In Memoriam DR.JOHNJ.DORAN THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER BY REV. M. S. GILLET, O.P. TRANSLATED BY BENJAMIN GREEN WITH A PREFACE BY REV. BERNARD VAUGHAN, S.J. SANTA BARBARA. CALIF, NEW YORK P. J. KENEDY & SON BARCLAY STREET l bsiat. C. SCHUT, S.T.D. CENSOR DEPDTATDS. imprimatur. EDM. CAN. SURMONT, VICARIUS GENERALIS. Dit 19 Martii) 1914. FOREWORD IN a day when there is a growing tendency to leave character to look after itself, and to batten on noxious foodstuffs with little or no building properties in them, the sight of a book with the title " L'Education du Caractere " is good for sore eyes. It awakens the spirit of hope ; and the table of contents, drawn out analytically, helps to establish that hope. Father Gillet, the distinguished Dominican, in this brochure, has provided a plentiful supply of materials for the 'formation and perfection of the Christian character. Here, ready to hand, will be found all those properties and accessories which will help to build up character in our rising generation. We sincerely hope that this precious little work done into English may find a ready market on our bookstalls, and may make a home for itself in our libraries. If it meet with the success which it deserves, Father Gillet's mental offspring, decked out in its English dress, promises to have a long run, with God's blessing on it. BERNARD VAUGHAN, SJ. FEAST OF THE JAPANESE MARTYRS, February 5, 1914. INTRODUCTION THE subject dealt with in this work is no novelty. From long ago, ingenious psychologists and serious moralists have preached on the formation of char- acter and the training of the Will. They have, in some sort, prepared the ground for us, and pointed out the path to be followed. Yet, as we become conversant with psychological and moral research relative to the education of character, we are struck by the limitedness of the methods employed. Psy- chologists have confined themselves too exclusively to the psycho-physiological side, ignoring the moral aspect of the problem to be solved, whereas the moralists, on the other hand, have overmuch dis- regarded psychological sources. Hence, it seems necessary for us to unite these two systems into one living synthesis, to make manifest the share supplied by Grace and the Christian ideal in the work of self-conquest, without overlooking the fact that Grace cannot annihilate nature, and that, in our co-operation in this work, due account must be taken of the physiological and psychological conditions of moral activity. We have assured ourselves of the utility of this synthetic method for such as shrink from starting life blindfold, and, in this assurance lies, indeed, the supreme reward of all apostolic endeavour. M. S. GILLET, O.P. vii CONTENTS PART I THE IDEAL AND THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER CHAPTER I'ACiS I. THE WILL AND CHARACTER - - I II. SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT AND THE EDUCATION OF CHAR- ACTER - - 16 HI. SELF-KNOWLEDGE AND THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER 23 IV. THE IDEAL AND THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER - 30 PART II THE PASSIONS AND CHARACTER I. THE PASSIONS AND THE CHRISTIAN IDEAL - - 49 II. THE TACTICS OF THE WILL IN REGARD TO THE PASSIONS- - 62 III. CONCERNING THE INTELLECT AND ITS RELATION TO THE PASSIONS AND FEELINGS IN THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER - 78 IV. THE RELATIONS OF GRACE TO THE PASSIONS - - 85 V. EGOISM AND ALTRUISM - - Q2 VI. SENSUALITY- - - 105 ix x CONTENTS PART III ACTION AND CHARACTER CHAPTER PACK I. HABIT - - 121 II. THE LAWS OF HABIT - - 131 III. CHARACTER AND MORAL HABITS - 142 IV. INTELLECTUAL HABITS AND CHARACTER 151 V. SUPERNATURAL HABITS AND CHARACTER - - 162 PART I THE IDEAL AND THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER CHAPTER I THE WILL AND CHARACTER WHAT is character? In current language and this frequently most approximates to reality man is said to possess " Character " when, true to his con- victions, to these he endeavours with firmness and perseverance to conform his conduct. On the other hand, a man "without character" is swayed by every breeze of opinion, and, practically, allows himself to be governed by, instead of govern- ing, circumstance, and moulding the same to his own ends. In this wise is character the seal of the will ; or, more accurately, it is the will that imparts to Character its moral physiognomy. I. THE WILL. Character does not exist without Will ; Will does not exist without Character. But what, then, is Will ? 2 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER In the first place, our care must be to ascertain whether, as many at the present time affirm, the Will constitutes the actual essence of the soul (understanding by the term "Will," all manifesta- tions of psychical activity), or whether, on the other hand, the Will is a distinct faculty, and in some sort the soul's administrator in the direction of the intellectual and sensible faculties. For the moment I leave the solution of this wholly speculative question in the hands of the psycho- logical and metaphysical experts. As I treat of this subject solely from the moral standpoint, I apprehend the Will to be the highest and most perfect form of human activity, of self- conscious activity, as opposed to instinct, that is unconscious and inevitable activity. Will, in a word, then, is the power to act deliber- ately that is to say, the power of being the master of one's own actions. How fine a phrase : To be the master of one's own actions. How eternally fresh it is, albeit that it comes to us from across the ages! One is master of a thing when one possesses it. To be the master of our own actions, we must be in possession of them. We must use them to our own ends, and cast them in this or that direction, as the skilled hand throws the quoit of stone or metal at some fixed object. If then, by means of the will, we are given mastery over our actions, and can direct them as we list, it follows that at the root of our will is freedom. Freedom is the prerogative of the master ; it is the slave alone who is not free. Without freedom we THE WILL AND CHARACTER S should be the slaves of our acts and never the controllers. Whence, therefore, when analysed, is derived that mastery over action in the conduct of our daily life? From the kingdom of our intelligence. The animal is not free, because it is not intelligent ; we are free merely by reason of our intelligence. It should be evident, that I treat here of the will, in general, as existent in however infinitesimal a degree in every human subject. There remains, however, the question as to how far, in each individual case, our volitional activity is conditioned by our personal intelligence, or temperament; by hereditary ten- dencies or by acquired habits ; and in what measure, consequently, we are free, and can direct our own lives. Before replying to this question, it is ex- pedient to estimate the exact meaning to be attached to the term "Will," and to consider the common conditions of human activity. I maintain then, that if, in the elicitation of true human acts, at the basis of the will there is liberty, in its turn, liberty, like a mighty river fertilising life, derives its source from the high peaks of intelli- gence. In proportion as our actions are intelligent, they are free ; hence, intelligence must be our guide to illumine our course. The goal must be predeter- mined, while the choice is ours concerning the means of its attainment. This is what we apprehend by the Will ; it is the magic wand, that, applied to the least actions of our lives, quickens and trans- forms these to the full, exalting into the higher planes of morality that which had pertained to the gross domains of matter. This being so, it can easily be seen how essential a part Will plays in the education of character. II. CHARACTER. Character, truly, is not a simple element, but rather the very complex aggregate of ideas and tastes, of deeds, tendencies, and habits, to be disciplined, organised, unified, in virtue of an end to be com- passed, of an ideal to be realised. This aggregate varies with each individual. " The parts of the face are identical in all, but in conse- quence of varying proportions it results that each individual presents a different physiognomy ; in like manner do we all possess, mentally, the essential characteristics of human nature, but in great diversity of degree and relation."* We have, each one of us, a distinct temperament, natural propensities, passions, moods ; peculiar con- ditions of activity and mental habit; our special measure of energy, and so forth. And, whenever these opposing elements, combined in one individual, and unrestrained, come into conflict, because subject to conflicting laws, it will be conceived how gigantic is the task to be undertaken, if we would dominate the whole, if we would by reconciling these di- vergences and contradictions produce a perfect harmony. Herein we recognise the Will's ordained task in the education of character, or (as we may describe it) the harmony of the mind. * De La Hautiere, " Cours de Philosophic appliquee a 1'Educa- ion," pp. 356, 357. THE WILL AND CHARACTER 5 Character, indeed, may be recognised by these two distinctive and concordant signs : unity and stability. "To have character," says Kant, "is to possess that power of the will whereby the subject adheres to certain practical and determined principles, which his reason has laid down for him." And the philosopher continues "Albeit that these principles may be false and vicious, nevertheless the disposi- tion of the will, generally, to act in accordance with fixed principles (and not to jump hither and thither as do the flies) is good, and so much the more worthy of admiration in that it is rare." * For us, at least, there is guidance in the possession of established principles in all that concerns moral training^ if we but hold by the teaching of the Faith. Twenty centuries of experience bear witness to it ; it is as brilliant and as strong as a diamond. Let us, then, walk in the light of this brilliance, and rest our actions on its strength. It will be seen that every reflection here set forth will be in agreement with this great and (as I am convinced) incontestable truth. III. COMPARATIVE IMPOTENCE OF THE WILL IN THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER. Were it needful to supply herewith a definition of the term " Character," a scientific definition, and not merely an empirical one, I would say that character is the totality of moral qualities intelligently grouped around the axis of the will. This definition has, in my opinion, the twofold " Anthropologie," Part ii., chap. 3. 6 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER advantage of showing the importance of the will's intervention in the education of character, while, at the same time, it recognises the limits of such inter- vention. Whereas it is certain that, without the will, the education of character would be a vain thing; yet is it no less certain that it is a difficult task wisely to surround the will with a circle of moral habits. And we must not hope to accomplish this save by incessant and tireless effort. There are two theories generally accepted, although diametrically opposed which, while claim- ing to simplify this intricate question of the educa- tion of character, have complicated it to a startling degree. Thus, we find it asserted that the will is totally incapable of any kind of modifying action whatsoever. Theories. How frequently when the question of moral training and social reform presents itself, do we gather from quite well-meaning worldlings such dis- couraging remarks as "I cannot help my tempera- ment," " One cannot reconstitute oneself," " It is not my fault if I am as I am," " You must bear with me and take me as you find me." These observations, and their like, drummed daily into our ears, and at times under the guise of scientific dicta, are proofs of a fact : the readiness with which, in self-justifica- tion, we grasp at any theory that tends to excuse our natural inertia, and permits us to become the prey of our passions instead of attempting to elevate them or turn them into new and better ways. There are not lacking in these days philosophers, and men of science, whose creed it is that education is radically powerless to modify appreciably the THE WILL AND CHARACTER 7 racial temperament and characteristics of the in- dividual. According to these, "Man is born a crim- inal, or man is born a poet; the moral destiny of the child is contained in the maternal breast, and develops itself, foreordained and immutable, through- out life . . . races descend, simultaneously, the scale of life and morality, and there can be no ascent."* In fact, according to the conception of these ethical theorists, character is reducible to a theorem, and becomes deducible in relation to external en- vironment as a necessary mathematical conclusion. To what function, then, is character reduced by such a system ? Obviously, character has no part whatever therein. As the waves break against the rocks by the seashore, and are powerless to dislodge them, so does conscious effort contend vainly against in- herited disposition, against physical temperament, against our manifold tendencies, instincts, passions, all of which combined, form a natural and impass- able barrier. It were better, then, to lay down one's oars, haul in the sails, and, with folded arms, drift aimlessly: Let come what may! . . . How depressing is this restricted conception of character, and how disastrous is its influence on the new generations ! It serves no worthier purpose than to proclaim the impotence and futility of morality. Happily, against this error there stands opposed, together with the common practices of humanity as a whole, first the moral sense, then, the experience of every educator of youth, and, above all, the personal experience of the individual. * Guyau, " Education et Heredite," pp. xiii-xiv. 8 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER Facts. Now, to the moral sense there is some- thing peculiarly repellent in fatalism, as applied to the education of character. And, therefore, once having propounded and developed their theories, with all the serene assurance of infallibility, it has been found that even the most ardent exponents of this doctrine have hesitated and faltered before an attempt to put these into practice. After some con- cessions, ultimately, they have been driven to admit, notwithstanding their bias as men of science, that, in practice, a tolerant sympathy should be extended to those who rely on the educative powers of the will. " Enthusiasm," writes one of these, " even when pushed to fanaticism, is a good motive power perhaps an indispensable one ; . . . hence, of those who regard education, intellectual or moral, as the panacea, we may say that their undue expectations are not without use ; and that perhaps it is part of the beneficent order of things, that their confidence cannot be shaken."* Here, in a word, we have a clear recognition that the efforts of educators are, actually, not without utility. Moreover, to affirm that the education of character is but an Utopian vision, and that human nature can only be transformed, in the long run, and in the course of ages, by the constraint of external forces and existing conditions of life to affirm this, I repeat, it should be established that, as a demon- strable fact, all educators have failed in their under- taking. * Spencer, " De 1' Education intellectuelle, morale et physique," p. 172. (Alcan, Paris.) THE WILL AND CHARACTER 9 Obviously, such a statement does not merit examination. It has been clearly realised how instrumental education may be in the amelioration of natural disposition. We may quote, for example, the case of the Duke of Burgundy, the grandson of Louis XIV. " This Prince," writes Saint-Simon, in his memoirs, "was by nature vicious, and in his early childhood gave cause for great anxiety. He was unfeeling, and fiery in temper, to the last excess, even against inanimate objects. He was furiously impetuous, incapable of bearing the least opposition even of time, or the elements, without bursting into such rages, that it was sometimes feared he would do himself an injury. His obstinacy was beyond all bounds, and he was passionately addicted to every kind of indulgence. . . ." Necessarily, the education of this Prince was no light task. Yet the Duke de Beauvilliers, seconded by Fe"nelon, and the Abbe de Fleury, persisted with patience and perseverance to we again quote Saint- Simon "correct so perverse a character; so that by God's mercy the task had been accomplished by the time the Prince had reached his eighteenth year. From the abyss, issued a Prince who was affable, gentle, humane, patient, modest, humble, and austere towards himself even to excess."* The finest theories cannot prevail against such facts as these. History furnishes us with many such, but were this the unique instance, it would thereby directly controvert all the arguments pro- pounded by philosophers in regard to the impotence and futility of moral education. * Saint-Simon, "Memoires"; Bausset, "Vie de Fenelon." 10 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER " A character that has shown some radical trans- formation, were it only for the brief space of half an hour, is not an unalterable character, and the first variation gives ground for hope of its repetition, and at increasingly frequent intervals."* But why seek further for examples from without? Let us rather consider, within our own experience, how, in certain moments of enthusiasm, or when im- pelled by the sight of some heroic action, we our- selves have essayed to check our evil propensities, if but for the time being, to correct our defects, and discipline our passions. Now, what has been done once may be repeated a second and a third time. Inasmuch as our efforts are multiplied in this direction, so are our difficulties diminished, and the day will surely come when, despite these mistaken systems, we shall perforce find ourselves transformed. IV. OF THE ALLEGED OMNIPOTENCE OF THE WILL IN THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER. We arrive, therefore, at the conclusion derived from experience that disposition, so far from being impervious to influence, provides, on the contrary, a vast field of action for the Will. We have vehemently opposed those who allege the radical powerlessness of the will in the education of character. But we must not run to extremes, neither assert, for our part, that the will is omnipo- tent in this work of education. This second error would, obviously, be graver than the first. * Payot, " L'Education de la Volonte," i7th ed., p. 26. (Alcan, Paris : 1903.) THE WILL AND CHARACTER 11 Theory. The many, who maintain that there is no kind of difficulty in training character, argue from a purely bookish and abstract theory, that is of metaphysical derivation i.e., the theory si free-will. Under pretext that man is free, by definition, the conclusion is drawn that all men are so, actually, absolutely, and in the same degree. Now, if, as a matter of fact, we are all free in like measure, it follows, since liberty is the power we have to shape our lives as best pleases us, that the choice is ours to become, by a mere creative fiat, from one day to the next, men of character, heroes, or saints. Here, as distinct as is reality from the ideal, is presented a striking example of the vast distance separating theory, however indisputable, from practice. , Indubitably, man is free, by definition, and herein consists his unlikeness to the animal, which is not free. It is equally clear, that if each one of my daily actions is to possess a human value at all, I must be in a position to exercise my freedom in their control If, further, my life in its perpetual development is nought but an entanglement, wherein I am involved from the outset, and powerless to extricate myself; if all my actions, performed, as I fondly imagine, deliberately, are, on the contrary, mechanically determined, and dependent one upon another like to the endless links of a chain then, my life were an absurdity, and free-will a chimera. And so, we plunge anew into the deceptive theory iust set forth, with its doctrine of the radical power- lessness of the will to modify inherent instinct. It is one thing to exact, in the case of every 12 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER individual, a minimum of liberty, whereby he may not be confounded with the brute, or the machine, and quite another thing to regard free-will in all men as the absolute, unfettered in its expansion, and able to solve life's problems with disconcert- ing ease. Experience. How far from freedom, in this degree, are most of us ! Freedom that is, free-will is in nowise a weapon bestowed on us at birth, and its deft exercise at the service of all when occasion suggests. Freedom is indeed a weapon, but one that we, ourselves, must forge each in the work- shop of our consciousness ; and one, further, whose peculiar quality it is to become tempered, and hardened, in the contest. Leave it inactive for a while, and, as soft iron, it is rendered pliable and useless anew. There is no sheath made that can preserve it against rust and corrosion. Let us estimate, then, from personal experience, in what measure we are, actually, free, when we find our- selves confronted with this metaphysical theory that asserts it. It should be understood that, by freedom, I mean self-mastery, and the sway of moral ideas and lofty sentiments over mere animal instincts. And, this self-mastery, which, in fact, is the vital essence of freedom, must be won solely at the point of the sword, and in continuous warfare. Every individual is endowed at birth with a sum of capacities, tendencies, passions, defects, all of which act as a force of inertia of passive resistance impeding free activity. To ignore so palpable a fact, and to endeavour to overthrow this natural THE WILL AND CHARACTER 13 barrier by violent methods, were either to risk destruction of the will itself, or at least to discourage the best-intentioned. Having made my appeal to reason, it is to faith that I now turn. In the supernatural order, as in the natural order, the laws of heredity weigh heavily upon our shoulders. As we have inherited the ills of our parents, so we inherit the infirmity of sin. All are aware of this malady, and have suffered by reason of it. It is named concupiscence, and the name has become a classic by force of repetition. It is a fever that consumes and dismays the stoutest heart ; unless God's grace, supporting our personal effort, comes in timely aid, and its fatal consequences are averted. 11 Lust of the eyes, lust of the flesh, the pride of life "... in these energetic terms does St. John denounce this moral plague. All have, more or less, been its victims. Sinners as we are, in our glance there is desire, and we no longer see purely. Beauty is no attraction in itself, but solely in relation to the sensual enjoyment to be anticipated from it. Each circumstance of our lives seems marked by the traces of sensuality imprinted in us by original sin, as with those persons for whom every object is coloured alike, their vision having been defective from birth, and their colour-sense impaired. The eyes are, so to speak, the windows of the soul. Thence, it is by means of the eyes, that the flesh finds chiefest occasion for transgression, and for the satisfaction of a depraved craving for pleasure. Our senses are ever caught by the snares of volup- 14 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER tuousness. Our flesh resists the dictates of reason and faith, when it should most submit to and acknowledge their reign. Reason and faith may spread wide their wings, that thereby we be carried nearer to the regions of the ideal : it is our flesh that resists, and like some colossal weight impeding progress, paralyses all effort. Reason, ultimately, is darkened and obscured by sensuality ; its inner fire that consumes our flesh, and courses through our veins, seems to emit dense vapours. Henceforth, our vision blinded, we grope in the darkness for a guiding hand. These, in brief, are the chief effects of that moral fever, whose deadly germs have been deposited in us by original sin. Is it possible to conceive that, in the name of the ideal, towards which we all aspire, we shall, without any kind of struggle, and by some sort of magical decree, succeed in circumventing so dire a reality ? Is there a student who has not become painfully aware of the lack of proportion between his wish to act rightly, and the weakness of his will ? If there be such an one, he has my compassion, since it would show him to be ignorant of life, and of the difficulties which the struggle for life holds ever in reserve. I say this, not with any intention to discourage, but rather that so our young wayfarers may be spared the pains of disillusionment. Inasmuch as I have declared the education of character to be a possible achievement, it would be a matter of reproach against me, were I to encourage the notion that this achievement is an easy one. At the first rebuff, I THE WILL AND CHARACTER 15 should be charged, and with reason, with having cruelly misled them. Youth, invariably, is allied to generosity and goodwill. What, then, do difficulties signify, when these are shown to be surmountable ? No man is free, it has been said, who does not deserve to be so. Therefore, let our youth prove they merit their liberty, as soon as they have acquired the secret of its conquest. CHAPTER II SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT AND THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER IF against the normal intervention of the will in the education of character there were opposed such theories alone as have been dealt with in the preceding chapter, the evil, while still considerable, would in no sense be beyond control. To demolish these, the wisest method, if we would convince the upright mind, desirous above all things of the truth, is to lay bare the sophisms and subtleties that fallaciously envelop them, for the seduction of the simple and pleasure-loving alike. Unhappily, there are certain conditions of modern existence for which we are in no way responsible, that are a permanent obstacle, more alarming than any theories, to the education of character. Let us consider the chief of these : in this fashion, our path will be cleared, and we may proceed to attack boldly the question in hand. I. THE ELEMENTS OF CHARACTER. Character, as we have seen, is recognisable by these two distinctive marks : unity and stability. An individual may be said to have "character," when, by sheer force of will, he has succeeded in massing together his scattered energies as into a 16 SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT 17 living sheai, in disposing them according to the ideal imposed on him as a man, and a Christian when, in a word, he has brought some amount of order and equilibrium into his daily life. And, it will be readily understood, the work of dominion and self-conquest is not achieved in a day. There is an infinite amount of time required. Time, then, is an essential factor in the education of character. The more there is demanded, the longer will endure this work of moral persuasion. Towards the ultimate end must the vision be for ever directed, without undue concern, for the manifold realities with which we are brought into contact. Under these conditions and these alone may we infuse into our lives this indispensable unity and stability of purpose. Nor can it be denied that modern manners by which I mean the existing mode of viewing life in all its aspects are such, that the best intentions become paralysed thereby, and so are hindered from complying with the aforesaid conditions. In the first place, we do not allow ourselves the time to live, because we wish to live too rapidly ; further, in our wild race after happiness, instead of pursuing assiduously the direct path traced out by Providence we blunder this way and that, dissipating our forces feverishly, in a dozen directions, and without any preconceived plan whatsoever. Clearly, on such lines, the education of character is rendered an impracticable undertaking. 18 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER TI. SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT. Intellectual Life. We will now proceed to con- sider intellectual life, at the present time. We, as a whole, although in divers degrees, are consumed with the thirst after knowledge. Now, science is an excellent thing, and as I hope to emphasise later, it represents one of the main factors in moral education, but much depends on the method ot application. Renan pointed out on one occasion, that " Truth must not be sought after too ardently," and that " Indifference in this regard more often insures success."* Here Renan speaks as a dilettante. To my think- ing, one may possess, in the highest degree, a passion for truth and yet avoid expending in the pursuit of it a too feverish and unbridled nervous excite- ment which serves not only to hinder the full expansion of the intellect, but, as well, that profound stirring of the heart, which truth in its perception should ever arouse. At the present day, a student, if he would be respected, or what is more essential if he would be sure of his daily bread, must, at twenty years of age, have already accomplished his intellectual circuit. He has to do so, breathlessly, and at express speed. " To the child, there is allowed no longer a period of tranquil development ; at the first awakening of his intelligence, his memory is overcharged with notions and facts, his brain is forced, as flowers are forced in a hothouse. Soon, * Renan, " Discours pour la Reception de Pasteur a 1' Academic Fran?aise." SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT 19 an artificial curriculum is imposed upon him, a curriculum devoid of any sense of proportion or reason, wherein are crammed, pell-mell, all the sciences, literature, history, languages ; the examina- tion season springs upon him with all its anxieties, its expectations, its surprises, its whole attendant accessories of violent emotion, and overwhelming effort."* What place can the education of character con- ceivably occupy in a life thus absorbed, and that, unhappily, at the critical age, when it is most expedient to lay sound foundations? For, is it not obvious how this system of life must needs consume the entire mental and physical activity of the student, and how lamentable a disproportion there results between the too vigorous culture of the mind and the slack tending of the will forces ? The intellectual atmosphere we breathe is, as it were, traversed by lightning and electric currents blinding and confusing us. The Ethical Life. There exists another, and equally formidable obstacle to the training of character, and it lies in our conception of the ethical life. To con- cede for a single instant that the furbishing of our minds represents the limit of duty, is to be poorly penetrated by the Christian spirit. Who has not observed that along with the passion for study go other and less worthy passions, craving a satisfac- tion that study can by no means afford? How allay these passions, if we may not go so far as to destroy * Janvier, " Les Passions." (Lethielleux, Paris : 1905.) Gustave Le Bon, "Psychologic de 1'Education," chap, ii., pp, 30-49. (Flammarion, Paris : 1906.) 20 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER them ? Experience has abundantly shown us that the task of appeasing them is supremely an interior slow t and progressive task, effected simultaneously by reflection, meditation, and sustained effort. In these days, this truth seems little apprehended, for the axis itself of our moral life would appear to have shifted, revolving exteriorly, rather than interiorly. Whereas it is at home, in our inmost soul, that the great conflict over passion must be waged, yet, it is to the outer life we are devoted, and forget or overlook the rest. So, in our brief moments of leisure, our studies once concluded, our time is given over to the organising of social functions, or it may be in work of one kind or another, that is entirely excellent in itself, and that, in its multiplicity, in its absorption of our energies creates the illusion that this is life, and life in its fullest sense. And, true enough, from outward seeming, the student life would appear to be conspicuously well filled. Nevertheless, once the course of study is completed, and circumstances, in removing a youth from the University environment with its restricted liberty, land him face to face with himself, is there no risk of a reawakening of the passions slumbering for a while, but hardly suppressed ? I fear this is so. Therefore, while fully appreciating the goodwill of the greater number, I venture to urge upon all our students so to act that their Christian life that inward life as opposed to the outward life that life where will and entity become subordinated to the exigencies of the Faith, as opposed to that other, dependent on external works that life derived from SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT 21 the light of reflection that permeates it, rather than one which accommodates itself to forgetfulness and neglect may be intense and deep, in such measure, as that scattered and collective life is diversified and shallow. Material Life. Let me add another word in regard to that which in material life, at the present time, acts as a bar to the education of character. Any close observer, if he but take the trouble, will readily perceive a common attitude of foolish irresponsibility, and unbridled craving after every kind of extravagance. In the first place, owing to our marvellous facili- ties for communication, we have annihilated distance ; and further, by the ingenious application of scientific discovery, we have unravelled the secret of multi- plying sensation, and have so arrived at a state of super-refinement in every department of existence. On all sides there is set a feast for the eyes, for the hearing, for the senses. Given the means, we may, in a day, scale the entire gamut of pleasure. The torment of Tantalus is now but a pretty fable, having lost, little by little, its fine symbolism. For us, the tempting cup is offered perpetually to our lips, and we may, according to our appetites and caprices, assuage our thirst. Are there, then, no penalties incurred in this same thirst after distrac- tion, when indulged in, as it is by us all ? No man can with impunity live two lives : that of the body, and that of the soul. Sooner, or later, the equilibrium becomes disturbed, and this is so, invariably, at the soul's expense. However decisive may be the promptings of the will, these are overcome by the 22 force of inertia exercised by matter, like to the tumultuous waves of the sea, breaking upon the sands. For this reason, then, it has seemed to me neces- sary to solicit the attention of our young men to this particular. For so it is, that these when drawn into the social whirlpool are in danger of becoming submerged in it, and thus are they drifted leewards by the currents of factitious life, that cross it con- tinuously in one or other direction unless, at times, a friendly word of counsel comes to arouse them from their apathy. This counsel is proffered here whole-heartedly, and in the earnest hope, if they will but give heed to it, that it may serve as a source of illumination and activity, and lead them to the betterment and uplifting of their daily lives. CHAPTER III SELF-KNOWLEDGE AND THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER THE education of character is a work that may be likened to that of the sculptor. We, in effect, like the sculptor, have to carve out from the virgin block, which is our moral being, not by the exercise of the chisel, but by that of our volition, a lifelike and active statue of colossal dimensions. To this end, primarily, we must study, on broad lines at" least, the nature of this moral being ; we must analyse its power of resistance, its degree of plasticity. It must be noted, in a word, whether, as some assert, there is no scope for manipulation, for the co-operation of the chisel, or the polisher, or whether, on the contrary, the thing presents herein, no difficulty whatever. That difficulties there are, is manifest. I, myself, have pointed out a few special to this age. Never- theless, the education of character is, in no wise, a chimerical undertaking. And, since thousands have attempted and have succeeded history and experi- ence prove it why should not we, in like degree, succeed ? We can, if we will, modify considerably our natural propensities. Self-education is always the most fruitful and enduring because of the effort entailed, 23 24 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER and the stamp all such effort leaves upon the soul. But most essential in this labour of self-reform is it for the reformer, in accordance with the Socratic precept, wholly to know himself, to make no step forward without first having tested his strength, estimated his resources, realised his weakness, made the round, in short, of his little world. Then, once this task is completed, or rather since it can never be complete concurrently with this task, must he search after the ideal to be aimed at, and realised. And in proportion as he draws nearer to that ideal, so, if he would enhance the semblance, must he pursue it unceasingly ; he must ever be ready to retouch, to repair if need be to cut ruthlessly into the quivering flesh. I. EXTERNAL SOLITUDE. To begin with, we must have self-knowledge. Whereas, the majority of us have no knowledge of self whatever. Self-knowledge presupposes a tendency to intro- spection, and solitude, of which young men, as a whole, are incapable. By solitude, I do not infer external solitude merely, or that solitude which consists in withdrawing oneself from the world, in living remote from the society of one's fellows, shut up in one's student quarters alone. I do not despise this kind of solitude. For ex- ternal solitude is, as it were, the court of honour in the castle of the soul, where internal solitude must reign. But the moral value of solitude, and its effects on the education of character, are largely dependent on the motives inducing it. When a SELF-KNOWLEDGE 25 young man seeks isolation out of misanthropy, or merely in order to escape the restraints that social life entail, he not only impairs that chance afforded for his own moral strengthening, but panders to a cowardly instinct. He skulks behind difficulties, when he should face and overthrow them. Infinitely more praiseworthy is that other student, wjio although timid and apprehensive, flings himself boldly into the fray, foregathers with his comrades, getting his angles well rounded in the process, and ends by accommodating himself to the exigencies of social existence. He is on the high road to develop- ing character, notwithstanding that his heart may be seared with passion. Master of himself in one essential, he is apt for self-mastery in all. External solitude then, is not, in itself, a means of education, nor of moral dis- cipline, and is so, solely when its object is to further that closer self-knowledge which a withdrawal from outside distractions tends to promote. It is at interior solitude we must aim. And yet, here too, we may easily find ourselves misled. II. INTERIOR SOLITUDE. Interior solitude may exist, in a certain measure, in conjunction with outside distraction, whereas it is wholly incompatible with that inward distraction that is of the spirit. There are students who, wellnigh habitually, bide in their own studies, and do so, not in the guise of misanthropes, neither in the desire to escape in cowardly manner from the inseparable pitfalls of social life. Rather, is it not through 26 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER devotion to learning ? Indeed, I am glad to believe that a number do actually embrace solitude with this object. Yet, alas ! encompassed though he may be by the four walls of his room, the student does not, invariably, study. If we except the few truly intellectual temperaments with whom study amounts to a passion, and is pursued as valuable in itself, we find it is at the examination season solely, that the majority of students are wont to isolate themselves for the purposes of study, when they make frantic attempts to recover time previously lost, by overloading the memory with notions and facts barely heeded throughout the year, and, once the degree or certificate is secured, instantly for- gotten. Certainly, it is not possible, in periods of enforced isolation like these, for a young man's mind to be occupied with self-inspection. When, then, shall it be so ? If the hours of freedom accorded in his student life be computed, it would appear there is time and to spare. Unhappily, the tyranny of inward distractions overpowers him more com- pletely than do actually those of the outside world. It must not be forgotten that he is twenty years old, this lad, and brimful of vitality and enthusiasm ; that life, for many reasons and there are physio- logical ones on which I need not dwell demands expenditure. And he finds himself precipitated headlong, from one day to the next, into town life far from the ken of relations, or of official super- vision, without any immediate obligatory work ; indeed, without any defined work at all. Let us frankly admit that the temptation is severe. These SELF-KNOWLEDGE 27 hours of entire desolation, of utter idleness and enervation, are they not bound to multiply ? If, now, our subject takes refuge in solitude can we suppose that it will be to apply himself to a practical, slow and searching self-analysis; to the discerning of the good and evil tendencies pre- dominating within him, to the locating of the diseased regions of his moral being, which he especially needs to watch over, and to combat by the persistent exercise of his volition ? Reverie. Would that I could be convinced of it, whereas I am wholly convinced of the contrary. For, though I do not see him, when in his room, in the company of any other person, yet he is not alone there ; nor, to speak truly, is he there himself. He is transported in imagination, far hence, into the realm of sentimentality and dreams. And of what does he dream ? It is easy to guess, and I may be dispensed from precise conjecture. What does a youth aged twenty dream about when, unoccupied, he imposes no curb upon his imagination, and the impulses of his heart ? So he dreams : that is to say, he spends his time in the pursuit of chimeras, in defiance of reality, in living exteriorly, instead of interiorly. Thus, as he should profit by the hours of com- parative solitude at his disposal for complete self- analysis and introspection that he may determine from the moral standpoint, whether he has advanced or retrograded ; if his passions have been lulled, or he is their slave ; if he is ennobled by his affections, or debased by them ; if his will withstands the on- slaught, or bends beneath it so he does none of 28 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER these things. He strives to compile his romance of adventure ; he works at it continually ; it absorbs his mind. It is the breath of life to him, or rather, it is the instrument of death. For how, indeed, can any young man, however well endowed, if fostered on a regime of intellectual and moral lawlessness, escape its enfeebling and depraving effects ? Let us suppose that he pos- sesses, on leaving the University, some smattering of philosophy, of mathematics, of history, that he can speak several modern languages more or less well, that he can use his scalpel more or less skil- fully, it is a no less certain and heart-breaking fact that he has for several years skated along life's edge rather than entered therein ; that, in self-knowledge he is totally lacking, that, in respect of the education of character, he has not yet learnt its ABC. Recollection. Yet, it would be a simple matter for a youth to acquire from the outset a certain amount of self-perception. His moral uplifting depends on it. We ought all, it is true, to realise the goal towards which we must aspire; but how attain thereto if, from the outset, we ignore the measure of its remoteness ? Clearly, while our gaze should be continuously directed towards our destination, still must we continuously revert to the starting-point. For if our destination in the journey of life be identical for us all, if a common ideal be set for us, as men and Christians, conversely, the starting-point diverges widely in the case of each individual. To the one ideal we more or less approximate, in accordance with temperament, inherited tendency our early education, the social environment in which SELF-KNOWLEDGE 29 we were reared in our natural inclinations, in our passions, in our innate or acquired habits, in the strength or weakness of our volition. Hence, it is necessary we should all be enlightened on these points, and that we should wholly know ourselves; and this can be brought about in one only way, by introspection and reflection. We must enter into our inmost selves, into the secret recesses of our souls. Reflection should develop into a habit, an instinct, an indispensable need. It should accommodate itself to our ordinary course of existence ; it should be carried on incessantly. Wherever we find our- selves, whatever may be the act performed, it is our inner consciousness that should reveal to us, almost subconsciously, the motives inspiring our conduct. When this has been our practice for some years there will assuredly be evidence that we are alter- ing, at any rate, to a certain degree. And, while on the surface, our life may appear to be losing something, thereby, as we shall squander less of ourselves externally, so shall our life gain in depth and intensity. There will be produced in us, per- chance unconsciously, that gradual crystallisation of our energies to which I have earlier alluded. Healthy and sound habits of life will follow in the wake of our disciplined will ; and, thence will issue that measure of moral equilibrium, which, in making us masters of ourselves, also will make of us men of character. CHAPTER IV THE IDEAL AND THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER CHARACTER, as I have said, is by no means a simple element as might appear, considered superficially. It, on the contrary, is a very complex sum of ideas, tendencies, passions, sensibilities, and habits, that have to be disciplined, organised, unified in view of an end to be attained, of an ideal to be realised. It cannot be disputed, then, that it behoves us, in- dividually, to survey the several elements of which our character consists, before we may aspire to bringing these into harmony, and so to combine, and construct therewith a rampart that shall with- stand the attacks of temptation from within and without. There is no general conceivable, who desirous of victory will launch his troops into action without first having thoroughly studied them. How then shall this self-knowledge and analysis of our moral energies further us if, at the same time, we have failed to lay hold of the ideal to which we must adhere that which is to be our guiding light as we labour at the living synthesis of those same energies. In other words, self-knowledge, if it be not wholly sterile, must of necessity issue in self- dominion. And how to be master of oneself, how to produce and develop character, in relation to the Christian ideal, it will be my object henceforth to make manifest. 30 IDEAL AND EDUCATION OF CHARACTER si I. THAT AN IDEAL is NECESSARY. History teaches us that a people without ideals are incapable of progress. So it is with individuals. The moral quality of a man depends, in large degree, on the ideal that is his controlling incentive. "The idea of the highest good," writes a con- temporary philosopher,* "is, for us, the means of realising the highest good. . . ." The intellect finishes by orientating all things with reference to certain ends. And, as these ends, far from being in- different, possess an ethical value, character appears from this higher standpoint as a final order, or, as Emerson describes it, " A moral order," introduced into the nature of the individual by the reaction of his intelligent volition, so that our fully developed intelligence, in respect of moral and social concerns, while permitting of the continuous evolution of character, tends likewise to an ever-increasing advance in morality itself. Socrates (not to cite founders of creeds) in his life, as in his death, con- forms with his principles, and this, notwithstanding, according to his own testimony, certain conflicting tendencies of temperament. He, who passed a chaste life, has admitted that he was a prey to the onslaughts of passion, and that the physiognomist, Zopyrus, was justified in attributing to him sensual proclivities, although these were kept in check by the force of his will. How consistent, too, was Kant throughout his life to his principle of the categorical imperative. " I slept," says he, " and I dreamed that life is beauty ; * Fouillee, " Le Caractere et 1' Intelligence," pp. 749-751. 32 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER I awoke, and I perceived that it is duty." How was he awakened if not by the action of the idea ? An Augustine, also attracted by reason of his temperament towards the indulgence of his appetites, is no less capable of evolving under the influence of an ideal conceived and cherished, a type of highest sanctity. So great, then, is the influence of the ideal in the education of character, that it may be maintained without a paradox, that, in many instances, the philosophical quality of such, or such ideal, is of trifling import. Some there are who may maintain, on scientific grounds, this ideal to be illusory ; it is, none the less, an undeniable fact, that by its light certain souls have transformed themselves. In the ideal, as a moral influence, there is a distinct analogy to certain scientific hypotheses, in that these must not, primarily, be estimated at their theoretical value, but rather by their practical and utilitarian worth. I say this by way of confuting the objections of certain pseudo-scientists, who renounce all con- sideration of the Christian ideal, as being in its very theoretical nature, outside the scope of science, and not admissible within the narrow framework of their a priori conceptions. Our care should be to prove to these that, to this selfsame ideal is due the moral metamorphosis of mankind, from the day when Christ came to reveal it to the world. And before this fact they must needs bow down, although, or rather, because they are, at least in their own estimation, men of science. Before facts all men must bow down. Further, it would be no difficult task to prove to IDEAL AND EDUCATION OF CHARACTER 33 them if they but bring to bear upon the question an open mind, that the practical value of the Christian ideal is itself in direct ratio to its theoretical value ; that, scientifically speaking, its existence is beyond dispute. Moreover, without conceding its super- natural nature, how is it possible to account for its marvellous ascendency over mankind ? But of what avail is it to launch into polemics ? I am not making my appeal to men of science, but to be- lievers. It is enough, then, for me to recall to these, briefly, what constitutes the Christian ideal, so that they may devote all their energies to actualising it in themselves, and in endeavouring to live up to it. II. THE CHRISTIAN IDEAL. In the first place, to be a Christian one must be an upright man; and the best means of becoming an upright man, in the truest sense of the term, is to live the life of a Christian; the supernatural ideal holds good, in its entirety, in respect of both propositions. In order to be a Christian, one must first be an upright man. What, then, is an upright man ? The Superman. Much has been said of late years about the ethics of the Superman. The word has proved a fortune in itself. Do we, however, grasp quite clearly, the meaning of the word " superman," as apprehended by Nietzsche, when he invented it ? Here it is : One of the characteristics which most clearly distinguishes the morality of the superman from the morality of man, as generally conceived to-day, is, that the latter appeals to all men without distinction, whereas the former by its very essence remains the appanage of the select few. 3 34 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER Natural morality that of man is uncompromis- ingly democratic, in this sense, that it imposes the same ideal of life upon all men, be they young or old, rich or poor, learned or ignorant. The realisa- tion of this ideal is, doubtless, subject to degrees ; still, in all essentials, it remains identical for all. Nietzsche, on the contrary, believed in the necessary inequality of men, even in regard to their moral code. The morality of the superman is essentially aristocratic. In a society divided into well-defined castes, each having its privileges, rights, and obliga- tions, there is no place for the lower caste, that of small and mediocre individuals, whose natural voca- tion it is to be a cog in the great social machine. The morality of the superman is not the morality of small folk, of slaves, of the " exploited ones," or those at whose cost the higher castes are maintained. It is the morality of the Masters, of the " creators of values," of those who give impetus to the whole social organism, and who must enact among men on earth, the role performed by God in the universe, as we Christians or philosophers conceive it. It is for the Masters, and for them alone, that the morality of the superman has been made. This morality is not only aristocratic, but it is anti- idealistic, in that the superman does not accept, as we do, a ready-made ideal, and therewith conform to it ; he, on the contrary, creates his ideal for him- self in all freedom and independence, Heedless of good or evil, of truth or of error, he creates his own morality.* * Lichtenberger, H., " La Philosophic de Nietzsche," pp. 150-199. (Alcan, Paris: 1905.) IDEAL AND EDUCATION OF CHARACTER 35 I have already pointed out that the morality of man as commonly understood is the utter Antipodes of this aristocratic morality. It is, moreover, an idealistic morality, in that it conforms to an ideal not created by man, but by nature, that is, coming from God, through nature's intermediary. The Upright Man. In what does this ideal con- sist ? Not assuredly in the making of others a pedestal for one's own self-aggrandisement, but in indefinitely rising superior to oneself. Man's moral universe is constituted within himself; it has its own laws, its splendours and its shadows, its storms and its ensuing calms, its periods of sunshine and of rain. This universe is not a void. The light of truth permeates it, yet is it overswept by passion. Can passion's clouds obscure the luminous way of truth, or shall not, rather, truth dispel the clouds ? The ideal is to establish in this moral realm the sovereignty of truth and of reason over the disorders arising from that lower region. The ideal is to diffuse with light and warmth every nook and cranny where cold and darkness reign. The ideal is to make this world attain to a state of perfect equilibrium. For thus, indeed, do we become the masters, not of others, not of those who dwell with- out, but masters of ourselves, of all that dwells within us, and so, ultimately, shall we produce men of " character." The Christian. Here is the ideal of the upright man. And, as I before observed, the chiefest means of expressing the upright man, the self-mastered, is to live the life of a Christian. How so ? Because it is by the Christian ideal being superimposed upon 36 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER the human ideal that man is enabled to conform to this last in fullest measure.* Inasmuch as we have self-knowledge, and are aware of the ideal to be fought for, are we then ade- quately equipped for the realisation of the Christian type ? It would be a very grave error to think it. It is one thing, when starting on a voyage, to have ascertained one's right destination, and it is quite another thing to get there, more especially when obstacles innumerable intervene. The ancient philo- sophers early maintained that the ideal of man, of the Sage, in attaining to self-dominion, in the subjec- tion of his animal instincts to the sway of intelli- gence and high aspiration, consists in likeness to the Divine. God, verily, is supreme intelligence. Thanks to intelligence, God is master alike of Himself and of the universe. Yet for our guidance this Divine ideal so presented, appears to us too much in the abstract, whereas it is the concrete ideal that we have need of. So it is to the marvels of Christianity that we owe this concrete ideal, expressed in flesh and blood in the person of Christ, the Man-God. God so made Himself Man, that mankind thereby might become like unto God. III. THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE IDEAL AND THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER. Having extolled the Christian ideal, it is assuredly not my intention to decry it. Yet it must be con- * Vide " La Virilite Chretienne " (4 mille). (Desclee, Lille: 1909.) The whole of the first portion of this work is devoted to specify- ing the objective substance of the Christian ideal, in regard to which, alone, the human or natural aspect is here treated of. IDEAL AND EDUCATION OF CHARACTER 37 ceded that given the moral elevation to which, as bidden, we must climb, such an ideal, on first in- spection, looks somewhat discouraging. Now, the blunder committed by many modern educators is to imagine that it suffices to hold up before our youth an ideal, captivating to the mind, and these will forthwith become ethically converted. It is a false principle, both in theory and practice. Education and Instruction. Long ago, Socrates had declared, for the first time, before the youth of Athens, his eager listeners, that the practice of morality is synonymous with the knowledge of morality ; that the Good once perceived is imposed upon the will ; that it is enough to be aware wherein lies the chief good effectually to strive after it. If we-are to credit Socrates and his disciple Plato, "All virtue is a science";* "The wicked man does not that which he desires, but rather that which seems good to him";t "Wisdom can never be sepa- rated from wise conduct."! Both these philosophers asserted that true per- ception of the Good entails its practice, that the Better once conceived is our inevitable determinator, and that virtue is identical with this necessary determination of our will by our intellectual con- ception of the Better. Leibnitz, whose optimism in this regard is well known, lays down the same doctrine. In the eighteenth century we see that the philo- sophers of the famous " Encyclopedic" revived, in less * Aristotle, " Nicomachean Ethics," Z 13, 1144, p. 29. t Plato, " Protagoras," 358 c. J Xenophon, " Memorabilia," III. 9. 38 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER metaphysical form, this brilliant but paradoxical doctrine. They maintained, these rabid ideologists, that it is for the law to reform habits and not for habit to reform the law, that by the mere curtailing or amplifying of a code there will forthwith result the moral metamorphosis of a people. Of these philosophers one,* and the most nai've among them, as I imagine, has put the question : Does the diversity existing among the individuals of the human race arise from the difference of the education received? Further, can virtue, like philosophy or mathematics, be taught ? One would imagine that modern thought would have given slight heed to such Utopian ideas. Rather, we see the contrary. In our University centres at the present time, we still find it generally promulgated that the education of character can be accomplished by the aid of manuals, and precepts learnt by heart. Hardly are they beginning to recognise their error and to seek out the best sub- stitute for the moral primer. Meanwhile, they are content to proclaim out loud with huge outpourings of eloquence, and in more or less polished periods, the incalculable benefits of a sound education. Experience. It is high time things were ordered better, and I, for one, shall congratulate myself should I succeed in convincing even a few amongst my readers in this regard. In the first place, can it be truly laid down that whenever knowledge of the good comes to a young man, its adoption follows as a necessary conse- quence ? * Helv&ius. IDEAL AND EDUCATION OF CHARACTER 39 I am aware that the theory of idea-force has long been propounded, and that many have attempted to show by means of subtle argument that the pure idea, if withal it be of the higher order, and that which constitutes an ideal, becomes by its own existence a cogent, if not omnipotent, agent in the education of character. There exists, ethically regarded, no more per- nicious theory. I can clearly perceive that the idea in itself may be a light, but I do not conceive of it as a force. The idea is as a lighthouse illuminating the coast, yet will the storm-tossed mariner have confi- dence that the mere sight of its beacon will bring him safely to shore ? Ever at the mercy of the tempest are we, who aspire to lead moral, and, above all, Christian lives. Ever prone are we to be carried adrift by the currents of our passions. And shall we escape scatheless if we but recollect the sublime ideal offered for our adherence ? Alas ! if we have not within ourselves some power of reaction, if we can- not battle with the waves, the contemplation of this ideal will rather paralyze our energies, and cause us, from lassitude, to drop the oars before we can make use of them as means of safety. If the pure idea, even the idea of what is good, were actually an idea-force, it would, necessarily, by its radiant light communicate energy to our will and quell the unbridled impulses of appetite. But it is not so. The idea, without doubt, attracts us, inclines us to the act of willing, but it does not, in itself, engender volition ; else, how account for the fact that the Christian ideal has had its martyrs, 40 and, simultaneously, its dilettanti ; that the former have consented to die for it, whereas the latter, while admiring and exalting it, have refused even to live by it ? The ideal, however elevated, is not only powerless in itself to act upon our will, but it also can avail nothing against the brutality of instinct. " Let us compare, for example, the purely intellectual belief of the provincial or middle-class individual with the felt belief of a Carthusian. This one, because he feels religious truths, is able wholly to immolate self and to forgo all the world prizes, to willingly embrace poverty, mortification, and the most rigor- ous mode of life imaginable. The bourgeois, whose belief is of the intellect, hears Mass, it is true, but does not recoil from the most hideous manifestations of egotism. He exploits unmercifully some wretched servant, whom he perpetually underfeeds and over- works."* An ideal man must have : there is no difficulty as to that. But how must this ideal be conditioned in order effectually to influence the education of our character : here is the thing to be taken account of. No I repeat it an ideal has no power in itself to modify conduct, so long as we rest content merely to contemplate it. It is St. Paul, I believe, who makes that terrific assertion that if God had not revealed His Law unto the world, men had not sinned !t The knowledge pure and simple of the Divine Law, so far from giving life, has begotten death. * Payot, " 1'Education de la Volonte," p. 41. t Cf. Rom. v. 13-20 (Trans.). IDEAL AND EDUCATION OF CHARACTER 41 Are we ourselves I appeal to common every- day experience always ready to do the thing we perceive to be good ? Do we throughout keep the resolutions we have made, solely because we have made them ? Is there one amongst us, who at the very moment when his reason and his faith spreading wide their wings have urged him upwards towards the summits of the Ideal is there one who has not found his lofty impulses rudely checked, and he, himself, perhaps dragged downwards into the abyss of evil, and of sin, by the mere weight of his animal self? We are not intelligence alone; we are, as well, made up of matter. And, in so far as we have not yet arrived at dominion over our material selves ; in so far as we have not yet succeeded by sustained effort, daily renewed, in impregnating matter with the essence of the ideal, that our faith propounds and imposes upon us, in moulding and habitua- ting matter to its requirements, so we shall have done little or nothing towards the education of character. God does not demand of us, merely, that we shall burn incense before the altar of the Ideal. What He demands is, that we shall immolate ourselves at its shrine, that the Ideal shall be incarnate in us, and, so assimilated by us, that we shall in pure gaiety of heart, sacrifice thereto all that which might tarnish its radiance. And for this it is not enough to be conscious of it; one must, imperatively, be enamoured of it. To be so, in the truly practical and not the platonic sense, is, in the active order, the primary essential in the education of character. 42 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER Idea-Light and Idea-Force. The most elevated ideal, if we are content with its bare contemplation, has no power to further the reform of conduct, or the building-up of character. None the less is an ideal incumbent upon the individual, who would endeavour to put his moral life in order, to establish a hierarchy of his passions and predilections, to affirm the domination of his will over his senses. It is common experience. How, then, resolve the problem ? Theoretically, its solution presents no difficulty ; practically, as I shall show later, it has quite another aspect. For the present I will confine myself to the theoretical point of view; and will endeavour to estimate, generally, the conditions, whereby it is possible to ensure the sovereignty of the ideal in the education of character. Idealists and Materialists. It is with education as with instruction, as soon as reform is hinted at, so persons are found ready to rush from one extremity to the other. Under pretext, for instance, that the perception of an ideal does not necessarily involve submission to its influence, there are found many educators who, thence, refuse altogether to take notice of it. And this is their mode of reasoning : We have at our disposal but two means of ethical training: the mind and the body; intellectual and physical exercises. Given the inefficacy of the first, we have to fall back on the second. Hence, the ever-increasing importance accorded in the Uni- versity curriculum to physical exercises, and to sports of every description. Doubtless, there is some value in their conclusions. I, for my part, fully agree that the body ought to be IDEAL AND EDUCATION OF CHARACTER 43 given its share, and a considerable share, in ethical reform. We shall see later the reason for this. Meanwhile, I may be permitted to observe that corporal gymnastics, however prudently regulated, cannot, unaided, solve the very complex problem of ethical education. "One can build up a Herculean race by means of sound gymnastic exercises, but it is impossible to discern in what way such exercises can materially develop the qualities that need to be fostered by education initiative, perseverance, judgment, self- mastery, will-power, etc."* Between idealists on the one side, and materialists on the other; between those who hold paramount the teaching of ethics by means of books, and those who place their confidence solely in sports, can a middle course be steered ? I believe so, and I hope to prove it. To develop character we must be strengthened and enlightened at one and the same time ; we first must be aware of the direction towards which our energies ought to converge, and then be enabled to effect this conver- gence. That the ideal, in itself, enlightens us is not disputed. Every idea is a light ; but is it not possi- ble to transform the idea-light into an idea-force?! * GustaveLe Bon, " Psychologic de 1'Education," Part I. (II ?), chap, vi., p. 165. t I have pointed out elsewhere that every idea and sensation tends to become actualised in the corresponding act, whenever no obstacle intervenes. This is not a contradiction of the present assertion, but rather its completion. For, if the idea engenders the act, it is the natural appetite (voluntary or sensitive), awakened and energised by its representation, that is the channel of trans- mission, and not the representation itself. (Vide " Devoir et Conscience," Parts II. and III.) 44 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER Idea-Force. Theoretically, there is nothing more simple ; it suffices to desire it, or in other words to love it. Our strength lies finally in our will. Let us presume, then, that once illumined by the Christian ideal, we are no longer content merely to contemplate it, but bring to bear upon it all the impetus of our will to the point of assimilating it, of living in it, of permeating with it our moral organism. So, in these conditions, may we not believe that this ideal, without ceasing to be a light unto us, will simultaneously become a force ? The idea-force, then, is not only the idea perceived, as some psychologists mistakenly declare, but the idea willed. It is the desired, the cherished ideals, that supply in the aggregate the inspiration and support of all sustained activity in a given direction. Let us consider the sun. It plays, in nature, the r6le allotted to the idea-force in the education of character. Its light illumines all things, while, at the same time, its heat gives them life. Deprived of the light of the sun, nature would remain en- veloped in the grim pall of darkness. But let us suppose that, although illumined by the sun, and mantled in some sort by its rays, nature should derive no heat therefrom. Thence, would speedily follow death that is, a perpetual winter. All energy nurtured within its bosom, and seeking expansion, would rapidly suffer exhaustion and ultimate extinction. And this applies, with due reservations, to the Christian ideal in relation to our moral nature. If this ideal be permitted to project its chill rays even into our innermost recesses, while withholding there- IDEAL AND EDUCATION OF CHARACTER 45 from the warmth of its beams, there may be revealed to us the state of our soul still shall we be left powerless to remedy it. We are not put into the world merely that we may be guided to self-know- ledge by the light of the Christian ideal, but so that we may live according to that ideal, and that by its fire our actions may be enkindled. And, seeing that the only means of transforming its light into heat is to desire it, and to love it, we must, with all the force of our emotions, desire, love, embrace it, that it may not escape us. Christian Experience. All this is, I admit, very pretty in theory, but, in practice, how are we to bring about the descent of the Christian ideal from the serene elevation of the intelligence to the pulsating region of the heart ? As to this there must be no false illusions, nor must we regard the achievement as easy. It is far from being so. We should recall what happened on the very morrow of the Creation. The fall of our first parents is a fact dominating the entire history of humanity, and so mournful is its echo in our consciousness that we are driven to seek its analysis and to draw therefrom a practical lesson.* The Faith teaches us that Adam and Eve were so created in a state of moral equilibrium, that their * Christian experience based on the fact of the Fall merely accentuates natural experience. For this reason, I dwell upon it here. Naturally, with a moral organism, where spirit has to over- come flesh, there is entailed the incessant intervention of the will in the control of the senses. The light of the ideal does not suffice for their spiritualisation, and volitional forces must neces- sarily be requisitioned for man and Christian alike. 46 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER volition, enlightened by their intelligence, experi- enced no' kind of difficulty in keeping their flesh in subjection. Issuing unscathed from the hands of their Maker, they were immune from the laws of heredity, and the dangers of evil suggestion. With their gaze riveted upon the Christian ideal, and their souls still expanding with the creative Breath, it would appear they had, by the help of their wings, only to soar above the miseries we sink under to- day, and inhale the life-giving air of the Divine spheres. This, at any rate, would happen, we imagine, were we in their place. Ah, how ill we comprehend the complexity of human nature ! The history of the first Fall is with us henceforward to make manifest that man, however closely he pursues his ideal, however nearly he approaches to it, can never be wholly secure against backsliding. What, then, shall be said of the feeble, the pusillanimous, the craven ? We must always remember that, side by side with the knowledge of good, there is set the know- ledge of evil ; alongside the sky there is the earth. If, in our hearts, we aspire upwards to the heights, by the weight of our bodies are we dragged down- wards into the depths. Seen too remotely, the earth hides its harshness from our eyes; wafts unto us the subtle perfume of its flowers, and conceals from us their thorns. Lured by the false glamour of evil, we are intoxicated, dazed, vacillating, we lose our balance; with fluttering wings we cleave the air, and descend headlong down into some obscure corner. This, in brief, is the actual history of the original Fall. We must not forget that we have inherited IDEAL AND EDUCATION OF CHARACTER 47 the dread consequences of the Fall. By reason of it, our will, the crux of our spiritual organism, has lost its natural power. The mainspring is not broken, but it is bent, and it is a difficult task to repair this spring, to restore its original tensity the tensity of steel so that the disturbed equilibrium may be re-established in us, and so that, ultimately, the ideal may obtain sway over our retrograde instincts. Truly, grace is with us always. Yet, grace is unavailing without our personal co-operation. We must, while given grace, act as though we had it not, and so shall we most reap its benefits. How, then, must we act ? An ideal of itself is wholly futile. Its light may be shed upon our will, but there is no heat in it. It is, then, our will that must communicate its own heat, by fastening upon it, by adhering to it with all imaginable fervour. Now, our will, on the one hand, is enfeebled and ener- vated ; while our sensible powers, profiting thereby, tend to wrench asunder their bonds, and scatter their forces, to the impairing of that complete ideal, the fulfilment of which is incumbent upon our super- natural activities. Who shall find a remedy for this interior anarchy? Who shall re-establish the shattered equilibrium ? Here we are confronted with the most delicate part of our analysis. It is not my purpose, for the present, to offer a definite solution, but I venture to proffer a glimpse of it. The remedy lies nearer home than we should suppose. I find it in the very heart of the trouble. We observe that our volition is a sentimental element. Our will asks no better than to obey, but 48 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER has no fancy for cold, reasoned decrees. These must be tempered with emotion, coloured with passion's impelling force. The impetus must come, therefore, from the seat of our passions themselves. Set between the ideal, and irradiated with its light, and the passions whence it derives a portion of its impulses, the will's function consists in welding these dissimilar elements, in linking them one to another, in transforming the idea-light into the idea- force ; in marshalling in array all that is emotional, sentimental, and impassioned in our moral being. " Strong feeling," writes J. Stuart Mill, " is the instrument and element of strong self-control, but it requires to be cultivated in that direction. When it is, it forms not the heroes of impulse only, but those also of self-conquest. History and experience prove that the most passionate characters are the most rigid in their feelings of duty, when their passion has been trained to act in that direction."* * Stuart Mill, " Assujettissement des Femmes," p. 150, etc. ; Ribot, " Maladies de la Volonte," p. 117. (Alcan, Paris : 1897.) PART II THE PASSIONS AND CHARACTER CHAPTER I THE PASSIONS AND THE CHRISTIAN IDEAL IT may possibly be of some advantage, in embarking upon the second and more important section of this work, to make a survey of the precise boundaries limiting, provisionally, the intricate problem of the education of character. On the one side, we are in possession of an ideal to be attained. But this ideal confines itself after the manner of a powerful reflector to pointing out the way by the casting of its beams upon our path. On the other side, there exist in the dark and turbulent region of the senses conflicting and violent forces, which, unquelled, would drive us into a hundred random channels. If the ideal, as conceived by us, were able to over- throw the disturbing elements, to bring them by its influence under control, then the problem of the education of character were speedily solved. But experience shows us that the idea of itself, even the Christian Idea, is robbed of its efficacy when confronted with the brutality of instinct. Here it is incumbent upon the will to intervene ; 49 4 50 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER for, undeniably, it is our will that is designed to actualise in us the Christian ideal. And how is this to be done? Alienated at birth from this ideal by the consequences of original sin, our common heritage, our will, at the outset, neither is drawn to it nor has affection for it. In order to adhere to it, to desire it, and to love it, there is needed the Divine aid of grace. But grace alone is insufficient, and each of us, individually, has to help. Restored by baptism, we yet remain infirm for a while, and our enfeebled powers can be strengthened solely by the recuperative force of action. Now, what kind of action is capable of arousing the will from its lethargic state, of imparting vigour to its impulses, of intensifying its affection for the ideal, ever solicitous of it ? The action of the ideal, perhaps? But we have seen that the ideal has no more power over volition, to compel it to will, than over the brute part of our nature. So, then, are we lured into a road without a turning, and do we find the education of character to be a decoy? Not so, for the way out actually confronts us. Our will, let me insist anew, is an emotional power. Love is its basis, and love incites love. In the place of clear but chill commands, the will should be assailed with emphatic passion-inflamed behests, and its heart-whole submission will inevit- ably follow. Is it not possible to link strong passions to the Christian ideal, to urge the will to more effective action by the influence of generous emotions? Surely the means exist, and the will itself has the power to actualise them. It is merely a question of tactics, or what Aristotle describes as the "Art of philosophising" with the passions. Before I proceed to dissect this art, it seems advis- able to say a word or two concerning the nature of passion. I. THE PASSIONS. Practically regarded, the passions are the pleasur- able or displeasing emotions, arising from the sen- sible region of the soul. When we speak of the fire of passion, we are referring to a violent state of the emotions. Very little suffices, at times, to kindle this fire a chance encounter, a recollection, an image, just as a. spark will blow up a powder magazine. Moralists are prone to attach an unfavourable mean- ing to the term " passion "that of depravity or excess. There are, it is true, passions that may, when abused, become depraved and inordinate. Still, there is no justification for the anathemas levied indiscriminately at passion. As even the best things are liable to abuse, so, on this principle, nothing that is good would remain on earth. The passions, then, are the pleasurable or dis- pleasing emotions of the sensibility. Emotions are apt to work out, roughly, as follows : Self-love is the fundamental basis of all the pas- sions. It is the source whence comes a continuous stream, and there is no single passion that does not nourish itself therefrom. " The hatred that one ex- periences in regard to some object," writes Bossuet, " arises from the love felt for some contrary object. I have an aversion against some individual merely 52 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER because he stands in the way of my possessing that which I love. 11 Desire is merely the love of the good thing not possessed. "Joy is the love attached to the good thing pos- sessed. "Abhorrence and sorrow are, respectively, the love shrinking from and deploring the evil, whereby good is banished. "Daring is a love which attempts the impossible in order to frustrate the loss of the loved object; and fear is a love despairing of that which it has eternally lost, whence prostration results, and there can be no recovery. "Anger is a love irritated by a wrong done, and desirous of avenging itself on the guilty. In short, take away love, and there are no passions ; let love stand, and it begets them all."* Love, desire, joy, hatred, abhorrence, sorrow, daring and fear, hope, despair, anger these may be described as the scale of the passions. But, as with the notes of the musical scale, there may be made good or bad music, so with these notes of passion, these may be played upon for good or evil from the moral standpoint. All depends on the morality of the object towards which our passions urge us. In themselves, indeed, passions are neither good nor evil, since goodness or moral malice is initiated with the intervention of the intelligent volition. "Just as," says St. Gregory, "the iron thrust into the furnace takes the form the artificer intends, and moulding itself to the usage destined becomes a * Bossuet, " De la Connaissance de Dieu ct de Soi-meme," chap i., p. 6. THE PASSIONS AND CHRISTIAN IDEAL 53 common tool or a noble sword, so it is with the pas- sions." Subject to the will of man, these are ren- dered instruments of virtue or of vice, according as he subordinates them to Reason or suffers them to reign over Reason. If it be advantageous to have sound health, good sight, solid muscles, and a well-balanced brain, no less is it to possess a warm heart, an ardent disposi- tion, a passionate soul, provided always, be it under- stood, that the passions, however vehement, are content to serve and do not attempt to command. It is young men, especially, who experience the fires of passion, and so much the better, if they but rele- gate them to a worthy service. For these sensitive emotions that appertain, primarily, to virile youth may develop into the vital mainsprings of conduct. Intelligently directed, the passions operate on the man of character as an impelling force that suffers no resistance. This state of effervescence, produced in love by the introduction of this sensitive ingre- dient passion is a powerful motive force of the will, and one of virtue's most valuable auxiliaries. II. SENTIMENT AND PASSION. As a condition to this, and a determining factor in the whole question of the education of character, there must first be ascertained the possible link of connection between the passions and the volitional sentiments. The will, indeed, furnishes a scale of sentiments corresponding to that of the passions. The will loves, desires, enjoys, hates, recoils, suffers, is fearful or audacious, placid or irritable. But, 54 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER whereas the passions, whether prompting to laughter or tears, to song or lamentation, have to seek out, blindly, inspiration, from any kind of good that the imagination and the senses may present to them in glowing colours, the sentiments or emotions of the will are directly guided to their prey by the light of the intellect. Clearly, the will, whenever it turns from the Christian ideal as the determining factor of its activity, may be led to batten on sensible gratifi- cations : it may, to be explicit, in the role of inter- mediary, steep the body in animal pleasures at the expense of the soul ; still this, when done, is done freely and consciously, if not reasonably. And thus, prompted by our volition, whether for or against the Christian ideal, our passions derive therefrom their moral impress ; they are rendered good or evil by contact with its object, and by a swift rebound they responsively impart to its sentiments the good or evil received in a more intense form. The question then is, in what measure enfeebled Christian sentiments, neutral in character, such as appertain to our inert volition, can let in the quickening breath of passion, and, so stimulated, enable the regenerate will, held fast by the Christian ideal, to exercise sway over our entire energies. Our soul may be likened to an organ having two manuals, the one formed of the sensitive passions, and the other of the volitional sentiments. Are we able to make use of a technical term so to couple these two manuals that with an emotional note of the sensibility, there shall be sounded, simul- taneously, the corresponding note of the will, and vice versa ? If the answer be in the affirmative, THE PASSIONS AND CHRISTIAN IDEAL 55 then is the education of character a feasible under- taking. For the character, as I have earlier observed, is the harmony of the soul, and to produce this harmony the will and sensibility must mutually accord. Whenever, then, by force of intelligence and perseverance, we have succeeded in acquiring a complete mastery over our instrument, in bringing certain of our more virile passions into unison with our Christian sentiments, in assuring by means of regulated habit their wellnigh automatic detach- ment, then we need no longer fight shy of difficulties. Our fingers will fly, independently, as it were, over the double manuals ; concords ever more rich and melodious will multiply ; our entire life will prove one long succession of harmonious actions related one to the other, and producing by their continuity the great poem of character. III. THE PASSIONS AND THE CHRISTIAN IDEAL. The passions, then, are the movements of our non-rational nature which, in the guise of love or hate, desire or aversion, fear or daring, joy or sorrow, bring us spontaneously into touch with sensible good, or deter us therefrom. And before we can realise whether our volition is capable of binding these emotional feelings to the Christian ideal, so that the love of it may be strengthened and quickened within us, and its reign over us may be made absolute, there is a preliminary difficulty to be confronted. So far from compromising with our passions, is it not rather incumbent upon the Christian ideal, as its supreme function, totally to suppress them, and 56 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER so establish its empire upon their ruins ? Since, surely, the Christian ideal consists in living a divine life, in living the supernatural life, in its essence, and thus increasingly detached from matter. And we know the objects of the passions are wholly material, occupied throughout with the senses, and, the more the sensitive emotion excited in us, thereby, is spontaneous and vehement, the further we are removed from those divine alti- tudes, whereon shines resplendent the Christian ideal. Answers, widely divergent, have been forth- coming in the course of the centuries to the present inquiry. I venture to recall the more remarkable amongst these, and primarily those that appear the most compatible with Catholic doctrine. The Stoic Ideal. The Stoics, of old, for reasons that need not at present be discussed, maintained that the passions are radically evil, and that man's ideal a fortiori, the Christian ideal is to drain them dry, so to speak, at their source. According to Zeno of Citium and his disciples, the Sage, while emphatically he should attain to self-conquest, ought not to arrive thereat in the manner of a peacemaking monarch reforming his unruly subjects, and so securing their submission, but rather in the guise of a tyrant who reduces them to impotence, and ruthlessly mows them down. The true Stoic turns his back on the sensitive passions, on their joys and pains, he hardens him- self against their influences, he does not attempt their reformation, he suppresses them, and his dream is to attain to impassibility. " Before the frivolity of his people, the debauchery THE PASSIONS AND CHRISTIAN IDEAL 57 and treason of his captains, the desertion of his sol- diers, the misdeeds of his wife, the death of his children, the villainy of his son Commodus, the degradation of character, the prostitution of mar- riage, the insurrection of the powers, the decay of valour, the public apathy, the growth of super- stition ; in the face, in a word, of the destruction and disgrace of his army, his family, and his Empire, Marcus Aurelius withheld himself from anger and grief alike ; it was a source of pride to him that like some unshakable promontory, against which the tempests beat in vain, he was able to live ' exempt from pain, insensible to the blow which strikes at him to-day, inaccessible to the fear of that which threatens him to-morrow.'"* This radical and inhuman solution of the problem of passion called forth, inevitably, another no less radical, while diametrically opposed to it. I will not waste time on its history this is dealt with in every ethical treatise. The Epicurean Ideal, Epicurus is its father, and Rousseau its sponsor. Its tenets are reducible to this : Human nature in its foundations is excellent. Every tendency which wells up from its source as from any pure running stream shares its excellence. It is evil and contrary to nature to desire to set limits to its expansion. Obviously, this doctrine, in that it panders to our appetites, has been acclaimed with enthusiasm by the crowd. " The passions were elevated by the pagans into gods, and had their temples, and their feast-days. Their allotted function was not only to offer unto * Janvier, " Les Passions," 3* Conf., p. 3. (Lethielleux, Paris : 1905.) 58 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER men the spectacle of scandalous vice, but, as well, to propagate licentiousness as personified in them- selves. As though corrupt nature were not of itself sufficiently prone to overstepping the limits, there was spread out before them, in the form of Bacchanalian and Saturnalian festivals, a vast horizon of debauchery ; the immortals coming down from the heavens to incite revolted consciences, for their own greater honour, to orgies, whereof they were the actual promoters."* If we substitute the word science for that of god, it is not hard to recognise a certain doctrine cur- rent to-day, that preaches the triumph of the pas- sions. What the pagans extolled in the name of their idols, spurious philosophers worship to-day, in the name of science. Between these two contradictory theses, of which the one exalts the passions beyond measure, and the other condemns them in the same degree, what is the line to be adopted by a Catholic ? The Christian Ideal. It must be frankly conceded that Zeno and Epicurus both have won disciples, although unconscious ones, from amongst sages and Christians alike. How frequently do we hear promulgated in circles where, nevertheless, Catholic doctrine is admitted, such disconcerting sophisms pronounced to cloak over deplorable vice : " Youth must have its day." If this is not Epicureanism, what is ? " Youth must have its day!" Practically, this implies that a young man, uniquely because he is young, and not because he is a man, is to let loose his passions, * Janvier, " Les Passions," 3* Conf., p. 5. (Lethielleux, Paris.) THE PASSIONS AND CHRISTIAN IDEAL 59 without any attempt at their restraint or direction into the channel of a higher ideal. That the passions may be restive when one is young, is not the point ; we have to consider whether the mere fact of youth entitles their free exercise. Surely nothing could be further opposed to the teaching of Reason and of the Faith. Wherewith are we to produce the men of the future, if not from the youth of to-day ? When, then, man's ideal is to consist in mastering his passions, can it be conceivably anticipated that from one day to the next, as soon as he chooses to decree that his youth is spent, a young man shall be found able by the simple fiat of his will, to erect an impregnable barrier, and so stem the tumultuous floods he has voluntarily let loose ? These are the woeful results of a system of ethics drawn from books, which blithely sacrifices reality to the abstract principle. No, a hundred times no, youth must not have its day, in the sense appre- hended by the worldly. The education of character is not, as we have seen, the work of a day. If we remain passion's slaves throughout twenty years and more, it does not rest with ourselves alone to throw off, at will, the yoke, and assume the mastery. Have we, then, in virtue of the Christian ideal, to strive after a state of impassibility that is purely chimerical, to stifle our passions in the germ, and in this way attain to self-government? This stoical attitude, like the one preceding it, has nothing of the human element in it ; it is, indeed, contrary to nature. " He who would construct an angel fashions a beast," so writes Pascal, and experience sufficiently confirms him. The entire force and attraction of 60 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER the Christian ideal is derived from its being at the same time the human ideal par excellence. Grace is given us solely for the perfecting of our inherent nature. All that is contrary to nature is at the same time anti-Christian. I seek no better proof than the example of Jesus Christ, our universal model. It is enough to glance at the Gospel, to be aware that the Son of Man, Himself, was not devoid of passion. The sellers in the Temple, the Pharisees, the exploiters of the people, excited His anger; He wept over faithless Jerusalem; He shed tears at the tomb of His friend Lazarus; He was assailed during His Agony with acute sensations of fear; He evinced, at the Last Supper, feelings of passionate tenderness towards certain of His disciples ; He yearned with an ardent desire to partake of His Easter repast in their midst; He loved suffering; He committed finally the superb folly of the Cross. Is it not clear, therefore, that passion, in itself, is not reprehensible, that the human ideal made in- carnate in Christ does not make its appeal, solely, to the intellectual will, but, as well, to the brain, the n.erves, the muscles and the heart, to the flesh and blood, and the entire physical forces with which we are endowed. Nor must it be imagined that every passion is worthy, whatever the channel of its expression, or degree permitted. Only those passions are worthy which are serviceable in our aspirations towards the ideal, as embodied in the Faith; evil, wholly, are those passions that deter us therefrom, and paralyse our will. This is the Catholic doctrine in regard to THE PASSIONS AND CHRISTIAN IDEAL 61 the passions. And it is neither too narrow nor too wide; it is circumscribed by Truth. It is truth that tells us how passion, lusty as we find it in youth, when discreetly directed, and firmly linked by our volition to the Christian ideal, may aid us in our ascent upwards. Passion fires our glance, and enframes with a flaming aureole our brow, so that all mankind is seduced thereby; passion lends courage to the most cowardly, and animates the most insensible amongst us. By no means, there- fore, ought we to show contempt for passion, since its divers manifestations serve us as a spring- board whence we are launched to the conquest of character. There are, doubtless, certain conditions necessary for victory, certain tactics to be employed ; but these are already half mastered with the know- ledge, that the Christian life cannot issue from a corpse, and that it is not required first to slay the human within us to have the right to name ourselves Christians. CHAPTER II THE TACTICS OF THE WILL IN REGARD TO THE PASSIONS THE Christian ideal, then, does not consist in ex- tinguishing the fires of passion, but rather in stirring the flame to good purpose. Psychologists com- monly agree that it is passion's mission, when wisely disciplined, to whet the intellect and increase tenfold the volitional impulse. According to Pascal, there is no great thing achieved without the stimulus of passion. It is the source of all noble performance, of the finest dis- coveries, the most heroic self-sacrifice. And still* conversely, passion, misdirected, blinds the intelli- gence. By it, the imagination is exalted to the detriment of the judgment, the powers of reflection become paralysed, the perception dulled. Further, the will falls victim to its dominating influence, and is reduced from the controlling force it should be to a state of bondage. And, too, there is always the ultimate risk that an overwhelming passion may so affect the nervous system it shatters, and the organism it undermines, that there may result therefrom the dire consequences that culminate in insanity or even death. It has already been pointed out that the moral quality of the passions is entirely determined by 62 THE TACTICS OF THE WILL 63 their orientation. In the case of a Christian soul, for example, there is scope for chaste love as for legitimate aversion ; for vehement desire as for holy anger ; for lawful joys as for permissible griefs ; for sublime daring and salutary fear. It is for us to ascertain in what degree, precisely, these contrary passions may be reconciled with the Christian ideal, so that the impulses of the will may be strengthened and our power over it increased. It is an undeniable fact that, whenever an idea such as the Christian idea falls into a soul eager to welcome it, it attracts to itself by a mutual and mysterious phenomenon of osmosis, which we shall study later the passions which are needed to ensure its germination. By these, it is in some sort nourished and strengthened, while, on the other hand, the defmiteness of the idea finds expression in the passions, and these owe to it, not their ardour, but their means of orientation. Clearly, this power of attraction does not appertain to the pure idea, but to the idea willed. Nor do the passions, unassisted, attach themselves to the idea ; their primary object, in that it refers directly to the senses, is wholly opposed. It is requisite for the will, therefore, to bring about this alliance. In virtue of its initial love for the divine Good, the will draws from the living Fount of the passions the stimulus needful for its increase. Here is an immense reserve of energy ready for all claims upon it. Insensible to the faint representations of a shadowy ideal, it is through the medium of the passions, that the will, enkindled, shall cause the ideal to spring into vivid life. Or, to make use of 64 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER an earlier comparison, I may say that it behoves the will so to couple the manual of the passions with that of personal feeling that, inspired by their spontaneous and thrilling notes swelling forth to the praise of the Christian ideal, it may vibrate in unison with them, and its every manifestation be as so many harmonic progressions, whose uninter- rupted succession go to form the great composition of character. I. THE WILL AND THE PHYSIOLOGICAL EFFECTS OF PASSION. But has the will, actually, such power of orienta- tion over the passions as we have alleged? Here is the question to be elucidated. First, it may be admitted that the spontaneity and vehemence characteristic of any cases of intense emotional excitement tend to deny the efficacy of the will in this regard. It appears most difficult for a furious man to master his emotion, on the instant. Similarly, when sensuality is awakened for the first time, there would seem to be no more foolhardy action than to attempt its suppression by a frontal attack. We do not gather from history that our forbears, when they shot their arrows at the storm, as if to flout it, were in the least successful in avert- ing its violence and fatal effects. It is with passion, aggravated to intensity, as with a river, "That one might more easily turn back than deflect from its straight course." * This tells us that the direct power of the will, if * Bossuet, " De la Connaissance de Dieu et de Soi-meme," chap, iii., p. 19. THE TACTICS OF THE WILL 65 it may be assumed at all, is but slight. But there may exist an alternative influence, which, to com- prehend, we must first distinguish between the physiological effects by which passion ordinarily reveals itself, and the manifold causes upon which it is dependent. Physiologically regarded, passion is an " organic shock " a disturbance in the circula- tion of the blood, in the respiratory movements, in the heart's action. This disturbance is shown in demonstrations of gesture, voice, or physical work- ings of one kind or another. Over the essentially physiological material of passion that includes wellnigh all those organs that are not subject to modification by the will con- spicuously the heart we have, through psycho- logical agencies, no direct control whatever; our sole means of action are external, and entail recourse to therapeutic aids. These need not be indicated here. It is quite otherwise, however, when, by the influences of emotion, the muscles are called into play. "When stirred by the impulses of emotion, we may endeavour to restrain its outward exhibition. Anger, for instance, calls forth for its expression, certain sympathetic muscular movements causes the jaws to tighten, the fists to clench themselves, the muscles of the face to contract, the breath to come in gasps : Quos ego ! I may command my muscles to relax, my lips to smile ; I may be able to moderate my respiratory movements. Yet, if I have not essayed to check, in its earliest manifestations, the symptoms of emotional excitement if I have given rein to it, 5 66 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER my later efforts are likely to prove abortive, unless, interiorly, my will brings other emotions into operation, such as the motives of personal dignity, of decorum, and so forth."* II. THE WILL AND THE CAUSES OF PASSION. Moreover, any influence we may possess over the passions operates rather on their causes than their effects. And among these causes, which are mani- fold, it is expedient to distinguish between im- mediate and remote causes. Remote Causes. These are of twofold description. There are external causes, such as physical and moral environment : " Certain passions are, indeed, the natural product of certain climates." f Further, in virtue of the law of Contagion, which governs the diffusion of the emotions, there is pro- vided in education, in example and association, a constant source of nourishment. It is to internal causes our attention must be chiefly directed. As a matter of fact, we all, alike, carry within us the germ of the various passions ; while, too, the infant may, at birth, inherit certain tendencies more pronounced than others that favour the predominance of one of these. Such tendencies are often the fruit of heredity, the outcome of the natural law of atavism, and a proof of the solid link binding us to our ancestry. This predisposition, whether physical or moral, occasionally slumbers for a generation or more, and then, uncontrollably, reappears. * Payot, " L'Education de la Volonte," p. 63. f Montesquieu, " Esprit des Lois," L. xiv., chap. ii. THE TACTICS OF THE WILT, 67 From this standpoint, the direct power of our volition appears to be nil, since we, assuredly, are not at liberty to select our ancestors. Solely, then, by diligent effort, wisely directed, are we able to temper these transmitted influences and neutralise their evil effects. So, too, with regard to the will in its dealings with individual physical tempera- ment. According to the predominance of certain organic elements, a temperament is predisposed to this or that peculiar passion. Predisposition is a fact independent of the subject. Quite beyond our sphere of control are the visitations of a bilious, a nervous, a sanguine, or lymphatic habit of body ; to be prone to anger, sloth, cowardice, or sensuality, melancholy, or exuberant gaiety, lies not within the ruling of our direct purpose. How, then, can the will acquire control over the passions if all these internal and external causes are its antagonists ? Immediate Causes. The powers of volition should not be lightly regarded. Just as the organic elements in the physical temperament combine to produce the individual physiognomy, so our inherited ten- dencies cannot be identified with the passions, in their proper signification, but are merely disposi- tions more or less remotely inclining to this or that single passion. I regard these as so many powder magazines : withhold the spark, and there will be no explosion. Unhappily, there are too frequent cases occurring, when the careless breeze, in conjunction with chance circumstance, carries the spark within the danger zone. An explosion inevitably follows, and, in a 68 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER moment, our moral organism is shattered, and we are buried beneath the ruins. More frequently, however, the task of firing the powder is ours, and so, with due precaution, we are free to explode, and disperse, together with the dynamite, the sundry obstacles that block the way between our will and the Christian ideal. How is this to be done ? We first must impose a defined boundary upon our sensible and imaginative per- ceptions, and, too, upon our ideas; since, unde- niably, it is these perceptions and ideas that, by means of the images to which they refer, play a leading r6le in the evocation of passion that, indeed, of the spark igniting unawares the gun- powder reserves, or other inflammable properties. Suddenly, there are flashed in lively colours before our fancy the objects that attract or repel us, that incite our desire or aversion, provoke our love or hatred, that inspire us with joy or affliction, with hope or despair, with daring or resentment. Experience teaches that, in the main, we ourselves, are the instigators of the sensible perceptions, of our imaginative faculties, of, above all, those ideas that contain within them the fire requisite to set the passions aflame. For example, I bear resentment against a person who, for the time being, is not in the very least in possession of my thoughts. Unexpectedly, I meet him at a street corner. The sight of him makes me start ; I shake my fist ; I strike out at him ; I give vent to my anger. No voluntary action of mine has called forth this meeting. I was, actually, not even thinking of my THE TACTICS OF THE WILL 69 enemy. Still, should he happen to reside in the same locality as myself, it rests wholly with me, if I am acquainted with his habitual movements, to spare myself a further encounter. Or, let us say, I see displayed, in the windows of a bookshop, a number of improper picture cards I was not previously aware of them, but their contem- plation awakens in me a sudden access of sensual desire for which I am, clearly, not responsible. I can, however, on the morrow, change my route, and so avoid the spectacle of this display; and I am not compelled to purchase these undesirable images in order that I may hang them on my walls or treasure them in a drawer. And so with every imaginative representation that is likely to reawaken passions that lie dormant, or are only partially sup- pressed. We may reason thus with regard to the flow of ideas. While thought, naturally, is subject to a constant shifting movement, it is still perfectly simple for any young man, who is sufficiently serious-minded, and observant, to assume a very real control in this direction. He becomes aware that one single idea, having before its view certain images or impressions by which it is sustained, evokes in the region of feeling, certain irresistible emotions that, indulged, result in moral deteriora- tion to a notable degree. It rests with him to pass on to some other idea, or to create a diversion by throwing his energies into a game, a walk, some intellectual occupation, or by seeking fresh company. Thus, by the power of our will over our per- ceptions and ideas, our passions, engendered by 70 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER those ideas and perceptions (so acting as immediate causes), are kept in check. More is not required to solve the problem raised at the opening of this chapter : Is our will capable of forming an alliance between the Christian ideal, and such sensible emotions as may determine its corresponding sentiments, and so secure for this ideal a complete victory over our conflicting energies? It is evident that if we do, indeed, largely control our perceptions and ideas, it would suffice to cement to the Christian idea those perceptive ideas that may be termed impassioned since thus is the manifestation of passion provoked in order to infuse into it their vigour, their animating breath, and, at the same time, inflame the will in its favour. In this is expressed the art of " philosophising " with the passions. It is an art that entails the exercise of close reflection and activity. III. THE UTILISATION OF THE PASSIONS. In virtue of the fact that our ideas and perceptions are under obedience to its directions, a very real, albeit indirect, mastery is exercised by the will over our passions. We may liken its power to that of any common-sense man over the house he inhabits. He is quite capable of preventing its destruction by fire, if he will but take the trouble to look closely after its safety. Now, it is by no means requisite to extinguish the flame of passion, burning interiorly, any more than it is essential to forgo the comforts of a fire, in order to avert a conflagration. What is incumbent THE TACTICS OF THE WILL 71 upon all is to keep under inspection their smoulder- ing passions, and so prevent a disastrous outburst. To this end, our passions must be steered into some direct course; they must be applied to the needs of our daily life, just as the mistress of a house utilises her fire for innumerable kinds of domestic service. It is this, I repeat, in which consists the art of "philosophising" with the passions. We have to consider how we may best identify this art with the Christian ideal, and we shall find that the result of this consideration will furnish the key to the problem of the education of character. The Problem. Let us suppose the case of a student who, newly launched upon life, determines to achieve something. Indeed, is it possible to con- jecture that any student, fresh from his University course, will start his career with the intention of doing nothing in particular in the future ? His desire maybe is to become a doctor, or a lawyer, to qualify for a professorship, or to study for the Bar. The one particular thing that he aspires to do, assumes for him the value of an ideal, and not merely an ideal perceived, that allures the imagination, but an ideal willed and cherished. Now, what happens with each one of us, whenever we come face to face with that ideal, or when cir- cumstances conjure up its recollection in our minds? Do we not instantly wax hot and ardent in its pursuit? There tends, indeed, to concentrate around this cherished ideal the sum of our vital forces pre-eminently, of our passions. In virtue of the love we bear it, we are urged upwards 72 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER beyond the plane of those earthly and sensual affections that hold us captive, and paralyse our keenest energies. If, by temperament or heredity, we are prone to anger, we find it quite easy to divert this emotional current just as by providing an outlet one stems the violent rush of a torrent and so conduct its energies, that these may serve such constantly recurring difficulties as block our Christian pro- gress. If, on the contrary, we are, by nature, timid and fearful, little by little, through a species of self- suggestion, by dint of reflecting on the joys of success and the shame of failure, we grow to show proof of courage. The hope of success sustains us, and its effect is evident in our work and throughout life. In a word, the will to achieve something, to gain a position in the world, to create for ourselves a place in the sun, plays in regard to the passions, the same role as that of the magnet, acting on the innumerable currents induced in a bar of soft iron. The will attracts to itself those passions proper for its fertilisation. " It (the will) drives them (the passions) in the same direction, while it destroys the repelling forces, so that from what was chaos, there is produced a regulated current of a hundred- fold additional strength."* For, clearly, the will must vibrate, in its turn, in unison with the passions it has evoked, and attracted towards the ideal to be realised. The Method. And we have to remember how hard it is for the will (nerveless and feeble as we find * Payot, " L' Education de la Volonte," p. 40. THE TACTICS OF THE WILL 73 it at the outset), if it would walk hand in hand with the ideal, to furnish the needful stimulus. As soon, however, as the favourable passions have operated in this direction, every action of ours falls into line. Aroused from its apathy, the will restores to the passions, in the form of radiant and continuous energy, all that these have conveyed to it through the impact, so to speak, of blind and incoherent forces. In other words, we do, voluntarily, and by the aid of our intelligence, that which previously had been performed instinctively, and under the impulse of violent but fugitive emotion. In this manner, our life acquires unity and comparative stability. How many students there are who have suc- ceeded in passing, wellnigh scathlessly, this perilous period of their youth, by virtue of that wondrous power possessed by the will of bringing strong passion into union with a definite ideal ! In this regard, it must not be overlooked that man's ideal does not consist in vain ambition, and the acquisition of some kind of worldly dignity. He has to aspire towards individuality and the de- velopment of " character." If, indeed, the human ideal were represented by a code of social advancement, by the occupation of one or other lucrative or highly estimated post, then, its realisation would be well within the reach of a number who, for the purpose, could devote the sum of their least worthy energies in order to achieve their end. It is certain that nothing in this world can be attained save by exertion. He who would carve 74 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER out his path in life must perforce put his hand to the plough. For success, he must be energetic and capable, but it is by no means essential that he be moral. The morality of the parvenu, of the time- server, who holds in restraint certain of his pas- sions that those he most cherishes may flourish, recalls the attitude of a man who, attacked by gangrene, consents willingly to the removal of one limb, for the safety of the rest, and the preservation of his life. If, on the contrary, a higher and worthier am- bition is at stake, and a man aims at true distinction, then aptitude and energy do not suffice there is needed the leaven of morality. For, self-interest has no sway here. To master self, to erect a barrier against the encroachments of enfeebling passions, and to place those that are worthy alongside of reason, is the desired goal. A man can become a something by the expendi- ture of prudence, justice, sobriety, and other sympa- thetic virtues ; he can never be a somebody unless he conscientiously practises their entire number, as embodied in the Christian code. An austere ideal like this does not, it is obvious, possess charms for the majority, even the well- disposed. It behoves its promoters, therefore, to urge its cause with some adroitness. Let us consider in this light our young student, who, while he wishes to become a something, aspires likewise to be a somebody. In the beginning, the first aspiration predominates, since it represents self-interest. Cost what it may, to attain to it is his chief aim. Let us suppose, THE TACTICS OF THE WILL 75 then, that one fine day, after reflection, he perceives that the simplest way of becoming a something is to be a somebody, that the possession of self is the short- cut to the possession of place, fortune, and position. Then, on the instant, the idea of being a somebody joins forces with that other idea of becoming a something, and the emotions excited by the first are at once communicated to the second. The result does not immediately issue in perfection, since the student in question subordinates the highest ideal to material ends. Nevertheless, we must take human nature as it is. It were better to attain to " character " by devious ways, than pass one's life in bewailing those obstacles that eternally intervene between us and the direct route. Once master of himself, it becomes easy for the student to shift his outlook. The higher satisfac- tion he experiences once he has succeeded in tran- scending self, in his effort to surpass his fellows, tends to make him .despise the rest, or, at any rate, appraise things at their true value. Shall we, then, show ourselves more exacting than is God Almighty, who creates good out of evil, and transforms sinners into upright men ! We should disregard these puritanical spirits, who, con- temptuous of the proofs that experience affords, presume to condemn everyone on the strength of their own tenets. Indisputably, it were preferable to reach the summit by the direct route, and not by the side- track of a lesser ambition and more ignoble ideal. If, however, by a rash leap into the unknown, I risk 76 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER breaking my neck, shall I suffer condemnation if I rather chose to ascend, circumspectly, those steps that will bring me to my destination in safety, although their direction may be tortuous and broken ? The essential is to advance continuously, and so to use to good purpose the gifts God and nature have bestowed. It is by no means reprehensible to aim after distinction; it is, on the contrary, a worthy ambition. We have but to utilise this desire as a means of vanquishing the brute within us, of con- quering self, so that "character," which is indi- viduality, asserts itself by sure degrees, and thus our future becomes assured. The Solution. All, thenceforth, follows inevit- ably. Having faith, we are aware of the Christian ideal. Now, the Christian ideal is identical with the human ideal, transposed, completed ; it is, in a word, the human ideal rendered capable of realisa- tion by natural and supernatural agencies. There- fore, it becomes impossible when we contemplate the one to ignore the other. And if personality be induced by a simple act of the will, by whose decree certain passions and feelings are brought into touch with this ideal, how shall it be with us when, by the light of faith, we perceive, that real individuality can be fostered alone by untiring and fervent aspiration towards the ideal set for Christian attainment. Here we find exhibited those magnetic properties previously analysed. The Christian idea will attract to itself these various forces, will organise and control them ; while, in its turn, the will, aided by Divine love, deriving strength and support there- THE TACTICS OF THE WILL 77 from, will restore in supernatural energy, in the form of sentiments, the sum of that lesser natural force communicated to the will in the form of passions. Thus, the sublime poem of character attains fulfil- ment. We rejoice the more over its harmonious rendering, as we become aware of the labour its composition has entailed. CHAPTER III CONCERNING THE INTELLECT AND ITS RELATION TO THE PASSIONS AND FEELINGS IN THE EDU- CATION OF CHARACTER IF I have dwelt at length upon the will's function in regard to the passions as affecting the education of character, I have done so in order the better to emphasise that which appertains to the intelli- gence. For, as was pointed out in an earlier chapter, the will is the highest form of human activity, of self-conscious activity as opposed to instinct, that is unconscious and inevitable activity. And reflection from which all self-conscious action springs is pre-eminently a characteristic of the intelligence. Our powers of reflection are determined by our powers of intellect. Now, the task imposed upon the will is to bind fast to the Christian ideal the beneficent passions and sentiments, and estrange therefrom those that are hostile ; and this, clearly, is a task accomplished by reflection. Primarily, it is necessary to be disposed toward reflection if this desired union is to be effected hence the leadership granted to the will in the training of character and then also it is necessary to know how to pursue this habit of reflection, and this lies with the intelligence. 78 CONCERNING THE INTELLECT 79 Let us consider, then, the role played by medita. tive reflection as regards the sensitive passions, or the volitional sentiments, in the education of character. And, first, let it be seen in what this role consists. I. To begin with, meditative reflection must not be confounded with study, properly so described. The mode of procedure is similar, but its aim is widely different. Let us recall what has been written on this subject by a contemporary psychologist : " By meditative reflection, we do not, it is evident, infer the state of reverie, or that loose mental habit so disastrous to self-conquest, and against which we have to wrestle continuously. For, whereas, in this state, the attention slumbers, and the conscience is perpetually a prey to the shifting scene, or mood, that colours our sentiments or ideas, reflection, on the contrary, leaves nothing to chance. Moreover, reflection differs from study which aims con- spicuously at the acquisition of some specific know- ledge in that it tends not to the 'furnishing of the soul,' but to its ' moulding.' " * " When we study, as a matter of fact, we seek primarily to know ; when we reflect, we have quite another intention. Our aim is to awaken in the soul, sensations either of hatred or of love."t All this is perfectly true, but our psychologist goes beyond this : " In study, we are dominated by * Montaigne, III. 3. f Payot, " L' Education de La Volonte," p. 92. 80 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER the pursuit after truth ; in meditative reflection, the truth matters not at all. We prefer a useful lie to an inconvenient truth : our research is entirely governed by the motive of utility." I emphatically deny this. Truth, I think, is as important in reflection as in study. With this distinction : in study, we aim at speculative and scientific truth ; in reflection, we aspire after practical and vital truth. What, then, constitutes the difference between speculative and practical truth ? There exists a very real difference, and upon it the education of character will be seen actually to depend. Let me explain. What is the object enter- tained by the University student when he enters upon his course of study ? It is, I imagine, to raise him- self to the intellectual level of his day, to acquire a knowledge, both profound and precise, of philosophy, mathematics, history, law, or medicine. His other and ulterior aim is to secure a position in the world, and make profitable use of his acquired learning. Yet, strangely enough, this general motive of utility in no wise modifies the speculative nature of his acquired knowledge. Rather, indeed, is his ultimate success regulated by the degree of learning attained in philosophy, or the mathematical, historical, or medical sciences. The speculative truth aimed at in his University studies consists, then, in a thorough acquaintance with the reality that claims his attention. This truth is absolute, and the same for all. He may quit one University for another, yet wherever he may go his course of study, if it be profound, will 81 lead invariably to the same result. Possibly, the identical system of philosophy may not be followed, but a system of philosophy is not philosophy, and fundamentally, all systems run on parallel lines, since all are concerned uniquely with the discovery of the truth, in its absolute form. The theories of hyper-space and of metageometry may allure the imagination for an instant, but I am not aware of any existing University where any attempt has been made to apply these theories to our universe, nor to refute the theorem of the square described on the hypothenuse. To sum up, all speculative truth is independent of the practical object in view ; as, too, of the sub- jective nature of our search after it. Whatever our ambition, whatever our tempera- ment, we cannot hinder two and two from amounting to four, no more than to use a classic simile we can cause a door to open and close simultaneously. There exists nothing less susceptible of modification at the dictates of caprice speaking speculatively than the contradictory proposition. By denial, its opposers become perforce its adherents as they seek its aid to justify their negation. So it is with speculative truth, as learning reveals it. In regard to it we may not say, as did Pascal : "Truth on this side of the Pyrenees, error on the other side." Truth, indeed, is, and remains, absolute. It has influenced I fully concede it the progress of mankind. It is to the thinkers among men that we owe all great and lasting achievement ; it is the inventors in science, in philosophy, in art, and letters, who are the actual heroes of history, rather 6 82 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER than the popular agitators, the blusterers, the politicians, or even the most famous among the world-conquerors. It cannot be denied, however, that speculative truth is not able to claim one moral convert, is wholly incapable of ethically reforming a people or an individual, or of begetting " character," whether in a race or a unit. II. To do this, Truth must no longer be speculative it must be practical. Truth must consent to be trans- ported from the plane of the Absolute over which it reigns, to the Relative that there it may have dominion. In other words, instead of contem- plating truth from without, we must afford it a habitation within us ; instead of worshipping truth with our intelligence alone, we must above all wor- ship it with our spirit, and with its quickening breath vitalise each action of our daily life. But how complex is this spirit of ours, if by it we apprehend the sum of our energies, intellect, will, and sensibility, modified in each one of us by the tempering influences of heredity, temperament, education, environment, or acquired habit ! May not truth itself be menaced when assimilated by such unlike and conflicting forces ? Speculatively, it may be : practically, not so, provided always we look to it that our manner of life can be brought into proportion with it. For it is eminently charac- teristic of absolute truth that it can be adapted to the relative exigencies of life. It loses nothing thereby ; and we gain infinitely. It may happen it often CONCERNING THE INTELLECT 88 does happen that we are misled ; that while intent upon truth, we snatch headlong at error. Even so, truth is in nowise injured, if it be practical truth, since what we have been led to do, mistakenly, has been done in truth's name, and with its service in view. For truth is not infallibly revealed to us, whether we regard it from the speculative or practical stand- point. Its infallibility may be our aspiration, whether we seek merely to locate it or possess it ; but we shall attain thereto by degrees only, by laborious stepping-stones, after repeated rebuffs, and effort incessantly renewed. Hence, the prominent part allotted to meditative reflection. It does not suffice to be aware, generally, of the demands truth makes on our moral existence. We have, personally, to ascertain how best to conform to these demands having before us the special conditions in which we live, the environment in which we are set, our pre- disposition to this or that propensity, our hereditary tendencies, our age and bodily capacity, our tastes or profession. If truth is to attain to empire, if we are to exhibit the true Christian characteristics, we have, necessarily, to undergo this process of mental dissection; we have to make ourselves acquainted with natural science as applied to our special case ; to determine the exact relations of its various phenomena ; to estimate their reciprocal influence, and state of dependence on external or internal sug- gestion. And all this can be achieved by reflection, and by the exercise of a keen and subtle observa- tion. By constant introspection, we are able to induce motives from which the higher passions get 84 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER their being; and these we have to devote to the fostering of the Christian idea, and thence to the conversion of these abstract ideas into sensible virtues. As our instructor, reflection will teach us the technique of our instrument, how to play upon it, how to renew the melodies, to complete the harmonies, to increase or diminish the tone as our nature shall surrender itself to, or withstand the active operations of grace. By reflection, in a word, we can be transfigured into beings of " character," knowing the Way and pursuing it, in full possession of self, because self is indwelt by Divine Truth. CHAPTER IV THE RELATIONS OF GRACE TO THE PASSIONS WE have arrived so far in our inquiry. We have seen that there are three elements, very unlike, yet all essential to the education of character : these are the intelligence, the will, and the passions. The intelligence shows us the goal to be reached, the ideal to be realised. Independently, the will strains after this ideal, but lacks the strength to enforce its sway over the entire domain of our sen- sitive nature. For there rages within this domain, as the result of sin's incursion, a terrible tumult. The disparity existing between the Christian ideal, and the emotions stirred into activity by the breeze of passion, is great, and yields to influence but slowly, and, as it were, by constraint. By this, I do not imply that the will is wholly impotent to stem the 'onrush of passion, if it but prove alert on the track not of the multitude, but of the isolated offender else our liberty were destroyed at its very roots. Nevertheless, we have to realise that the labour involved is neither slight nor easy, and successfully to fulfil our task we must exert a care- ful discretion. Our passions, as we have seen, are the spontaneous and violent manifestations of our sensitive organism, engendered by various hered- itary or acquired tendencies, and encouraged by 85 86 the play of the senses, imagination, or ideas. Were not our control over our ideas and sensitive percep- tions infinitely superior to that possessed over inherent instinct, inclining us to this or that specific passion, then wholly futile would it be to struggle after morality. But, it is a fact, happily, that we are able to direct our sensations, and the trend of our imaginative faculties, into divers channels, as we are aided thereto by the psychological laws touching association and atmosphere. Hence, we are able directly to divert the passions at their source, and so determine their output and disposition. It rests thenceforward with discretion, the offspring of reflection, to inculcate some idea, relatively insigni- ficant it may be, but capable of transforming mere passion into lofty and inspired sentiment. A multiplicity of kindred links are forged by this process of reflection when illuminated by the Chris- tian ideal ; and, in so far as the passions cohere to this ideal, so, simultaneously, the half-won allegi- ance of the will is confirmed an hundredfold. By contact with the passions, Christian sentiments are strengthened; correspondingly, the passions become spiritualised and chastened in the mutual encounter. By such an exchange of light and force there is established within us that moral equilibrium upon which the development of character so conspicu- ously depends. From the moral standpoint, we find presented other considerations that call for notice. I will endeavour, therefore, at this juncture, to recall the part grace is destined to play over the passions in relation to the education of character. RELATIONS OF GRACE TO THE PASSIONS 87 NATURE AND GRACE. Let me once more lay stress upon the point that the human ideal and the Christian ideal are prac- tically identical that the Christian ideal is, in truth, but the human ideal, transposed, perfected, aug- mented with a Divine accession of light and power, drawing us irresistibly upwards into nearness to it. Naturally considered, our intelligence is bestowed upon us that, so enlightened, we may, by unloosing the directing principles of conduct, bring about the purifying of our passions. No doubt this necessary preliminary to moral conquest is not easy of achieve- ment. For the passions, like all instinctive forces, are frequently refractory to light ; and the most earnest and exemplary of moral seekers are con- strained to admit that, in spite of high principle, and their painful striving after its true perception, they are, at certain moments, and when the fight is at its height, blinded by the furious onrush of the senses, encumbering their path, without pause or respite. In moments of extremity like these, we may be com- pared to certain travellers, who have determined upon returning, at nightfall, along a difficult track previously traversed in daylight. They are not unacquainted with the route indeed, all its various stages are imprinted upon their memories ; they are aware that at this point there is a precipice to be avoided at another, a milestone to be consulted. Nevertheless, they find that the deepening gloom will deceive even eyes that are keen and accustomed to the darkness. The thick veil of night spreads itself over all that surrounds them ; hides from their 88 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER vigilance the yawning abyss, and wipes out from view the guiding landmarks. Thus disabled, these travellers, if they be prudent, have no other alterna- tive than to go back the way they came, or else secure some means of lighting their journey. Now, in our case, whenever it falls to us to pursue the path of duty amid the obscuring darkness of our passions, there can be no question of retracing our steps, since we are compelled ever to advance. Our only safe course is to seek out for guidance the pure light of natural principle, as we may find it best adapted to our peculiar needs. But we resem- ble in our weakness and lack of resistance, a fragile morsel of porcelain, and this light, by which we are to find life, is constantly at the mercy of the rude winds. So that, at times, the slender flame will be seen to burn unsteadily, to flicker, and, per- chance, to go out. Faith. When this happens, what were likely to befall us, were not the Divine light cast by Faith given us for our assistance? For this light, en- kindled from above, is not extinguished in an instant. God only asks of us goodwill, and given that, we are abidingly illumined. And what do we perceive by the light of Faith ? Assuredly, our eyes are not ready, as yet, for the full glory of the day, with its majesty of the sun radi- ating light ; neither are we left to grope farther in the darkness of night. Faith soars above the sun of Reason that occasionally suffers eclipse, and often disappears behind the cloud of passion-fed emotion. Faith is the bright ever-twinkling star that casts its tiny light full on the way of life ; shows RELATIONS OF GRACE TO THE PASSIONS 89 in relief the moral laws incumbent upon man ; warns him of the precipices that have to be bridged, the turnings to be taken, the examples to be followed ; displays the depth of his weakness, and indicates the measure of his strength. How penetrating is this light bestowed by Faith, when we have once consented to expose our being to its rays ! At the outset, truly, it would seem as if its radiance cannot attain to us, as if we must ever remain oppressed by the presence of night; but, little by little, the eye of the soul adapts itself to these spiritual shadows ; then fastens its gaze on the star of Faith to follow whither it shall lead. And where indeed shall it lead us? No longer into the abstract by- ways of, philosophy, but into the actual regions of the Christian life. As formerly with the Magi, it conducts us to the Crib, that there we may contem- plate the ideal of the Christian made incarnate in the person of the Son of God. Thence we are shown the path by which Christ Himself elected to travel, and along which He commands us to follow Him ; we witness our Lord's combat with the passions ; and we behold Him obedient to the Will of His Father even unto death. And so, when the Saviour has ascended into Heaven, still we see the star of Faith continues to shine ; it reveals to us the saints those living exemplars of Jesus Christ ; it pene- trates to the uttermost recesses of our conscience, and dispels the misunderstandings, the inconsist- encies, the pettinesses that are in possession there. For by Faith are we urged to reflection, to a self- knowledge, that has no mercy on our blindness or our infirmity. By Faith and this is its mightiest 90 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER weapon we are taught that whereas, through sin, without God we can do nothing ; with God, on the contrary, we can achieve all. Divine light calls forth Divine strength ; charity is synonymous with Faith. Having Faith, we are made aware, infallibly, and lastingly, of what we must and can do : having charity we are given the power to do it. How so ? Charity. When St. Paul was driven to lament that he was beset by the violence of his passions, being, as he alleged, buffeted by Satan, God made answer to him : " My grace is sufficient for thee."* In truth, God's grace is sufficient for us all ! For grace is God, in so far as we entertain Him ; grace is the Divine activity enveloping, while not destroy- ing ours, with its infinite energies ; grace is the Hand of the all-powerful Friend laying hold of ours, and so aiding us to attain to Him. And if God be with us, who shall be against us ? Hearken to this noble challenge uttered by St. Paul : " Who shall separate me from the charity of Christ ?" Assuredly, there existed no power in the world, neither in the heavens, nor upon the earth, capable of separating the Apostle from his Master. For his will was one with the Divine Will ; and partook of its omnipotence, and shared in its infinite forces. So, too, shall it be with us, if we but desire it. It is expedient, however, that we take heed while we avail ourselves of God's force, in order to attain to the Christian ideal, we are not thereby dispensed from drawing as well upon the force supplied by the passions, when properly directed. It is God's Will that we should act as though His presence were * Cf. 2 Cor. xii. 7-9 (Trans.). RELATIONS OF GRACE TO THE PASSIONS 91 withheld from us, albeit that this Divine gift is con- ferred on us always. He permits His grace to work upon our nature, while, at the same time, He ordains that our nature shall act in concert with grace. He lends us supernatural aids, but, at the same time, He does not intend that these shall wholly supersede natural ones. When we have done all that is possible, in nature, in order to discipline our passions, then there is the consolation bestowed that we are not called upon to labour unaided at this ungrateful task. God is with us. He acts in us; we move but through Him. It seems to me that this consciousness of the presence of God within us, this assurance of the real support He grants us in our interior conflict, must suffice to lend courage to the most faint-hearted amongst us. How efficacious is the example of a virtuous friend when we are on the verge of falling into some sin ! Yet this kind of support is derived from without, and its confines reach but the threshold of our conscience. How then shall it be when God is with us and within us, encouraging us in all circum- stances can we then lack confidence that victory lies within our grasp, that the reform of character, the conquest of self, our entire supremacy, in a word, over moral life, is a foregone conclusion ? To doubt this, for one instant, were the very essence of cowardice; for I repeat it if God be with us, who shall be against us ? CHAPTER V EGOISM AND ALTRUISM THE realm of passion is a turbulent realm that, left to itself, obeys no law. Our divers passions, like so many eccentric comets, would appear to revolve at random, and without reference to their neighbours. But this is simply an optical illusion. In reality, our passions may be expressed in terms of one of their number, towards which the rest perpetually gravi- tate as the centre of attraction. I mean the passion of egoism. There is hardly a word in our vocabulary so ill-sounding as this one, and such is the influence of words on the direction of thought, that it has become difficult to differentiate between egoism and egoism, and to admit that it is possible to be egoistic in a favourable sense. Can, then, this term be interpreted favourably as well as unfavourably? Yes, indeed, for by the side of an egoism that is detestable, there exists an egoism that is lovable ; alongside of the egoism that is an evil passion, there may be set an egoism that is a virtue, and which is just an intelligent transposition of the first. Why, it may be asked, is passionate egoism a- detestable quality ? Because all that which moves but to draw things unto itself, which views persons and things from the restricted standpoint of its own caprices, which appreciates the world in the measure 92 EGOISM AND ALTRUISM 93 alone of self-advancement, is detestable in the last degree. Whereas, on the other hand, virtuous egoism is worthy of love, because, in spite of appearances, it is generous, and the basis of all disinterested action. In drawing this comparison, let it not be imagined that I am straining after a paradox. The paradox, if there be one, is contained in the words, not in the ideas propounded. I will try to explain myself. I. PASSIONATE EGOISM. In the first place, we have to remember that we have a dual existence : an animal self and a reason- ing self, a carnal self and a spiritual self. Both appertain to our actual personality, and from k their co-existence our nature draws its true origin. It does not suffice to say these selves exist we must go farther rather, they are incorporate, they are made one, in the inviolable unity of the conscious- ness, or ego. So, in common, they solicit our affection, while their claim to it is not identical. For the animal within us is under the domination of Self, and the flesh is subservient to the lawful sway of the Spirit. Hence, the diversity just indicated between passionate egoism and virtuous egoism. When we yield to the passion of egoism we foster the animal self the brute I. We allow no other horizon to our desire than pleasure, pure and simple, in whatever form, however base and degraded. When, on the contrary, we cultivate the virtue of egoism we promote the reasoning Self, the real human I ; we carve out from the shapeless block of our moral energies the living statue of a man of the man of character, who exalts himself 94 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER above the beast, and from a thing gradually evolves into a personality. Of these two forms of egoism, which, can it be said, is peculiar to youth ? Experience best answers this question. We are aware, through experience, that a youth has passions before he is able to attain to the acquisition of virtue. For to be possessed by the passions, he has merely to give ear to the impulses of his senses ; whereas virtue is won but by the conscious and persistent intervention of his volition. Virtue, without doubt, has for its object the elevation and purification of the passions ; and this being so, is an added proof that the passions have a certain priority over virtue. Hence the conclusion, that a young man, in virtue of his youth, and because time has not been given him for the conversion of his passions into virtue, is prone to the passion of egoism, which, as we have seen, contains the germs of every other passion. Yet youth is, by reputation, generous. How, then, are we to reconcile generosity with this quality of egoism ? Youth, it is true, does appear to exhibit generosity, of a sort, but, in many respects, this attractive quality exists in appearance rather than in reality. If egoism assumes at times this aspect of generosity, it is due to the deceptive charm youth invests it with, by reason of its infectious enthusiasm for life, and its exuberant manifestation of that enthusiasm. Like all vital force in the intense degree, egoism is subject to a double move- ment : that exercised by centrifugal force, by virtue of which it battens and grows fat upon the world outside of it ; and second, that of centripetal force, EGOISM AND ALTRUISM 95 whereby it tends to draw all things unto itself. In this the impassioned egoist is analogous to the octopus, that stretches out its tentacles in order to seize its prey, and contracts them to feed upon it. And both these movements are but two phases of the same passion. A young man, precisely by reason of his youth, has not yet made his survey of life. His intelligence, his heart and sensibility, are all untried faculties demanding contact with actuality in order to feed upon it, and so satiate their appetite. Youth is ready for every experience, and pounces greedily upon every chance sensation. It needs to feel, to feel intensely, and its sensitive organism, like the strings of a harp, responds to the lightest touch, and so produces wondrous harmonies. Because there is something seductive in the fire and spontaneity of youth, its contemplation at times misleads the super- ficial onlooker. Young men will often appear to give, when, unconsciously to themselves even, their sole aim is to take : they seem utterly detached from self, when and quite naturally they but seek to attach others to themselves. Thus does the passion of egoism, in youth, readily don the mask of generosity. It is somewhat as with a person who, stricken with blindness, has recently undergone an operation for cataract. In default of experience, based on observa- tion, all that the young gaze upon seems to stand in the same proportion ; they have yet to acquire that knowledge of perspective which, later, when life's obstacles have to be confronted, will enable them properly to estimate values, and so to establish a hierarchy over the things of their desire. Are we to blame them ? Certainly not, for to do so were to 96 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER condemn their youth. It were well, indeed, to give warning that youth must not outstay its destined term ; it were well to show that egoism as revealed in the young may, transmuted, become virtue if all thought and action are directed to, and serve, the ideal set for the attainment of the upright Christian. II. VIRTUOUS EGOISM. Now let us find out the best means of arriving at this conversion. Those passions that urge us to seek satisfaction in animal gratification must be linked to that desire often futile, yet none the less genuine and pure which most of us cherish after a higher plane of existence. Every being, unless he be hopelessly degenerate from birth, has the ambition to achieve something, to enlarge his course of life, to widen indefinitely his horizon. And how shall he achieve anything, unless he strives to actualise in himself an elevated ideal; how enlarge his human nature, unless he attain supremacy over its animal side; how secure for his soul's expansion a wider horizon than that which the Christian life stretches infinite, and immeasurable, before him ? We have passions that crave utterance, we thirst after life, we yearn to increase our stature by an arm's length or more. Let it be so- We are in no- wise called upon to stifle our passions in the bud, to annihilate every egoistic manifestation. Let us love self with all our force, but let our love befit its object. We are told that charity, well ordered, be- gins at home. Let us then love in ourselves all that exalts, and not all that debases; let us love duty, EGOISM AND ALTRUISM 97 and not pleasure ; let us submit self to the yoke of reason and faith, and not to the tyranny of the flesh. We must not drift with the tide, we must endeavour to stem it; we must not allow ourselves to sink into the muddy stream of sensuality, we must plunge manfully into the deep river of virtue. If we would rise to the surface, there will, no doubt, be difficul- ties innumerable to overcome, and our muscles will have to stand a rude test. But sport like this is well worth the effort. We can bring our spiritual muscles into play, and so utilise those faculties that, rightly exercised, bring within our grasp the fine reward of sound and moral habits. It is these same moral habits, otherwise named virtue, that are, in fact, to the soul what vigorous muscles are to the body. The more the soul aims at the strengthening and developing of these, the more sure are the chances of safety. III. FALSE SOLIDARITY. "Charity, well-ordered, begins at home." When I quoted, in an earlier column, this first principle of the Christian life, I confined myself to pointing out that the best way of loving our fellows is to com- mence by rightly loving self. For what, actually, fosters unsociability, and confines us to the sphere of self-interest to the cost of solidarity? Why, surely, self-love that is to say, the species of self- love that circles round the animal self, the mere brute Ego. Whenever personal gratification repre- sents the limit of our moral horizon, it follows quite logically that others are created but to pander to that gratification, to serve us, rather than that we 7 98 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER should serve them ; to bestow rather than that we should give. And, yet, there exist individuals who still prattle of solidarity in this very connection. It is, then, a counterfeit solidarity having its charlatans, as the true solidarity has its disciples. Its final goal is not to complete the man in us, but to satisfy the animal ; its ideal is in nowise to love our fellows for their sake, but to love them for our own. It is the inevitable outcome of their egoistic standpoint, that, in youth, men are led to confound this spurious solidarity with the real thing; to mis- take for altruism what is, in truth, at bottom, egoism pure and simple ; to imagine that mere neighbourly proximity is synonymous with the fusion of souls. We have to dispel this illusion as speedily as maybe, by demonstrating the vast gulf that exists between exterior "comradeship," and the interior "friend- ship," of that single-minded solidarity as we Chris- tians conceive of it. One of the chief obstacles, as one of the main resources of student life all depends on the point ot view entertained is, precisely, the life in common. In every University it happens that certain young men are brought into mutual association. But there are different kinds of association. There is a species of official association, furthered by influences of race, language, education, ideas, and so forth. In this regard I have nothing to say, since it is entirely advantageous, and, rightly pursued, acts as an individual stimulus. There is, however, another kind of association of an unofficial nature as to which I am less confident, when I take into con- EGOISM AND ALTRUISM 99 sideration the reasons actuating it. A young man enters the University. His first impression, on arrival there, is, that he is out of his element. Instinctively, he thereupon seeks out amid the fresh faces that he scans some kindred spirit. He in- variably finds one more than one even in this land of exile, for this very desire of his begets them. Thence he is launched, on the instant, into a circle of associates whose tastes, manners, and mode of life are, in a way, imposed upon him. These may, possibly, be all that is desirable and becoming ; so much the better. But if the reverse be the case what then ? Occasionally, this happens, and so the student finds himself surrounded, under the guise of friends, by his enemies. This lad is, maybe, simple- minde'd as many are at twenty years of age a trifle vain, and easily influenced. What follows, in- evitably ? His vanity makes him at once the slave of public opinion of opinion, that is, as entertained by his "emancipated" fellows, whose numbers he helps to swell. And he is, henceforth, eminently the slave of the worst among these of those, most generally, whose vicious qualities give them ascend- ancy over the shallow and feeble-minded who govern in virtue of their overpowering swagger, their air of confidence, their oratorical tirades against " priggishness" and " sanctimonious " observance. Little by little, such evil example makes way, the conscience suffers a species of cauterisation, and at last, accepts blindly, as the ideal life the unique life for the self-respecting student a mode of existence more stupid, enervating, and void than can be easily conceived by the imagination. If intermittently 100 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER his conscience awakens, and flames up like a par- tially extinct volcano, he forthwith stifles it. His tastes may perchance not lie in the direction of vice, but he yields, none the less, in deference to those of his associates whom he admires, or who intimidate him to such a degree, that he becomes their servile imitator ; so that, ultimately, his intellect, spirit, and even physical health are given over to them. Is this a solidarity that becomes I will not say the Christian but the upright man? I know, of course, that this state of affairs is not, thank God, typical of every student environment, as a whole, or of the individual student either, who through ill- luck has been drawn into it. But at least, there are a vast number of students who, arriving at a Univer- sity with the express purpose of enlarging their mental and spiritual outlook, are forthwith subjected to the contrary and restricting process. It seems justifiable, then, to attempt a warning. " To shine, as young men, who lead a life of pleasure, desire to shine," wrote Lord Chesterfield to his son, " is to shine like a decaying forest in the darkness."* I sincerely wish to make all allowance for the weakness and inherent defects of our complex and fallen nature. The great majority of young men who lead a life of pleasure, do so just because they lack proper direction. They are drawn, heedless, into the vortex, by exterior circumstances ; they are, too often, the victims of an unhealthy, or, at least, superficial method of upbringing. As for the " well- bred " student, who goes astray with the rest, he, * " Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son," September to October, 1748. EGOISM AND ALTRUISM 101 too, at the outset, is probably entirely unsuspicious of harm. If he be intelligent, however, he is bound speedily to discover his error, to estimate at their right value the influences that encompass him, and when at last he does accurately fathom these, surely, then noblesse oblige / If my companions foster notions that are as injurious, as they are senseless, am I bound to submit my better judgment to theirs ; to sacrifice my freedom, my health, my glad delight in work, and the "good life," merely that I may avoid their sarcasms, or win their admiration ? Why is it that amongst all these intelligent defaulters there are to be found so few who dare to maintain their independence, to stand firm against silly suggestions, to exchange for this life of empty pleasure that of real and effectual happiness ? It is because for this there is effort entailed ; the stout wall of prejudice has to be attacked with a vigorous stroke from the shoulder, and the passion of egoism, not, as yet, become virtue, renders our muscles inert and unequal to the effort demanded. It is so much easier to take refuge behind make-belief, to imagine that one is giving oneself to one's friends, when one is actually taking from these all that is evil. So long as the shell appears to hold, why worry about the interior? So long as we have the semblance of life, of what moment is it if, by contact, we are incurring a moral death ? I see but one remedy for this situation: it is, as I have said, to convert passionate egoism into virtuous egoism into that well-ordered charity which will save us, and in saving us will also ensure the sal- vation of our comrades. 102 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER IV. TRUE SOLIDARITY. We must acknowledge that by the side of this false solidarity, which is but the counterfeit of egoism, there is room in the heart of the young for a solidarity that is sound and high-principled. Youth is the age for the formation of the ideal friendship whose influence extends throughout life. But to interpret rightly friendship's obligations, to be able to love another with a generous, disinterested love, it is first expedient that a young man entertain a like affection towards himself, that he should love self with generosity and disinterestedness ; in other words, that he subordinate his animal self to his reasoning self the brute to the man. Human Solidarity, Between individual human good and social human good there is no kind of dis- cord, there is harmony. Without doubt, social good is human good, affecting humanity at large, and not the individual alone ; still the fact remains that it is human good, and that only. It is an ideal in its complete realisation, built up by man; it is the highest happiness, as humanly conceived. All self- development, it is certain, is dependent on, and determined, to a certain degree, by our relations towards our fellows. All mankind are inter- dependent It follows, then, that self-love, if it be reasonable, if it lead me to obey the dictates of my conscience, if it tends to a heartwhole devotion to duty such love of oneself can materially contribute to the good of others. So that, if others act in the same way as myself, if they are faithful to their vocation as men, social welfare is secured, and we EGOISM AND ALTttUtSM 10S nearly approach to the construction of an ideal society. I am, then, justified in asserting that self- love is not incompatible with generosity, that it is, indeed, the living source whence springs the sentiment of a genuine and noble solidarity. Nor is this the end. Not only does the fact of self-love, humanly pursued, contribute to the happiness of others, without my being aware even that I entertain such an emotion in their regard but if, in reality, it is the man that I love in me, and not the animal, human dignity, and not the vileness of the beast, I shall inevitably feel sympathy towards another possessing this dignity in common with myself; his image, wherever it may confront me, must -naturally excite my affection. It will be as though I encountered myself, incarnate in another. So I will be led to love others in the same measure as I love myself, and not for my sake, but for theirs or, better still, for the sake of the human ideal enveloping us. Christian Solidarity. And while we aspire to this elevated, but still human ideal, we must not forget that above this ideal there soars another more austere and infinitely perfected the ideal set for us by Christ Himself. Human solidarity bids us love our brothers as ourselves, by reason of our common humanity; Christian charity decrees that we love these by reason of the divinity in which we alike participate. Human solidarity demands of us that we help others to realise in themselves the ideal of the upright man ; Christian charity imposes on us the duty of aiding others to become not manly alone, but God-like. Once more, human solidarity 104 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER visualises all things from the bounds of the earthly horizon, and aims at the victory of manhood ; Christian charity opens up for us the heavenly horizon, and would have us, through this human victory, win God for others, and for ourselves. Surely, these ends are of sufficient moment to release any well-intentioned young man from the galling yoke of his egoism. Since, after all, it is he who is concerned, it is his happiness that is primarily in the balance it will not be hard for him to trans- form his egoism, to cement to this high ideal every passion and feeling urging him to self-pursuit, to press these into the service of his desire, his love for the Divine Good. Thus will he become the nucleus of a higher activity towards which feebler and more timid spirits will be led to gravitate. Not casting out one of these from the sphere of his charitable endeavour, he will, none the less, be able to select and discriminate; to form worthy friendships and augment the circle of his intimates. His own dictator, he is able to dictate to others not by the exertion of a supremacy asserting itself by violence, and so exposing itself to attack, but dominating rather, by that power of attraction, that inevitably gains adherents in virtue of the charm emanating from it. CHAPTER VI SENSUALITY IN the preceding chapter we have seen that it is expedient to establish a distinction between the egoism that is a passion, and the egoism that may lawfully lay claim to being a virtue. We have fully inquired into the respective merits or demerits of these two varieties : and the choice of adoption lies with us. For my part, and with the sole aim of facilitating this choice, I desire to complete this second portion of my work with an analysis, brief but thorough, of one of the forms, the most disastrous and debasing, of passionate egoism. It is sensuality respecting which, the most charitable charge that can be made is, that it endangers social life, in that it attacks the vital powers of the individual. I will endeavour, in the first place, to point out its nature and its causes, and in this way make manifest its fatal effects. These once appreciated, it should prove an easy task to indicate the remedies incumbent upon every young man, who respects himself, and has regard for the happiness of others. I. ITS NATURE. Old men are wont to extol the days of their youth ; they lived, it would seem, in the golden age, as we live in the iron age. Laudator temporis acti. 105 106 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER I have this advantage over the veteran if advan- tage it be that I can speak but of my own time. And, it seems to me, my time merits praise and blame both. Inasmuch as it has exalted and fur- thered humanitarian sentiments and devotion to one's neighbour, it is worthy of all praise. All mankind would appear to be overridden at the present time by the great incoming tide of solidarity, and thus men are brought into closer communion one with another. Nevertheless, by one of those strange anomalies, by which the surest logic is put to rout, it happens, that at no epoch, has the cult of individualism, and morbid self-analysis, so flourished as to-day. Individualism and socialism I appre- hend, here, socialism in its widest sense are clearly defined as the two poles around which modern thought circulates. Hence, that state of unstable equilibrium characteristic of all contemporary socie- ties. If one would aim at the spread of generous ideas in theory, one must apply oneself to their demonstration in practice. Now, in practice, the cult of individualism is merely the brutal negation of all notions of solidarity ; for morbid self-analysis is one of the ills that must surely undermine all effort after social regeneration. Wholly inefficient are the lives of those who, instead of seeing to it that they exist for the betterment of their fellows, exist but to watch themselves. Youth, in particular, is a prey to that state of soul described by a psychologist of discernment and repute as " emotional egoism " one, as he points out, that must be sedulously guarded against: " That perilous appetite for emotion, that greed for SENSUALITY 107 complicating the heart's sensations in order to evoke some new thrill, that tendency to vivisect the soul, out of curiosity, premature satiety, and because of the incapacity to procure from life any fresh or lasting impression."* The sensual forms in which, in the case of a young man, emotional egoism may be clothed, are number- less. Lacordaire, in alluding to the effects of that which he styles "The depraved sense," has por- trayed " Those men, who in the flower of their age, already exhibit the ravages of time; who, degenerate before having attained the full birth of their being, display a brow that is prematurely lined, eyes that are vague and sunken, lips that seem powerless to represent goodness they drag on, under a sun hardly risen, a worn-out existence." f With vice more than anything else lies the responsibility of wrecking human existence, of reducing it to the condition of a corpse. Vice, in its many phases, has its origin in a ferocious egoism. In yielding to his depraved inclinations, a young man has, in the beginning, no idea of the corruption and ruin that encompass him, and for which he is too often responsible. Accus- tomed to regarding self alone, he loses, little by little, the respect of persons, and tramples over all that opposes itself to the satisfaction of his appetite and desires. Occasionally, he imagines that he loves, whereas he loves himself exclusively ; amor- ous words are on his lips, and he, already, has no * Paul Bourget, preface to " L'Accalmie," a novel by Pierre Gerard. (Francis Laur, Paris.) f Lacordaire, " Conf . de Notre-Dame," 1844, 22 e Conf. 108 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER heart to love with. " How much suffering can a man of this disposition inflict on others ! With what haste does he attach and detach himself! How incapable he is of giving himself, or of faith in another !"* I will not waste time in depicting in detail the varied forms of sensuality as generated by emotional egoism. These are known to all, and the literature of to-day abounds in their description. What is supremely important is to inquire into the causes of vice, the effects of which we must be made aware of in order to find a cure. II. CAUSES OF SENSUALITY. Personal Causes. The first is not difficult to trace: every system contains the seeds, and is predes- tined to suffer from the ravages, of concupiscence, as inherited from our first parents. Here, religion and experience are united in bewailing the miseries of the soul enchained to this " body of corruption." Though it may, unhappily, be true that our moral temperament is, unavoidably, a prey to it, that not one amongst us can escape its attack, there can yet be no doubt that in the case of a people or an individual, sensuality has its violent and its more controlled periods. Respecting, in particular, the crisis of youth : " Whenever nature awakens in a young man not controlled by Christian principle, there occurs within him a wholesale revolution of his physical forces, which subject him to what Father Gratry expressively terms, ' the trial by fire.' Sensuality stirs and overwhelms him; the * Paul Bourget, op. tit. SENSUALITY 109 heart feels a hunger, hitherto unknown, excited by a desire that is at times vague, at others, alarmingly insistent. There are moments, as Bossuet vigor- ously asserts, when a human being feels himself wholly flesh. Thought abdicates in favour of the self-assertive flesh ; the body stifles the soul ; the senses overthrow the spirit, and its interior lamp is extinguished sometimes for the moment only sometimes, alas ! for a while sometimes never to be re-lit. It is the moral sun eclipsed by its satel- lites, the intelligence by the body, the psychical life by the physical organism made to minister to it."* Social Causes. This crisis as it occurs in youth, reflects, in its sensual manifestations, the ideas of the time and social environment that witness it. While public taste persistently stirs up the mud that is the main constituent of our nature; while literature in its divers phases fiction, the drama, the daily Press helps in its diffusion ; while the very streets assist in besmirching the passers-by with their scandalous display of improper posters, photographs, picture-cards, etc. ; while unbridled extravagance sheds thereon the rays of its illusive light, and the odour of its artificial perfumes ; while, in short, so-called right-minded folk shut their eyes on, or wink at its ravages how can we marvel at the fate of those young lads of twenty, thus flung on their own resources, without guide of any kind, who yet are not withheld from perceiving, from hearing, or inhaling in great gulps the insidious delight of this poisoned atmosphere ? * Sertillanges, " Nos Vrais Ennemis," p. 219. (Lecoffre, Paris : 1902.) 110 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER " The premature and wholly intellectual revela- tion of the sentimental realm has no part whatever in touching, so to speak, his heart. Ill-directed and random reading, uncontrolled conversation, un- restricted companionship; a too sedentary regime that gives rise to nervous irritability all these things conspire to the precocious awakening of the imagination, against which religious restraint can alone prevail. . . . The result is that the adolescent becomes mentally initiated in all the ardours, the subtleties, and perversions of passion-fed existence, and that, at an age, when he has, as yet, experienced but the puerile emotions of school-life."* Let us suppose such a school-boy, in his subse- quent University career, falling into a circle where wholesale tolerance in regard to vice finds currency, can we not foresee the disastrous results ? Or, let us say, he falls under the sway of a wealthy set, the members of which, having no cares as to livelihood, and spoilt by home indulgence, spend their days in assuring for themselves the impotence of their riper years ; or again, he may consort with enfeebled pessimists with those who lose heart ere yet they are on the battle-field, or with the idle of every variety, or with the worn-out ingenuous dilettante who exhorts him to do nothing, diligently, who conducts him to the wine-shop, and helps him, with enthusiasm, to every kind of debauch. These, briefly scanned, are the immediate and remote causes that give birth, in our contemporary youth, to emotional egoism, and deliver them up without mercy to the tyranny of the flesh. There * Paul Bourget, op. cit. SENSUALITY 111 remains the task of noting the chief effects of such sen- suality, and thence we shall arrive at the remedies likely to overcome these, and prevent their renewal. III. THE EFFECTS OF SENSUALITY. Sensuality is, undeniably, an anti-social crime. The moral value of society is dependent on the morality of its members. If these are corrupt, how shall the society itself escape corruption ? Add a zero to another zero and you get no numerical result. On the other hand, it may occur it frequently does that individual corruption is the outcome of social causes. I have alluded earlier to those modern conditions of life that are hostile to the education of character. And it is evident to every understanding, that social causes of corrup- tion have multiplied, in our day, in alarming proportions. It is deplorable to have to state that the moral evil springing from these social causes may be referred rather to our advancement than our retrogression. In the promotion of knowledge for solely utili- tarian ends, we have come to look upon it, little by little, as a mere instrument for our pleasure, an eternal fount for our gratification. At once, thereby, the axis of morality becomes displaced. It is perfectly true that at no time has there been so much talk of the value of altruism, self-abnegation, solidarity, as at present; there is not a public speaker who does not feel himself bound, at meet- ings or official gatherings of any description, to enunciate this sentiment ; and particularly on those occasions when it is expedient to impress the crowd 112 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER with big-sounding phrases and stereotyped formulae. But let us more closely inspect, let us grasp within our fingers, this humanitarian mask, and we shall be horror-stricken at the amount of egoism it disguises. I do not by any means wish to allege that these pronouncements in regard to devotion and neigh- bourly obligation are throughout insincere and false ; on the contrary, I do believe in the sincerity of the greater number. But how illusive, how distressingly futile, are these generous impulses, when conceived by those who in practice totally frustrate all that they in theory most cherish ! I ask the reader to forgive me if I again lay stress on this point, and to permit me to demonstrate once again its importance, as I proceed to dwell on the anti- social effects of sensual egoism. Physical Effects. We owe ourselves, body and soul, to society ; it has the right to draw upon our forces, and to demand of us that we rightly econo- mise these. Sensuality is a terrible squanderer of force ; no vice so surely undermines the body, dim- inishes the intelligence, and atrophies the heart so rapidly. Sensuality is, for this reason, conspicuously, an anti-social vice. It must be remembered for in such matters clearness is incumbent upon us that there is sensuality and sensuality. I make no account of those fugitive weaknesses to which physical temperament, our fallen nature, and our environment so largely contribute all such may be overcome by the exercise of prudence and energetic determination. The kind of sensuality I denounce is that to which a young man yields without a struggle, which he cultivates for itself, SENSUALITY 113 denying himself no kind of satisfaction that quality of sensuality that may be likened to a foul worm that attacks, for choice, the freshly opening bud, sucks from it its vital juices, and devours it down to its stem. It is enough to observe attentively those youths who are its victims. In despite of the artifices they employ to hide from others their shattered con- dition, this is easily discernible in their enfeebled bodies, in their listless gait, in their clouded aspect. What expectation can society reasonably found on such a contribution to their strength? They can only be injurious to it first, in depriving it of the capital of individual energy to which it is entitled, and then, in bequeathing by instalments a heritage of impoverished blood, of offspring destined, from birth, to wither in corruption. To whom shall these young voluptuaries go, to offer the dregs of their shattered selves ? They may, by a miracle, marry a wife who has escaped from the general contamination, and if so, such neutralisation of force by weakness is sad to contemplate. If, on the contrary, a mate be chosen who, herself, is the victim of this depraved habit, it can be foreseen what will follow from this union of dead organisms that aim at generating life : there will be no issue, or worse there will be given to society beings from whom vice, like a vampire, will have sucked before birth their life-blood, and put out for all time the light in their eyes. Go then, and talk of social regeneration to men whose existence is one slow suicide, who daily resign themselves to death at the expense of others, on the sole condition that they may be allowed to live for themselves ! 8 114 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER Intellectual Effects. That the intellectual effects of sensualism, in a youth, are no less deplorable than the physical ones; that the senses are satisfied at the cost of the mind ; that the dissolute body dis- solves the energies of the soul all these facts are attested by common experience. The intellect requires for its expansion physical tranquillity, sound functions, untainted blood, and controlled nerves. The body is the natural instrument of the intellect, and whenever I contemplate their relations, I am reminded of an ^Eolian harp, which, suspended according to the legend on the branches of some willow-tree, would produce sweet vibrations as the fresh gusts of an April morning, or the gentle breezes of an autumnal evening, breathed upon it. If peace reigns within him and without, if his flesh be not disturbed by the agitating storms of passion, then can the intellect, thrown, as some light current of air, on the sensitive fibres of this wondrous instrument, call forth full, sweet harmonies, whose depths and tunefulness help largely to temper the harsh and hollow accents of sensualism. Were it otherwise, and the body a prey to the violent winds of voluptuousness then, those thousand and one sensitive fibres that constitute it, would be strained or split up ; intellect may do its uttermost, not one sound will be forthcoming. Bodily enjoyment is wholly incompatible with intellectual joys ; that which relies upon the flesh is incapable of working on the spirit. "The young man who returns to his student quarters at the close of an evening of pleasure, does so in a state of mental disruption ; the contrast of the lights, of the SENSUALITY 115 dances, of the seductions of beauty, in all its trap- pings, that he has left behind, with the simple sur- roundings that confront him is fatal to his mental well-being. He is tremendously discouraged, for he has not learnt, as yet, how rightly to estimate these fictitious joys. Full of illusion, as of energy, he is, so far, incapable of perceiving reality. He con- structs for himself his exterior world, and the persons that fill it, and the hallucination created is so vivid that it hides from him all that is actual. Is it astonishing that, by comparison, his calm, unen- cumbered student-life really so happy should appearto him intolerably monotonous andgloomy?"* How many youthful pessimists are begotten by this life of pleasure! Starting their career as students, brimful of fine aspirations and high intention, the future smiles on them; some day they will evolve into men of science, a credit to society, and to their country. For a year or possibly two all goes well, then, gradually, their ardour cools. After all, they tell themselves, their body has its rights as well as their mind ! They will observe all moderation and discretion at the start then, passion, fed daily with infinitesimal doses, plays havoc with discretion ; it is the cancer that ravages the organism, and finally devours it ; it is a tide which slowly uproots the sea-wall and carries all along with it. So are these carried along; the flesh claims anew from them its asserted rights over the spirit, and thus, in the place of healthy, hard-working, intelligent youths, their gifts the rightful assets of their country, we gather the * Payot, op. cit., p. 207. 116 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER withered fruit of a body precociously exhausted, an intelligence dulled, a will enfeebled, a heart that is atrophied. For, not content with blighting the intelligence and destroying the will, sensuality dries up the heart and shrivels it like a withering leaf. Moral Effects. " I maintain," says Lacordaire, "that I have never encountered tenderness in a libertine. I have never met a loving spirit but in those who were either ignorant of evil, or were struggling against it. Because, once habituated to violent emotions, how can the heart, that is so delicate a plant, that is nourished by the dew falling from heaven, that is swayed by the lightest breath, made happy for days by the remembrance of the spoken word, by the glance bestowed, by the encouragement given to it by the lips of a mother, or the hand-grasp of a friend ; how shall that which has so calm a movement, that which, naturally, is almost insensible, because of its very sensibility, and its alarm lest one breath of love should break it, if God had made it less profound- how, I say, can this heart oppose its gentle and frail joys to those coarse emotions of the depraved sense? The one is selfish, the other generous; the one lives for self, the other outside of self: of these two tendencies, one must prevail. If the depraved sense has its way, the heart decays little by little it loses its capacity for simple joys, it tends no longer towards others, it finally pulsates only in relation to the course of the blood, and marks the hours of that sshmeless time, the flight of which is hastened by debauchery."* These, briefly summed up, are a * " Conf. de Notre-Dame," 1844, 22* Conf. SENSUALITY 117 few of the anti-social effects of sensual egoism in the young. I propose now to make known a certain specific for the disease. IV. THE CURE FOR SENSUALITY. Let me insist again : The remedy is to be found in the very heart of the evil. The evil arises, solely, from the fact that we do not love ourselves in the right way. To effect a cure, therefore, we have not to hate self but to love self, rightly. And what do I mean, when I talk of loving "rightly"? Why, this : To love in self all that which exalts, and not that which degrades ; to love the man, and not the beast ; to love the Christian, rather than the man ! Sensibility. It is, in no sense, forbidden that we should have affection for our bodies; what is for- bidden is, that we should cherish Body at the ex- pense of Soul. But, just suppose for an instant, that it were permissible to give the body an exclusive love without having regard to the necessary sub- servience of the flesh to the laws of the spirit. Even in this absurd hypothesis it is not evident, in any way, that sensual egoism is the last word of wisdom. Epicurus, himself, taught that it is most prudent to choose those pleasures that are refined and lasting, rather than the transient and gross pleasures of vice. So that, affection rightly understood even if con- fined to the body alone is not consistent with sen- suality. What shall be said, then, when far from con- sidering the Body as an independent reality, having a separate existence, we regard it, solely, in relation to the Soul ? From this standpoint we see, that even legitimate bodily gratifications that affect our 118 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER physical health, the harmonious action of our organs, the shades and complexities of our nervous system, do not represent an end in themselves, but are sub- ordinate to the higher joys of the heart and intelli- gence. Therefore, all that is calculated to lessen these joys, or encroach upon them, must be imme- diately abandoned. It is not permissible that a young man should see, hear, read, and do everything, but it is essential that he should hear, read, see, and perform all those things that are bound to elevate his intelligence, and enlarge his heart. Intellectual Culture. It is our duty, as Christians and upright men, to develop our minds ; there is no human perfection attainable without this. We do not all, alike, possess the intellectual vocation, nor can we all pursue learning for its own sake, that is certain ; we all, however, have the vocation to be as intellectual as lies within our power. If, then, study, for its own sake, has no attraction for us, we can at least pursue it in view of an honourable future. Every student conceives this ambition, and it is, in itself, a sure preventive against sensual indulgence. For ambition has this peculiarity, that it attracts the energies necessary for its fertilisation, and casts off those that are inimical to it. Chaste for the sake of his ambition, a youth will, surely, in the end, court chastity for its own sake when once he has tasted its indescribable charm. Moral Culture. But chastity must not be pursued with the sole design of safeguarding our intellect ; it is needful to be chaste with the high resolve of amplifying our hearts. An upright man therefore, more imperatively, a Christian should be virtuous SENSUALITY 119 in all essentials ; that is to say, his goodness must have no other limits than those assigned to it by reason and faith. If, then, it be acknowledged that only by a disinterested love for others can we stifle an interested love for self, we may allow, further, that out of a chaste and unselfish love for self, there can alone spring an unselfish love for others ; when we serve our brother rather than self, we can love him, for his sake, rather than for our own. I have alluded, earlier, to the wife who, one day, is to share the domestic hearth. I know of young men for whom the mere vague conception of such a future relation suffices to keep them chaste and high-living. Having such a motive exclusively does not, doubtless, make chastity meritorious in a Christian. Never- theless, even this motive, if sincere, helps to carry him step by step into closer approximation with the supreme and, pre-eminently, purifying ideal. Frankly, we are not angels, and due allowance must be made for this fact. Better is it, so at least I think, to attain to God by such winding paths as can lead us to Him, than to stand, hesitating, be- cause we dare not attempt to clear, at a bound, the distance separating us. In this sense we find that the love of mankind, of all those who share with us in one human and divine brotherhood, helps us to the love of God. One may belong to one's time in seeking to further that solidarity which is a sign of it, in cherishing others, because of our common humanity; and one can outstrip one's time in cherishing those others because, before all reasons, of the divinity that envelops them and us, alike. If we attain so far, we have but a step to reach upwards 120 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER to the love of God, for Himself, and in the supreme degree. Thus, do we find salvation ; for, loving God for Himself, we proceed thence to the love of others and self, for His sake. Thence, we are enabled to descend with ease the slopes up which we have climbed so painfully. In that we have tasted of celestial joys, we are able to rightly value earthly ones ; in that we have ap- proached nigh unto the heavens, the earth seems puny ; in that we thirst for the higher world, we can no longer hunger after the lower. We may be likened to a traveller who, spurred on by his love for the mountains, has succeeded in scaling their lofty peaks. As he does so, instantaneously, all is enlarged before his eyes, the sky is more profound, the horizon limitless. At his feet extend the hills and silent forests. He hears the hum of the cities beneath, as the murmur of many voices. He is filled with an extraordinary sense of joy the joy of find- ing himself, for the moment, detached from earthly things, and, in the august solitude, of dominating all within the compass of his vision. PART III ACTION AND CHARACTER CHAPTER I HABIT WE have now dealt with the part played by the Ideal and the Passions in the education of character. We have seen that, given energy and discretion, it is possible for the will to unite, practically, the impassioned and sentimental emotions to the Christian ideal, so that, thereby, its own love for the ideal may be quickened and confirmed, and its absolute empire over our sensitive realm ensured. We have seen, further, that the task of training character is not the task of a day, but one calling for time and patience ; that it is not enough to know that our passions and sentiments can be pressed into the service of the ideal imposed upon us, but that our highest duty lies in effectually performing this service in reality, and with unremitting zeal. How is this to be done ? By action. Now, action has a twofold nature : it is natural and supernatural.* * There are some who question the distinction drawn between natural and supernatural action. These revert, in practice, to the distinction that we, for analytical purposes, maintain in theory. In practice, the upright m^n and the Christian are one and the 121 122 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER Natural action should issue in the creation of sound moral habit that, once acquired, materially aids our task and renders it agreeable. Super- natural action, on the other hand with all that it implies of grace, the exercise of prayer, the use of the sacraments, the performance of charity, in its many phases will afford us invaluable support, since, indisputably, we find that grace in nowise frustrates nature, but perfects it; that it does not diminish man, but exalts him; that it does not weaken, but fortifies him. We will confine ourselves, at present, with re- viewing the part played by natural action in the education of character to return later to, and complete the survey of that allotted to supernatural action.* The whole end of natural action is to place us in possession of sound moral habits which, intelligently grouped around the axis of the will, help to produce men of character. What do I mean by "moral habits," and in what, actually, consists their morality? I will attempt an answer to these two preliminary questions. I. THE NATURE OF HABIT. Everyone understands the general significance of the word "habit" it means, a tendency acquired by the repetition of certain acts to reproduce same. But, just as one may distinguish in the Christian ideal a human aspect and a Divine aspect, so, in the realisation of this ideal, Christian action has a natural and a supernatural quality. Both are derived from grace, but their claims to it are divergent. * " La Virilite Chretienne." (Desclee, Lille : 1909.) HABIT 123 analogous acts with ease and satisfaction. So that, moral habit must, necessarily, imply the tendency to reproduce readily, and gracefully, moral acts, in virtue, uniquely, of the fact of their repetition. To simplify the meaning of this definition I need only indicate as briefly as may be the significance of habit in relation to our moral organism. The Significance of Habit. Let us consider a child, arrived at years of discretion at that given moment when it behoves him, as a Christian, to perform acts compatible with human and Divine laws. His psychic state is not so simple as might be antici- pated. By which I do not mean his intelligence, in that, hardly as yet awakened to the truth, it assimil- ates only that measure of its light as he is capable of absorbing, and such as suffices to start his first footsteps, but does not dispense him from the need of assistance in their guidance. I would treat rather of his volition. A child's will, as we know f is a fragile and delicate element that has been for some years swathed in the bonds of sensibility, and proceeds to regain its liberty, painfully. Its power is not paralysed, but it is benumbed. And just as the limbs of a child become nimble only through use, so his volition can alone be rendered active by the stimulus of desire. By force of desire in other words, by the act of willing he is able, by degrees, to possess volition. We must not labour under the mistaken idea, that a child, because he is young, and, therefore, as yet unspoilt by time, is in a state of pure spirit, whose desire after the Divine Good encounters no kind of resistance. Such a conclusion would involve the 124 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER premises that his will has been already determined, at birth, and further, that his senses are naturally orientated in the direction of God. And we have clearly perceived that such is not the case. A child's will becomes gradually formed, by dint of persistent effort, and countless acts of energy. Similarly, his sensible faculties will submit themselves to the yoke of an austere ideal, such as the Christian ideal, only when these have undergone a lengthy preparation at the hands of the will ; for the ethical training of the sensibilities is, in the highest degree, a matter of self-conscious repre- sentation and effort. Of course, I am aware that numbers are born, endowed with qualities of temperament, that considerably favour ethical training. But these may be accounted the excep- tion. It is also evident, that those most favoured in this respect, are not dispensed thereby from action. It is one thing to be disinclined to evil as the out- come of natural attributes, and quite another to be disposed to good, as the outcome of will and energy. There are beings who remain virtuous, in that they are incapable of vice ; whereas there are others who become virtuous, notwithstanding a predis- position to vice. These have character; the first have none. Hence, I conclude, that a child, arrived at that period of his growth when he is called upon to act in accordance with Reason and Faith, finds himself, inevitably, at a disadvantage precisely because he is a child. What should cut asunder the sensible ropes that hold him fast to the earth and so set free his aspiring spirit that, like a captive balloon, is thus deprived of its power of flight? It HABIT 125 is the will's function, but it appertains to the active will that which pursues, unremittingly, its obliga- tions, and slowly, but surely, becomes nourished and strengthened by its own acts. Similar principles are involved in the education of character and in the education of the intellect. " If a child is unable to make practical use of a grammatical rule," declares Kant, "it is of little moment that he can say it by rote he does not know it. That child who has the capacity to apply its rule knows it infallibly, and it matters little whether he is able, in addition, to quote it correctly. . . . The best means of understanding is to perform. One learns most thoroughly and lastingly that which has been learned in some sort independently." How should it benefit a child that he knows, and can recite by heart, his moral catechism, if he put not into prac- tice the rules it prescribes. I have come across winners of a " First prize in religious instruction," who have subsequently developed into famous materialists. The best-known moral precepts are those that are oftenest practised ; a man, who is really chaste, is better acquainted with the whole subject of chastity however illiterate he may be than the writer of genius, who is a sensualist, albeit that he expatiates, untiringly, on the incom- parable charm of that virtue he does not possess. Action plays, in respect of education, the leading r6le, and one that is superior to the most enlightened and highly literary of treatises. If a portion of the work accomplished by a child takes the form of impressions inscribed on its memory, so, too, are active habits inscribed as a result of activity. 126 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER Nothing is wasted in our psychological life : nature is a scrupulous accountant Whatever our actions, however seemingly insignificant, these renewed, go to mount up in the course of weeks, months, years, an alarming total, inscribed on the organic memory in the form of ineradicable habit. Time, that pre- cious ally of our enfranchisement, works with the same steady obstinacy against us, unless we con- strain it to work for us. He utilises for, or against us, that dominating psychological law, the law of habit. Victor, and sure of its victory, habit advances with deliberate and insidious strides, aware, as it would seem, that slow action, indefi- nitely repeated, is prodigiously efficacious. The initial act once accomplished, already, its repetition costs less : Repeat it a third, and a fourth time, and the effort entailed gradually becomes lessened and, finally, is non-existent. How can it be non-existent? What is painful exertion at the outset develops gradually into a need, and, if irksome in the begin- ning, causes, in the end, discomfort only when left unperformed."* Fundamentally, the true object of moral habit is to strengthen the natural weakness of our active faculties, to increase a hundredfold their activity, and, this done, to advance, as it were, mechanically, toward good. In this sense is habit, actually, second nature. But while our first nature is be- stowed upon us ready-made, and without our per- sonal co-operation, habit is essentially our work ; we become, by its acquisition, our own creators. And this brings me to the discussion of the degree of morality entailed in moral habits. * Payot, op. cit., p. 135. HABIT II. THE MORALITY OF HABIT. Some philosophers there are who contest the morality of moral habits. This may appear para- doxical ; none the less is it a fact. If virtue is the habit of right performance, in the long run it becomes a sort of routine, whence all freedom is banished. By the diminution of effort, there follows a diminution of merit, and thus the morality of our actions is threatened. Conclusion : let us acquire the least possible sum of good habits. Here, anew, are we presented with one of those paper theories, against which we cannot too strongly protest, so enervating is their influence. It is, perfectly true that a virtuous action is the more praiseworthy inasmuch as it demands effort, and is the product of liberty. That, however, is not the question. It is, to ascertain whether it is possible for a rightly intentioned person, spurred on by his notions of duty, to continue to expend with unflagging persistence the same amount of effort that was incumbent upon him at the outset of his ethical life. To this, universal experience replies : No, it is not possible. To assert the contrary were evidence either of blindness to facts, or else, that one has never been called upon to wrestle, per- sonally, with a rebellious temperament, to overcome violent temptation, to grapple with adverse circum- stance. The prospect of a continuous renewal of the same conflict, and under the same conditions, would discourage the most valiant. Habit and Liberty. Moreover, in the opinion of leading psychologists, the maintenance of good 128 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER habits, far from curtailing our liberty, rather aug- ments it. " They are greatly mistaken," one writes, " who assert that it (habit) substitutes for moral effort alone meritorious an automatic virtue, actually valueless, and but a species of useful and pleasant routine. It is the reverse that occurs. This acquired or, rather, conquered infallibility represents the highest degree of merit, and is the highest liberty."* No one is free, I repeat it, but he who deserves to be so. By moral habit he acquires the right. Habit is, literally, the mainspring of free activity, in that it is founded on voluntary action incessantly repeated, and also, in that, under its beneficent influence, we assume daily an increased possession of self that which admittedly is the ultimate object in training character. It may be objected that, notoriously, habit, in relieving effort, at the same time relieves the conscience ; and so we are reduced to a per- formance of duty that is merely instinctive and mechanical. This is not a new objection, and, while I deal with it, I will not venture so far as to main- tain, as do some, that it lies with the education of character to superintend this, that all such educa- tion is incomplete until conscious performance has evoked unconscious performance until, in other words, one has attained to that degree of skill in the manipulation of the keyboard of the virtues, which enables an accomplished musician to perform upon his instrument, having his eyes shut ; the qualities of character, will-power, initiative, etc., are not the offspring of abstract reasoning, and cannot be learnt * Marion, " La Solidarite Morale," p. 106. (Alcan, Paris.) HABIT 129 from books ; they become habits entirely apart from the sphere of reason.* Now, in truth, a morality which discusses itself is but a poor sort of morality, and the man of scruples who passes his life in dissecting his least actions is, frequently, the very antithesis of the man of action. But there is a vast gulf between this attitude and that which alleges that the conscious practice of duty must, in the end, issue in the total elimination of conscious morality ! The very complexity of the ethical life stands opposed to this notion. If virtuous action were presented to us, invariably, under like aspect and conditions, one might entertain the hope that, after ten or twenty years' practice, its perform- ance would finally grow mechanical. But such, emphatically, is not the case. There are a thousand ways in which the same individual may from day to day, nay, from one hour to the next, practise prudence, charity, temperance, chastity, humility. The paths of virtue cross one another, endlessly. We may liken ourselves to the traveller who traverses a virgin forest and encounters surprises at every turn. Beneath every moral action, as beneath every forest leaf, there may be concealed a reptile : that we have escaped its fangs for twenty years is no sure guarantee that we shall do so in the future. So, there is not an instant in our lives, however habit may flourish, when the conscience is not bound to remain on the alert. The keyboard of virtue has no analogy, actually, with that of a musical instrument, in that it has not a determined number of notes and scales. We have, however, acquired a * Le Bon, op. cit., p. 204. 9 130 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER certain virtuosity, having learned from early child- hood how to produce various concords ; but, seeing that their combination is inexhaustible, it is neces- sary to continue to study incessantly. The saints, those supreme artists in the moral order, never relax their vigilance, but perpetually augment effort, while it grows less and merit accrues. Thence, I gather, that moral habit, the equivalent of virtue, is the highest degree of merit, and the highest form of liberty. CHAPTER II THE LAWS OF HABIT IT seems to me unsatisfactory to treat of habit, as many psychologists are prone to do, as the mere product of action, and its development in direct pro- portion to its repetition. What is of moment is to ascertain, to what laws this repetition is itself sub- servient in order to have effect. Now, these laws are of two kinds, according as they bear upon the hygiene of the soul, or regulate the exercise of the faculties. There can be no more important, neither interesting subject, from this double standpoint, and, at the same time, there is none to which less consideration has been given. I venture, therefore, to devote this chapter to its discussion. I. THE SOUL'S HYGIENE. Physiological Hygiene. The laws of bodily hygiene, if rightly understood and regarded, are calculated to secure and preserve physical health ; such, too, is the case with the laws of moral hygiene in relation to the spiritual health. Just as bodily health may be defined as the equilibrium of its physiological functions, so, I imagine, the health of the soul may be defined as the equilibrium of its moral functions. This being so, we have but to glance at the methods by which the laws of bodily hygiene should be 132 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER applied, so as to insure the perfect equilibrium of the functions in regard to our physical organism, in order, simultaneously, to arrive at the correct atti- tude to be adopted if we would safeguard our spiri- tual organism. Let me hasten to assure my readers that I am not contemplating here a lecture on hygiene. I merely intend, since one cannot judge of the soul's existence without drawing analogies from that of the body, to direct attention to certain details respecting the proper working of organic life, that it may be better understood how we may more prudently regulate the faculties of the soul. Now, if we are to credit the physiological experts, the health of the body is dependent, largely, on the equilibrium of two functions, that of respiration and nutrition. There can be no physical well-being, unless we assimilate, by means of our lungs, pure air, and by means of the stomach, wholesome food. At first sight, it may be imagined that there can be nothing easier of accomplishment than to provide the body with these " principles of life." It is not so. That we are not lacking in the means of securing fresh air and wholesome food is certain; what we do, mostly, lack, is a proper conception of the laws of hygiene that guarantee us these. A student, let us say, is in temporary occupation of his room, the windows of which have been tightly closed since the previous day. He sits down to his work. After a short interval, he realises that he is making no progress, he is not in the vein, his head is hot and heavy. How is he to mend matters? Very likely, he needs but to throw open his windows for a while, and so renew the vitiated atmosphere. THE LAWS OF HABIT 133 But to do this would cost him an effort, he would have to interrupt his work, or his reading, or cut the thread of some sentimental course of thought which is of far greater moment than the provision of pure air for his lungs. So he prefers to remain in discomfort rather than disturb himself, or, if he is to be disturbed well then, he gets up for good and all, and goes out of doors, and so squanders yet a little more of his time. And he could have quite easily satisfied his need of fresh air. By this victory over self in overcoming natural indolence, his physical well-being would have been restored, his intelli- gence revived, his will confirmed. But we ever disdain what is simple; we despise, on account of their apparent triviality, countless little acts accom- plished a hundred times in a day, by the one who devotes a healthy temperament to the service of a healthy soul : metis sana in corpore sano. And it would be well for all to realise that bodily health, like spiritual health, depends upon it. I have just dealt with the hygiene of respiration ; the same may be said in regard to the hygiene of diet. All who concern themselves with this ques- tion, agree, that we eat and drink to excess, and that the enormous work thus thrown upon the organs is most injurious to the organism as a whole, and thence reacts in the weakening of the intellectual and moral systems. Are we, then, called upon to espouse vegetarianism to enroll ourselves as teetotallers, and partake, exclusively, of "hygienic" beverages? These, surely, are violent remedies, and not for universal application, nor especially adapted to the young. 134 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER In my opinion, there exist remedies more efficacious, and which are too little regarded by the advocates of " stringent cures." These consist in a discreet supervision of one's daily diet ; in eating and drink- ing with due regard to one's physical condition, to the intellectual strain that has to be sustained, and to needful repose. To this species of discipline our slack volition cares little to accommodate itself. We dislike to be compelled to live "by rule," even though its interpretation be generous ; to do so is a tax upon our inertia ; and to live by rule is the con- trary of " living one's life." At twenty, one craves to " live one's life " one is carried away by the exuberance of temperament, by disregard of the morrow, by one's associates, and the thousand and one incidents of social existence that appear to authorise every kind of licence to the detriment of the most elementary forms of hygiene. Moral Hygiene. If we pass from the physiological domain to the moral domain, we encounter the same prejudice. The soul, to a greater degree than the body, requires to breathe a pure atmosphere, to pursue a wholesome diet, since the effects of spiritual infirmities are infinitely graver than those attendant on bodily ones. Further, the physique of the soul is more frail the slightest thing can upset it, and with lasting consequences. Yet, many there are who pass the greater part of their days, and their nights too, in an atmosphere that is morally stifling, heavy with the miasma of scepticism and sensuality ! There, where the doctrine of the easy life is most appreciated, these gather in largest numbers ; and the major portion of their spiritual energy becomes THE LAWS OF HABIT 135 dissipated in the pursuit of empty pleasure. Not that they desire evil for evil's sake : the majority will admit, in their candid moments, that this mode of existence palls grievously, that their convictions belie it, that their hearts are chilled by it, and their spirit stifled. To cast off these social constraints, to emancipate self from these habits of inveterate sloth, needs real effort. They have not the necessary courage. If, by way of antidote, they would but endeavour to nourish intellect and heart with the healthy food of clean thoughts and purifying sentiments! But behold them at their task ! They pursue, interiorly, the enervating and random system of their exterior existence. There are many who do not work at all, or work, half-heartedly, for a couple of months prior to the examination period. As a compensation, they devour all that comes their way all the current rubbish of fact or fiction. When they should satisfy their heart's hunger by allowing themselves only such affections as are lawful and ennobling, and so furthering the work of moral regenera- tion, in view of their future functions of husband and father, they elect rather to indulge in dreams, to multiply shallow relations, and squander in chance encounters the provision of fine and generous emotions fostered in early life. And thus, because it costs something to struggle against nascent passions, to hinder ease, to observe minute precautions to live, in a word, by rule, and so nourish the intelligence upon truth, and the heart upon manly sentiment. There are those, I am aware, who postpone until 136 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER a later period, their edifying conversion. Then, under the pressure of circumstance, and in view of the exigencies of life, they will proceed to " reform " themselves, as they describe it. They will reverse the machine, and astonish mankind by their virtuous behaviour, and the force of their convictions. What an Utopian scheme is this ! It involves the destruc- tion of body and soul alike. When youth has been passed in undermining self, in living within a pernicious circle, in daily intoxication with besotting draughts of pleasure; when it has disturbed in every possible way the equilibrium of the functions essential to life, it is not possible to reconstruct self from one day to the next, nor to re-establish the disturbed equilibrium. II. THE GYMNASTICS OF THE SOUL. It is advantageous, if one would foster sound health, to pay due attention to bodily hygiene. This, however, is not all that is required ; we must, as everyone acknowledges, add thereto muscular exercise. But what kind of exercise ? Here, opinion largely differs. Should such exercise be limited to that moderate and regular use of the muscles which, in rendering them pliant and vigorous, facilitates the working of the organs essential to life, and maintains the health in a state of perfect balance or, should recourse be had to violent sports which, immoderately practised, while they increase the muscular forces tenfold, do so, but too often, to the detriment of the general economy? The fact is, at the present time, there is some misapprehension in regard to those' opposed elements health and THE LAWS OF HABIT 137 muscular force. Such confusion could, I imagine, be easily avoided by a closer contemplation of the problem to be resolved, which amounts simply to this : Has bodily health an independent value ; or, on the contrary, merely a relative value derived uniquely from its close relation to the health of the soul ? Sports. I am not, for my part, of those who regard the object of life attained so long as one enjoys good health, and can rival the professional athlete in muscular force. If this were the case, there would, of course, be no difficulty in the kind of exercise to be adopted ; the simplest would be the best, provided that it conduced to the expansion of the breathing capacities of the lungs, facilitated the course of the blood, and aided digestion. The primary law of muscular exercise is, what I may not inaptly style, the law of infinitesimals. In virtue of this law, it is not at all incumbent upon a young man, rightly regardful of his health, to indulge in complicated and violent forms of exercise, save on occasion for his own diversion. Rather should he abide by simple methods, having due regard to natural laws, and which, systematically pursued, are likely to be conducive to health. For, to the law of infinitesimals, whereby the matter of bodily exercise is determined, there must adhere the law of continuity which regulates their form. This law represents the spirit of corporal gymnastics. If one relinquishes exercise, from weariness; if one relaxes, however slightly, one's efforts before attaining the desired end, there follows, inevitably, a diminution of the reserves of energy that have been so long accumulating. If, on 138 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER the contrary, one perseveres, and, on a system, these exercises, far from causing fatigue, will, in the long run, become a habit, a need, a second nature. It is with intention that I lay stress on this question. In that it concerns so conspicuously our physical health, it is of the greatest import. More- over, in the building-up of character, simple, but properly regulated, gymnastics play a prominent part. Some have described gymnastics as " the primary school for the will." Gymnastics for the body may serve as model for gymnastics for the soul, whose health is subject, with due reservation, to the same laws as those controlling the body. The Law of Infinitesimals. Every psychologist is in agreement as to the necessity for spiritual exer- cise. But where they differ is, as to the nature of the exercise to be adopted. I remember a time when spiritual exercise was represented, exclusively, by the daily reading of a chapter on piety or asceti- cism. It seems to me, however, that true spiritual exercise should be of the nature of action, rather than of reading, and that, further, this action should be unremitting. The soul has faculties somewhat as the body has members. If, then, moral habits are to the spiritual faculties what muscles are to the body's members, it is imperative that these be strengthened. Their development will assist the soul in those moral functions of respiration and nutrition, previously alluded to. Assuredly, if a young man be in the grip of sound, healthy habits, he will, without difficulty, rise superior to demoralising environ- ment, and will hunger, instinctively, after a moral THE LAWS OF HABIT 139 sustenance that is capable of fortifying him. But how develop such habits ? How, indeed, save by the persistent daily observance of quite simple, though entirely rigid laws, and, pre-eminently, of the law of infinitesimals. In the moral realm, the student will not have to seek far ; his daily task is clearly defined ; his duty as a Catholic plainly mapped out, day by day, hour by hour. Given the inclination to acquire good habits or what is termed a virtuous disposition and there is nothing easier than to profit by and develop this inclination ; or suppose, on the other hand, that he be prone to vice, then it becomes a question merely of personal initiative and common sense, in neutralising any such propensities and sub- stituting for them worthier ones. The Law of Continuity. Conceive a student who is, naturally, predisposed to temperance. It will be quite simple for him, on this hypothesis, to orientate all such tendencies into proximity with the Christian ideal and so, to the confirming of his will, which in its turn, inspired by the same ideal, will impart to these natural attributes its moral impress, and transmute them into virtues. Another, may be sensually addicted, whether encouraged by antecedents or accidental circumstance. How should he be dealt with ? Some will advocate, in like instances, strin- gent remedies, and go so far as to suggest the cowl and cloister. Theoretically, this would be a noble solution ; it is not, however, always practicable. There are remedies as efficacious, although less attractive such as the transforming of this passion into virtue, and converting a self-love that is base 140 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER into a self-love that is worthy. This is a task that has to be unremittingly pursued ; the law of infini- tesimals calls forth the law of continuity. Not by superhuman struggles at once wearing and dis- heartening, but by effort sustained and undaunted by discerning, moreover, the original cause of our daily backsliding. Does it lie in our reading? Then must we cease to read, or read less, or alter its nature. What of the theatres we patronise ? Let us wait awhile before again resorting to these, and allow our moral health to reassert itself. Does it concern the company we frequent ? Then we must be bold enough to seek other company. Perhaps, it is but a question of temperament ? In this case, we have to consult our physician as well as our con- fessor. But let this be held ever in remembrance : that temperament which is morally diseased like to physical temperament cannot be changed in a day, and by means of violent reaction, but by time alone, and action indefinitely renewed. Whilst we can remove the immediate causes of our downfall, we must, as well, take positive steps to acquire and develop the corresponding virtues. If we happen to be sensually bent ; if, in short, we are apt to cultivate that passionate form of egoism which is sensuality, there must be awakened in us the idea of a superior egoism, a worthier self-love. Around this idea there may be congregated the motives most likely to amplify it, from that of personal interest, ever regardful of the individual future, to that selfless one, embodying virtue, human dignity, devotion to humanity, and the glory of God. By fostering these higher considerations, the passion of THE LAWS OF HABIT 141 sensual appetite will become detached from the lower motive inspiring its gratification. Little by little, spirit will overcome matter, while not ceasing to love self, rather with increased love of self, augmented with the leaven of infinite charity. So can will-power be enlarged tenfold, and, quickened by the stimulus lent by all ardent emotion, it can restore in moral fibre and enduring energy whatever it has received of blind and transitory force. But what of the perpetual martyrdom here involved ? In truth, in this individual death, this continuous annihilation of self, there are contained the precious germs of creation or individual life. In virtue of the law of continuity which governs the growth of moral habit, reiterated action brings about a cor- responding diminution of effort. Where at the outset fatigue was most evident, there remains only felicity. Repose comes of action itself. The more we act, in this sense, the more we feel the need of action and the satisfaction of this need, as we per- sonally experience it, will appear to us the last word in the health of the soul, facilitating its expansion, as the bud of youth expands into the flower. CHAPTER III CHARACTER AND MORAL HABITS FROM the preceding inquiry, we have arrived at the defining of character as " The sum of moral habits intelligently grouped around the axis of the will." The reader can confirm the accuracy of this defini- tion, allowing that it be true, on the one side, that a man of "character" is recognisable by the unity and stability of his moral attitude, and, on the other side, that, indisputably and we hope to prove this moral habits, rightly understood, are the truest guarantee of the unity and stability of this attitude. What habit is, in the constant state, so in the transient state, are the acts that have contributed to its acquisition. It remains to be ascertained how moral habits can be grouped to assist in the forma- tion of character, and how a young man can best preside at this manoeuvre on his own account. I. MORAL EQUILIBRIUM. Ostensibly, countless are those moral habits favourable to the formation of character. This is evident from a glance at any description of moral treatise, and the particular chapter that deals with the classification of the virtues. In philosophical phraseology, virtues and moral habits are synony- mous. Hence comes this disturbing and pressing 142 CHARACTER AND MORAL HABITS 143 question : Am I to select from their number those most appropriate to my individual needs, to my temperament, and mental condition; or, am I bound, as matter of conscience, to entertain all ? Theoretically, it is not permissible to make a choice of moral habits; in practice, it must be admitted, no person can, conceivably, lay claim to their entire number. The Relations of the Virtues. In moral concerns, it is readily understood there can be no attempt at selection. The man of "character" is indeed, in virtue of the fact, the man of duty : his goal is to realise, in its plenitude, the ideal of life incumbent upon his free energies. Now, human duty can omit no single virtue from its sphere of obligation. Duty is the converging point around which the virtues concentrate, the luminous centre, whence they are enkindled, the sun whose rays they are. To desire, of set purpose, and from mere personal preference, to extinguish this or that ray, were to threaten the sun itself, to assail the centre. No one has the right to do so. Moreover, experience demonstrates the folly of such an attempt. The youth who resolves to be strong, without at the same time determining to be temperate, can be neither the one nor the other, because, viewed practically, the one attribute is dependent for its existence on the other. Its strength, in any case, will have but the semblance of the strength that is a virtue. For, supposing that the exercise of this virtue is brought into conflict with the exigencies of temperance, he, by reason of his conscious intemperateness, will be beset by, and the prey of, his weakness. Theoretically regarded, 144 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER then, we cannot favour one section of the virtues to the exclusion of the other. And, as I have said, it is, nevertheless, impossible to practise them all. A beggar is not able to bestow alms ; a married man cannot be a celibate ; a man incapable of learning is not able to study. Whence we are led to the con- clusion that there do exist virtues, or moral habits, the acquisition of which is not indispensable to the building-up of character. What is indispensable is, to have the intention, should the need arise, to concede a loyal service to all. Are there not, however, a number of virtues in- cumbent upon the youth who would develop into the man of character ? Doubtless, seeing that we have, in common, an obligation towards ourselves, towards our brethren, towards God; and that, further, the fulfilment of this obligation is subordin- ate to the systematic practice of the corresponding virtues. Prudence. The primary duty of a reasonable man is to act reasonably. We must not imagine that, if reason be once awakened, and the formulae of conduct learnt by heart, this depends solely on self. In the laboratory of the conscience, the moral reaction of the intelligence over the sluggish will and violent passions is not subservient to the same laws as chemical reaction. It is not controlled by certain set formulae. One reacts, morally, on one- self through reflection and the exercise of energy, and subject to the accidents of personality, time, environment, and education, all of which impart their moral colouring to our free acts. Here, again, we are in the grip of habit. We may describe CHARACTER AND MORAL HABITS 145 as we please this habit of acting in accord- ance with reason; we may give it the name of Prudence, as do the Masters of Philosophy : the fact remains that its formation and development are controlled by the two laws regulating the formation and development of every habit ; I mean the law of infinitesimals and the law of continuity. The man of character, then, is, before all, the man of reason, who utilises prudence as a lighthouse with its revolving and intermittent lights, whereby the horizon of morality becomes illumined, and he is no longer plunged, blinded and bewildered, amidst the gathering mists of his propensities. By the light of this virtue, all others are revealed to him, and, conspicuously, those capable of adjusting the spontaneous promptings of his sensibility to the lasting exigencies of the human ideal. Plainly, I refer to strength and temperance. By specific acts, indefinitely and systematically repeated, these virtues are produced and nourished. Not that their end is to suppress all sensibility; on the contrary, they aim rather at intensify- ing and spiritualising its impulses, and so further- ing the growth of our reasoning faculties. As we are not, in fact, mere mind, so neither are we mere animal. Our life has to exhibit that measure of moral balance which, whilst conceding to reason its - absolute rights, at the same time recognises the pro- portionate share that should be allotted to appetite. The establishment of this moral equilibrium between the constant relations of the body and the spirit, is, rightfully, the work of the selfsame virtues of temperance and fortitude. Temperance hinders 10 146 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER pure sensibility from degenerating into sensuality ; fortitude converts into a conscious possession of self all such primary emotions of the sensible order, as, by their violence and spontaneity, unconsciously uproot and dispossess self. So we see clearly that he who desires to attain to " character " must perforce first lay hold of these virtues. Yet we perceive further that, while these virtues are indispensable to the building-up of character, they are not all-sufficing. The upright man, in the integral development of his personality, has to look to the fulfilment of obligations other than those having personal reference ; there are as well social ones, and especially at this epoch when the problem of " social ethics " tends to the wholesale absorption of "individual ethics." So that, social obligation entails the practice of the necessary social virtues. And hence, of recent times, we find a new vocabu- lary has been created for the characterisation of these attributes, and we hear of social justice, solidarity, altruism, and humanitarianism. Here the question arises : Have we sufficiently endeavoured to further the realities that correspond to these terms ? Alas ! I fear not. There are, in particular, only too many Catholics who, in these days, are victims of traditional prejudices in regard to the moral life which, in their conception, touches merely the personal conscience, and as to which they are accountable to their God alone. So they guard against all risks of impure contact and contemporary contagion, by retiring from the conflict and living their restricted lives apart, in tranquillity and relative probity, regardless of the social progress CHARACTER AND MORAL HABITS 147 they dread, and the movements of civilisation they condemn. They are just, in a degree, towards their fellows in order to escape the lash of justice; they show charity uncharitably, and by bestowing alms, think themselves dispensed from the bestowal of self, whole and entire, body and soul, upon another. Let us not imitate these whom the fear of life has rendered distraught, and who in nowise merit its gifts. Life is not won without travail, neither can it be developed without exertion. It is not possible to pursue life, while clinging in spirit to a dead past; one lives, doubly, by laying up lessons from the past to profit increasingly by those of the present. And since, to-day, humanity evinces an ever-growing thirst after justice ; that, from every portion of the globe, men draw nigh unto one another with the common object of mutual support, marching hand in hand towards an ideal, increasingly approximating to the human ideal, let us not remain detached from such a movement ; rather it befits us, urged forward by the force of conviction and the ardour of youth, to march in advance of it. And we have to realise that, for this end, it is not enough to pronounce fiery sentiments and organise violent meetings. It is chiefly expedient to brace our will by the culti- vation of sound habits that conduce to righteous- ness and solidarity. And, again, I insist, these habits can be acquired and developed by daily acts alone; by the constant reaction on our inherent egoism, of an ideal desired and cherished ; by the sacrifice of that detestable ego, ever intervening between desire and reality. These are the moral principles, that the man of character is bound to 148 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER nurture before he can hope to merit the name. If I do not allude to the Christian virtues, it is with design. I hope, at a later date, to devote further pages to the question of the Christian education of character and the virtues that appertain to it. My sole aim here is to solicit the attention of my young brethren to the close relation existing between moral habits otherwise styled virtues and char- acter. The man of character is, pre-eminently, a virtuous man one with whom the realisation of the ideal has become a need, a second nature, whether in regard to its general or civil application. That he actually possesses character is proved by the unity and stability of his attitude when con- fronted by duty. Now, without this combination of moral habits just noted, such unity and stability would be instantly compromised. Essentially, therefore, these contribute, as a combination, to form character. II. UNITY AND STABILITY OF MORAL CHARACTER. Its Unify. Of the oneness of the ideal we have incontestable evidence. Its realisation may, of course, be susceptible to the variations caused by varying temperament, surroundings, time, and educa- tion. But, in essentials, it is the same for all. It is a species of indivisible whole that cannot be deliber- ately disintegrated without risk of injury or destruc- tion. How is it, then, that so many men and Christians, whilst keenly wishful to actualise this ideal to the full, fail, lamentably, therein, and, in the place of a life of unity, whose every act is on the side of duty, offer us the lamentable spectacle of a CHARACTER AND MORAL HABITS 149 scattered and unbalanced existence, devoid of orien- tation, and at the mercy of every chance gust of scepticism and immorality blown in its direction. The reason is not hard to discern. It lies in the senseless notion that to be aware of an ideal is to realise it forthwith, and to evince good intention in its regard is, at once, to acquire the will-power necessary for its attainment. I have shown, on the contrary, that an ideal, however elevated, indeed, by reason of this attribute, is impotent, in itself, to dominate our frail volition and brute instinct. To develop into a vital principle, it has to be not only known, but desired not only an idea-light, but an idea-force. Now, in final analysis, what is an idea- force if not virtue that is, moral habit, created under the benign influence of the ideal, desired and cherished ? Who tells of virtue, tells of light and force : light, in that virtue is acquired under the enlightenment of reason alone ; force, in that it is free activity, concentrated, a deposit of energy, stored up within our various powers by voluntary acts, indefinitely repeated. So that, when a man has arrived at the formation of such moral habits as are imposed by the ideal, in its closest approxima- tion, his moral life reflects, enforcedly, the unity of that ideal. He is, himself, the ideal in concrete form. As he actualises the ideal, so it becomes incarnate in him ; he becomes a man of balance and character. Its Stability. Supremely, this unity of life, this moral equilibrium, which is the hall-mark of all great characters, is, thanks to virtue, otherwise virtuous habit, a stable and immutable element. What can 150 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER there be more stable than inherent tendency ? And habit is its created equivalent a kind of second nature. It inspires in us a need for activity, in the direction of the ideal activity, that begets it ; and virtuous habit, thus formed, develops speedily into a requisite. Hence the stability of moral conduct. And so we are led to the conclusion that charac- ter, of which stability and unity are the distinctive marks, may be accurately and strictly defined as : the sum of moral habits intelligently grouped around the axis of the will. CHAPTER IV INTELLECTUAL HABITS AND CHARACTER IN the preceding chapter we have dealt with the question, Do we aim at producing character ? Having in some way replied to this, and indicated the path along which we have to travel in quest of this attribute, I will now pose a further question, addressing it especially to students : By what natural and sure methods can they acquire and develop such characteristics as befit them not merely as men, but as Christians ? The answer is plain : By the thorough and conscientious performance of their present duties, by serious study and effort in the pursuit of knowledge, by maintaining the educa- tion of their will abreast with the education of their intelligence. I. ETHICS AND SCIENCE. In reality, the question under discussion concerns the much-debated one of the relations existing between science and morality. Two prejudices are rife, in this regard, the one being as pernicious as the other. The first is reducible to this barren formula : Multiply knowledge, and you at the same time multiply virtue ; make instruction obligatory ; thus only can you manufacture the scholar and the man. The other prejudice, whilst equally na'fve, is 152 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER formulated in more circumspect fashion. Its ad- herents do not venture so far as to say : Suppress knowledge that virtue may flourish. But acting on the principle (if principle it amounts to) that know- ledge inflates (scientia inflat\ they advocate ignorance that humility may thrive, being persuaded that this quality, which admittedly belittles man, represents, nevertheless, his highest virtue. I repeat, these are pernicious notions that cannot survive the light. To construct creatures of " character," in the virile sense of the term, it is not enough to enforce instruction, neither to forbid it. One finds " martyrs to duty" in every degree of the social scale, amongst the ignorant and amongst the cultured It would be more reasonable more human therefore to discover in what measure and under what con- ditions the education of the intelligence can, and does, actually contribute to the education of the will. That it does contribute considerably, and under relatively simple conditions, is, as I think, undeniable. We find, in truth, frequently, that knowledge inflates, but this property is not peculiar to it alone In this direction, ignorance (by which I mean "affected" ignorance) concedes herein nothing to knowledge indeed, surpasses it. We know, from experience, that the truly learned are humble- minded, and the completely imbecile vainglorious- As a matter of fact, knowledge inflates only those whose mind it least occupies, thus leaving consider- able room for vanity. God Almighty is not vain- glorious, in that, precisely, He is all knowledge. Further, knowledge and humility spring from the same source. Both are the offspring of Truth. INTELLECTUAL HABITS 153 How, then, should these kindred attributes dwell in mutual disharmony ? Whereas, affected ignorance is the child of deception, and can but assume humility as a mask. Closely investigated, it will be seen that, in nine cases out of ten, the humility of the ignorant consists in humiliating the learned. It is quite easy to be humble where there exists no excuse for pride ; but rightly to appraise this humility, it has to be identified with wounded pride, or what is vulgarly styled " pique." We are bound not to hearken to those who would dissuade us, under such fallacious pretexts, from the pursuit of learning. A religion, like the Catholic religion, which rests wholly on truth, need take no alarm at representations [of the like, no matter whence they emanate. The same St. Paul, who was the first to warn us that knowledge " puffeth up,"* has exhorted us likewise to have a reasonable faith, (rationabile obsequium) based on truth. At the same time, we must not push this reasoning method too far, and, with some optimists, assert, con- cerning moral education, that the will is sufficiently stimulated by the adequate training of the intellect; that, once the University degree is conferred, there forthwith evolves, as it were by enchantment, the man of character. Alas ! experience proves the contrary. In educational matters, a diploma ol efficiency is not by any means as easily won as in matters scholastic. In the work of self-mastery there are years of toil demanded, and the conscience calls for examination on many more occasions than once in the year. * I Cor. viii. I (Trans.). 154 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER Here, then, yet another question arises for us : In what measure, and under what conditions, are intellectual habits, otherwise called knowledge, calculated to advance the integral development of the personality of the moral man ? Personal Purification. To begin with, it is clear, that the intercourse of elevated thoughts safeguards us from the low company of enervating suggestions. Such time as we devote to the research after truth cannot be squandered in the gratification of the animal appetites. This is one important advance upon the enemy. If man is not purely mind, he is, pre-eminently, mind. In this he differs from the brute, and in that his flesh can be moulded to the exigencies of reason, as clay can be moulded by the potter's fingers. From this standpoint, alone, know- ledge is a fertile element in the purification of morals. It acts as a drag on sensuality, by depriving it of the time and opportunity for indulgence. It is quite permissible to pursue knowledge, for its own sake, but we can, as well, utilise it for the reforming of our passions, inasmuch as reformed passion can, by reaction, promote the highest intellectual culture. In the necessary slavery of the flesh, we obtain the ransom for the redemption of the spirit. Social Purification. The moral effects of know- ledge are far-reaching. Knowledge is not only an excellent channel for the uplifting of the individual, it furthers, in addition, the production of the social virtues. To make my meaning plain, I may declare that a Catholic student should not study for personal reasons or advancement alone, but, as well, in view INTELLECTUAL HABITS 155 of public utility ; he should cultivate knowledge for the sake of others as well as for his own ; he should ever bear in mind that to be diligent is rightly to interpret the obligations of justice and charity. And, primarily, it is an obligation of justice. In saying this, I have chiefly in mind those students whose object is to acquire proficiency in law, science, medicine, and so forth, in view of a future liberal career. Have they ever given a thought to the responsibility they assume, when, instead of studying, they waste their time in trivialities that lead to nothing, or worse than nothing? Have they reflected on the day to come, when their brethren in humanity will, in the grip of trouble, whether physical or mental, consult them, as arbiters, in some measure, of their destiny, and that then, they can afford such counsel and service only, in proportion to the intellectual capital they have amassed during the period of study ? There are, I am convinced, only too many students who utterly fail to appreciate this. They imagine, in fact, that their degrees are all-sufficing. Yet, an infirm person cannot be made sound by a mere flourish of parchment qualifications and high- sounding titles. He can be cured by that one, alone, whose knowledge is on a level with the requirements of his profession ; and to meet such requirements, it is necessary to have devoted thereto long years of patient study. Justice, strictly defined, imposes this obligation. It is one, analogous to that of the father of a family, who has to till the ground, to sow the grain, and to harrow, if he would pro- vide bread for his little ones who have a right to 156 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER expect it of him. What would be thought of this father were he, in winter-time, to fold his arms, and wait to put his hand to the plough until a couple of months before the harvest, and then marvel that the reaping was a poor one! Would the regrets of the sluggard absolve him for his negligence, and his repentance, however sincere, preserve his wife and children from hunger? So shall it be with those other idlers who choose pleasure rather than study. They can never be abreast of their vocation as men, neither of their profession. Conscientious study fortifies the will as it disciplines the mind. The student who works, normally, develops, simul- taneously, a pair of virtues : an intellectual virtue, that enables him to store up a provision of know- ledge, which he can draw upon in the future, and a moral virtue, whereby he is aided to fulfil the obligations that may be entailed upon him in the course of his career. So we see that knowledge plays an effective r6le in regard to conduct. With- out it, there can be no true interpretation of social obligation, and, in particular, of that prime virtue of charity embodied therein. The greater number of Catholic students known to me seem, in these days, to hold much commerce one with another, and I rejoice that this is so. The breath of unity stirring humanity, to-day, animates these likewise. Their love for their neighbour reacts upon themselves. Catholics above all, their dream is to succour those of their brethren as have strayed into error or scepticism; to illumine their darkened spirit with the sun of truth. Some there are who, filled with apostolic fervour, ask no better INTELLECTUAL HABITS 157 than to seek out the humble and preach unto them good tidings. Theoretically, who can desire better, given the means ? And the means are within reach. Let them in virtue of their love for humanity, store up the precious gifts science bestows. Let them drink from the springs of knowledge and of faith, but, as a condition of their mental well-being, they must do so, deliberately. Then, arrived at man's estate, they can convince the world at large, and especially the ignorant and the erring, by testify- ing in their own person to the harmony existing between science and belief. So can they lay the sound foundations of faith ; and when these poor wanderers perceive that the learned and skilled, to whose pronouncements even the elect give ear, are the same who bend their knee to the God, they themselves have worshipped in their youth, that they congregate in His temples and kneel side by side at His Holy Table, then Truth shall prevail with these, also, and its dominion be established. And, after God, it is through the young that light will have attained to them through such, at least, who, faithful in the discharge of their obligations as Catholic students, prove themselves to be true apostles, those whom the multitude and the indivi- dual are impelled to follow, those who are apostles in virtue of deed and example. Knowledge, then, as we have come to perceive, is a reforming element above all. Through its forces the violent promptings of appetite are overcome, and the empire of justice and charity established. But to be in possession of it, we must know how to acquire it. The method of its pursuit can assist, 158 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER equally with knowledge itself, in the education of the mind, and favour, in like degree, that of the will. II. WORK AND RELAXATION. The majority of students entertain strange illu- sions in this respect ; many have not the least notion how to study. They work as they play, by fits and starts, and without any kind of system. They pre- pare for their examinations, as they prepare for a general confession that is to say, at the last possible moment. Then, one sees them poring, feverishly, over their books, just as a nervous and scrupulous penitent does over his conscience. And they present themselves for examination, in the same confusion of mind, as they do for their confession. Their nerves are strained, their memory paralysed, and incapable of action ; they experience immense difficulty in replying to plain questions whenever, in short, they are called upon to dispense in small doses what has been compounded in an instant. This kind of "instantaneous "preparation invariably proves fatal, in that no time has been conceded for the full and normal assimilation of the instruction received. The best means of getting creditably through an examination consists in preparing for it by daily systematic study, not in view, mainly, of the examination itself, but in view of the acquire- ment of knowledge. The intellectual life, like the moral life, is a matter of habit, its development being subject to the law of infinitesimals and the law of continuity. I maintain that a student who devotes two or three hours of each day, throughout the INTELLECTUAL HABITS 159 year, to serious work, will not be called upon within the last three months prior to his examinations, grievously to overtax his brain-power. He will have had leisure to digest all that he has consumed ; and even should he, at the last moment, put on steam, this extra effort will stimulate rather than exhaust him. For there is real advantage in traversing, at express speed, a path, whose difficulties one has surveyed, at leisure, during eight or ten months. Studiousness. And, morally, he will have gained enormously. The virtue of Studiousness, which such application helps to foster, is acquired just as are the other virtues. Its acquirement entails the constant intervention of the will, that, like it, feeds on, and is strengthened by, its own acts. How is it that the ordinary student so rarely works at stated hours, and for any fixed period of time ? Solely, because to do this would cost him somewhat ; he would have to wrestle with his own indolence, mortify his caprices and his ease, and place in danger what he pompously styles his "liberty." Instead of working when it is expedient, he works when it pleases him ; and it pleases him only when other things that call for no exertion do not please him more. If the prospect of an examination drives him to study, it is not that the prospect invites him on its own merits, it is rather, that certain consequences have to be faced in the event of failure or success. In what can the intellectual and moral life culminate, when, mental study is contemplated in this light? They culminate in nought. On the other hand, the student who persists man- fully in his daily application will be astonished at the gratifying results. At the start, he may work but a few minutes each day; but he must do so, consistently, at a fixed hour; thus he imposes a certain bent upon his will, and this is what is wanted; he has to be perfectly inflexible on this point ; he must not change the hour appointed under any kind of pretext. When he has thus acquired the habit of work let us say, a quarter of an hour each morning and such a habit is easily formed he will, little by little, enlarge the period to half an hour daily, and so on, by degrees, until he will find himself capable of the amount of work incumbent upon a youth of his age, who is in good health, and aspires to some worthy achievement in the future. This regime of study is the proper one for the average mind, and the only one calculated to train the will-power, adequately, in the case of every student. Relaxation. Much the same may be said in regard to the relaxation obligatory on all serious workers. The art of relaxation is a fine art ; it is, so to speak, the reverse side of the art of work. It must not be confounded with sloth, neither with idleness. A sluggard and an idler both abjure study. It is, on the contrary, that he may study the more, that a student has to relax study a while. Wise relaxation should be organised on the same lines as study ; I do not, of course, mean on such rigorous lines, but with equal regularity. The best method is to vary the nature of one's work. At the same time, of course, other distractions, such as travel, harmless entertainment, the cultivation of the graceful arts, and so forth, are all perfectly allowable. All, INTELLECTUAL HABITS 161 indeed, that may contribute to the vigour of our mental powers, to the freshness of the imagination, and is not injurious to the senses nor the will, can be indulged in without fear. Whenever relaxation of this description is pursued, it represents, in itself, action, that is parallel in its moral effects with work, which, after all, is only another form of relaxation. I might digress further on this topic, but will content myself with recommending its earnest consideration to all young men. If they, one and all, follow on the lines here advocated, I can, with conviction, answer for their present success as students, and their future as men. Apart from the fact that the high delights of mental exercise, and the satisfaction of a good conscience, are valuable assets at the moment, they are bound and I venture on this prediction without arrogating to myself the functions of a prophet to promote qualities that will make of them, in the days to come, not only men of principle, but Christians of character, and the pride of their Church and country. 11 CHAPTER V SUPERNATURAL HABITS AND CHARACTER I. THE HUMAN IDEAL. LET me recall the terms of the problem set for solution. Our intelligence, under the dual light shed by reason and faith, builds up an ideal we have to realise : the ideal of the upright man. By its aid, the goal is clearly indicated, and the way of approach plainly mapped out for us. But its place is defined within these limits. Intelligence is the lighthouse that illumines the coast. Its luminous beams are the precious mainstay of our course, but they cannot effect our safe landing. To reach the shore, it is not enough that its outlines are clearly revealed, there is strength needed to convey us thither. We have, it is true, every kind of energy at our service, but it requires to be disciplined. And this is the will's function ; it, and it alone, can, when enlightened by the ideal, carry out this work. By which we mean, that the ideal, in that it has to effectually influence conduct, must be willed and not merely perceived; that from the idea-light of which it is the essence, there must issue idea-force. Thus entertained, the ideal, willed and cherished, attracts to it those passionate and sentimental energies requisite for its maintenance. Once pene- 162 SUPERNATURAL HABITS 163 trated by these instinctive and blind forces, the ideal responds, on the instant, by restoring to them their equivalent in the form of moral and enlightened principles. So with time, and under the influence of repeated acts of volition, there are formed habits such as, by their intelligent grouping around the axis of the will, constitute moral character. II. THE CHRISTIAN IDEAL. How many times have I insisted that the neces- sary preliminary to becoming a Christian is to be an upright man ! It is not my purpose, in these my final remarks, to gainsay this. I will merely amend this assertion by adding, further, that to be a Christian of character it is needful to contribute, over and above all the natural virtues that become the upright man, those supernatural ones that express the superman ; that into what is human in our actions there must be infused the element of the Divine. Supernatural virtues are, in fact, Divine virtues, in their origin, in their development, in their effects. It is God alone who bestows them in bestowing upon us grace ; He alone augments them in accordance with our merits ; and, finally, by their co-operation alone, are we made sons of God. The supernatural virtues, whilst divinely inculcated, are none the less determined in their manifestations by the acquirement and growth of the corresponding natural virtues. As an illustration, let us picture two basilicas, one superposed on the other, the roof of the first serving as a base for the second ; whereas the first has its foundations in the lowly earth, the spire of the other soars to the lofty heavens. None 164 THE EDUCATION OF CHARACTER the less, it is a certain fact, that the beauty of the second basilica is at the mercy of the solidity of the first; remove this, and you, at once, shatter the other. So is it with supernatural virtues in relation to the natural ones. These Divine virtues un- deniably possess marvellous forces; but for their full effectiveness they depend upon the stout buttress of the natural virtues. Once again, then, I return to my earliest formula : Do we desire to be Christians of character? Then, let us begin by being upright men. Printtd in England University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. 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