to you, with a 
 holy and eloquent bishop, whose name remains dear 
 to Christian youth,i " If you have been paid before- 
 hand, is that a reason you should not earn your sal- 
 ary } " We now come to those who pretend that the 
 times are so evil, and that their children have noth- 
 ing to do but seek their salvation. I will say that 
 such subterfuges and such strange subtleties are un- 
 worthy of their sense and their faith. Without 
 
 ^ M. Borderies, Bishop of Versailles. 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS VOCATION. 261 
 
 doubt, it is necessary that this child should seek his 
 salvation, and it is his great business in this world. 
 But if it be true that without labor there can be no 
 salvation, and that idleness can be nothing less than 
 a revolt against Providence ; if it be a divine institu- 
 tion that the faculties imparted to man ought to be 
 cultivated and developed by labor; if experience 
 demonstrates, moreover, that these faculties cannot 
 be left inactive without danger to virtue; in fine, if 
 it be written that God ought, according to the words 
 of the Gospel, cast into exterior darkness those who 
 have done nothing on earth ; if He does not wish to 
 count among His servants the unprofitable servants, 
 what reply will you have to make at the judgment 
 of God, who will demand of you an account of that 
 talent which He had confided to you, of the soul 
 of your son, of the uselessness and loss of his life ? 
 Besides, I ought to add, labor is not only the law 
 of nature, morality, and religion, for the individual 
 man ; it is also the law of society for the human 
 species. 
 
 No one on earth has been created in order to do 
 nothing ; but every one has been created in order to 
 be useful to his kind. Egotism can neither be the 
 law of domestic society, which means the Family, nor 
 the law of temporal society, which means the State, 
 nor of the great spiritual society called the Church. 
 It is the duty of every one to labor for himself, but 
 it is his duty also to assist his fellow-creature ; and 
 he who buries his life in idleness adds to the wrong 
 which he does himself that of culpable inhumanity to 
 his brother-man. What ! every thing around you is 
 
262 THE CHILD. 
 
 in activity, every thing stirring, every thing moving, 
 every one laboring ; and, in the midst of this miiver- 
 sal movement, you alone remain idle, sinfully un- 
 profitable, in a shameful repose ! You seem to count 
 as nothing the troubles and sweat of your fellow- 
 creatures. Their fatigues and their labors are for 
 you but a spectacle which appears to amuse your 
 leisure; or, rather, you establish yourself as the im- 
 movable centre of all this motion, and you reap the 
 benefit of it without relinquishing your inaction; 
 without dreaming of offering, in your turn, any ser- 
 vices to your fellow-creatures in exchange for their 
 labors. Labor is due to your parents, to your chil- 
 dren, to your family, to your country ; it is idleness 
 that allows the patrimony of wealth or of honor, 
 which they had received from their fathers, to slip 
 from the hands of so many unworthy heirs ; it is 
 idleness, which, like a gnawing worm, silently under- 
 mines, and at length demolishes, fortunes apparently 
 established on the most solid foundations, and pre- 
 pares distress and contempt as sole heritage for the 
 sons of a wealthy and respected father. And hence 
 it is, that, in great nations, so many noble families 
 decay, so many noble names die out. Hence those 
 illustrious families become degraded, and sometimes 
 disgraced ; incapable of understanding any thing, of 
 governing any thing, estabhshing any thing, of perpet- 
 uating any thing, and, in the hour of public danger, 
 of saving any thing. Hence those ancient celebrities 
 gradually become enveloped in obscurity, and misera- 
 bly disappear ; and I do not hesitate to proclaim that 
 it is, beyond dispute, one of the most terrible maledic- 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS VOCATION. 263 
 
 tions which can fall upon a nation. Woe to the na- 
 tion whose great races become degraded and die out ! 
 I am conscious I shock more than one prejudice here, 
 and my language may appear bitter ; therefore I wish 
 to give my idea some development in order to explain 
 it ; I touch on the most delicate, and I believe also 
 the most important, part of my subject. I will, at 
 first, say without circumlocution, and without any 
 regard for the prejudices of the times, I apply the 
 words great family, great race, great name, to those 
 families, those races, those names, which have be- 
 come historical on account of signal services ren- 
 dered to their country, at whatever period it may be ; 
 who have acquired their celebrity by fame of arms 
 in the field, their skill in eminent negotiations and 
 in the management of political affairs, by brilliant 
 talent, and sometimes genius, in science and litera- 
 ture ; in fine, by sanctity of morals and greatness of 
 character in the magistracy or the church. It is 
 being descended from those races which constitutes 
 what, in the French tongue, is called birth, of which 
 M. Royer Collard said, *' An illustrious birth will be 
 always a greatness, and respect for past glory has its 
 source in noble sentiments." The authority of this 
 grave pubhcist on this point cannot be questioned. I 
 will again add to the unquestionable and undisputed 
 titles which constitute great families ownership of 
 the soil or territorial wealth, to the degree in which 
 it becomes a social power. Here are what I call the 
 great families, the great races, of a country. Well, I 
 acknowledge without evasion, I love those great fam- 
 ilies ; I respect, I venerate them, because I love, I 
 
264 THE CHILD. 
 
 respect, I venerate great memories and great deeds. 
 I do not know any nation whose power and glory 
 they may be, and which has not a natural tendency 
 to look to them for its chiefs, its warriors, its minis- 
 ters, its principal magistrates, its administrators. 
 This may, perhaps, be a prejudice, but it is a pro- 
 found one ; and save in troubled times, when this 
 prejudice sometimes becomes converted into hate, it 
 is always returned to. In republics, as well as in 
 monarchies, among ancient as well as modern na- 
 tions, the eyes of the people, in the midst of their 
 wants or public disasters, naturally turn themselves 
 towards those illustrious families, and it is among 
 them they always hope to find more surely, more 
 abounding, the knowledge of human affairs, the wis- 
 dom of political life, the experience, the devotion, 
 the power, the authority, which alone can govern, 
 defend, or save, a country. I do not hesitate to affirm 
 that in no place has this prejudice, if it be one, 
 deeper root, nor does it exercise a more irresistible 
 power, than in France. They who think that revolu- 
 tions are excited amongst us in order to put an end 
 to titles and pride of birth, strangely deceive them- 
 selves ; revolutions are excited amongst us rather in 
 order to take possession of them ; every one wishes 
 to enjoy them in his turn, or at least replace them 
 on the scene. It is also a curious fact, worthy of 
 being observed, revolutions in our country have only 
 multiplied titles and vanities of this kind. However 
 that may be, an intelligent nation will always honor 
 sentiments of hereditary dignity, which, though en- 
 gendering vanity in some, is not the less eminently 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS VOCATION. 265 
 
 rational and useful in itself. In France, brilliant merit 
 which rises from obscurity v/ill always find its newly- 
 acquired fame sanctioned by some new title ; it must 
 also be said, that, in spite of democratic progress, 
 ambitious vanity will always seek to clothe itself with 
 borrowed splendor; and this contagion spreads in 
 such a manner, that there will soon be no longer a 
 village in our country that will not have hidden with 
 its name the obscure name hitherto borne by an un- 
 known celebrity. Without doubt, in this place, it is 
 the abuse of right, but right is forcibly outliving it ; 
 it is reasonable and natural, and superior to all those 
 doubtful celebrities, superior to all those equivocal 
 names. There will always be great names, great 
 races, illustrious families, and also the people will 
 always love them ; as M. de Chateaubriand wrote : 
 " The people will always regret the tombs of some of 
 the sires De Montmorency, on which it comforted 
 them to kneel during Mass." ^ And M. de Chateau- 
 briand himself will, in spite of the foibles of his life, 
 and in spite of the surprise and the regret which 
 the "Memoirs from his Tomb" caused to his admir- 
 ers, leave behind as illustrious a name ; perhaps his 
 tomb will also have its pilgrims ; and if I happened 
 to say to the young heir of his blood, or to that 
 of one of the heroic celebrities of the empire, for 
 example, the Duke de Montebello, that the name 
 they bear is nothing, neither one nor the other would 
 believe me, and they would be right ; no more would 
 the people believe me. The rigidness with which 
 
 ^ " Genius of Christianity." 
 23 
 
266 THE CHILD. 
 
 they require great virtues from great names, is it not 
 in itself a just, but unexceptional, evidence of the 
 natural and instinctive homage which opinion ren- 
 ders to them ? Without doubt, a great name is an 
 inheritance for a family ; and a distinguished man, in 
 giving lustre of birth to his sons, also imposes on 
 them the obligation of his virtues ; for, according to 
 an axiom of honor, entirely French, noblesse oblige. 
 But a great name, a great man, is also the glory of 
 a nation ; he is the glory of humanity itself ; for this 
 profound reason, that it. is a name, that he is a man, 
 in whom Providence has caused its gifts to shine 
 forth, and from whom all claim their share of this 
 honor conferred on human nature. Here is the rea- 
 son that national instinct will always honor glorious 
 names and great races. If this prejudice has re- 
 mained so powerful in France, it is, perhaps, because 
 no nation was more rich in truly great names, in real 
 celebrities. The old French nobility owes its an- 
 cient honor and imperishable glory to the sacrifice of 
 life that it has heroically made during fourteen cen- 
 turies. Since Clovis, the Frank race has not ceased 
 to shed its blood on all the battle-fields of Asia, 
 Africa, and Europe, for the cause of God, the poor, 
 and the country. The new nobility has also glori- 
 ously conquered, and paid with its blood for its 
 escutcheons, though it should still have need of a 
 tradition sustained by worthy heirs, and confirmed 
 by time. 
 
 Now, then, to come down again from these high 
 and general considerations to the practical sub- 
 ject which I treat of, I will, without hesitation, say 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS VOCATION. 26/ 
 
 to the sons of great names, to the heirs of great 
 races, Among a brilliant, generous nation, where 
 glory will always be a passion, and historical memo- 
 ries a greatness, as long as you will be worthy of 
 your great names, you will be in the first rank ; 
 whatever those beneath you may say against you, 
 you will have the first place. The nation itself will 
 give it to you. Merit always being equal, it is you 
 who will carry it away; and if individual justice 
 seems hurt by this preference, there is a higher jus- 
 tice, national justice, which must be satisfied. Yes, 
 a great name, supported by a great education, will 
 always have success in France ; and I am happy in 
 saying, to the honor of our times, model nobles are 
 not wanting to us in this respect, even among our 
 young contemporaries. But to do nothing in the 
 midst of this immense bustle of all classes, which 
 tends to ameliorate, to ennoble, to elevate, to enrich 
 them, by industry, by commerce, by agriculture, by 
 the labors of political life ; doing nothing is abdicat- 
 ing, is annihilating one's self. Not to understand 
 that we live in times when it is necessary to make 
 the wealth we have received from our ancestors par- 
 donable; to authorize the new-comers of modern 
 society to say that the descendants of great fami- 
 lies remain, in the midst of universal progress, un- 
 shaken in their prejudices of race, stationary in their 
 wealth, retrograding in their ideas ; that they do 
 nothing, and do not wish to do anything, — it is im- 
 possible. And those of whom I speak — do they 
 not see, that when luxury and idleness are united 
 with division of property, and equality of inherit- 
 
268 THE CHILD. 
 
 ance, they diminish, become parcelled out, and de- 
 voured ? 
 
 Alas ! with many, every thing outside still glitters ; 
 every thing within is already wretchedness and ruin. 
 Doing nothing, simply from a material point of view, 
 is the annihilation of the only means by which they 
 still retain for themselves some superiority and prop- 
 erty. In former times, they had the glorious privi- 
 lege of military service ; they were the first in times 
 of war to shed their blood for their country. Cer- 
 tainly that was something ; they became great by it. 
 If culture of the mind gained nothing, the character 
 was strengthened by it. Generosity, heroic devo- 
 tion, and all the warlike virtues which have made the 
 French nation the first in Europe, displayed all their 
 splendor in them. At present, matters are changed ; 
 the sword and valor are always prized amongst us ; 
 but every hand may aim to carry the sword. The 
 command of armies is no longer a privilege ; like the 
 crown of Philip Augustus, it is to the most worthy. 
 And besides, war is dying out ; it seems to have 
 obeyed the ancient motto, cedant arma togcB ; it gives 
 place to industry, commerce, politics, science, and 
 the arts ; it is to this side the future of Europe now 
 appears to be tending, at least as far as the shortness 
 of human foresight may venture to predict. Is it 
 prejudice or reason that makes one disdainfully re- 
 ject extensive commerce, great trade, frequently the 
 magistracy itself, and the greater number of public 
 careers } Is it just or wise not to consider any 
 other employment, any other glory, suitable than that 
 of arms } Genoa, Venice, Carthage, and Florence, 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS VOCATION. 269 
 
 those great queens of the sea, those illustrious rulers 
 of the commerce of the East and the West, thought 
 otherwise. Did not the Genoese, Venetian, and 
 Florentine nobles elevate themselves by their alli- 
 ances as high as the most ancient sovereign houses 
 of Europe ? Are not those examples, that experi- 
 ence, at least a forcible lesson, a decisive reply, to the 
 heirs of those great families among us who condemn 
 themselves to do nothing, and who, as a necessary 
 consequence, become depraved, abiding without intel- 
 ligence, without action, without influence ? How 
 many times have I not heard the most eminent men 
 of the country sigh over the fate of those whose 
 cause I am at present pleading ! — for it is their 
 cause I plead against themselves. What sensible 
 man, what honorable woman, has not deplored the 
 life of so many young people, who appear to have no 
 desire but that of resigning the dignity of their 
 birth, and, in fine, to make use of the too common, 
 and, alas! too well-known expression, "Only know 
 how to lounge about the pavement of Paris!" The 
 pavement of Paris, that is to say, the Jockey Clubs, 
 Boulevard des Italiens, unlimited play, the green- 
 rooms of the theatres, horses, dogs, women, and 
 many unmentionable dissipations. Here are the 
 deplorable consequences of this sad affair, — nothing 
 to do. But is not the fatal prejudice, that a real gen- 
 tleman ought to do nothing, or at least can do noth- 
 ing, absolutely the same prejudice that existed in for- 
 mer times, when esquires and lords maintained that 
 they ought to know nothing, not even to read and 
 
 write; that they were created only to wield the 
 23* 
 
2/0 THE CHILD. 
 
 sword; and that science and literature suited but 
 plebeians and the clergy? That prejudice, which 
 had at least something energetic and proud in its 
 primitive rudeness, has become more perpetuated 
 than is supposed in French ideas, while losing its 
 energy. Hence this fear of public education existed 
 in former times, and still to some extent to-day ; 
 hence so many of the children of the nobility, save 
 some rare and honorable exceptions, are condemned 
 to private education, that is to say, too frequently 
 to effeminacy of character and mediocrity of mind. 
 I heard a man of great sense utter this remarkable 
 speech : *' A usurping and clever government, wish- 
 ing to free itself from the great races, and outroot 
 them from the country, can reduce them, through 
 respect for themselves, to the exigency of bringing 
 up their children in their homes in the circumscribed 
 sphere of private education and a private tutor." I 
 have no hesitation in believing this has always been 
 the great danger of royal races and princely educa- 
 tions. Bossuet formerly expressed his ideas of it in 
 these terms to the son of Louis XIV. : ** What 
 makes men of condition, if they be not seriously 
 watchful, fall into idleness and a species of languor, 
 is the abundance to which they are born. Want 
 arouses other men, and anxiety for their fate unceas- 
 ingly induces them to labor. Those who possess the 
 wealth necessary, not only for living, but for pleas- 
 ure and grandeur, persuade themselves they have 
 nothing to gain by labor. But it must not be sup- 
 posed that wisdom will come to you with the same 
 facility, and without your laboring seriously to ac- 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS VOCATION. 2/1 
 
 quire it. It is not in our power to put into your 
 mind what will serve to cultivate reason and virtue, 
 while you will do nothing. It is necessary, then, 
 you should stimulate and apply yourselves to labor, 
 in order that reason should spring up in you. This 
 ought to be your only occupation ; you have only 
 that to do and think of. Are you not too happy in 
 having matters disposed in such a manner that other 
 labors do not regard you, and that you have only to 
 cultivate your mind and form your intellect ?" Louis 
 XIV., who had known, through his own experience, 
 all the misfortunes of a neglected education, wished 
 to spare his son and his grandson these dangers, 
 and he himself drew up with admirable strictness 
 the rule of labor for the grand Dauphin. Here is 
 what Bossuet wrote to Pope Innocent XII. respect- 
 ing it : " The law of study imposed by the king was 
 not to allow any day to pass without studying. He 
 considered there was a great difference between pass- 
 ing the whole day in idleness, and taking some diver- 
 sion in order to relax the mind. It is necessary that 
 a child should play and be merry, — that stimulates 
 him; but he must not give himself up to play and 
 pleasure in such a manner as not to recall to mind 
 every day those most serious matters, the study of 
 which would languish if they were too much inter- 
 rupted. As the whole life of princes is occupied 
 with, and none of their days exempt from, great 
 cares, it is good to train them during childhood to 
 apply themselves to whatever is most serious, and 
 make them give some hours to it every day, in order 
 that their minds may be trained to labor, and quite 
 
2/2 THE CHILD. 
 
 accustomed to serious subjects when they shall have 
 to attend to public matters." 
 
 If I may, then, give some advice to those ancient 
 families who still remain to France, I will say to 
 them, Have no fear of what is a blessing from 
 heaven, a numerous family ; a number of sons are 
 the wealth of their father, their name, and their 
 family ! Marry them well ; give them wives of 
 sound constitutions and sincere piety ; make worthy 
 marriages, fruitful and without stain, irreproachable 
 alliances, from which will spring a pure and healthy 
 race. Bring up your sons vigorously ; give them a 
 solid and brilliant education in everything, and after- 
 wards push them forward in some career ; and, even 
 though the equality of shares shall leave but a mod- 
 erate fortune to each of them, they will be great and 
 wealthy by their education, by their labor, by their 
 name, and even by their number. They will sustain 
 and strengthen each other in the different posts to 
 which Providence and the enlightened solicitude of 
 their fathers shall have called them. 
 
 This is an observation which will not escape the 
 attention of men, of minds which follow with a reli- 
 gious and Christian glance the ways of Providence : 
 there is a visible, even a temporal, benediction for 
 numerous families; and I have almost always seen 
 realized in their favor those desires which they sub- 
 mit to God, with a noble dependence on His good- 
 ness, and which, among many others, are replaced by 
 culpable, and, most frequently, impotent calculations. 
 Among these numerous children, many at least will 
 have distinguished talents ; well brought up, they will 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS VOCATION. 2/3 
 
 become superior men ; they will do honor to their 
 brothers ; they will sustain their name ; they will 
 enrich their family ; they will govern, perhaps they 
 will save, their country ! Yes ; God will bless them. 
 Why do we so frequently see great names sink into 
 oblivion, noble stocks waste away ? It is because 
 there is but one or two children to be found among 
 them ; an only son, perhaps, who, effeminately 
 brought up, has dishonored his race. 
 
 I have spoken of spoiled children ; it very rarely 
 happens that there can be spoiled children in a large 
 family. An only son or an only daughter is almost 
 always idolized by the family, and the object of the 
 most frivolous anxieties. There is no serious care, 
 no elevated idea, in the education of these children, 
 of whom they seek to make beings destined only for 
 the ease and enjoyment of this world, certain of 
 being wealthy, without ever doing anything, without 
 ever laboring, without ever giving themselves the 
 least trouble. How can they expect that the bless- 
 ing of God will descend on these miserable educa- 
 tions, and also these pitiful calculations of wealth, 
 these base and impious computations of a future, in 
 which Providence is absolutely counted as nothing ? 
 Without doubt, it is necessary that the heads of 
 families should have, inasmuch as they can, impor- 
 tance, through their wealth ; and this is what our 
 modern laws have forgotten too much. But numer- 
 ous branches are also necessary to uphold, extend, 
 and strengthen each other. 
 
 Permit me to repeat again to the heads of great 
 families, If you know how to give your numerous 
 
274 THE CHILD. 
 
 sons a high intellectual education, they will always 
 and everywhere be at the head of their fellow-citi- 
 zens, first by valor, when it will be necessary. The 
 field of battle will again find you what you have al- 
 ways been ; your race will not fail. They will be 
 first also by intellect ; if you will it, you have the 
 ability. The past verifies this. Witness Turenne 
 and Conde, D'Anguesseau, Cardinal' de Polignac, La 
 Rochefoucauld, Fenelon, and so many others. Let 
 trade progress ; it is not destined to conquer the 
 world ; and, if it were, if you leave traders to aspire, 
 as they do, only to an ordinary and professional edu- 
 cation ; if, in taking what is necessary from this infe- 
 rior education, you know how to elevate yourself still 
 more, to strengthen, ennoble, enlighten yourself by 
 high education of the understanding, — you will still 
 rule all ; you will necessarily surpass, you will govern, 
 you will direct commerce itself ; you will save it from 
 its abuse ; you will elevate it even to yourself, and you 
 will remain in your place, what you are, a Montmo- 
 rency, a D'Harcourt, or any other of those renowned 
 names which rule opinion by hereditary prestige. 
 But if these glorious destinies surprise you, if they 
 seem to you beyond our age, still I will not agree, 
 even though resigning them for you, that you ought 
 to do nothing on earth. I will never grant that you 
 can be without any labor in this world. No ; the 
 chase, romances, horses, and dogs do not suffice for 
 any thing and any one. I will say to you, with the 
 Holy Scriptures, Non oderis opera labofiosa, et nisti- 
 cationeni creatam ab altissimo — " Do not despise 
 labor, not even the tilling of the earth, agriculture, 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS VOCATION. 2/5 
 
 which was invented by the Almighty ; agriculture 
 is the foundation of human life." Yes; if trade 
 and commerce do not suit you, be noble, and, if in 
 your power, be distinguished agriculturists. That is 
 still a beautiful and glorious phase of labor. Be 
 faithful to the soil which has made your name and 
 your fortune ; the soil in its turn will be faithful to 
 you, and the population will pray for you. If they 
 be less inclined to wish you well during the past 
 twenty-five years, it is because you have too much 
 abandoned them. Why despise your true and solid 
 greatness ? Why linger in Paris, leading a life un- 
 worthy of you, in ruinous clubs of play and pleasure .'' 
 Why throw the remainder of your wealth into those 
 abysses of luxury, and all the misdemeanors that 
 idleness leads to, rather than dwell honorably on your 
 property ; rather than strike those deep roots in the 
 country which revolutions themselves have not been 
 able to tear out ; rather than make yourself loved 
 and respected, by shedding benefits on the poor peo- 
 ple around you, who only ask to render you freely 
 that allegiance which they always maintained towards 
 your ancestors } Why leave such noble cares to 
 your men of business, your stewards, your notaries, 
 your advisers, who make themselves loved and chosen 
 instead of you, who really si^cceed you, and are to- 
 day representing the people in your place ? There 
 is a saying of the Scriptures, the weight of which I 
 pray God never to let fall on any one in my country ; 
 but if there ever was a terrible saying, it is one, and 
 worthy of being meditated on by every one. Here 
 it is: "The votaries of pleasure," says the Holy 
 
2^6 THE CHILD. 
 
 Ghost, ''will be eternally unprofitable" — Atiferettir 
 f actio lascivientiinn} 
 
 Let me conclude. Every one on earth has some- 
 thing to do, a path to follow, an end to attain, a labor 
 to accomplish, a place to occupy ; in a word, grave 
 obligations, serious duties, to fulfil. Labor, which is 
 the application of the mind, is also its power and its 
 glory. Without labor, without application, nothing 
 can be done, either in this world or the next. God 
 and men despise, reject, as an unprofitable servant, 
 the man who does nothing, who is not available for 
 any thing. Application alone makes great men, 
 great saints, heroes, and men of genius. 
 
 All that is rare to-day, because serious labor, pro- 
 found application, is no longer understood. Poets, 
 literary men, historians, philosophers, no longer 
 apply themselves ; and we know what the greater 
 number of them have become during the last fifty 
 years. 
 
 But, if the troubles of the times do not permit you 
 to aspire to the management of public affairs, at 
 least know how to apply yourself to the management 
 of your property, your family, your servants, your 
 children. Acquire the agricultural, industrial, even 
 commercial knowledge, which the nature of your 
 wealth, your revenues, require, and in order to men- 
 tion by their names those matters necessary for your 
 workshops, your mills, your lands, your cattle. Ac- 
 quire, at least, all that is necessary for you, in order 
 to turn them to good account. Rule your children 
 especially, and their education ; excellent work, to 
 
 1 Amos. 
 
THE LIBERTY OF HIS VOCATION. 2// 
 
 which you should never be strangers. Regulate 
 your servants, so frequently left to themselves. Di- 
 rect good works ; understand how to establish them 
 generously, to propagate them zealously. Occupy 
 yourself with the villagers who surround you ; know 
 how to make them love you ; comfort the poor. Be 
 in your parish and in your province a useful man, a 
 charitable adviser. Improve everything around you, 
 — bridges, roads, churches, schools, the parish edi- 
 fices. Above all, reflect upon this last instruction; 
 which is, Whatever may be the troubles of the times, 
 no one can ever be permitted to sacrifice society, 
 morahty, or religion, to sacrifice himself and his 
 children to the passing interests of politics, and to 
 make revolutions a claim to doing nothing. Can it 
 be possible that France has ever had statesmen who 
 could see with indifference what becomes of opulent 
 youth among us } Can it be possible that any expe- 
 rienced thinker would believe that the country could 
 find its present and future well-being in steeple- 
 chases, dandies, lions, and all the corrupt societies of 
 young people, who give themselves up to them, and 
 who seem to say to their country. It must no longer 
 count on us ? I cannot believe it ; it would be too 
 strange a blindness. No, no ; idle youth, gilded 
 youth, however brilliant it may be, is no advantage 
 to a country, either in peace or war ; neither society 
 nor politicians, neither religion nor morality, neither 
 the present nor the future, can be satisfied with it. 
 There is, then, a place and duties marked out for 
 every one in this world. What is this place ? What 
 are these duties ? Who shall decide on the choice 
 24 
 
278 THE CHILD. 
 
 to be made ? Shall it be chance, caprice, or compul- 
 sion ? No ; it shall be Providence ; for nothing on 
 earth happens by accident ; nothing, in such a mat- 
 ter, can be given up to chance ; for each person, 
 for each state, there is a vocation from God. This 
 is what remains for us to examine, in order to clear 
 up the important question which occupies us. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 NOTHING ON EARTH HAPPENS BY ACCIDENT ; THERE 
 IS, THEN, FOR EVERY ONE, AND FOR EACH STATE, 
 A VOCATION FROM GOD. 
 
 No ; nothing on earth happens by accident. A 
 hair does not fall from our heads but by the will of 
 Heaven, With much greater reason, the employment 
 of our noblest faculties, and the labor of our whole 
 life, cannot be abandoned to the caprices of chance. 
 Whosoever we may be, we ought, then, to study 
 attentively the designs of God respecting us ; we 
 ought to seek religiously to know what God requires 
 that we should do on earth ; the place He wishes us 
 to occupy in this world ; that for which He destines 
 us ; in a word, to what He calls us. 
 
 Applying one's self to know this vocation, at least 
 in general and with sufficient probability to satisfy 
 an attentive and prudent judgment, is one of the 
 greatest duties of parents with regard to their chil- 
 dren ; it is the foundation on which will rest the 
 choice they shall have to make of the kind of educa- 
 tion they will give them. It is, indeed, manifest 
 that to know what a child can and ought to do in 
 this world is the first condition requisite for decid- 
 ing in what manner he must be prepared for it. 
 But they will say to me. How is the vocation of a 
 
 279 
 
280 THE CHILD. 
 
 child to be known and to be studied ? that must be 
 singularly difficult. No ; to do it at the suitable 
 time, and with religious attention, alone is necessary; 
 the indications of Providence are never wanting. 
 We have somewhere said, education continues the 
 work of creation. The first matter, then, to be known 
 in education is, how the Creator wishes to be aided in 
 the development of His work and His designs ; for 
 what end He has placed such a child on earth ; to 
 what He destines him : what method, what kind, of 
 education suits best the end it should aim to attain, 
 can then be decided on ; the destiny there is ques- 
 tion of his fulfilling; and for that the indications of 
 Providence are more explicit than is commonly sup- 
 posed. It is rare when certain general indications, 
 very easily discerned, certain tastes, certain capaci- 
 ties, certain very marked dispositions, do not deter- 
 mine, at a sufficiently early age, the probable voca- 
 tion of the child, and, consequently, the befitting 
 education. Understand ; I do not speak of early 
 education ; that ought to be nearly the same for all. 
 I speak of that other education, which extends, what- 
 ever may be its form and its name, from ten to 
 twenty years of age ; and, without repeating in this 
 place what influence the means which education 
 has at its disposal ought to have on the child, it is 
 sufficient for me to observe, it is at this age, espe- 
 cially, the young man perfects himself, and that his 
 vocation is decided. The kind of studies to which 
 he devotes himself, the time he bestows on them, the 
 tastes they inspire in him, the application he brings 
 to them, the success he obtains in them ; the degree 
 
EVERY ONE HAS A VOCATION FROM GOD. 28 1 
 
 and extent to which his intellect attains ; the first 
 emotions, good or evil, which the passions cause him 
 to display ; the features of character more or less de- 
 hneated; and, in fine, the influence, more or less 
 strong, of grace ; the supernatural inclinations which 
 it sometimes gives for certain more perfect voca- 
 tions, — these are the means of studying and know- 
 ing to what God calls him, what God requires that 
 he should do on earth. At the same time, I do not 
 desire nor ought I to exaggerate anything here. The 
 choice of a state has almost always sufficiently great 
 latitude ; there are different vocations more or less 
 perfect. The masters of ethics acknowledge that if 
 there be, among these vocations, some at times more 
 arbitrary, from which one cannot withdraw himself, 
 except at the risk of imperilling everything in his 
 life, there are others more independent, among which 
 hesitation is permissible, even proper. The reason 
 of it is very simple. How many professions are 
 there, among which the differences are so trifling 
 a matter, that preferring one to the other is mani- 
 festly without appreciable importance ! 
 
 I do not expect, then, that the vocation can be de- 
 termined with rigorous precision, even to its most 
 trifling details ; but what I maintain is, that, at least, 
 the kind of vocation is usually indicated by means 
 easily recognized, and that error would be full of 
 danger. For example, living in the world or living 
 out of the world ; the religious state or the married 
 state ; here are vocations and states entirely different 
 from each other. And even in the numerous worldly 
 states, there are some of them totally unlike ; for in- 
 24* 
 
282 THE CHILD. 
 
 stance, the gown or the sword, agriculture or trade, 
 the navy or civil service, the career of literature, 
 sciences, or arts. These various careers require 
 such different capacities, that choosing blindly or by 
 chance for a young man, among professions which 
 resemble each other so little, would be manifestly to 
 overshadow, to overcast, to paralyze, his whole life ; 
 it would be binding him to a life for which, perhaps, 
 he was never intended, and in which success and 
 happiness would be morally impossible for him. 
 Hence, as the differences between the principal 
 kinds of vocation are strongly marked, it is easy to 
 avoid error, little trouble as one may wish to take, by 
 studying, with the double assistance of attention and 
 time, the differences which are to be met with among 
 the physical, intellectual, moral, and religious dispo- 
 sitions of the various children. 
 
 The supernatural influence, if he aspire to the su- 
 pernatural and more perfect vocations, and whatever 
 be the vocation he aspires to, the capacity which ren- 
 ders him fit for such or such profession ; the want of 
 capacity which removes him from it ; the inclination 
 and taste which facilitate the study and success of 
 it ; the evil dispositions, the deficiencies, the pas- 
 sions, that would find in such a state fatal nourish- 
 ment, which must be denied them ; the good disposi- 
 tions, the virtues, which find in such another state 
 the happy, fruitful support which must be afforded 
 them ; in fine, assuming and wisely considering all 
 the rest, the circumstances of birth, fortune, social 
 position, favorable opportunities, the openings which 
 present themselves, and which seem to be manifesta- 
 
EVERY ONE HAS A VOCATION FROM GOD. 283 
 
 tions of Providence, — such are the most notable indi- 
 cations by which, with any sort of certainty, the 
 vocation of a young man becomes revealed. By ob- 
 serving these indications, by following them with 
 prudent circumspection, we shall very rarely be de- 
 ceived ; if we are sometimes deceived, which hardly 
 ever occurs, it is in cases where the error cannot be 
 serious, because the differences will be of trifling 
 importance, and the vocation less obligatory. But 
 parents or teachers must not, in this respect, vio- 
 lently urge children with respect to this. Their lib- 
 erty ought to be respected. They can, they ought 
 to enlighten, and betimes prepare and direct them ; 
 but to urge and drive them by compulsion into such 
 or such a state, never ! 
 
 As to the more perfect and supernatural vocations, 
 I shall speak of them somewhat in detail in a forth- 
 coming work, when I shall treat of the liberty of 
 ecclesiastical vocations, and the respect due to them. 
 At present, I shall confine myself to saying simply 
 this. Without doubt, every one in this world can, 
 with the assistance of God, raise himself to great 
 eminence. The sphere of truth and virtue, like 
 that of goodness and divine grace, is immense ; and 
 there is for each, in the designs of Providence, 
 a degree of relative perfection, which it is permis- 
 sible for him to attain ; this is what we may with 
 St. Paul call. Voluntas Dei bene placens et peifecta. 
 But, alas ! how few succeed in it ! many degener- 
 ate. For these latter, God, in His mercy, may re- 
 serve vocations less perfect, and a future less high, 
 but which can always be good and generous if they 
 
284 THE CHILD. 
 
 be faithful. It is still life and salvation. But there 
 are some who fall below all limits and the entire 
 will of God; these are they who desire to do nothing 
 in this world, or who do nothing but evil, not tak- 
 ing any account of the laws of their Creator. For 
 these last, it is ruin ; it is intellectual and moral deg- 
 radation ; it is eternal death : Ad iiihihmi redact 21s 
 est in conspectii ejus inaligniLS. But whatever may 
 be the latitude permitted to each in the choice of the 
 various vocations possible, it is manifest that this 
 choice, bUnd or enlightened, happy or unfortunate, 
 conformable or contrary to the order of Providence, 
 will have a singular influence on the future, and 
 make the happiness or woe, the shame or honor, of 
 life — the glorious promise or utter failure of an en- 
 tire existence. For this reason, parents ought not 
 only not give way to their personal vanity, their ambi- 
 tion, the desires of self-love, but should also guard 
 well against too lightly placing their faith in the cer- 
 tainty of omens which may be indifferent or premature. 
 They must have a religious caution for the liberty of 
 the child, leaving the good disposition to be declared 
 by himself ; the influence of grace marks out the de- 
 signs of Providence ; the capacities gradually reveal 
 themselves; the talents become declared and certain; 
 in a word, they should study attentively the order of 
 Nature and Providence, in order to obey it. Truth 
 strangely forgotten in our days, when the greater 
 number of vocations and professions are decided at 
 random, and without any serious examination ; when 
 we see children who seem to be, by the most mani- 
 fest indications of Providence, called one day to gov- 
 
EVERY ONE HAS A VOCATION FROM GOD. 285 
 
 ern their country, or, at least, to fill the most impor- 
 tant civil or political posts in it, brought up, permit 
 me to say, as if they were one day to be only paint- 
 ers or musicians, or even, to descend still lower, 
 huntsmen or grooms. The most remarkable among 
 them draws, if you will, or sings more or less agree- 
 ably ; they will say he is a distinguished man ! 
 What will he have performed during his life.'* per- 
 haps filled an album ! Again, the greater number 
 will know only how to dance, fence, and ride. 
 
 " Pour loute ambition, pour vertu singuliere, 
 II excelle a conduire un char dans la carriere," 
 
 Racine formerly said. How many young men of our 
 day confine all their ambition to that ; and, strange 
 coincidence ! curious contrast ! in this same country 
 we see a multitude of other children, not predestined, 
 either by the wish of Nature or the call of Provi- 
 dence, to rise in any way above the crowd, and who, 
 imprudently brought up to a kind of life for which 
 God has not intended them, contract, in the theatre 
 of a false education, tastes, luxurious habits, immod- 
 erate wants, which prepare for their whole life the 
 uneasiness and torments of an ambition which it will 
 one day be necessary to satisfy, perhaps, at any price. 
 Frightful error ! which, by its consequences, hollows 
 beforehand in the path of the man an abyss of crime 
 or despair, and almost always both! What, also, 
 frequently comes to pass ? While the first, citizens 
 without worth, fathers of families without righteous- 
 ness, are not capable of bringing up their children 
 nor managing their property, and originate or hasten 
 
286 THE CHILD. 
 
 the decay by which names, illustrious during a long 
 period, are going at last to be extinguished in obscu- 
 rity, and sometimes in ignominy ; the second pro- 
 duce those envious, turbulent, factious generations, to 
 whom, in spite of their mediocrity, all wealth, all 
 social superiority, is a hateful spectacle, an insup- 
 portable burden ; unhappy men, who, in the bitter 
 vexation of their rebellious pride, raise disturbances 
 in the bosom of society, in order to spring violently 
 above their condition, and, tormented by dreams of 
 unmeasured cupidity, at length find repose only in 
 their own ruin, or the overthrow of public order. 
 Which are the most culpable ? Certainly the ques- 
 tion is of trifling importance ; but, if it be my duty 
 to solve it, I will say, Those for whom God and soci- 
 ety had done so much, and who do not wish to do 
 anything for Him, for themselves, or for it ; who re- 
 tain no remembrance of their name, their ancestors, 
 or their past glory ; who destroy in themselves the 
 brightest hopes of the country, and so many valuable 
 gifts, which perhaps will never be found again ; in 
 fine, who allow the most elevated and priceless powers 
 of a great nation to become enervated and swallowed 
 up by the effeminacy and indolence of their lives ; 
 I will say, these latter irritate me more profoundly, 
 discourage, dishearten me ; these latter would cause me 
 to despair of the future, if it were not for Providence, 
 the moral influence of the Church, and the destiny 
 of France. Excuse the bitterness of my grief and 
 my words ; and, in order to justify them, permit me 
 to make a more general reflection, which, I trust, 
 will not appear too harsh ; I protest I do not at least 
 
EVERY ONE HAS A VOCATION FROM GOD. 28/ 
 
 intend it to be so ; it is a simple matter of fact, 
 which every one will find within the limits of his 
 own experience, and which will one day throw a new 
 light on the thesis I now maintain, respecting the 
 importance of a state, or some vocation whatsoever, 
 for each individual, and the danger of false or defec- 
 tive vocations. When one has studied human nature 
 in the child, that is to say, from its starting-point, 
 and followed it through the different ages of man, 
 even to the extreme confines of life, he is struck by 
 the number of rich, intelligent, ardent, brilliant, hon- 
 est, and virtuous natures stopped short in their 
 flight, cramped in their energy, obscured in their 
 brilliancy, not displaying what they have received, 
 and only leaving it to be divined by its flashes ; abor- 
 tive intellects, unworthy of themselves ; paralyzed, 
 contracted hearts ; noble creatures, whom an impov- 
 erished sap, turned from its course, has rendered 
 apathetic, incomplete, sterile ; carrying off the most 
 beautiful hopes of religion, home, and society, and 
 making shipwreck of the high destiny which God 
 had prepared for them. From whence arises this 
 misfortune ? Most frequently from a false, a defec- 
 tive vocation. These are the people who have, or 
 wish to have, nothing to do in this world, which is 
 the most serious of disorders, and the greatest of 
 dangers ; or those who, not having studied either 
 their own character or the designs of Providence, 
 have wished to do what was not intended for them. 
 Alas ! I speak with too much experience of this ; 
 and I fear, during some moments, and against my 
 will, a sorrowful emotion, which is not bitterness, 
 
288 THE CHILD. 
 
 but the too justifiable accents of a devotion fre- 
 quently betrayed in its holiest and dearest aspira- 
 tions ! What thoughtless parents ! What rash and 
 hasty decisions in the most serious business of life .' 
 How many young people, even, have I not seen called 
 upon to decide their own destiny, deluding them- 
 selves most strangely, and, by a blind choice, bind- 
 ing their intellect and their will to a profession for 
 which they were not prepared themselves, giving and 
 stamping with frightful levity a wrong direction to 
 their life, in an age of passion and inexperience ; fix- 
 ing the limits of their virtue, and acting the same 
 part even towards their religion ! 
 
 On all sides, also, how many erring vocations and 
 misplaced existences ! how many disappointments ! 
 how many minds led astray, characters lessened, vir- 
 tues compromised, services and hopes destroyed ! 
 And these young people become men, old men, such 
 as they are brought up ; for the child becomes the 
 young man, the young man the mature man, the 
 mature man the old man ; in fine, all form society, 
 this society which has many rules, but no resources, 
 against the greater number of the evils which devour 
 it, and which has neither laws nor remedies against 
 these evils. I deceive myself ; not only has society 
 neither laws nor remedies against such evils, but, 
 strange to say, it has laws to create them, laws to 
 hallow them, laws against the remedies for these 
 evils. 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 Then — for it is time we should sum up all this 
 book and these details — to form man, and prepare 
 him for the various social offices he will one day be 
 called to fill on earth ; to form man by this general 
 education, which may be suitably called the perfec- 
 tion of human education ; to form him by an educa- 
 tion suitable to the vocation Providence assigns to 
 him, his social position, his talents, and his particular 
 tastes ; to form man, — that is to say, this noble crea- 
 ture, gifted with intelligence, reason, and free-will, 
 created for happiness ; to form man, intelligent, up- 
 right man, with his ordinary faculties and his individ- 
 ual qualities, such as society and religion require 
 him ; man, above all, with a pure and powerful intel- 
 lect in a vigorous and healthy body — mens sana 
 in corpore sano ; the man of sense, judgment, and 
 taste ; the man of heart, the man of character ; the 
 man of disciplined mind, of easy and clear utter- 
 ance; the man of firm and upright will, according 
 to the degree of sense, imagination, character, or 
 genius, which is the stamp of his individuality; the 
 man of enlightened faith and confirmed conscience ; 
 man such as God has created him, and as Jesus 
 Christ has regenerated him ; man such as the provi- 
 dential progress of the world has perfected him ; the 
 man of his age and his country, in accordance with 
 25 289 
 
290 THE CHILD. 
 
 the wisest and happiest meaning of these two words ; 
 in fine, the Christian, for this name includes all ; 
 and we do not fulfil our high mission if we do not 
 know how to form Christian hearts, and bring up, in 
 accordance with Christianity, and even the Gospel, 
 those whom society confides to us. 
 
 Such, then, is the work education ought to accom- 
 plish, and it is by that it will form men for society 
 without endangering it or them, and that it will have 
 the power of producing, in every step of the social 
 hierarchy, men perfected according to the means and 
 extent suitable to each, in order to exalt them to 
 eternal life. We shall now ask. Have we exagger- 
 ated in any way by saying education is a divine work, 
 and in giving to it so high and decisive an impor- 
 tance with respect to the dignity and happiness of 
 individuals, families, and all society ? I understand 
 that such a theory may be exposed to meet with 
 more than one astonished or even incredulous smile 
 in an age which, to the present day, seems, at least, 
 hardly to understand the dignity of education, and 
 which, perhaps, will consider what we speak of as an 
 absurd theory, and a speculation impossible to be 
 realized in practice. Well, no ; permit me to express 
 frankly all my ideas here. No, it is not an absurd 
 theory; for it is by converting this theory into prac- 
 tice, all Europe has been elevated to the highest civ- 
 ilization ; and if France has, during a long period, 
 kept her place at the head of modern nations — 
 queen of civilized Europe — it is to this fine and 
 vigorous education she owes this glory. No, it is 
 not a foolish theory, a speculation impossible to be 
 
CONCLUSION. 291 
 
 realized. I willingly cry out, Shame and woe to the 
 teachers of youth who could look on it thus ! If 
 there exist, and there will, even to the end of this 
 sad world, a creature really worthy of the elevation 
 of this theory, and the respect which it professes for 
 the greatness of his origin, and if the practice of it 
 were impossible, he should despair of humanity, of 
 his country, of his family, of himself ; in fine, of 
 God and His Providence. Teachers of youth, who 
 do not yet, perhaps, understand these matters, guard 
 yourselves from receiving them with a silly and 
 haughty disdain. Are you, then, ignorant of what 
 is in question here, and what interests are confided 
 to you ? It is human nature, it is man and his off- 
 spring ; they are the children of God who are re- 
 mitted to your care. No, no, it is not a speculation 
 impossible to be realized ! While there shall still 
 remain on earth a creature of this race, of whom 
 God has said, ** Let us make man to our own image 
 and likeness," the education of man will be the 
 grandest of works, a providential and sacred labor, a 
 task entirely divine, a priesthood. While there shall 
 remain on earth intelligences which God has created, 
 capable of knowledge and wisdom, capable of truth 
 and light, capable of thought and memory, capable 
 of science and genius, it will be beautiful, it will be 
 praiseworthy, it will be divine, to labor for the educa- 
 tion, the intellectual elevation, of such noble crea- 
 tures. While there shall remain on earth a heart, a 
 conscience, a character, a human will, it will be beau- 
 tiful, it will be praiseworthy, it will be divine, to 
 mould them to the love of what is true and upright, 
 
292 . THE CHILD. 
 
 to enthusiasm for what is noble, elevated, generous, 
 to a holy passion for what is great and sublime. 
 Yes, while there shall remain on earth a son of man 
 inspired by this divine breath, which makes him the 
 king of creation, and the immortal image of the liv- 
 ing God, he should be brought up in the knowledge 
 and love of his high destiny, and, in order to do 
 that, established by this high education, the theory 
 of which surprises you, in the integrity, the strength, 
 the plenitude, and the power of his incomparable fac- 
 ulties. While there shall remain on earth one of 
 those whom God has visibly created in order to be- 
 come, by science and the love of natural and super- 
 natural objects, the centre of creation, and to con- 
 template the heavens, it will be beautiful to teach 
 him by what efforts, by what studies, by what intel- 
 lectual, moral, and religious elevation, he ought to 
 render himself superior to all that which God has 
 submitted to his eyes and the investigations of his 
 intellect ; it will be beautiful to teach him by what 
 admirable ways he can attain, from the insignificant 
 point he occupies on earth, to everything, even to 
 the extremity of his empire ; study the most sublime 
 mysteries of nature ; measure with certainty the im- 
 mensity of the heavens ; penetrate even to the bow- 
 els of the earth; and, by discovering its treasures, 
 contemplate all, from the grass and the flowers of 
 the field, which live- but a day, and, before dying, 
 humbly reveal to him their names, their species, 
 their properties, and their virtues, even to the sun, 
 which is the measure of centuries, and by which he 
 can follow with his eye, in the vast spaces of the 
 
CONCLUSION. 293 
 
 firmament, the path that this planet itself blindly 
 traverses. While there shall remain a son of man on 
 earth, it will be beautiful, it will be praiseworthy, to 
 teach him, above all, that it is by the noble alliance 
 of knowledge with virtue, of literature with wisdom, 
 of science with faith, of arts with religion, he can 
 succeed in cultivating his faculties to the highest 
 power of genius ; to this power, by which the mind 
 of man with a single thought embraces the universe, 
 places himself on its ultimate limits, and, without 
 becoming pale, looks beyond ; to this power of an 
 almost divine activity, which bounds to the heights 
 of the heavens, and descends again with rapidity to 
 the depths of the abysses ; which, by the powerful 
 glance of history, embraces and rules every century, 
 contemplates and judges the present century, which 
 is the measure of his passing existence, and plunges 
 without terror into the centuries of an unbounded 
 future. While there shall remain on earth any of 
 these souls whom God has created so great, and that 
 they should not, when arriving even at the extreme 
 hmits of time, despair either of themselves, or of 
 the times, or of the world which completes and 
 breaks up behind them, it will be praiseworthy, it 
 will be beautiful, it will be divine — divine to teach 
 them with what faith, with what hope, they should 
 magnanimously spring into eternity. And, in fine, 
 if a bishop may be permitted to proclaim the height 
 to which Christian education should raise itself, we 
 say that it is to that of revealing to those whom it 
 brings up, even during their early years, how Chris- 
 tians, fallen from heaven, can find again the road to 
 25* 
 
294 THE CHILD. 
 
 it with certainty, and laboriously re-conquer the glory 
 of it. It is, then, for Christian education to teach 
 its disciples gradually that the entire world is noth- 
 ing; that they ought to know how to despise the 
 earth ; and that, the farther they advance in life, the 
 more they will find of narrowness and evil in those 
 inferior regions which hold them captive ; and that 
 if they desire to satiate the thirst for happiness which 
 lies deep in their nature, and the intense eagerness 
 of their souls, it is at the foot of the altars of evan- 
 gelical grace that they will find wings in order to fly 
 far, very far, away from that which is for them but a 
 disgraced and blighted kingdom, even into the invisi- 
 ble regions, where they can, with a real right, aspire 
 to possess God Himself, and become united with 
 Him in the splendors and delights of eternity. But 
 if some men of the present age still find this specu- 
 lation too elevated, permit me to tell them it is be- 
 cause they have remained too long disciples of that 
 eighteenth century, the impious levity of which 
 despised human dignity, at least as much as it out- 
 raged Divine Majesty, and whose theories of educa- 
 tion were so profoundly subversive of all social and 
 religious order, of all authority, and of all respect. 
 But the rising generation repels far from it the abject 
 doctrines and teachings of this gross philosophy. I 
 have profound confidence in it ; generous understand- 
 ings will not be wanting among us, elevated minds, 
 for whom this beautiful theory will not be absurd, 
 nor this high speculation impossible to realize, and, 
 in a word, who understand what a child is, and the 
 respect due to the dignity of his nature. 
 
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