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THE SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
TDne
Oiiii(£(iDmiso(D)it[i§ Mnirndl
The object of this work is to establish the fact of an uncon-
scious mind in man, and to trace in brief some of its powers and
the various ways in which they are exhibited. The work seeks to
show that this mind is the seat of character and of conscience and
spirit-life, and a most important factor in psychical and physical
life. The subjects of habit, memory, muscular action, therapeu-
tics, education, sensation, disease, character, sex, etc., are discussed
in their relation to the unconscious mind.
REPRESENTATIVE OPINIONS
Z>. E. MEBWIN, Sec'y and Treas. Kansas Commercial Co., Kansas
City, Mo. : " We see In tMs theory the promise and potency of a new educa-
tion, the ground of an effective therapeutics, and likewise an ethical system
not perverted or heavily encumbered by commercial ideas. Parents, teach-
ers, physicians, lawyers, judges, and legislators can not afford to remain in
ignorance of this theory which lays its preemption upon the very founda-
tions of physical health, mind, and character."
W. BE HAVEN EACHES, M.D., Phoenlxville, Pa.: "The facts and
theories pertaining to the existence and characteristics of an ' Unconscious
Mind ^ are presented With great force and clearness, and appear to me to be
incontrovertible. The book should be read by every physician."
J. A. HAGEMANN, M.D., Pittsburg, Pa.: "It contains the summum
bonum in psychological literature up to date. The student will find in it a
resume of the writings of the foremost psychologists, and the educator will
be the better equipped for having perused it."
T. M. HARTMAN, D.D., McKeesport, Pa.: "It is a masterly book on
a subject that demands the earnest consideration of all scholars and think-
ers, and is intensely fascinating from lid to lid."
8vo^ Cloth, 451 pages. With copious index and several
diagrams. Price, $2.00.
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY.
New York
Publishers
nnhe Springs of Character
^ by A. T. ScHOFiELD m.d. Author
of " The Unconscious Mind
etc.
>9
NEW YORK: FUNK AND
WAGNALLS COMPANY
s^^)
EDUC. r /
PSYCH.
LIBRARY
_fz? 3 3
CONTENTS f^ , -
PSYCH.
CHAPTER I. UBRART
PAGE
Gharacter and the Mind 1
CHAPTER H
Thb Personality of Character 13
CHAPTER III.
Character and the Body 29
CHAPTER IV.
Character and Ethics 42
CHAPTER V.
Character and Heredity 56
CHAPTER VI.
Characteb and Harit 69
CHAPTER VII.
Character and Growth . 88
286
X CONTENTS
CHAPTER VIII.
PAOK
Analysis of Character 112
CHAPTER IX.
The Qualities of Character 137
CHAPTER X.
Character and the Will 153
CHAPTER XI.
Character and Conduct 162
CHAPTER XII.
Character and Conscience 170
CHAPTER XIII.
Character and Christianity 205
CHAPTER XIV.
Character and Destiny 220
List of Books on the Subject 233
Index . . . . 237
CHAPTER I.
CHARACTER AND THE MIND.
The word character means the mark a Babylonian what char
brickmaker stamped upon the bricks he made. Character
is the stamp of the individual, and all personality is ulti-
mately based upon it The word is here used throughout
in a purely popular way, as the sum of the distinctive
(differences in our mental and moral qualities. "^
Character may bp defined as the personal shape the
mind becomes by use, as a glove or a shoe soon acquires
the outlines of its owner's hand or foot.
Character is the psychical, as the body is the phy-
sical representation or presentment of the individual, and
inasmuch as " I " am a spirit and not a body, character
is the true outward personality, the eiKtov of the e^-o ;
character, moreover, is no mere sum of isolated qualities,
it is an organic whole ; just as the body is an unit, and
not a mere aggregation of units and organs. It is, as
Stout would say,^ " a noetic synthesis ".
The word character may, of course, be used in two
senses — (i) as the general sum of all mental qualities, or
(2) as the sum of the moral qualities specially. We shall
use the word in both ways.
*Q. F. Stout, Analytical Psychology,
I
^\,wy.-. /,;,
^ fgi • JO- SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
^^^^ /^^^
The springs We fear that the title of the book perhaps rather
of Character.
/,, s f i conceals than reveals its true scope : for in the first place
the consideration of character involves more than the
investigation of its sources ; and secondly, the word
" spring " has two or more meanings. It is both a source
of being and a source of power, besides being a season of
the year. The Thames originates from springs, and all
watches go by springs. It will naturally be asked then
why a more descriptive title was not selected ; and the
answer is that it is because the most interesting questions
concerning character are its springs, in both meanings of
the word ; this being also the part of the subject about
which least is known.
The springs or sources of character are the instincts
of heredity in the unconscious mind, supplemented
by others acquired during life through habit ; while
V the spring or force of character lies in the conscious
Xwill or purpose. It is the former springs which are a
part of character, the latter is also an agent. Deeper
again, more powerful, and more inscrutable than even
these in the Christian mind, acting as a hidden source of
inspiration and energy, is found the Spirit of God.
Books on character are few and far between ; and are
particularly rare in this country. The whole matter is
so elusive, so difficult of definition, and indeed so im-
possible of any analysis, unless the unconscious powers
of mind be fully recognised, that we are quite sure this
is a needed preliminary, and it is probable that when
"mind" is granted its full scope we shall have mo.e
and better books on character than we have at present.
CHARACTER AND THE MIND
3
In considering what character is, what are its sources,
and how it is formed, we are at once met with this initial
difficulty, due, as we shall see, to the present position of
some of our leading psychologists.
Character is an intricate complex of psychic elements, Character lies
1111 , , - - .in the Uncon-
and, though the most valued of our personal possessions, scious.
is only known very partially to us by conscious efforts
of introspection. It is mainly discerned by observa-
tion of its manifestations in action ; and we thus arrive
at our knowledge of character largely by inference, mostly
from noting the influence it has on conscious life ; just
as we discover an invisible planet by the perturbations
it produces in other bodies. We arrive at the Uncon-
scious from its well ascertained effects in Consciousness.
" The qualities of modesty, shame, mother love, etc.,
clearly to be seen in their manifestations, spring from the |
instincts hidden in the imconscious depths of our being." ^ ^
And yet the psychic is still dogmatically and impera- The Uncon-
. 1 , . . 1 . 1 1-1 1 • - scious Mind
tively limited to consciousness by many high authorities ; denied.
and the scorn and contempt aroused by seeking to extend
it are remarkably out of place in such a purely intel-
lectual matter. We are told that to talk of uncon-
scious mental states is to talk of the inconceivable ; of
** wooden -iron '*. " The psychical ts the conscious," •
says one ; another observes : " all and only the pheno-
mena that are conscious are psychical . . . the psychical
and the conscious are for us . . . identical"'; while a
* Ribot, Heredity f pp. 226, 228.
•G. T. Ladd, Philosophy of Mind, pp. 384, 385,
■Prof. Ziehen, Psychology, pp. 4, 5.
4 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
third declares that "nothing shall induce us to corrupt
our speculation with monstrous marriages of contra-
dictory notions"* (?>., of unconscious mind).
However, in spite of this fervour of contradiction, we
do not think the works of one of such psychologists can
be searched without discovering unconscious psychism
clearly implied, and indeed in some absolutely stated.
The fact is, truth is generally greater than our
definitions, and, as long as we distinguish mind from
matter, we must include in the former every form of
psychic action, whether conducted in or out of con-
sciousness.
It is now beginning to be seen that the greater part
of the mind is in an unconscious state; but that its
middle registers are fitfully illumined in varying degree
by consciousness. It is to these middle registers that
the word "mind" has been unwisely limited — whereas
it pertains rightly to the whole, on the ground of com-
mon characters of psychic action.
Kant well says, " Unanswerable are the sensations
of perception of which we are not conscious. The clear
ideas, indeed, are but an infinitely small fraction of the
whole. That only a few spots in the great chart of our
minds are illuminated may well fill us with amazement
in contemplating this nature of ours.*' ' Prof. Whittaker
observes, " The facts of physiology have led psychologists
to see that the series of states of consciousness . . . only
form a portion of the mental life. At first it seems like
^ Prof. Royce, Mind, voL viiu, ]»• 33.
■ E. Kant, Anthropologica, sec. T,
CHARACTER AND THE MIND 5
a contradiction to speak of facts of unconsciousness as
belonging to psychology. The study of physiology was
necessary to bring out clearly the conception of uncon-
scious feelings as factors in mental phenomena." ^
It must be well understood that we have no wish
whatever to speak of two minds — conscious and uncon-
scious ; but simply to have it recognised that when we
use the word mind we include any and every psychic
process. It is only the arbitrary limitations that still
rule many minds that oblige us so frequently to use
the term "unconscious".
Schopenhauer, curiously enough, calls this ** the better Unconscious
,, . , is the best
consciousness ; others, with a view to peace, call it " the name,
sub-conscious " ; M*Cunn ^ calls the unconscious " the
soul," which is confusing, so that on the whole we
Slink the prefix " un " gives the clearest meaning. Dr.
Creighton remarks, " Our conscious life is the sum of
these entrances and exits. Behind the scenes, as we
infer, there lies a vast reserve which we call * the un-
conscious,' finding a name for it by the simple device
of prefixing the negative particle. . . . The basis of
all that lies behind the scenes is the mere negative of
consciousness." *
Now the unconscious is by far the larger side of our
mental life, and its value is enormous. It is not only
the guiding power of the body personified by physio-
logists as " Nature " or as " Physiology " with a big P,
* Prof. Whittaker, Essays on Psychology ^ p. 48.
* The Making of Character ^ M'Cunn, p, 7,
' C. Creighton, Unconscious Memory, p. 7.
6 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
and of the feminine gender (Sir M. Foster) ; but it
guides behind the scenes our psychic life. It furthers
the conscious process of thought by its inspirations in
small as in great matters. That the unconscious can
really outdo the conscious is seen in those fortunate
individuals who possess naturally all that others acquire
by toil, do all with a happy knack and innate tact,
endowed in all things with a right instinct.
Most improvement is by effort and purpose; and
as the unconscious knows neither one nor the other,
the conscious is our nobler part. It is this we can alone
guide and control. The unconscious may be influenced
and altered indirectly, but never takes direct orders;
while the conscious is an ever-ready servant.
Wundt on the The accuracy of the unconscious in its workings is
Unconscious. ., _,- t xtt i r t
pomted out as follows by Wundt, one of the most
weighty and brilliant philosophers of the day. He
admits "the necessity of referring the origin of sensuous
perceptions, and of consciousness in general, to uncon-
scious logical processes ; since the processes of perception
are of an unconscious nature ; and only their results are
wont to appear in consciousness. It is proved that there
is not merely a conscious, but also an unconscious think-
ing. We believe that we have hereby completely proved
that the assumption of unconscious logical processes
correctly declares the real nature of these processes. The
unconscious logical processes are carried on with a cer-
tainty and regularity which would be impossible where
there exists the possibility of error. Our mind (as a
whole) is so happily designed that it prepares for us
CHARACTER AND THE MIND y
the most important foundations of cognition, whilst we
have not the sh'ghtest apprehension of the modus operandi.
This Ui conscious soul, like a benevolent stranger, works
and makes provision for our benefit, pouring only the
mature fruit into our laps."^
We make no apology for this long quotation, as it
affords a good foundation for, and throws much light
upon, a great deal that will follow.
It will be observed that Wundt clearly recognises this
unconscious action as being part of, and having all the
characters of mind. Those who deny this explain such
action as being the result of the mere mechanical in-
teraction of neurons.
To call conscious psychic action a mental process. Unconscious
Action is
and unconscious psychic action a neural (mechanical) Mental.
process, is the absurd result of the psychology of which
we have spoken.
C. H. Lewes says " we class the changes in the sen-
sorium under three heads, of varying relative intensity,
and call them conscious, sub-conscious and unconscious
states. The two first are admitted by all writers. The
last is proved to have an equal claim, for the unconscious
processes not only take place in the same organs as
the others, but are shown to have the cardinal char-
acter of sentient states, by their influence in determining
ideas to actions. The fact of unconscious intellectual
processes carries an important consequence, for it dis-
proves the notion that psychology can be limited to the
* Wundt, Beitrage sur Theorie^ etc., pp. 169, 375, 436, 488.
t SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
fact of consciousness, as this would exclude the greater
part of our mental life, etc. " ^
We shall recur to the mental character of unconscious
action further on, when we speak of habit ; but we may
here point out the close analogy between mental and
physical operations. We eat our food, but of the steps
by which it is digested and assimilated we are as uncon-
scious as we are of the way in which ideas may be
incorporated in our characters. One thing we know,
that indigestible ideas, like food, cause mental pain and
dyspepsia.
Perhaps we have said enough now to show there is a
large and important sphere of psychic action lying outside
consciousness, which we call the unconscious mind ; and
it is this sphere that is the hidden home of character.
" When I watch," says Emerson, " that flowing river
•which, out of regions I see not, pours for a season its
stream into me, I see that I am not ... a cause, but a
surprised spectator of this ethereal water." In such
absolutely unconscious regions do the foundations of our
character lie, that we are often ourselves surprised at the
instincts that rise therefrom ; while, as a whole, our
character defies the closest introspection. The deepest
and most intuitive qualities indeed often assert them-
selves with such authority as to carry conviction that
they speak with a voice other than our own. One
perhaps sees this best in early years before custom and
education have overlaid these deep instincts of the soul
> C. H. Lewes, Problems of Life and Mind, part i., pp. 19, la
CHARACTER AND THE MIND 9
with poorer material, as is often the case. " The chief
gain of increased consciousness," says Maeterlink, "is
that it unveils an ever loftier unconsciousness on whose
heights do the sources lie of the purest wisdom." ^ The
"hall mark" of the Divine potter is still imprinted in
the human clay.
It is these flashes of truth from the unconscious
logical, aesthetic and moral instincts that reveal to us how
" the life is the light of men ".^
The laws of the formation of character can only be Formation of
found by the deductive method, setting out from general
laws of ethics, and verifying them individually by specific
experience.
" Each man's character is the product of particular
environmental influences, acting upon a particular set
congenital properties or tendencies.**^ We may say,
" I am the product of all I have felt . . . not a thrill
passes through the body but our sensorium is altered
by it . . . the sum of such traces is the human life".*
The chief product and expression of human life is the
formation of character by a process which is mostly un-
conscious.
Sir William Jones in his Andromata^ assuming life to
last till seventy, thus divides it : —
1 . Thirty years for acquiring knowledge and for form-
ing character.
2. Twenty years for active occupation.
^ Maeterlink, Wisdom and Destiny, p. 20.
*St. John, i. 4. 'J. Sully, Human Mind, ii., p. 283.
* C. H. Lewes, Problems of Life and Mind, 3rd series, p. 87.
"'1
M SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
3. Ten years gradually replacing hard work by intel-
lectual occupation.
4. Ten years' leisure and preparation for the future
life.
However seldom this typical programme may be
carried out, it is at all events certain that it is mainly
in the first thirty years that the character is formed.
The life corresponds more or less with the character
of which it is the outcome. If we know the character
first, we can predict effect from cause. It is on account
of varieties of character that the same causes affect
people differently. One derives great pleasure from
study and little from sport, and vtcg versd. Another
will die for his honour, while his neighbour sells it for
a song. The reason of the differences is by no means
always clearly visible.
The very difficulty of reading character, as well as
its interest, lends an absorbing fascination to this study.
For this reason biographies are of more interest than
histories ; the former being more occupied with char-
acters, the latter with events.
Consider, too, the universal importance of character^
as property in the whole of life. Beginning with the
word in its lowest meaning. What is a servant without
a " character " ; and who can get chosen to any position oC
trust without such testimonials ? And so throughout
life we find that character is property, which may, how-
ever, technically be lost. Sometimes it is the only
property a person has ; though usually, if one has it he
has much besides ; for our very fortunes in a deep sense
CHARACTER AND THE MIND n
are the fruits of our character. People of good character i
are indeed masters of the art of living, and a character I
noble in thought and deed has the elements of im-
mortality.
We live in deeds, not years ; in thoughts, not breaths,
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.
We should count time by heart throbs. He most livei
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
It matters not how long we live, but how.
Our circumstances are little, our character is all. No
change of circumstances can of itself repair a defective
character.
Epictetus says, ** Happiness is not in strength, or
wealth, or power, or all three. It lies in ourselves, in
true freedom, in the conquest of every ignoble fear, in
perfect self-government, in a power of contentment
and peace, and the even flow of life, even in poverty,
exile, disease and the very valley of the shadow of
death."
Characters respond to very various motives. Many Motives of
are bad and unworthy. We will consider a few that
are good. Some characters (those of a loyal type) re-
spond most readily to the opinion of other men ; or
to their pledges or obligations to others^
Others of a conservative type are more self-reliant,
and act from loyalty to themselves.
Others, again, of an aesthetic type are appealed to
most by the sense of the fitness and beauty of a good
action. Such are described by Aristotle.
Others, again, of an emotional type (^^., Charles
» SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
James Fox) respond to a consideration of the conse-
quences of action and pleasure or pain ensuing.
Others of an intellectual type ie.£^., William Pitt)
act from logical causes, seeing the unreasonableness of
sin and its inherent folly.
And yet others of a Christian type respond most to
a knowledge of the will and purpose of God in their
being.
The perfect type of character may be said to include
in differing degrees all these motives in its activities.
Intellect and Intellect itself has no necessary connection with good-
ness of character. Some of the cleverest men have been
the most wicked, and some of the stupidest have the best
moral characters. Happiness is no criterion of a goodv
character. Some very low types that are absolutely non-
^ progressive pass through life with a lazy, spontaneous
enjoyment that is, after all, rather physical than psychi-
cal.
The formation of character gives a value and an
interest to life that alone makes it intelligible. Some
of us may remember the man in a recent popular society
novel ^ standing on the steps of the Royal Exchange and
surveying the hurrying crowds of human ants, and won-
dering what it all meant. It is by the light of its moral
end alone that life receives any rational meaning, or this
question a satisfactory answer.
» R. Whiteing, The Island and No. 5, yohn Street.
CHAPTER II.
THE PERSONALITY OF CHARACTER,
My character is my personality, or, if it be preferred, its My character
mental expression, just as the body is its physical expres-
sion. Inasmuch, however, as I myself am spiritual^
rather than material, my character is far more myself
than my body.
" My body is my image in the minds of others, my
spiritual powers form the natural ME."*
** Character means Personality, and personality may '
be felt, but cannot be explained." ^
** The final stage of self-consciousness is the know-
ledge of a personality, t,e., a character. This is the
highest exercise of abstract thought,"* and the reason
why the knowledge of a personality is the final stage
is because its sphere and home are so deep in the
unconscious mind. Nothing is stronger than the feeling
of individuality, and yet any knowledge and scrutiny of
the egOy or of its expression in character, require a strong
intellectual effort of introspection and self-analysis.
* W. James, Psychology , p. 194.
■L. Courtenay, National Review, March, 1890, p. 29.
'J. Sully, Human Mind, i., p. 480.
(13)
14 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
Herbert Spencer says that the ., without
knowing we are looking at ourselves, is rare, and is as
startling as when a dog perceives its image for the first
time in a mirror.
It was my lot a few years ago to sit talking one An external
. View of *^'
mommg with some ladies in an hotel near a table in
a drawing-room with many mirrors. I soon noticed
another group of persons at some distance round another
table. Being short-sighted, 1 could not tell what they
were doing, but they had some appearance of playing
cards. I thought this rather dissipated so early in the day,
and with insular ignorance put them down as probably
Americans. I did not think much of the man I saw.
Certain points in his face and expression did not please
me. I hardly thought his personal appearance was up
to the mark, and noticed several other things (which for
obvious reasons shall be nameless) to his detriment He
ao SPRINGS OP CHARACTER
appeared to be looking our way, and, as far as I could
judge, listening to us, which seemed very rude. My
suggestion to my friends, however, not to speak so loud,
for " those people over there would be sure to hear us,"
was met by shouts of laughter ; as they explained, the
illusion was caused by a mirror. The shock, however,
of thus seeing oneself objectively, has not yet passed
away ; and I am sure we should all know more about
ourselves could we thus have this "giftie" so ardently
desired by Burns. Not that this would show our true
selves, but still we should get a better idea at any rate
of our outward expression and appearance.
No one absolutely surveys himself in a physical
or mental mirror with an impartial eye, as long as
he knows it is himself he is looking at He uncon-
sciously extenuates the defects and magnifies the
excellencies, and likes to think well of himself.
The Amount The amount we can discover of our real selves
known depends
on the Light depends largely on the search-light used. Ordinary
self-consciousness is the most feeble. Then comes
active introspection — this again may be greatly aided by
light from other minds, telling us what to look for ; also
by others telling us what they see in us, and showing us
our own qualities as displayed in others. Seeing them
thus objectively is a great help. The Spirit of God,
however, and the Word of God, rightly used, are, as we
shall see when we consider character and Christianity,
the most effective lights of all. The description of the
Word of God as " quick and powerful . . . and piercing
even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, of the
THE PERSONALITY OP CHARACTER n
joints and marrow (i>., the most hidden structures), and
as a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart,"
represents strikingly the action of these moral Rontgen
Rays. The power of these latter, if described a few years
ago, would have appeared a wild fable, though now a
scientific fact ; and these spiritual rays, though known in
power to many, are still fabulous to others.
III. Tkere ts the artificial selfy or the second fictitious The Self i pic^
. sent to others.
self, which is the self / wish others to think me, and this
is no longer single, but multiple — some indeed have as
many selves in constant use as they have suits of clothes.
These selves are put on and off, sometimes uncon-
sciously and sometimes consciously ; and sometimes the
wrong self is worn at the wrong time, with as much
incongruity as a shooting suit at a dinner party.
Akin to this fictitious self is the self that / />^/«^TheSeifi think
others see.
others see me to be. They may really think I am a fool,
but I think they think me wise. It is obvious this self
is multiple, and, moreover, corresponds mainly with the
artificial self I have presented to them, and by which
I believe their opinion to be formed. It may not, of
course, be formed by it at all ; their insight may have
discerned much of the real ego I have not consciously
exhibited. We need not, therefore, dwell on this self
further, as to all intents and purposes it is described in
the artificial self: the former being really the impression
and the latter the picture.
These artificial selves or characters are seldom com-
plete all round. They are like the allegorical figures
Ruskin speaks of in the roof of a cathedral, which looked
aa SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
very well from the pavement ; but which, when he got a
ladder and went up, he perceived were quite unfinished,
and never intended for close inspection. We are not
always prepared for our friends to walk all round us.
People of strong individuality and self-conceit, as
well as those of innate honesty, are seldom conscious of
the putting on or off of this public self. Nevertheless,
it will be seen that unconsciously the self is made to
harmonise, to some extent at least, with its environment ;
the self, for instance, that is exhibited to our superiors is
seldom exactly the same as that shown to our inferiors.
We may imagine it is, but it is not.
Of another character altogether from this slight
change of self-presentment, unconsciously adopted, is
that which is put on consciously for a distinct purpose.
This Self varies While Spending four successive weeks in a theological
with my Sur- ^r ^^ i • .,. ^ .
roundings. College, on a golf hnks, m a military camp, and in a
city office, there are but few who would exhibit, or
even try to exhibit, the same self. It is not only that
some special characteristic would be emphasised in har-
mony with the special occasion, but the whole self
exhibited would be consciously, as well as unconsciously,
changed each week ; the very tone of voice, the very
attitude of body, to some extent the whole outlook on
life, the thoughts, as well as the words and deeds, being
different. We do not say this by way of blame, though
often the more inferior the nature the better is it marked.
On the other hand, the changes are often signs of a
sensitive and sympathetic character that keenly feels
discrepancies between the self and its surroundings ;
THE PERSONALITY OF CHARACTER 23
and thus ever tries to bring the former into harmony
with the environment. Where the change is conscious
it is nearly always effected to gain the esteem or
goodwill of others ; and only in essentially contrary
natures is it put on for the opposite purpose.
Different from this, again, is the public character The fraudulent
that is deliberately and consciously fraudulent. To
colour your likeness (or what you suppose to be it) in
different tints to suit different tastes is one matter ; to
substitute a false one is another. Our characters should
be always up to the public sample ; that is, thoiirrh in
religious company I may emphasise the religious side,
I should never pretend to more religion than I have
got. Our condition and character may, and should,
continually change and improve, but the public sample
at any time should never absolutely misrepresent, though
it often accentuates, its qualities.
Our public self always best expresses our real self Conscious and
. uncons
when we are least conscious of it. When we pose con- Selves.
sciously we represent what we think we are. When we
act unconsciously we exhibit what we are. Now, if the
real or unconscious self is superior to the supposed or
conscious self, we are at our best when unconscious of
our actions. If, on the other hand, our unconscious self
is at a lower level than our conscious self we are at
our worst. Every one must know these two types of
character. The man who is always most refined and
at his ease when he forgets himself, and only awkward
when conscious ; and the man who behaves well as long
as he is on his guard, but when he forgets himself shows
unconscious
24 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
he is at heart a boor : in the former it is the uncon-
scious mind that is the better educated ; in the latter
the conscious.
We may say, then, that the public self always is
unconsciously varied to some extent to suit the com-
pany or pursuit ; that it is in addition often further
modified consciously and purposively for definite ob-
jects ; and furthermore that only by the unprincipled
are qualities put on that are not possessed at all, or
are, at any rate, far in excess of the reality.
Perhaps we should here add one word of qualifica-
tion, as in any study of character all absolute statements
must be more or less incorrect, so complex is the problem
to be considered.
While, therefore, the true motto of every upright man
is "To be, and not to seem," it is also true that our out-
ward or public self is in many better than what we are
(in some, of course, it is worse), because it represents our
ideal of what we would be rather than what we are at
the time. This is good, and is a constant cause of
improvement by bringing our character up to our
conduct rather than levelling our conduct down to our
character. It will be seen that only if carried to excess
such better conduct might amount to deceit and fraud.
Good or evil seldom characterise us absolutely, but
in relative proportions ; and one can see from the
foregoing that that person may be absolutely nobler
and more progressive whose public self is slightly in
advance of the private, than where the two entirely
correspond.
THE PERSONALITY OF CHARACTER 25
IV. Lastly there is the self others see^ which is the third The Self as
seen by others.
fictitious self. The judgment of others on us is largely
founded upon our outward appearance, including not only
our bodies but our dress, coupled with such indications of
our spirits as they can read in our acts and words, or
perhaps, as we say, " between the lines ".
It will be observed that in the various selves de-
scribed, beginning with what is seen by God, and end-
ing with ourselves as seen by others, the judgment is
increasingly dependent upon outward manifestations,
including at last even our clothes, and possibly our
houses and our productions. Some indeed may even
judge us by our children ; or, if pastors, by our flock ; or,
if doctors, by the testimony of our patients. The esti-
mate of a man's character is drawn from a wide field, the
greater part of which is external to himself. All beneath
our influence have a voice as to our character ; and with
sovereigns this includes a whole kingdom.
We may notice this progressively external judgment Self judged in-
■ creasingly by
m many things. Take a watch for instance. A friend Externals,
looking on the case and face says : " A very nice watch ".
I, knowing its qualities and properties, say : " Yes ! a
good timekeeper". The maker, knowing the works,
quality of mainspring, number of jewels, says : " It is an
English lever of the best make, jewelled in six holes."
Here are the three progressive judgments from without
in.
A judgment of the character of another, founded
upon a close study of its display in his life, and in all
over which he has influence, from his clothes to his
26 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
friends and pursuits, is generally fairly correct in its
main outlines.
A man, roughly speaking, as a rule passes for what
he is worth ; only the greater his value, the less likely
he is to do so. The nearer the average, the more likely ;
because in the former case the minority, and in the latter
the majority, of men can understand him.
Every day the man lives before us is in a sense a
judgment day ; and in view of the light he unconsciously
sheds on his own character, all conscious attempts at
concealment or exaggeration avail nothing. Men may
not know Aow they know, but they do know ; and a deep-
seated distrust of a man is often well-founded. Some
indeed, especially women, have special instincts as to
character. I know one, who, riding for the first time in
a carriage with a man of high reputation and ostensibly
of Christian character, came home in great agitation
declaring he was a wicked man. Nothing had tran-
spired. It was her instinct alone that produced this
conviction, for which she was severely blamed, and
which was only justified by what was brought to light
years after.
As a rule, people have not this gift, and, like all in-
stincts, it is not a very safe one to rely on. We may
seeing the hands keeping perfect time on the face of a
watch, safely deduce that there must be a good main-
spring within ; and, on the other hand, where a bad char-
acter is sought to be concealed, the limits of dissimulation
imposed by the face, the body, the unconscious actions
and words, often prevent it from being successful.
THE PERSONALITY OF CHARACTER 27
However much we may think we " see " others, we
should be very slow in judging them ; particularly if we
only know them slightly. The deeper the character, the
less likely is it to come to the surface in a short time.
Deep characters are thus necessarily more often ill judged
than shallow ones.
If our character is growing and we are progressing, Growing and
. r ^ Stationary
the estimate of others is generally rather too high ; Characters,
inasmuch as in such cases our conduct, based on our
ideal, is generally in advance of our actual character. If
our character is stationary, the estimate is more likely to
be true.
If our character is deteriorating, the estimate is again
generally too high, for we cling to good conduct even
after good principles have been abandoned. Degrada-
tion of character is seldom due to the pursuit of an ideal,
but rather to the loss of one.
Frequently our friends lay hold of a salient point
which is the leading, or at any rate the most conspicuous
feature in our character, and see all the rest in its light.
A picture based on such a view (generally exaggerated)
is called a caricature. Portraiture is a balanced estimate
of the man as a whole.
When an honest man finds the opinion of others as
to his character is what he believes to be in advance ot
the truth, it may serve as an incentive to become equal
to his reputation ; and to make, perhaps, the solitary act,
or the temporary impulse that produced it, and on which
that reputation is founded, an integral and permanent
feature of his character. The opinion of others is indeed
lusion.
28 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
one of the agents that materially assist in the growth of
character.
he Con- The conclusion of the matter, therefore, is that my
character is myself, but cannot be known by myself;
that it is probably best discerned by one who has had
constant opportunity of knowing my thoughts, and words,
and deeds, and my manner of life for some years ; that
the simpler and shallower the character the more likely
is such an estimate to be correct ; that in some respects
I may be able to discern in myself by introspection
features that others never see ; but that, as a whole, my
estimate of myself is not likely to be so true as that
formed by a friend who has had the opportunities we have
described. That God alone knows all that I am, and that
He who perfectly knows my character can and will, on
certain conditions, aid me to mould it on perfect lines,
not with the idea of its ever attaining perfection here —
but hereafter.
CHAPTER III.
CHARACTER AND THE BODY.
The body acts on the mind and the mind acts upon the interaction
' of Mind and
body, and in certain cases both appear to act together ; Body,
so that we cannot say which is cause and which effect,
nor even if there be sequence, or what the sequence is.
On the a priori conclusion that spirit and matter can
have no connection with each other for want of a common
term we need not waste time ; for there is overwhelming
positive proof that the one does affect the other. " The
spirit can take the body, and by conscious and un-
conscious activities mould it for a dwelling-place and
instrument for its uses." ^ Of the way in which this is
effected, and a nerve impression becomes a mental
percept, or a mental concept becomes a nerve impression,
we know absolutely nothing ; neither can our minds
apparently as yet furnish an intelligible hypothesis.
In the brain the effect of the mind action is as yet too
obscure to be discussed. That there are changes in-
cessantly produced and that the brain of a man differs
from a child's we know, but the relation of qualities of
mind with characters of brain is profoundly obscure ;
* Noah Porter, Human Intellect, p. 39.
(29)
30 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
perhaps the more so through the failure of the artificial
system suggested by phrenology. As far as we know
we have no organs in the brain connected with any
special qualities. Wundt says, " Actual neurology has
as much connection with the assumption of the brain's
mission of moral intuition, as astronomy and geography
with Jules Verne's tales ".
Character im- Turning, however, to the body generally, we see
pressed on the
Body plainly not only that the mind does re-act upon it, but
that we can, in a rough way, see there the lines of character
physically impressed. Emerson says: "The human body
is wonderfully expressive. If it were made of glass, and
the thoughts were written on steel tablets within, it could
not publish more truly their meaning than now. Wise
men can hear all our past history proclaimed in our
looks, gait, and behaviour, for the tell-tale body is all
tongue."
The body is altered by the character entirely through
the action of the unconscious mind. To it we owe the
intelligent and varied permanent expressions of the face,
the only characteristic forms being those that are uncon-
scious ; so readily distinguished from the conscious imita-
tions put on artificially and temporarily by the force of
the will. To it we owe the carriage of the body, so
that you can judge of a man's character by his gait, his
postures, his physical manner and habits ; the uncon-
scious mind in its nobility or degradation being indelibly
stamped not only on the face but upon the form.
He is a dull scholar who cannot read a man even from
a back view.
CHARACTER AND THE BODY 31
Round the statue of the Prince Consort in Edinburgh
stand representative groups paying homage to him. If
you get a back view of any of these you see mind stamped
not even on flesh, but on stone, and can tell at once the
sailor or soldier, peasant, scholar, or workman, and this
not alone by the dress.
Look at the body and face of a man whose mind is By the uncon
scious Mind.
gone. Look at the slouching, cringing body of a man
who has lost his self-respect. Look at the body of a
thief, a sot, or a miser. Compare the faces and expres-
sions of a beggar, a philanthropist, a policeman, a scholar,
a sailor, a lawyer, a doctor, a shopwalker, a sandwich-
man, a farmer, a manufacturer, a nurse, a lady, a servant,
a barmaid, a nun, an actress, an art student, and answer
to yourself two questions : First, are these different
expressions of body and face due essentially to physical
or psychical causes ? And secondly, are they consciously
or unconsciously produced ? The answers will leave no
doubt that the mind can unconsciously display psychical
conceptions by physical media.
With regard to the face, the fact that the effects of a Character in
man s occupation are stamped upon the visage is found
written in a papyrus of the date of B.C. 2000.
The five most common vices that are shown upon the
face are pride, sensuality, fear, cruelty, and bad temper.
The mental impress on the face is perhaps least seen
in the eyes themselves, and most in the lines around the
nose and mouth.
It is said that a man can successfully lie with his
eyes, but not with his mouth. The face is such an index
32 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
of character that the very growth of the latter can be
traced upon the former, and most of the successive lines
that carve the furrowed face of age out of the smooth
outline of childhood are engraved directly or indirectly
by mind. There is no beautifier of the face like a beau-
tiful spirit. The want of mind lowers all the powers of
the body ; but so does an evil and debased mind, which
is still more wonderful.
Dr. Thompson, surgeon to H.M. Prisons in Scotland,
says, after observation for eighteen years : " I have never
seen such an accumulation of morbid appearances as
here. Scarcely any die of any one disease, for almost
every organ of the body is more or less diseased or
degenerated ".
On the other hand, a good character is good for
health, and is associated with longevity. Intellectual
occupation is frequently a factor in long life. When
the average duration of life is forty, poets average fifty-
seven and clergymen sixty-five. Of course, there are
other factors as well.
It is very curious how we place our body in attitudes
expressive of mental states. If we try to see a thing
with our mind we often put an intense and strained
expression into our eyes. If we are in a state of delight
our eyes are fixed in ecstasy. Great grief paralyses
the body. In staying with friends a person with a good
ear and imitative character soon adopts unconsciously
the voice and mannerisms of his host ; and not only so,
but I have an authentic case where the handwriting
unconsciously always resembled that of the host for the
CHARACTER AND THE BODY 33
time being. It is impossible to be seized with a vivid
idea without the whole body being placed in harmony
with it.
On the other hand the body affects the character.
" The soul,*' says Theophrastus, " pays a dear rent
for living in the body." Our characters are affected
and modified by digestion, circulation, general health,
and at certain periods of life. The effects of a feeble
or crippled body on character are strongly marked ; and
of this Lord Byron is a well-known example. Rousseau
says^ the weaker the body is the more it commands.
It commands in the hour when we cannot face our
work, or when it makes us, in spite of our will, morbid,
irritable and wrong-headed in our estimation of men
and things. Also, it is the strong body that obeys.
Hence the force of the ethical argument for physical
education. Bodily health is undoubtedly a condition
of the soundness of practical judgment.
If a child be bound hand and foot and brought up
without any exercise, it is said that it will grow up an
idiot. If a limb be lost early in life, a corresponding
part of the brain remains undeveloped. No part of the
body is moved without moving the brain. " Walking
on the tight rope," says Sir B. W. Richardson, " is as
much an intellectual exercise as conjugating a Greek
verb."
The association of types of character with types of Correspond-
body has been studied, as we shall see later on, by Lnd physical
Types.
* Quoted in The Making of Character, M'Cunn, p. 5C
3
34 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
Furneaux Jordan, a well-known hospital surgeon. He
was first attracted to the study by observing that the
women in his accident ward, in a series of years, who
were suffering from injuries inflicted by their husbands,
conformed to a well-marked general physical type which
he thus describes : —
" The skin is pink and white ; hair and eyebrows
scanty; fairly stout; markedly x^^//- shaped round
backs, convex transversely and longitudinally ; head and
shoulders inclined forward ; tongues sharp."
This type he classed as the non-passionate active
temperament, and these in both men and women he
further described as follows : —
Clear complexion ; nails soft and weak ; hair growth
poor ; eyebrows scanty ; head projects forwards (Napo-
leon) ; round back ; body more or less markedly fat.
The other type of the passionate inactive tempera^
ment have flat backs, the head held up and drawn back,
skin dark or pigmented, lean body, abundant hair and
good eyebrows ; and such women do not apparently
suffer injuries from their husbands.
sheii-backf, One " psychological '* (?) novel, at least, has been
Scanty Hair . , t /. i i .,.,.,
and Crime, written on the strength of the above, m which it is
foretold that a woman will be murdered by her husband
because she has scanty hair and a round back ! But
until natural types of character are more clearly defined
than at present, it is obviously impossible accurately to
describe types of body to correspond.
We may rest, however, on the undoubted facts that
tiie body is closely associated with mind and character ;
CHARACTER AND THE BODY 35
that the character tends to be impressed on the v/hole
body, more particularly on the face ; that the size and
general shape of the head has some slight connection
with that of the mind ; and that the nervous structure
of the brain is always modified by use. With these
conclusions we must at present be content.
But character is not only stamped upon such respon-
sive materials as flesh and blood, but upon inanimate
objects, as dress, furniture, etc.
Dress, indeed, is very closely connected with char- Dress and
acter. Who are these who are arrayed in white robes ?
— the purity of the dress is symbolical of that of the
character. What an intense instinctive judgment we
form of a person's (particularly a woman's) character
from her dress ! It is often so intense that subsequent
knowledge modifies it with diflficulty, and never wholly
obliterates it, as in other surroundings, which we will
consider in Chapter VI. In early life dress helps to
form the character, in later life it expresses it.
Furniture, and other immediate environments, as we
shall see, act in this double way; and a person's bed-
room indicates many of the mental qualities of its
occupant.
Of course this varies, some characters stamping
themselves physically on their intimate surroundings
much more deeply than others.
Whether, however, in any particular case it is the
physical that stamps the mental, or the mental the
physical, the science of character does not tell us, but
the action in either case is wholly unconscious.
)S SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
What is The science of character itself is called ethology,
° °^ from ^^09, character, and is to character what a system of
ethics is to the qualities that compose it. The first
attempt to embody this science in a system on a material
basis was called phrenology. With it was associated,
more or less loosely, physiognomy. When the former
of these got somewhat discredited, other attempts were
made of a half-hearted nature, and of an empirical kind,
to establish some science of character. One, for instance,
was based upon temperaments, and others on even more
visionary and arbitrary bases.
But we should beware, however absurd to us a science
based on cranial protuberances or even " temperaments "
may seem, of attempting to cast ridicule upon the
labours of scientific men, whose systems were quite
abreast of the knowledge of their day.
The phrenology of Gall and Spurzeim, indeed, how-
ever hopeless to us its details may appear, was, after all,
the only serious and exhaustive attempt that has been
made to form a science of character, and it was of some
undoubted value, inasmuch as it was based upon the
connection, now known to be so close, of mind and
brain. The germ of truth in phrenology was the idea
that every psychical impulse is accompanied by some
physical change ; that a "psychosis" involves a "neurosis"
Far from being discredited, the advance of cerebral physi-
ology has demonstrated this in so many instances that it
is now doubted by few. Character is thus stamped upon
the body, though not in the charmingly simple manner
shown by printed lables on phrenological heads.
CHARACTER AND THE BODY 37
How is it then we have not advanced further in Difficulties
111-1 11 , of Ethology
ethology, that it yet boasts no text-books or manuals ?
There are many reasons, for the subject is surrounded
with difficulties.
Characters are probably of as many varieties as there
are people in the world. At any rate, amongst civilised
nations it is extremely probable there are no two persons
exactly alike in character. Ethics, indeed, is regarded
as a fairly well-established science, whatever views may
be held as to the best system ; but it consists in the
generalising of abstracts, the individual application of
which, to personalities, is a very different matter, and
it is t/its which constitutes character.
We kave a well-developed science of the population of
the globe, varied as it is, and we call it " Ethnology " :
why then should we not have its sister, without the "n"?
Mankind is divided into types and races, why not char-
acters ? In spite of the difficulty, it is hard to say why
more has not been done. As we have shown, a vague
attempt has been made to class characters by tempera-
ments, but with very little more success than by the
bumps of phrenology. Perhaps a reason given in an
earlier chapter is, after all, the real cause why we still
wait for a true science of character. It is the fact
that only within the last few years has the vast
sphere in which it resides, the unconscious mind, been
studied with any care, or even admitted as a serious
concept. It is evident that this region must be better
known and recognised, and the real nature of the
operations conducted within its limits, such as habit
38 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
and instinct, better understood before we can make
much advance.
Further Data Any light on the changes in the physical brain, on
the true action and modification of the neurons, on the
crux of the whole question — the link between mind and
matter — and the manner in which the former affects the
latter, would also be of the greatest help. No doubt, if
it is to wait for all this. Ethology will, for a long time, be
a science of the future ; but advances are now so rapid,
that perhaps ere long enough will be known to provide
some sort of a true rational basis for the formation of
a science of character.
Phrenology. But to return to phrenology — which is one of the
many melancholy instances of the evil of generalising
from insufficient data, or imperfectly understood pheno-
mena — while we have no wish, as we have said, to
cast ridicule on any earnest work, perhaps we may be
permitted to give the following typical instance of the way
in which the " facts " of phrenology were " proved " : —
Combe says,^ " In a child with a part of the skull
removed over the phrenological site of self-esteem and
love of approbation, I felt a distinct swelling up and
pulsation of the ' organ * of self-esteem, and the same
movements, but in a less degree, in that of love of
approbation. When I began to talk to her she was shy,
but as she got at her ease, the movements in self-esteem
decreased and those of love of approbation increased. . , ,
This was repeated and the same results followed. At
1 Quoted by A. Bain, On The Study of Character, p. loo. This
work is practically a study of phrenology with efforts to improve it.
CHARACTER AND THE BODY 39
questions in mental arithmetic the movements ceased.
Then we praised her, and the movement returned." (!)
In phrenology the " organs " were arranged under the
well-known three heads of emotion, intellect and will.
It is needless to give the list tn extenso. The emotions
were subdivided into those that end in feeling and those
that result in action. The former were termed by
Spurzeim sentiments^ and included self-esteem, hope,
wonder, wit, etc. ; while the latter were termed pro-
pensitieSy such as combativeness, destructiveness, love of
life, acquisitiveness, etc.
Bain did not consider this distinction clear, but made improved
,.-.,. by Bain.
mstead two lists of sensations and emotions.
The sensations were muscular, sexual, organic and
special.
The emotions were wonder, terror, timidity and
courage, the tender emotions, egotism, self-esteem, self-
love, love of power, irascibility, love of humanity, sym-
pathy, and fine art emotions.
He moreover constructed as an improvement on
phrenology (which undoubtedly it was) a list of the
primitive faculties of mind, as follows : —
Amativeness, philoprogenitiveness, concentration*
adhesiveness, combativeness, destructiveness, alimenta-
tion, love of life, secretiveness, acquisitiveness, con-
struction.
Sentiments. — Self-esteem, love of approbation, cau-
tiousness, benevolence, veneration, firmness, conscien-
tiousness, hope, wonder, ideality, wit, imitation.
Intellectual. — The five special sensations, individualityt
40 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
form, size, weight, colouring, locality, number, order,
eventuality, time, tune, language, comparison, causality.
These lists, bearing as they do such a stamp of
empiricism in the very coining of the words, might be
multiplied ad nauseam.
No doubt each of us could make a list of qualities we
think it desirable should enter into the composition of
a good character, and coin more or less hideous names
of many syllables to express them ; but no such attempts
can ever form the foundation of a true science.
Failure to Mill long strove to discover the science of character,
establish
Ethology. but failed, and confessed it, and ended by declaring that
all men began alike.
The attempt to found characters upon temperaments,
as we have seen, has never been carried very far with
regard to their classification ; though temperament is
wrought in the very texture of our life, and is fortunately
itself susceptible of indefinite modification.
Leonard Courtenay says,^ with what reason we know
not, " that the choleraic temperament is strong and quick,
the melancholic strong and slow, the sanguine weak and
quick, the phlegmatic weak and slow ".
Furneaux Jordan ^ makes practically four classes, two
of either sex.
Jordan's Types The active and little passionate female type who never
of Character.
rests, is ever occupied with little things, full of trials,
always cleaning, fond of jumping to conclusions, full of
small interests, given to change, capable, shallow but
1 L. Courtenay, National Review ^ March, 1890, p. 31,
' Furneaux Jordan, Character in Body and Parentage,
CHARACTER AND THE BODY 41
clear, very sensitive to ridicule, fond of judging others,
very self-conscious with little self-analysis, who never
forgets herself for her duty, and whose general aim is
good.
The man of the same type has these qualities more
accentuated ; is conservative, moral, self-reliant, assertive,
unhappy in repose, and as a husband (alas!) is often
a failure.
The reflective and impassioned woman has quiet
manners, is hard to read, not restless or complaining,
matures slowly, is a cruel stepmother, though often an
affectionate wife ; loves and hates too much, is best at
home, is led by impulse rather than by thought, fond of
animals, tolerant and has little self-consciousness.
The si^nilar type of m£in is reflective, quiet, praises
often and never scolds.
Such crude distinctions remind us more of a seance
in palmistry than of any serious scientific work ; and we
should not quote the above, were it not for a curious
connection that Dr. Jordan has observed between the
types described, and certain physical peculiarities of
which we have already spoken.
Character has also been discerned (though fortunately
there has been no attempt to form a science therefrom)
by palmistry, by investigating the spots on the irides
by the handwriting, by the hair and nails, by the teeth
and various other parts of the body. Physiognomy
perhaps remains as the most scientific index of character,
and it is, as we have seen, upon the face that the mind
is most clearly written upon the body.
CHAPTER IV.
CHARACTER AND ETHICS.
Ethics, Morals The system of Ethics is perhaps the nearest approach
md Character
we have at present to a science of character, without
actually being this in any sense ; but as it is allied to it,
it will be well for us now to consider the relation of
ethics to character, which appears to be somewhat as
follows : —
Ethics is the abstract science of those activities of the
human soul (chiefly social) which we term moral, and
the professor of ethics is therefore a Scientist. Morals
is the applied science or art which deals with the same
activities, and the teacher of morals is an Artist. The
character is the product of the art of morals, embodied
and realised in a living human personality.
For example, in painting there is a science of perspec-
tive and colours which the scientist investigates, though
he may have no idea how to draw or paint.
There is an art of painting which the painter acquires,
and which the professor of painting teaches. Lastly
there is the picture which the artist paints.
4 Ethics is thus the science of morals ; and the difference
between this and character is that between the abstract
(42)
CHARACTER AND ETHICS 43
and the applied, between mechanics and an engine,
physiology and a man.
" Ethics," says Dr. Martineau, " is the doctrine of
human character." The term doctrine is a little unfor-
tunate. Doctrine means teaching. We speak of Plato's
doctrine, Ruskin's doctrine, etc. It is the exposition of
a science or art by an individual teacher. Doctrine,
therefore, changes in accordance with the extent of
knowledge. Science is a better word, for science proper
will not change, being the systematised knowledge of
eternal principles and laws. On the other hand, not
only doctrine, but art itself varies with the growth of
knowledge and idea of beauty.
Ethics are the principles of our moral activities in-
vestigated and systematised by reason and intellect.
Morals are, however, not founded upon reason or
intellect, but spring from the moral sense (conscience)
within, and the law of God without.
The relation of the conscience or moral sense to ethics Ethics and
Conscience.
is identical with the relation of the aesthetic and artistic
sense to fine arts. It is the natural inborn and intuitive
perception of those eternal and natural principles which
it is the business of ethics to make explicit.
Thus we have, first, the eternal principles themselves. ;
second, their rational and intelligent analysis — ethics ;
third, the intuitive perception of them — conscience; •
fourth, their concrete and practical exhibition — character,*
This is the order of merit ; the real order in which we
advance is: First, the moral sense; second, the character;
third, the system of ethics ; fourth, the discovery of the
44 SPRINGS OP CHARACTER
underlying and eternal principles. Character is the
product of the external influences of nature and of God.
as well as of the moral sense within.
Wundt traces three stages in the history of morals,
In the first morals are entirely religious ; in the second
a clear distinction is seen between religion and morals ;
and in the third the two, though seen to be distinct, are
united in the common object. The right is seen to be
the good, and the wrong bad. This analysis is no doubt
historically true in Europe, but does not represent the
natural and universal development.
Every human being has a rudimentary moral sense,
and the adjustment of his conduct to the moral relations
which he naturally feels should exist between himself and
his environment (God, Nature and his fellowmen) forms
his character.
We must thus first of all assume the existence of a
universal principle of moral sense. We then observe
that its local development varies in different places and
races, thus resembling religion. For, as religions appear,
we observe how they are affected by national and racial
characteristics. How the family dominates the Confucian
ideal and makes for domestic virtues ; how the State
dominates the Graeco- Roman ideal, and makes for
political virtue ; how individualism dominates the
Buddhist ideal, and makes for the detachment of the
individual from his environment ; how Christianity is
characterised by its true balance of the claims of God
and man.
The Chinaman worships his domestic ancestor ; the
CHARACTER AND ETHICS 45
Hebrews regarded Jehovah as a national God ; the idols
of Greek and Rome were local and tribal ; the Buddhist
is lost in his god, and god in him ; the Christian worships
the God and Saviour of all men ; the morals in every
case following the character of the religion and God.
We turn now from these general considerations to look Greek, Chris-
tian and
Specially at Greek ethics, Christian ethics and (what ModernEihics
may be termed) Modern ethics, on each of which we
will offer some very brief remarks.
Greek ethics, in the youth of the civilised world, aimed
at reaching good and present happiness (though seen to
be partly unattainable) by external action.
In the middle or Christian era happiness was more
relegated to another world, and obedience to duty and
Divine laws were the principles in evidence ; while now,
in the present day, many philosophers base conduct on
natural laws apart from dogma, and look more to the
•future in this world than in the next We will very
briefly glance at these three schools.
One of the peculiarities of the Greek ethical systems Peculiarities
of the Greek
was this — that they arose out of the ashes of the Greek School
religious systems. They were exclusively moral philo-
sophies — scientific and intellectual ; not moral arts —
religious and emotional.
They are not therefore strictly comparable with
Christianity or other religions, which are moral arts, not
sciences. We may no doubt form a Christian moral
science, but it ever remains subordinate to the Christian
art of living ; whereas in Greece the intellectual element
was dominant ; the philosophers repudiated absolutely
40 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
the pagan moral art, and made no attempt to justify
it ; nor did they attempt to put a more rational art or
religion in its place. Consequently Greek ethics for the
mass of mankind were utterly ineffectual ; for mankind
in general wants an art, not a philosophy.
All Greek ethics were unpsychological in their
methods, reasoning from the universe without to the e^o
within, instead of vice versd ; finding the rules for govern-
ance of self in the principles seen in Nature.
One great school recognised nothing but passing
sensations (Protagoras), another postulated a permanent
" Ego " and a " God," and a reason founded on their
existence (Zeno), while Plato and Aristotle sought to
adjust both of these into one system of ethics.
All Greek schools assumed that to be capable of
knowing anything one must have a share of its nature
in yourself ; an assumption of the most profound truth
and importance, as we shall see when we come to speak
of the growth of character from ideas.
Isolated maxims existed from all ages, but the real
teaching of ethics, or of the science of conduct, began
with the Sophists (B.C. 500), and from this period the
tendency of all Greek ethical teaching was to bring every
spring of action which had hitherto been instinctive
within the range of conscious will, and thus within the
range of morals and under the guide of moral laws in-
stead of impulses.
Ethics of Plato Jq come to details, Plato gives us three elementary
and Aristotle. ^
natural qualities or appetences : Reason (i/oO?), Impulse
{BvfjM^) and Appetite (iiroOv/jna), which in their perfect
CHARACTER AND ETHICS 47
expression formed the three virtues of wisdom, courage
and self-control.
Over these three he placed " Right " (BiKaioa-vvrj) or
Justice, in other words, conscience or the moral sense,
which gave the appetences their value and directed their
use.
The four cardinal virtues therefore were wisdom,
courage, self-control or temperance, and justice or right.
Plato insisted that the true art of living is an act of
dying to mere sense, in order more fully to exist in
intimate union with goodness and beauty — a noble and
profound thought in harmony with the fuller teaching
of Christianity. Plato further insisted that the proper
aim of man is not pleasure, but truth, beauty and right ;
which are to be sought for their own worth.
With Aristotle, too, pleasure is not the end of well-
being, but an accident in it. The two were thus con-
nected, not as equal objects, but as cause and effect.
After Aristotle wisdom and pleasure were divorced,
each being made objects of life by the two rival schools
of Stoics and Epicureans.
Curiously enough, benevolence or love to others is
not recognised definitely by Plato or Aristotle, and first
appears in Cicero and the later Stoics.
Both in Plato and Aristotle the political virtues are
dominant ; they aim at making good citizens by sub-
ordinating the lower animal principles to the reason.
But the Greek idea of the state was a very narrow
one, excluding women and foreigners ; hence purity and
benevolence have no place in their systems.
48 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
It is notable how, with the decay of the Greek states,
pleasure, i.e., individual happiness, came to be made the
end of existence. While the Greek ttoX^? was in its
vigour such a philosophy could not have much vogue.
We may further remark generally that the Greeks
looked on all the virtues as one in essence, however
diverse in expression. With this the latest utterance
of our philosophers agrees : " However diverse they (the
virtues) may appear . . . the seeing and sympathetic
eye may trace underneath all diversities one and the
same moral spirit striving manifoldly to vitalise human
nature ".^
In Neo-Platonism (Plotinus, etc.), which was contem-
porary with early Christianity (A.D. 3CX)), and in Philo
we get the idea that good resides in the soul, and evil
In the body.
The earlier Greek ethics were remarkably pure and
lofty, and represent probably the greatest height the
natural conscience of man can reach, apart from express
revelation, when trained by philosophic thought.
We may now pass on to Christian ethics with just
one illustration from the death-bed of the heathen philo-
sopher Theophrastus (B.C. 300) of the serious way in
which life was regarded. His last words were : " Few
things in life are solid goods. For my own part it is
too late for me to consider which way of life is the most
eligible ; but you, who are to survive me, cannot think
too deliberately before you make your choice."
^ FtoL M*Cann, The Making of Character (1900), p. 133.
CHARACTER AND ETHICS 49
Christianity includes both the Christian religion and Christian r©
ligion and
Christian ethics. The former has a distinct circle of Ethics.
ideas that are not necessarily included in any form of
ethics. These doctrines are partly based on the moral
sense, but ti-anscend its sphere in every way. Christian
ethics are their result, not their cause. Christian doc-
trines include a sense of sin (of which there is no trace in
Athenian philosophy), of personal alienation from God —
a scheme of redemption and holiness by the work of, and
through faith in, a Person ; an inward sanctification by the
Spirit of God, and eternal life with Jesus Christ our Lord.
Those who would reduce Christianity to the ethics it
contains will here see how much is superadded by such
doctrines, and how the circle of thought indicated above
must modify and react on all previous ethical theory ;
so that Christian ethics become necessarily a compound
of religion and ethics ; or perhaps we may say that
Christian ethics is one thing and Christian religion
another.
The point is that in Christianity ethics must always Religion is
more than
be subordinate to religion — the philosophy to the life ; Ethics.
whereas in Greece the opposite was the case — when the
philosophers arose Greek nature worship was dying.
Ethics have very little effect on character. Religion
has much ; it is a natural school of character. Ethics
do not mould character as religion does ; they do not
affect the emotions, they have no vital force, and are *
purely intellectual. Let it be clearly understood, how-
ever, that religion without morality is dead, but that
morals apart from religion may exist.
50 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
No doubt it is the fact of Christianity setting up the
narrow entrance to the highest types of life, of sacrifice,
atonement and faith that is the great stumbling-block
to those who look on ethics pure and simple as sufficient.
However fully true and lofty ethics may be taught in
Christianity, these are not, as we have seen, its most
distinctive features, which are unique ; while these have
much in common with Greek ethics, and with those
great eastern religions of which we have not spoken.
We must insist that the foundations of our religion
are those we have laid down ; and it is these that are
essentially " Christian ". But, on the other hand,
however firmly a man may have embraced these doc-
trines we cannot conceive him to be truly entitled to
be called a Christian man if he does not in his life
practise Christian ethics. Without these his life but
mocks God, and brings on himself a greater condem-
nation.
Wundt, our best German psychologist, insists that
" the merit of moral life is not primarily outward right-
eousness of life, but a purity of the inward motives ; and
Christianity ends a conflict which the religions of old
were never able to terminate — a struggle which is the
subject of the Antigone of Sophocles. Christianity gave
the percept of conscience a clear superiority over out-
ward action.*'
Christian True psychological ethics are peculiar to Christianity,
logical. i.e., reaching the principles of character from introspec-
tion ; those of Greece proceeding, as we have seen, in
the opposite way. In Christianity the mystery and
CHARACTER AND ETHICS 51
centre of interest lies in human nature, and not in the
outside world.
Rightness of heart and not of mere conduct is the
essential characteristic of Christian goodness.
Wundt says the deepening of ethical significance in
modern use of words takes place by a shift of the
emphasis from the external to the internal attributes.
Religion, however, affects conduct from without as
well by. three fresh concepts : First, the love and
character of God ; second, the eternal world ; and third,
new social considerations based on new views of life.
From the first spread of Christianity these new principles
made their force felt, but it was not until the fourth
century that Christian ethics were established as a system;
and, we may say, not until Thomas Aquinas in the
thirteenth century were they fully developed by the
schoolmen.
The seven deadly sins were pride, avarice, anger,
gluttony, impurity, envy, vainglory. Augustine con-
structed seven Christian virtues by adopting the four of
Plato — wisdom, temperance, virtue and justice, and
adding to them faith, hope and charity. The real
additions that Christian ethics made to Pagan in the list
of virtues are obedience (to God), patience, benevolence,
purity, humility and holiness. Obedience to God's will
as positive good revealed is quite different from that
yielded by Socrates to the natural and informal supposed
law of " God ". Benevolence and love, too, are peculiarly
Christian virtues.
The inward spring the Pagan relied upon in his system
Sa SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
of ethics was knowledge and wisdom ; in Christian ethics
it is rather love and faith.
Modern We have now perhaps said enough to indicate what
Systems of
Ethics. additions and alterations Christianity made to the con-
cepts of Greek ethics. It only remains for us to see
what modern forms of ethics have been devised by those
who partly or wholly reject Christianity as a sufficient
scheme of life.
These have, of course, a different standpoint from
the Greek, though many know it not. For the light of
Christianity has shined, and its principles and objects are
common knowledge, as well amongst those who reject
it as amongst those who accept it. The former, there-
fore, in constructing systems of ethics cannot fail to be
unconsciously influenced by the new force. Benevolence,
for instance, is hardly likely to be left out of any system
of ethics again.
Some, indeed, would form a principle of life from
which ethics itself is excluded. They use language like
the following : " Why should we hamper ourselves with
the outworn theologies of the past, with the uncertainties
of religion or the subtleties of the moral code " ? Others
scorn " neighbour morality " or altruism. A man is to be
sufficient to himself by his own will and powers. We
are to have no fear, no worship of God or man, or even
self, because man rules himself completely. Ethics,
morals and duties are to be no more. ^
Personal Hedonism, which says the agreeable is the good, is
and universal
Hedonism. perhaps the boldest modern system which may be
^ Nietzsche and others.
CHARACTER AND ETHICS 53
dignified as ethics. It has and has had well-known
apostles in this country, and those who disagree with its
principles (if such they can be called), and with the
excesses they lead to, believe that it has done harm
wherever it has been promulgated. Epicureanism, which
it resembles, had itself loftier aims, and was on a totally
different footing from this anachronism of the nineteenth
century.
To Comte Christianity itself is the consecration of
egotism. It is undoubtedly primarily individual, and
exalts the personality of man ; but it does not ex-
haust itself here ; but in the Saviour's teachings especi-
ally we get the founding of a " kingdom of heaven," and
in St. Paul's of a church, of which all the members care
for one another.
Those who found their incentives of life in social
rather than individual interests invented an improvement
on mere Hedonism (which it will be observed is only per-
sonal), a Utilitarianism or Universal Hedonism which is
a considerable advance on that we have condemned.
These say that the qualities of natural morality are
founded on the greatest good of the greatest number, as,
for instance: self-control, truthfulness, justice, kindness
and morality itself.
Utilitarianism, therefore, in its highest flight is the
greatest happiness of the greatest number, and asserts
that common welfare is morality.
The utilitarian argues it is good to be happy, that
happiness is the good ; the perfectionist (another variety)
argues it is happy to be good, that perfect goodness is
54 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
happiness. The two are, of course, connected by the
perception that by maintaining our health and promoting
our happiness we may discharge a duty to ourselves and
others, and thus we can purify our desires by identify-
ing them with moral ends. Hobbes, Hartley, Bentham,
James Mill, John Stuart Mill, Austin and Bain are all
for Utilitarian Hedonism, as opposed to intuitive morals
or acting from a moral sense within.
In addition to those who connect morals with sensa-
tion, as Epicurus and Bentham, or with social welfare, as
Mill and Bain, we have those who connect them with
intellect, as Cudworth and Clark, and others again with
the sense of beauty and fitness, as Shaftesbury and
Hutcheson.^
We see from all this that the subject of modern
philosophy is not the relation of the real and of the
apparent so much as of the subject and the object, the
e£;-o and the non-ego. The individualist on the one hand
extends self so as to embrace the universe, while the
socialist on the other extends the universe so that the
ego is a mere phenomenon in it.
Finally, the most modern school of all, which has
already made that of Mill and Bain out of date, is that
of Evolutionary Ethics as propounded by Herbert
Spencer, Darwin, Leslie Stephen and others.
It may fairly be called Evolutionary Hedonism
tracing, as it does, the rise and progress of morals to the
sense of pleasure and pain acted on dimly by animals,
and gradually perfectly evolved by humanity.
* Martineau.
CHARACTER AND ETHICS 55
It may perhaps be questioned whether we have gained Which is best?
either in our standpoint or in truth by substituting these
for Christian ethics. There are many who think we
have, and to whom Christianity is already effete ; but
there are others who think from observation that this is
not so, but that, on the contrary, there never was a time
when Christian ethics had a greater power, or were more
practically adopted with the best results ; not, indeed,
only by those who call themselves Christians, but by
others, who, while repudiating the doctrines of the faith,
tacitly admit the superiority of its ethics by adopting
them more or less in whatever new systems they invent.
CHAPTER V.
CHARACTER AND HEREDITY.
The Springs of Character — the subject which forms our
title — will be specially considered in the two following
chapters and in Chapter X.
The full Scope As already indicated in Chapter I., it is impossible to
of Mind must i , . i . . , 11 . ,
be grasped, understand this subject without clearly grasping that
mind must not, and cannot, be limited to consciousness.
It is claimed, indeed, by those who would so limit it, that
** consciousness " is the one quality that is essentially
psychic. But this surely is too much to claim. For
instance, wherever we get purpose clearly seen, or moral
principle or any spiritual quality, we feel equally certain
that these are not, and cannot be, properties of matter as
such, but are definitely and distinctly psychical : whether
they are directly discerned by consciousness at the time,
or only inferred, while themselves in unconsciousness,
does not in the least matter. So that consciousness is not
the only, and probably not the most important, property
of mind.
We are obliged to state our position clearly as to
this, simply because the very difficulty attaching to all
discussion of character lies mainly in this one fact, that
(56)
CHARACTER AND HEREDITY 57
its home is in the unconscious mind ; and one of the
most difficult mental feats is to bring it into conscious-
ness, a feat, we may add, so difficult that at best it is
only partially possible, with the result that our character
is never fully known to ourselves, and only our Maker
sees truly what we are. This we considered in Chapter
II.
" Man's soul," says Emerson, " is a stream whose
source is hidden. We are, indeed, more than we know,
and occasionally hear ourselves utter things we know
not."
If character then be hidden so deep in the night of
the unconscious, what shall we say of its springs ?
We are not here speaking of the springs of conduct, The Springs
of Character.
or the motives of our actions ; these are easier to trace,
being the qualities of our characters. But the question
is, What are the springs of character itself? We have
shown in Chapter I. that the word '* spring" has two or
more meanings. It may be a source or a motor power,
and we have to consider it in both aspects. As a source,
there are two springs of character ; while as motor power
there is one — or three in all. McCosh says very well : ^
" Character depends on heredity, surroundings and will ".
The first two sources have been described as nature and
nurture, which we will proceed to speak of as heredity
and habit. The third we consider in Chapter X.
We all (except Weissman and his followers) believe
in the inheritance of moral tendencies, and, in short, in
» McCosh, Psychology, Tfu Motive Powers, p. 355.
)• SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
the foundations of a character by heredity. The first
great spring is, therefore, our ancestry; and it is no
little advantage, in analysing character, that this should
be traceable : hence the value rightly set on lineage and a
good stock.
Now, grafted upon this, we get additions to our
hereditary character in the shape of new principles.
These at first form no part of tJie character^ though we
may act on them. It is only when, by force of repetition,
they become habitual, instinctive, natural, unconscious,
and part of ourselves, that we can truly say they form
fresh springs of character.
Heredity and The foundations of character therefore lie in heredity ;
Character.
and all true additions are acquired by habits becoming
incorporated with the character, so as to become spon-
taneous and proceed from unconscious sources.
We must insist on this, for so many of our actions
form no part of our real character, but are the result of
passing whims or conscious effort. All that comes from
character necessarily has an instinctive source in the
unconscious, since character itself is there, and influences
and moulds the life unconsciously.
Now no action that is instinctive, or purely uncon-
scious, can have merit attaching to it per se, though it
may possess both wisdom and beauty.
No Merit A character then does not owe its moral value in
Unconscious action to either of these two springs of heredity or habit,
both being alike instinctive and unconscious. We must
go to the third spring — the source of power and activity
— like the mainspring of a watch. This spring is our
CHARACTER AND HEREDITY 59
conscious will guided by our moral sense. And it is as
reasonable and responsible beings that merit or demerit,
therefore, attaches to all our conscious deeds, though
these may spring from unconscious sources, to which,
strictly speaking, no merit can attach.
Let us be sure that our meaning is clear. Responsibility
and merit do not attach to what we are until that self is
expressed in conscious action, it may be of thought or
word or deed.
Of course the will and the moral sense that guides it
are themselves, in a way, a part of the character they
move. It is the element of conscious choice, and the
exercise of the power of choice, and a free will that alone
can constitute merit or responsibility. These, therefore,
must be postulated if we are to be regarded as reasonable
men and responsible beings.
A strong character is one with a strong mainspring
or will. It is not necessarily good ; that is determined by
the strength of the moral sense. A weak will means a
weak mainspring, but not necessarily, therefore, a bad
character.
It will now be apparent how a character can be
altered in expression and in merit, though much the
same in its constitution, by the substitution of a new
spring of will or power or direction of moral sense.
*' The new nature," spoken of by Christians, is not a
new character. Character can never thus be changed
in a moment. It is a new moral sense and a new source
of will power, so that the character differs in expression
and in its motor principles. In this and in all other
00 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
Statements made on such subjects, however, let us ever
remember that they are probably not absolutely accurate,
but are merely approximate to the truth.
Character Character, therefore, depends in the first instance
may be trans-
mitted, on heredity. " We may," says Huxley,^ " veritably say
this moral and intellectual essence of a man does pass
over from one fleshly tabernacle to another. In the
new-born infant the character of the stock lies latent ;
and the ^eg-o' is a bundle of potentialities."
Dr. Hill of Cambridge says : ^ " I am glad Dr. Scho-
field believes in the inheritance of habit. . . . We need
no longer try to settle the much-discussed question of
whether acquired characters are transmissible by looking
out for cases in which gross anatomical changes are
inherited by children not brought up to their parents'
tract, but we may assert with confidence that the central
nervous system, as modified by the deliberate choice of
the individual, tends to be transmitted to his offspring.'*
The main stream of character is due to the formation
of brain and nerve, as well as mind, from heredity. In
one sense a new-born child has not so much as yet
character, but disposition. True character comes later
on, but disposition and individuality are already its
possession from heredity.
" Inheritance," says Furneaux Jordan, " mainly deter-
mines whether a man shall be capable or incapable, brave
or cowardly, trustful or suspicious, prudent or reckless,
1 Huxley, Romanes Lecture, Evolution and Ethics, p. 15.
2 Dr. Alex. Hill, Inquiry into the Formation of Habit in Man, p. 24,
Victoria Institute.
CHARACTER AND HEREDITY 6i
voluble or taciturn." Circumstances come into play-
rather in details and smaller matters. We may say
heredity supplies the framework or skeleton that gives
the main outlines, subsequent habits add the flesh, etc.,
while the conscious will animates the whole into re-
sponsible action.
There are one or two points about ancestry that may
be touched on here.
Hereditary qualities may descend directly, as from Direct and in-
direct Heredity
father to son ; or indirectly, as from father to daughter ; and Atavism.
or by atavism, as from grandfather to grandson ; or be
transmitted collaterally, as from aunt to nephew. At
first sight it might be thought that the children of the
same two parents must all have pretty nearly the same
characters at the start, and it is from this error that so
many children are badly brought up, by adopting the
same regime with all. In the first place the children are
not merely the offspring of two, but of six at least (for
we must always consider the four grandparents as in-
fluencing the child), and, more broadly still, of the stock
as well as of the parentage from which he is descended.
In the second place these six " parents " may be mixed The six
1 .1 , . . . ^ , . Parents.
m the child m very varymg proportions. One that is
nearly all maternal grandmother, with a little of the
father added, will probably be utterly different from his
brother, who is a compound of both paternal grand-
parents with a strong dash of his mother.
Parentage imposes certain definite limitations.
Carlyle always maintained that two fools never can
and never will produce a wise child ; and I think, if \^
62 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
addition the four grandparents are fools, the statement
will always hold good.
Furneaux Jordan declares it never happens that a
child takes after one parent physically and after the
other in character. We may, indeed, generally assume
that marked physical likeness goes with mental re-
semblance.
Ancestry again is responsible for the " old-fashioned "
air of most of our children, who only catch up the A.D. in
which they are living by adding to their hereditary
equipment by habit. We are really only "up-to-date"
as a rule in the middle third of our lives, and even this is
often a great effort. Here and there a child is born
distinctly in advance of his time, but these are rare
exceptions.
When a child is born he is the product, mind and
body, of the forces of heredity. Not only his body, but
his mind is deeply impressed with the characters of his
parentage. His mind is no tabula rasa, but is already
thickly sown with seeds, some of which are definite
qualities, but the greater part at first merely tendencies.
We inherit We are no longer believed as a rule to inherit
positive virtues or vices any more than actual bodily
diseases, but rather tendencies to such.
" It was formerly thought," says Holman,^ " that
well-marked peculiarities, physical or mental, in the
parent were handed on to the child. But this theory
is now regarded as untenable, and it is held there is
nothing more than a tendency to develop such qualities.*
^ Pro£ Holman, Introduction to Education, p. 450ii
Tendencies.
CHARACTER AND HEREDITY 63
This is not wholly true, but like all else is to be taken
as approximately so.
For instance, two faculties at least are seen in every
child (with the rarest exception) from its earliest years,
which seem to be largely the foundations of the sub-
sequent emotions and reason. They are love and the
sense of justice. All children " love," and all children
have an instinctive sense of "justice".
Surely there is nothing strained, when we see these Loveand Ligi
in the Inrant
two characteristics mirrored in the young child s soul, in Soul,
discerning the reflection of the Almighty, who is love and
who is light (or justice). Here the child reproduces as
two principles in its unconscious mind the fulfilling of
the whole law : and the stamp or character of the great
Creator is clearly to be discerned in these qualities in the
new-born babe.
The germs of morality are innate in all, and this
inherent love of justice is nothing less than the dawning
of the moral sense. The mere discerning of justice
might be intellectual only, but the love of it clearly
brings in the moral element.
Of children a little older Galton says : * " The most
prominent characters in children are energy, sociability,
love of praise, truthfulness, thoroughness, refinement *'.
From our personal knowledge of children, some of
these would appear to be rather the result of education
than to be inherent We must ever remember the special
qualities that reside in the child's unconscious mind arc
limply tendencies and qualities of heredity, and it is only
^ F. Galton, Enquiries into the Human Faculty ^ p. 5S.
64 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
as the result of (unconscious) education that these become
definite parts of a formed character.
With regard to tendencies, it is mainly this education
that determines whether they shall develop into vices or
virtues, but we have no time at present to pursue this
fascinating subject further. A most beautiful sketch of
hereditary nobility of character, as thus developed, is
seen in Cedric Errol, Lord Fauntleroy, Mrs. Burnett's
charming creation ; and even more instructive as a study
in heredity is her own autobiography in Tke One I Knew
Best of All.
Discerning clearly then that every inherited instinct
or tendency may be developed into a virtue or degraded
into a vice, we see the folly of the advice of trusting to
the child's instinct. It must be watched, not trusted.
Prof M'Cunn says : ^ " When a child has an over-
mastering instinct of acquisitiveness, who will prophesy
the sequel — thrift or avarice? When he has an un-
mistakable hunger for praise, is it to end in vainglory or
a just * love of the love of other people,' of which love is
its counterfeit? And is there not for every instinct a
like parting of the ways ? "
Marked individuality is seen in children in their
various likes and dislikes. Some children, for instance,
naturally hate snakes, others love them, and others again
are indifferent to them.
Individuality of character in early life is the impress
of strongly-marked heredity; in late life, of a strong
will.
• Prof. M'Cunn, The Making of Character ^ p. 39.
CHARACTER AND HEREDITY 6$
Hereditary qualities may be deeply stamped or only
faintly impressed ; in the latter case they are later in
development, and lie hidden in early life.
Geniuses are the result of some happy combination
of parentage with some leading quality stamped with
extraordinary power.
We recognise this in our expressions. We speak of
a ** bom " orator or actor, meaning one whose powers
are due to his unconscious mind and not to his conscious
education.
Mozart says : "If you think how you are to write
(music) you will never write anything worth hearing. I
write because I cannot help it ! " And this is every-
where the language of genius.
And now one word as to the training of these here- Methods of
early Trainin|
dity principles. The best, the most efficacious training
of character is that which is addressed to the unconscious
mind, that which is carried on unconsciously ; when
silently through all the avenues leading to the brain
within the organ of mind is developed, and the mind
itself unfolds until it blossoms into consciousness and
self-consciousness : the teacher, the instructor, being the
voice of Nature, or rather the voice of God. " It is
good," says Geo. Macdonald, in Robert Falconer, " that
children of faculty absorb Nature. Children of faculty
as distinguished from capacity should not have many
books. They should be exposed to, and left to absorb
all the influences of Nature."
" In those early impressions, of which no one seems
to be conscious, least of all the child, and which gather
5
66 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
up power as the rolling avalanche, the elements are
collected for the future emotions, moods, etc., that make
up a greater part of the history of the individual/' ^
Every circumstance, indeed, through a whole life has
some influence on character.
Evils of artifi- And then, upon the too brief idyllic period of child-
cial Education.
hood, conscious education and arbitrary commands
break in ; often, alas ! unwisely given by thoughtless and
careless parents ; with the result that the Divine instincts
of the soul are dwarfed, cabined and confined by short-
sighted rules and maxims ; the child's mind is gradually
lowered and disillusioned till it reaches the current level
of its A.D., and becomes hard-headed and practical.
As little as possible is left to spontaneity in this
utilitarian age; everything has an "end," and the whole
round of life is hedged in on every side by artificial
barriers. Even the artless games of childhood become
merely mechanical means for physical recuperation or
mental relaxation. " Must we always," asks one rather
pathetically, "be doing our duty? May we not some-
times take a holiday from being positively good ? May
we ever play for the sake of mere enjoyment, and not
for recreation or the * good it will do ' ? "
One great point in favour of unconscious education is
that it never interferes with the happiness of child-life
but increases it ; and this is not such a small matter as it
seems. Conscious education is needed, but, unwisely
conducted, it is often a very painful process.
We must ever recognise the two divisions of mind,
* Dr. L. Waldstein, The Sub-Conscious Self^ p. 47.
CHARACTER AND HEREDITY 67
and remember that the springs (sources), the founda-
tions, roots and principles of character lie deep in the
unconscious ; the flowers and fruits and actions being
seen in the conscious. During the whole period of au early
Education is
infancy and childhood, whether we know it or not, the Unconscious
education that is of most value to us is that which is
received and stored by the unconscious mind ; and it is
this education on which the future character so largely
depends, for through it the tendencies of heredity can
be directed and modified. Herbert Spencer says : " A
man is more like the company he keeps than that
from which he is descended ". In short, unconscious
education is more powerful than heredity ; conscious
education is not.
No doubt fundamental changes of hereditary qualities
are very rare. They may follow severe, and sometimes
unsuspected, head injuries and other great shocks.
Characters appear to change often when they are
only developed. The slow development of hereditary
tendencies often looks very like a radical change of
character.
Sometimes heredity gets undue credit for qualities ofsome"Her
character. "What is often called heredity is simply the ties really di
*r 7 T • ' ^»«7*° early En-
expression of a sub-conscious self, me beginmng ofwmck\ixonxaenx.
can be traced to early childhood, when the actions of the
parents and their example are sub-consciously perceived,
and, by their conscious repetition, form fundamental
impressions." ^
"Much is often put to the credit of 'original sin/
» Dr. L. Waldstein, The Sub-Conscious Self, p. 19.
68 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
inherited by the child, that is really the avoidable result
of vicious banes and bad examples in early childhood."^
Nature is often thus credited with the results of nurture.
As we have said, in the hereditary qualities we do not
so much get positive good and evil as tendencies (often,
it is true, with a distinct bias), but which can be traced
in one direction or the other.
"Virtue," says Leslie Stephen,^ "is rather the
organising of the instincts than their extirpation."
There are, indeed, few tendencies that are in themselves
so positively and irredeemably evil as to require actual
extirpation. There may be, and often are, characteristics
of this nature, but they were " not hereditary in their
present form. Some bad education has developed into
evil what might have been a quality for good."
We will pass on to the great supplementary spring
of character that is found in the force of habit.
* Prof. M'Cunn, Making of Character^ p. 9.
■Leslie Stephen, Science of Ethics ^ p. 30a.
CHAPTER VL
CHARACTER AND HABIT.
We now turn to the important relations between habit EflfectsofHabi
*■ on Character.
and character, and we find that they are twofold. In the
first place the original tendencies of heredity, of which
we have just spoken, can be modified for good or evil ;
and in the second, new principles of character can be
added by the force of habit. " Sow an act, reap a habit ;
sow a habit, reap a character; sow a character, reap a
destiny.*' We may well and truly, therefore, regard
habit as the supplementary spring or source of character.
Now, habit in thought is as well and truly formed as
habit in action.
Consciousness necessarily attends at first every act of
reason ; but when the act has been repeated a thousand
times and becomes instinctive, it is performed uncon-
sciously, and a habit is the result.
There are one or two interesting points in the forma-
tion of a habit. In the first place the action must never
be varied. Attention in the formation of a habit also
seems greatly to deepen its impression on the brain, and
make it much more easy to establish ; and we must
(69)
TO SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
remember it is much easier to form habits we like than
those we do not.
There are many psychologists who, resolutely
denying unconscious mind action, relegate all processes
of thought, which by continuance have become habitual,
to material agencies ; and deny altogether their mental
character, simply because they are unconscious. This
is well answered by Bastian : ^ " That which is realisable
now may after a time cease to be so ; and shall we cease
to call a given nerve action (or rather its results) psychical,
when by frequent repetition it has become so habitual
that it no longer arouses consciousness ? "
Stout says : ^ " Where the habit is sufficiently formed
to subserve its purpose, consciousness retires from the
scene, like an artist whose task is done ".
To this M'Cunn adds : ' " This doesn't, however, imply
that the habit has become wholly a thing of physical
automatism. It would be a lame conclusion to prolonged
moral effort that a habit became a mere thing of nerves
and muscles. The fact is that the psychical roots of the
habit are not cut, but only buried.*'
Value of Habit All the minor moralities of life may thus be made
in Childhood.
easy and habitual to the child. He may form the habits
of being courteous, prompt, punctual, neat, considerate ;
and practise these virtues without conscious effort. We
thus can modify and add to the hereditary disposition
of the child, until it becomes the character of the man.
^ C. Bastian, Brain as an Organ of Mind, p. 523.
* Analytical Psychology , G. F. Stout, vol. i., p. 265.
• The Making of Character, M'Cunn, p. 43.
CHARACTER AND HABIT fl
The first act is from motives in an undetermined
character. The second act has the motive for it streng-
thened by being a repetition, until at length the motive
becomes unconscious, and forms a permanent factor in
the character. Up to a certain point our character is
formed /or us by heredity, beyond this it is formed fy
us through habit.
Character is thus, as we have seen, mainly the sum
total of habit ; and as the Alps are the sedimentary de-
posits of the silent seas of the past, so character is
formed from the sedimentary deposits of thousands of
acts and experiences in the unconscious past. These
acts and repetitions arise, as we shall see, from our
surroundings and our ideals. Still we must remember
that bundles of habits are not in themselves character ;
for this organic unity and co-ordination is required. We
must well understand that until the principle underlying
an act has by repetition become instinctive, and thus
unconscious, it cannot be truly said to form a part of our
character. Care in Latin pronunciation will not pro-
duce care in cycling in a careless character, until, by
repetition, carefulness itself has become instinctive.
Then it appears in all pursuits and forms a part ofHabitisa
Spring of
character. In short, there comes a period when I no Character,
longer possess a certain virtue, but it possesses me.
When this is so, it is my assured property ; and I can
pass on to attain higher forms of virtue, and it is thus I
grow into o aaxfyprnv — the perfectly tempered man who is
the product of organised habit
The fixity of a virtuous disposition which is tht
7a SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
height of moral character is the result of habit, and
" the habitually honest man does what is right, not
consciously because he * ought,' but with simple satisfac-
tion ; and is ill at ease till it is done "*}
Morality should thus early in life be made a firm
habit, for indefinite instincts soon cease in all circum-
stances to be reliable guides, and require raising (where
of value) into definite habits. We must remember, how-
ever, that " the establishment of organised habit is never
of itself enough to ensure the growth of an enlightened
moral conscientiousness " ; ^ for growth, more than habit,
is needed. And here we may remark, as M'Cunn has
pointed out, that while moral habits can be as freely and
surely formed as physical habits, this must be effected
by the repetition of psychical states and not by repro-
ducing the merely physical acts. The outward action
alone will never form a moral virtue, nor can virtuous
habits themselves be merely mechanical.
The connection of ethics with action and not with
theory is physiologically invaluable, as all acts tend to
consolidate ethics into character ; and it is moreover an
immense gain to be able to relegate the lower actions to
habit, so as to be free to develop the higher instincts.
The real value of the automatic is that it liberates the
mind from lesser things for fresh conscious processes of
a more important nature.
There is, however, another side of habit that we must
look at to arrive at the balance of truth.
* Herbert Spencer, Data of Ethics, sec. 7, p. 46.
» Dr. Royce of Harvard, U.S.A.
CHARACTER AND HABIT 73
The sense of duty or " ought " diminishes as morah'ty
is practised. The first performance of a duty is directly
because of " ought " — the moral sense. After a while it
becomes habitual, and very likely a pleasure, and at last
it is performed unconsciously, wholly or in part. Take,
for instance, the repetition of a set form of prayer or
saying grace at meals.
Now, it is obvious that no real moral value attaches Moral Value
to an action or even a motive which is wholly uncon- to Unconscious
scious. As therefore moral acts become apparently
mechanical habits, they lose the moral value that
attached to them. We thus see again that character as
a whole lies in the unconscious, and that any merit
attaching to it arises from the exercise of the conscious
will that calls it into activity. We will look at this
subject further in Chapter X.
Again, habits may become chains of slavery and Dan|rers of
barriers to progress.
The way stationary lives avoid progressing is by
doing nothing whatever outside a fixed circle of habit
that has become almost instinctive. We all have a
tendency to become " recurring decimals " ; for progress
means effort, whereas habit means ease.
No character can be automatic where there is any
progress. And habits need not be bad to be hindrances.
Moral habits of a narrow order may establish great
barriers to after progress. It is a great danger,
therefore, for a mind to become automatic at a low
level.
In our manufacturing cities we are said to make
74 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
everything but men ; that is, we make lives full of
bundles of habits at a low level, and as near machines as
human beings can become.
On the other hand, habits are difficult to stop when
once they have been formed. The persistent pursuit of
an object always involves the danger of not being able
to leave off the habit of pursuit when the object is gained,
as, for instance, in the pursuit of riches.
Of course a bad habit is a terrible thing when fixeo,
and the moral consciousness is soon blunted to right and
wrong ; so that a man may get such a habit of lying or
swearing as to lose all sense of evil.
Every act of sin makes the second act appear less
sinful and easier to commit. Habit is thus a fearful
power when enlisted on the side of wrong.
Habit lessens pleasure or pain, and when fixed
almost abolishes it.
We lose pleasure in games and pursuits as soon as
they become fixed habits, as with professionals ; and a
continual sufferer soon complains less as the pain be-
comes deadened by continuance.
Habit may induce error, as at the beginning of a new
year, when for some time the old year continues to be
written ; or when dressing for dinner the watch is wound
up as if going to bed.
From all these instances we see that habits are such
great powers that a most watchful eye should be kept
over their acquisition, at first by the parent and later by
the individual himself.
We now turn to consider the two means by which
CHARACTER AND HABIT 75
habits are easily and naturally acquired ; and the first is
by our environment or our surroundings.
As long ago as B.C. 450 Hippocrates believed in the
influence of environment in determining character ; so
that we are speaking here of no new idea.
Life is indeed the school of character, because life to
each man means that with which he comes in contact —
his surroundings between which and himself there is
incessant action and reaction.
A child cannot fail to bear the stamp of the atmo-
sphere its mind has unconsciously breathed for the first
few years of its life.
** Life and health are largely acted on (unconsciously)
by agents immaterial and psychical. They are the
essential parts of the education from which springs the
character, etc." ^
" Nothing exerts so great an influence on the psychical Value of
. Environment
organism as the moral atmosphere breathed by it. The
composition of that atmosphere is therefore of funda-
mental importance ; and this education is Nature's educa-
tion."*
In a certain environment all the weeds of character
flourish, another develops all the flowers. If we cannot
change our environment when it is injurious, we must
definitely resist it, if we are to be saved from bad habits.
We can make our environment as well as letting it
make us. Our rooms, and particularly those we occupy
most, represent the characteristics of their occupants.
* Dr. J. Pollock, Booik o/H*aZ/A, p. 530.
•W. B. Carpenter, Mental Physioloi^y^ 4th edition, p. 333.
76 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
Some, however, construct their environment out of all
sorts of odds and ends they can find, like a caddis worm,
or a bird when building its nest ; while others find suit-
able environments that fit them, ready made, like a
hermit crab. A strong character shapes its own environ-
ment, a weaker one is formed by it. It is in early life
and in poverty that our environments are mostly made
for us ; in adult and easy lives they are mostly made 3}^
us ; and in either case there can be no doubt of the
value to physical and mental health of being in perfect
harmony with our surroundings.
The family is Nature's great moral school ; and real
character is mostly formed at home. The relationship of
husband and wife is a powerful former of character,
especially in the early years of married life. Parents,
not only mothers, but fathers also, have immense
influence on the characters of their children.
Contrast be- Herbart says : ^ " If the life of a family is permeated
Life ancTinsti- by a noble piety, a sincere religious faith will take root
in the heart of the children. To the child the family
should be the symbol of the order in the world ; from
the parents one should derive the characteristics of the
Deity. The child's ideas of the Heavenly Father are
moulded unconsciously by the earthly one. The
mother's tender care, the father's kind seriousness, the
relationship of the family, must exist in all purity and
worthiness before the child's ingenuous eyes, because he
judges only what he observes ; because what he sees is
» F. Herbart, Science of Education, 2nd edit., p. 71.
CHARACTER AND HABIT 77
to him the only thing possible, the pattern for his
imitation."
Other environments are those of school, companions
and friends, locality, country, profession, etc.
We may note here the enormous and well-known
effects that institutions, reformatories, homes (so-called),
etc., have on the character, and especially amongst the
young. We have elsewhere spoken of the effects of the
dietaries at these places ; but apart from this, the influence
of the life, the routine, the companionships, the sense of
being a unit rather than a loved personality, have all the
depressing effects on character that shade has on a
growing plant. All movements in favour of remodelling
homes for children on the basis of small homes, and thus
reproducing natural family life, are of the greatest value
in improving the character.
A solitary life, such as the monastic, is not good for
the development of character, as it merely tends to
emphasise the stronger features, whether of vice or
virtue, but does not lead to growth.
The force of the professions on character is most Eflects of Pro-
fessional Life
marked. The finished product differs tn toto from the on Character.
raw material. Take six brothers and let one enter the
navy at twelve, another the army at eighteen, another
the law at twenty, and another medicine at seventeen,
another a merchant's office, and let the sixth loaf about
at home, and then carefully analyse all their characters
at thirty-five.
You will find the sea stamped on the first, seen not
alone in his tanned cheek and somewhat rolling gait,
78 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
but morally through and through, down to the very
depths of his unconscious being. In fact he himself is
largely unconscious of how much he shows it. You see
it in his frank eye, in his nautical language, in his
freedom of speech, in his code of morality, in his virtues
and in his vices, in what may be called the very shape
of his thoughts.
The army man again will be quite different product.
He will be stiffer and less easy and more precise. His
bearing (we hope) will show his drill ; but it is not his
body alone, but his character, his very being, that has
been drilled. That, indeed, is the essential difference
between the regular and the volunteer. Both have got
drilled bodies ; but the drill has reached the character in
the former, while the latter is still a civilian at heart.
The barrister, with the intellectual and casuistic train-
ing he has received, will doubtless look down on his
two brothers from his forensic height, and will show how
his profession has touched his character, dut to a decidedly
less extent than the other two, the environment not
having been so constant or so characteristic. The doctor
will be more changed in character from the habit of
looking at people from the inside, and the constant
balancing of cause and effect. His responsibilities and
the continual need of a good manner will also have
left indelible marks. The medical profession is instruc-
tive to study because men can enter it at any age,
and it is easy to see that where medicine has been taken
up late in life (after thirty) the character itself is
much less affected. The man is not an engrained doctor
CHARACTER AND HABIT 79
like the man who began at seventeen. The merchant
will perhaps be least altered in himself, the atmosphere
he has breathed being less specialised ; and the loafer
will have steadily deteriorated, most of his hereditary
potentialities being by now enlisted on the side of evil.
So great is the power of our callings on our characters !
Having seen the effect on character of a definite Effects of «
training for a definite profession, let us take the uncon- man's Ltfc oa
. . r 1 . 1. 1 . Character.
scious trammg of character m an ordmary workmg-man
— say, for example, the difference between a gardener
with wages of i8s. a week and a coal miner with wages
of 36s. The two occupations contrast as follows : The
first is safe, the second dangerous ; the first is in the
light and open air, the second in darkness and confined
space ; the first life is equable but poorly paid, the
second presents violent contrasts but is highly paid ;
the first man is ever with Nature and studies all her
harmonious and natural progression and alterations, the
second is with Nature, but cannot see her or her opera-"
tions, and regards her rather as a dangerous foe to be
mastered. If two brothers take up these two occupa-
tions for twenty years, their characters will probably be
formed somewhat on the following lines : The gardener
will be slow, patient, genial and gentle, like the Nature
with whom he is ever in contact. He will be careful,
because poor; he will read little, because he reads
Nature's book all day ; he will be equable and com-
paratively free from excesses, because his life is free
from contrasts and dangers. The miner, on the other
hand, will have an uneven character, will be reckless,
8o SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
prone to excesses in pleasure, passion, sport, etc.,
because his occupation and his life present the most
violent contrasts and expose him to great dangers. He
will be extravagant also, because he is well paid ; he
reads more and is more discontented ; his home is more
luxurious, as he loves to emphasise the contrast between
it and his work ; at times, therefore, he may develop a
passion for flowers, exceeding any gardener, because of
his gloomy toil. His character is stronger and more
forcible and wilful from the rugged and dangerous diffi-
culties he has daily to overcome.^
EflFectsof Let us now see how one character affects another; for
on Character, above all we are ever influencing one another, and our
greatest influence is that we exercise unconsciously. Our
minds cast shadows just like our bodies, and daily and
hourly those shadows are falling upon others for good or
for evil. This one fact alone proclaims the overwhelming
importance of character in social life. The reason we
feel one man's presence and not another's is indeed as
simple and unerring as the law of gravity. A presence
is felt in exact proportion to the strength of its character.
" O lole, how did you know Hercules was a god ? ''
•* Because I was content the moment my eyes fell on him
— he conquered whether he stood or walked or sat."
Character is like those bodies we call ferments, which
^ At a mining village Justice Grantham has lately spoken of, where
the scenery is lovely, near Conisbro' Castle, the wages are high and the
hours short, but the men lead lives of shameful degradation, drinking,
gambling and neglecting their children. The material prosperity and the
moral savagery shatter every theory of the elevation of the people based
on mere material good.
CHARACTER AND HABIT «I
!i»ave the power pf inducing changes in other bodies
without undergoing any change themselves. Ptyalin,
for instance, the ferment in the saliva, changes any
g mount of starch into sugar without undergoing any
change itself ; and so certain characters have such power
that in their presence all the starch in a man disappears,
and sugar takes its place. And, again, just as ferments
are of two sorts, those that build up and those that de-
compose, so one character strengthens while ancthet
w^eakens and aisintegrates evv.ry other with which it comes
into contact. Some men are like spiritual ozone : one
breathes a new life in their presence. Others, on the
contrary, are like germ-laden sewer gas : not only noisome,
but infectious. In short, like produces like. Men of
good principles produce others, and men of evil likewise.
Each multiplies after its own likeness.
" Men of character," says Emerson, " are the con-
science of the society to which they belong. And to
produce all this effect no word need be spoken, no deed
done — the presence often suffices."
** In silent company with another," says Maeterlink,^
*' the character is often deeply formed. The truth," he
adds, " cannot often be uttered in words, but it can be
learnt in silence,"
Having thus considered a little the power of surround- Weais and
Character,
ings, and of the influence we have over one another, let
us look at another way of forming good habits, and that
is by following ideals.
* Maeterlink, trans, by A. Sutro, Th^ T-^isure ofth* Humhls,
6
U SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
Character is never most benefited by introspection
and searching for springs of conduct in our unconscious
mind that were meant to be left unseen ; but rather by
objective methods : just as facility in playing the violin
is not gained by a study of the muscles concerned, but
by practising music. This is the value of ideals, which
form at the same time an object in life and a standard for
moral sense. The word "ought" supposes an ideal
standard.
Nil admirari, or the despising of all ideals, Is indeed
a doctrine of devils.
A chief factor in the development of character is the
power of forming and following ideals, rather than the
impulse to be or the effort of becoming better.
It is the imitation, conscious or unconscious, of one's
ideal that becomes a habit, and thus forms and reforms
and transforms the character. The generality of ideals
is seen in such common phrases as " The dream of my
life," " The expression of one's ideal," etc
An anonymous writer in Macfnillatiy 1882, in "Studies
in Psychology," notices that "after being raised to a
higher rank (to a baronetcy or peerage) the whole be-
haviour subtilely and unconsciously changes in accordance
with it ". This is also the case in a minor degree with
lesser standards of fashion ; and as in the social world,
so in the moral.
The Moral The moral sense cannot act without some sort of
Wm1L!°^"*^' standard ; and, indeed, an ideal is needed for the very ex-
istence of morality ; the best character being that whert
all the eoeigies are directed towards the highest ideals.
CHARACTER AND HABIT I3
One's character becomes similar to those whom we
love, admire and respect, simply because in trying to be
like them we unconsciously form habits to resemble
them.
Our instincts and character are moulded by ideals,
but not by passing pleasures; indeed, our will seems
fulfilled in an ideal in a way it never is by pleasure.
This ideal may not be a matter of conscious choice, but
may grow up with us from obscure origin.
The measure of a man is truly the measure of his
vision, that is, of the ideal before his eye.
" To have the eye evil," says Raskin, " is more than
being blind ; just as the whole body being full of dark-
ness is darkness in me, and is more than my being in
darkness." Such is the case where corrupt ideals fill
the vision.
Loss of faith in ideals is also destructive of character a lost ideal
is Disastrous
and stops its growth ; moreover, an ideal not followed is
soon lost.
The substitution of an inferior ideal for a superior is
the greatest moral calamity a man can suffer. We must
never lower our standards in order more easily to reach
them ; and, indeed, an impossible ideal or standard is
always the most elevating to the character. The im-
possibility of reaching it preserves humility, while at the
same time it ensures constant progress.
Without an ideal a man may exist, but cannot be
said to live.
The majority of men have an ideal self they try to
realise. Harmony between this ideal self and the real
84 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
self brings peace of mind, while discord brings distress
and remorse.
This ideal self is a compound of the ideals before
the man. Its main feature is formed by the principal
object for which he lives, but in minor matters standards
of perfection are also set up in deportment, dress, personal
habits, etc Thus the coster may live for an ideal waist-
coat or a barrow drawn by a donkey, a flower girl for a
Sunday hat with real ostrich feathers, and so on.
Scale of Ideals. The general ideals before men are as various as their
personality. At the bottom come those rare cases where
the ideal is absolutely evil — where it is said : " Evil be
thou my good ". Some have questioned whether such
characters exist, but of this we fear there is no doubt.
Then come those with morbid ideals. As a medical
man I know what it is to have even disease made an
ideal.
Then we enter the large class with very low aim^
such as those to whom money, riches, sensual pleasures
and pleasure generally are the end of life.
Of all such aims the end is fixed. There are two
paths for every man to choose : the path of duty or of
pleasure, of self-denial or of self-gratification, of self-
control or licence ; and the one is the path of life and
the other the path of death. It is very curious, more
over, to notice that when we pursue pleasure we feel ana
know that we are slaves, but when we pursue loftier
ideals we feel free.
Negative Going a little higher, we get those whose ideal may
be said to be a negative one. Their object is " To do no
CHARACTER AND HABIT 85
iiarm," or ** To pay their way," that is, keep out of debt,
and with this their lives are fulfilled.
Another aim is magnitude, or, as we say now,
"breaking the record ". The ideal is to be the largest
grocer or biggest draper, or the richest landowner.
Akin to this class, though distinctly higher in moral
aim, are those who would be best rather than biggest ;
quality being valued rather than quantity. The ideal
may be to become the top of a school class, the highest
in rank, the best cricketer or golf player, the first in his
profession, and so on.
Higher still, and the first where self in some shape or Social
form ceases to be the direct object, is the class whose
ideal consists in providing well for their families, in social
aims, in utilitarianism, in the greatest good for the greatest
number, it being remembered that " social " includes both
duty in social morality and personal duty, while the
greatest good of the greatest number includes personal
good, family good, social good and universal good.
Above these again are those who pursue abstract
virtues, and amongst them were the higher Greek philo-
sophers. To these the ideal may be duty or patriotism,
or honour or virtue, or temperance or justice, or character
itself as the end of life, or wisdom or truth. With regard
to these two latter, it has been well said that " while the
aim of education is wisdom, that of the wise man is truth".
Highest of all we think are those most wholly altruistic, Christia*
Ideals.
whose ideal is self-sacrifice for the happiness of others,
and above all the pleasing of God and the imitation of
Christ We think that, whether a man be a Christian or
86 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
not, he will agree that the highest ideal before a creature
is to do the will of his Creator.
We can have noble and lofty ideals apart from
Christianity : but there can be no doubt we have the
highest with it. We will add one word as to the con-
nection of happiness and pleasure with ideals. Seneca
said : " We do not love virtue because it gives us pleasure ;
but it gives us pleasure because we love it". The
evhaifiovia of Aristotle — the end of being — is by no means
mere happiness. To pursue happiness as such is almost
invariably to defeat one's object. Perfection, not
happiness, is the end of life. Nevertheless it may be
said goodness and happiness go hand in hand. Happi-
ness indeed is largely found in the means used to attain
the end in view. For instance, if the object be to pro-
vide food for the table, the sport itself affords more
pleasure than the food. Just, then, as goodness and
happiness go together, so in the highest morality goodness
and wisdom are not divorced ; the highest morals go
with the highest intellects — but the morals must come
first.
We have thus seen in the brief survey of the two
sources of character we have traced in these two chapters
that the fundamental spring is undoubtedly heredity ;
but that in it we get rather the material of which
character is made than the character itself, and that
for the forming and moulding of these tendencies, as
well as for the introduction of fresh instinctive principles,
habit is needed. We have considered the mighty force
at our disposal ki this great principle ; and have seen
CHARACTER AND HABIT 9f
further that moral habits, voluntarily adopted at first,
become also fixed, a very part of ourselves, as they
become instinctive in the unconscious mind. We have
also pointed out that the environment around us and the
ideal before us, are the two means by which habits of
thought and conduct are fostered, to a large extent
unconsciously. We may consider then that thus far we
have been occupied with the formation of character.
Our next duty will be to consider its growth.
CHAPTER VII.
CHARACTER AND GROWTH.
Growth and In the body wc distinguish clearly between growth and
Development.
development, or increase in quantity and quality. The
former continues for a definite period, terminating about
the twenty-first year, and after then no growth takes
place. But development still goes on rapidly, and may
continue (in the brain, at any rate) down -to a very late
period in life.
Growth depends, of course, on food and exercise,
but they are not its sole cause, for we continue to eat
and walk after twenty-one, but no longer grow. Growth
is due to an inherent power in the body, which is a part
of the mystery of life itself.
Development is not a power or force in the body like
growth, but is purely the result of use and exercise.
" Who by reason of use have their senses exercised to
discern both good and evil." ^ An arm is developed by
playing a violin, a brain by the study of Greek, both
brain (cerebellum) and body by bicycle-riding, and so
on.
We do not see at present that we are in a position
> Heb. V. 14.
(88)
CHARACTER AND GROWTH 89
to draw a clear distinction between growth and develop-
ment in character. It will be best therefore to under-
stand growth in this case to include development, if
indeed it does not wholly consist of it The difficulty
is immense in examining a character to decide what
elements are entirely new, being incorporated by habit,
and which consist of hereditary potentialities properly
developed. Nor indeed is the matter from one point of
view of supreme importance : suffice it to know that we
have these two springs. We will therefore turn now
to consider by what means character is developed or
"grows**. '
We may remark, first, that with development in
character always goes repression. The restraining is as
needed as the fostering. The one without the other fails
to a great extent in its object. Growth of character in
humanity owes its almost infinite possibilities to the
apparent limitless capacity man possesses in contradis-
tinction to the rest of the animal kingdom, combined with
the power of modification that attaches to a character
whose greatest factor is reason, as contrasted with mental
powers chiefly guided by instinct
But, in spite of this, some people (as we have seen in stationary
Chapter VI.) apparently neither grow nor develop. They
eat, drink and sleep, absolutely free from the stimulus
of progressive desires — not only consciously, but in fact.
It seems incredible that any can realise they are
leading lives at such a low level and be satisfied with
them. We may rest assured no life at a high level is
non-progressive. " Is it possible," says Shakespeare of
go SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
a fool (Parolles), " that he should know that (/^., * what ')
he is, and 5e that (/.^., * what *) he is ? "
A thoroughly self-indulged childhood with every
want forestalled, at a low animal level, is often a death-
blow to progress, and the foundation of a bad character.
No character can be good that is not ever improving ;
and this involves effort, for mental struggle is the first
law of progress. Where intellect is deficient, therefore,
progress is necessarily at an end. Maudsley observes :
" Most madmen have few ideas ; most have simple feel-
ings, and the coarsest desires and ways ".
How does How, then, does character grow, and how does it
Character
grow? develop? Character grows like the body, mainly by
food and exercise. Its food is the ideas presented to
the mind, its exercise lies in directing life through the
various circumstances around.
Character is also developed by life generally, by
actions, by principles, by objects, by changes, by other
characters, by education direct and indirect, or conscious
and unconscious, arid by many other means.
The watchword of character is St. Augustine's famous
ladder, ** I am — I know — I can — I ought — I will " ; here
we get successively self-consciousness, intellect, free will,
moral sense and purpose; a beautiful and natural suc-
cession. Progressive movement of mind is as essential
to healthy mental life as it is to physical, and this move-
ment should be upward — altiora peto : though we are
inclined to think that any movement is better than none
at all.
In stagnant minds, as in stagnant water, everything Is
CHARACTER AND GROWTH 91
a miliar, and everything is known, for we are stationary;
in a moving mind, as in a moving river, much is ever new
and much is forgotten (the things that are behind), for we
are ever advancing. Consistency also is not a quality of
progressive characters. If it be made an end, there is
an end of all progress, for consistency of action is im-
possible, as higher and ever higher standards of life
rise up before us. There are of course two consistencies :
there is the consistency of my actions with my character,
which is of value ; and there is the consistency of my
present character or actions with my past, and it is this
that we speak of as a bar to progress.
Rejoice that man is hurled
From change to change unceasingly.
His soul's wings never furled.
Truly wise we cannot be, unless our wisdom is con-
stantly developing from childhood to death.
The earlier in life the main principles of character
are developed and fixed, the more are they likely to
resist the stress and strain of later years. The last
principle implanted is ever the first to go. " Nascent "
virtues, therefore, recently acquired, should be guarded
against undue temptation.
A character, of course, like a body, may not grow Rates of char-
. - T^ 1 /• acter Growth.
regularly. It may, as we have seen, never grow from
childhood ; it may cease at any time, and recommence
again with some new idea or ideal after years ; or it may
retrogress, and be ruined or atrophied.
The growth of character, as a rule, is most rapid in
early years : it is most rapid amidst adverse and chang-
92 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
ing surroundings: it is most rapid when in absorbing
pursuit of some striking and loved ideal : it is rapid when
intellect, emotion, moral sense and will are all pulling in
one direction ; though sometimes more rapid still when
emotion pulls the other way, and requires to be over-
come. Changing surroundings, personal and social,
changing standards in morals and religion, and changing
objects and pursuits, all affect character for better or
worse. With all characters, as with the vegetable world,
there is a spring-time of growth, a summer of flowering,
and an autumn of fruitfulness.
Character, under certain circumstances, may de-
teriorate as rapidly as it may grow. It deteriorates
most rapidly when the conscious will, as well as un-
conscious forces, are enlisted on the side of evil, and
the moral sense is effectually deadened.
Here we may point out a danger ; and that is, that
neither character itself, nor its growth, should ever be the
actual aim of life. Indeed, the aim should never be
subjective good, though that is the sure result when the
aim is objective good. Character grows most rapidly
when least occupied with itself. If our objects are right,
and our ideals the best, there should be no needless
anxiety about growth : that will take care of itself In
this book, however, we have to examine much that
should not constantly occupy our minds. Many of the
finest characters have never given a thought to character,
or been conscious they have grown at all. It is not the
tall youth, but the short one, that is ever thinking about
growth. But this, alas ! does not make him taller.
CHARACTER AND GROWTH 93
Good growth, of course, cannot take place from a
poor stock ; and between the lowest torpid natures at one
end, and the high and responsive natures at the other,
there lie endless varieties. Natural growth of character
must be limited by the heredity and stock ; and educa-
tion is often blamed for producing defects which, after
all, it only reveals. Herbert Spencer observes: "By
no political alchemy can we get golden conduct out of
leaden instincts. But the instincts can be changed,
fresh grafts can be introduced as we have seen upon the
stock, the whole tree can be trained in a new direction, and
golden conduct made to flow from a golden character."
Let us now consider some details as to growth. The Details of
Growth.
growing itself is the point of moral value, the becoming ;
when we have " become," and continue to " be " because
we "are," merit as such ceases, though there may be
everything to admire. We need not pause to prove this,
for we have already touched on the necessary connection
of moral value with voluntary action.
The more habitual our virtues the less conscious are
we of them, until, when they really become a part of
our character, they almost sink out of sight
We have already pointed out that it is better to grow
by doing good than to make cultivation of character a
direct object. At the same time we should cultivate
honest dealing with ourselves, and a certain amount of
introspection is needed to avoid self-deception. Criti-
cism should be based on the desire to discover truth, and
an earnest care to be consistent in thought and fact A
sound self-critic is sure to progress.
04 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
Besides, therefore, the emotions and will and intellect
being drawn out by objective ideals, and by active life in
the pursuit of good, it is well that the attention be also
kept on the repression of evil in self.
Sacrifice is an essential in progress. To gain life we
must lose it, to live we must die. Self-surrender in
obedience, and for others* good, is a chief means by
which development of character is accomplished.
Self-denial is a fundamental characteristic, and yet
may not in itself be for good — a money-seeker has inces-
santly to practise it — all depends on why it is practised.
Courage, in the same way, may be used for evil as well
as good.
Without these two characteristics, however, self-denial
and courage, the character will not progress much for
either good or evil.
Divine Dis- Godliness with contentment is great gain, but the
content. . , ,, • * « « •
contentment meant is rather "with such things as we
have " than " with such characters as we are " ; and it
is doubtful how far " contentment," per se, is to be culti-
vated as a virtue. Truly, it brings peace, but with it
stagnation, and there is a healthy discontent that is a
necessary factor in all progress. The one who moves is
ever seeking, and is never anchored to what he has
found. He is not yet satisfied, and in the deepest sense
he is not yet content. He has not yet attained, he is not
yet what he would be. So far from staying morally
where he is placed, he is ever moving from it ; he does
not complain of his condition, but soon leaves it behind.
He does not think of his progress, but progresses. He
CHARACTER AND GROWTH gS
IS possessed by humility, and thinks others better than
himself. It is the loftiness of his ideal that both inspires
and subdues him. He is not a talker, but a doer of the
word ; a silent pilgrim " to the better land ". Mean-
while his motto is : '* Say little, serve all, pass on "
And so I live, you see,
Go through the world, try, prove, reject.
Prefer, still struggling to effect
My warfare ; happy that I can
Be crossed and thwarted as a man.
Not left in God's contempt apart ;
With ghastly smooth life — dead at heart.
Then welcome each rebuff
That turns earth's smoothness rough,
Each sting that bids — nor sit, nor stand, bat go I
Be our joys three parts pain 1
Strive, and hold cheap the strain ;
Learn, nor account the pang ;
Dare, never grudge the throe I *
We will now consider growth by food and exercise, Growth by
Food and
or by ideas and circumstances. Exercise.
The first great means of growth is by the entrance of
ideas into the mind. These may be introduced consciously
or unconsciously. Ideas consciously presented in the form
of precepts are of little use to men of independent mind,
though of greater value to dependent spirits. The little
influence that the best advice often has is well described
by M'Cunn : ^ " There is a risk that every one incurs who
betakes himself to the man of precepts. Nor does any-
thing more certainly arrest the influence of good ' advice *
» R. Browning, " Easter Day " and " Rabbi Ben Ezra".
* Prof. M'Cunn, The Making of Character^ p. 14.
96 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
than the suspicion that it has been made up as a general
prescription. It is but human that the passionate
egotism of personal trial should revolt against this exas-
perating procurability of commonplaces." The latter
method is the least understood, and we will say a word
or two about it. Ideas are presented unconsciously by
suggestion ; and for this hypnotism is not needed, the
process may be quite natural. What is an unconscious
idea? It is a living mental seed, that, planted in the
unconscious mind, flowers in consciousness. It is initial
ideas that "strike" us the hardest and affect us most,
and that is why all beginnings are so important. " Enter
not into temptation," derives additional force when we
regard the first idea as the spark that fires the train.^
Apperception. With regard to the power of apperception or sug-
gestion in linking trains of ideas together, thoughts
swarm in our minds as bees round a hive, and when the
queen thought comes forth they all rush around it.
Maeterlink beautifully says:^ "Tracing the process of
suggestion in the brain, on the quality and number and
power of our clear ideas do the quality and number and
power depend of those that are vague? And hidden
away in the midst of these vague ones may well lurk the
definite truths we seek. Let us not keep them waiting
too long ; and, indeed, a beautiful crystal idea we waken
within us shall not fail in its time to arouse a beautiful
vague idea; which, lasting, growing old, and having
itself become clear (for is not perfect clearness most often
^ C. Mason, Home Education,
'Maeterlink, Wisdom and DesH^, p. tow
CHARACTER AND GROWTH gf
the sign of decrepitude in the idea ?), shall also go forth
and disturb from its slumbers another obscure idea, but
loftier, lovelier far than it had been itself, in its sleep;
and thus it may be, treading gently one after the other,
and never disheartened, in the midst of those silent
vaults — some day, by mere chance (?) — a small hand,
scarce visible yet, may touch a great truth."
" It is the duty of parents," as C. Mason tells us,^ "to Value of icu
sustain the child's inner life with ideas, as they sustain
his body with food. The initial idea begets subsequent
ideas ; children must therefore get right primary ideas
on the greater relations and duties of life. The destiny
of a life may be shaped in the nursery, by the reverent
naming of the Divine name, by the light scoff at holy
things, by the right idea of duty a child gets who is
made to finish his task, or by the hardness of heart
acquired through hearing the faults of others spoken of
lightly."
We have little idea how character develops by the
pressure of moral opinions and current thoughts. One
single hint or new idea may actually influence an entire
character.
The reception of new ideas not only adds to the
stock, but modifies the old. Ideas are living principles
that act and react like chemicals on each other, producing
fresh compounds in the mind. But their force does not
end in thought : it is reproduced in action. Ideas of
conduct tend to reproduce themselves in conduct "Sow
> C. Mason, Home EducoHon,
g8 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
a thought, reap an act ; sow an act, reap a habit ; sow a
habit, reap a character ; sow a character, reap a destiny."
Value of Ideas, again, resemble chemicals in another respect.
In common life they are generally so mixed and com-
pounded as seldom to be seen in their pure state, in which
their powers and qualities are most apparent. It is in
this respect that good fiction has its value on the char-
acter. "When a chemist," says M'Cunn, "wishes to
show us what an acid or an alkali is, he exhibits it and
its behaviour under the enlightening artificial conditions
of experiment. By a similar artifice, imagination in its
laboratory of fiction reveals to us what the soul of man
is by showing how it thinks, feels, wills, acts under the
carefully devised conditions of fictitious circumstances.
Floods of light have been in this way let in on moral
truth. Hence the wisdom of the remark that illusion is
not delusion."
Ideas often thus reach the mind, when illuminated by
the electric light of fiction, that would pass unheeded in
the ordinary daylight of common life.
Ideas as the When an idea enters the mind it grows secretly and
acter. ' silently. It does not at once become a part of the
character.
An idea never adds a new principle to the character,
or permanently changes an old one when merely adopted
by reason ; nor when acted on by the feelings ; nor
when carried out by the will. I may see it right to
give a tithe, after the idea has entered from some power-
ful sermon, but I do not thereby become generous. Not
until giving has so become a habit as to be prompted
CHARACTER AND GROWTH 99
instinctively and unconsciously can generosity be said
to form a part of my character. And, curiously enough
it is then that merit ceases to attach to the principle,
though still accompanying the act, if done consciously.
Nothing learnt or taught, therefore, forms a part of
the character till it sinks from the conscious into the
unconscious.
Ideas may, however, be presented to, and yet not be
assimilated by, the mind.
The tendency is for the mind to grasp new ideas, and
then, if it can, it allies them to something it already
possesses. Now, unassimilated ideas produce mental indigestible
Ideas.
dyspepsia The difficulty or ease of assimilation depends
on two factors : the powers of mental digestion and the
character of the idea. Conservative characters find it
hard to assimilate new ideas, unless the connection with
some part of their own creed is very apparent.
Characters that have been brought up in grooves find
positive pain in endeavouring to digest some new ideas.
The difficulty may lie, as we have said, in the character
or in the idea. Ideas, like food, either are heterologous
or homologous, that is, they are either unlike the mental
tissues in their composition, or they are like them. If the
former, they are not really foods, but poisons. Nothing
can nourish the mind or body but principles similar
to those it already contains. I cannot repair a bicycle
wheel with wooden spokes, or a linen shirt with flannel.
It is so with ideas, they are either utterly foreign to
anything in the mind, in which case they cannot be
assimilated, and often do the mind great injury by
too SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
acting as poison ; or they are like some thought already
there, and thus become food.
The teaching of strange ideas is thus called hetero-
doxy, and the teaching of digestible ones might well be
called " homodoxy " instead of orthodoxy.
One man's food is thus another man's poison, on
account of the difference of character and education,
ideas nutritious to one being found noxious to another.
It is this fact that explains the pernicious effect of
advanced ideas on simple minds.
A clever man let loose to force his ideas on untrained
peasants will produce the severest attack of mental
dyspepsia, and the suffering will be great.
I know one noble-minded lady, full of fine ideas, who
mated with a peasant with the view of raising his class.
The man got softening of the brain soon after, and it
is by no means improbable the disease was hastened, if
not caused, by his frantic efforts to digest the new mental
food provided for him.
Ideas must be In growth of character we endeavour to attach new
ideas to hereditary instincts. Of course we do not know
all the constituents either of mind or body ; and it may
be a new idea will discover in the mind some hidden
affinity, of which we ourselves were not aware till it
was brought to light.
" I should not know I wanted to covet," said St.
Paul, " unless the law had told me I was not to covet ; "
and so we often say now of a child : " Do not put such
an idea into his head".
The commandments themselves were vain if we had
Homologous.
%'
CHARACTER AND GROWTH lOl
not a conscience to respond to them. " Thou shalt not **
has no meaning unless there is an inner voice saying ,...v\\ ^,
'* Thou oughtest not ". i( \1^^^'''''
We are often very susceptible to the opinion of others,
and weaker characters are largely formed by the ideas that
spring from this source. Schopenhauer traces some bad
characters to the effect of the single idea of regarding
the world as " not myself," and all good as centring in
the unextended ego. Good ideas are the most powerful
prophylactic against evil. M*Cunn observes : " The best
moral antidote lies not in warnings, however particular,
but in that positive nurture of character which is the
real source of strength in the hour of temptation".
The value of good ideas is perhaps most clearly
indicated in the well-known exhortation : " Finally,
brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things
are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things
are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report, if there
be any virtue and if there be any praise, think on these
things "}
In addition to ideas as food, we require circumstances Circumstances
as Exercise.
for exercise in order to grow. Circumstances really in-
clude all through which we pass in life.
Take two brothers, and let one be brought up, say,
as an officer. Let him lead a leisurely, well-ordered life ;
let him be well washed, well dressed, well fed and well
cared for till he is thirty-five. Let the other brother live
in a single room, with his wife and three children, and
>8LP»il,Fha.hr.t.
< / ioa\>.A SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
( / ', t
. .0 :
,\\ follow some dirty, depressing trade, till he is also thirty-
^>
^y TX'*'. five ; and then notice how far circumstances can modify
''''''y;,^^^''^ '^Ij^aracter. The circumstances of health also affect the
whole character immensely.
Circumstances After a time the same circumstances, continued, fail to
change
Character. affect character, having exhausted their power. It is as
novelties that circumstances effect the greatest changes.
The depth of the impression is in proportion to the
amount of the novelty. A tour round the world does
more for character than a tour round England. Some-
times a change of circumstances brings out character in
the most amazing way. An idle loafer at home, the
despair of all his friends, is given a colonial appointment
or made a consul on some frontier, and soon the world
is ringing with the splendid capacity he develops. At
other times the reverse is seen, and a good but not a
strong character is spoiled in mid life by reverses it is
not strong enough to bear. Still, even in the presence
of circumstances, we are no mere masses of clay to be
formed by them as they will.
"It is a grand error," says John Stuart Mill,^ "to
believe our character is formed /or us rather than dy us.
It is formed by circumstances, but the desire to mould it
in any way is one of these circumstances." Moreover,
circumstances themselves are often the result of our own
characters, and cause and effect are reversed.
"Man," says Carlyle, "is the architect of circum-
stances. He is indeed often the creator, rather than the
creature, of circumstances."
^ J. S. Mill, System of Logic^ voU ii., p. 426.
CHARACTER AND GROWTH 103
Shocks and great catastrophes can change the ex-
pression of character completely ; but sudden changes,
from their comparative rarity, are, after all, not those
which chiefly affect us. " For the most part our character
is formed, not by catastrophes, but by the stealthy and
ceaseless deposit of circumstances, by the circumambient
moral atmosphere, from which we cannot for a moment
escape." *
Again, the same circumstances affect people in
different ways. Loss of money may make one char-
acter, while easy circumstances may make another.
There is one special set of circumstances, however, Value of ad-
... , 1 r 1 verse Circuni'
on which we must lay stress, so potent are they lor good, stances.
We allude to what are commonly called the evils of life :
such as adversity, failure, loss of health or money, dis-
appointment, evil, opposition of all kinds, war and all
sorts of trials. Character, it is true, is formed both by
friends and enemies, by success and failure, by pros-
perity and adversity, by following good and resisting
evil ; but it is the second part of each clause that
calls forth the nobler qualities and produces the higher
results.
Strong characters and Christian characters are nearly
always benefited by trials, through when poverty or
hardship becomes the rule of life it loses its good effect.
Many of the poor would develop better in a sun-bath of
prosperity. Most men thus reach their highest develop-
ment through failure or trial : the prison made Bunyan ;
* Prof. Caird, University Sermons, p. 296.
X04 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
the gout did much for C. H. Spurgeon ; as a frail body
and an agonising disease did for Gordon.
Where the character is sufficiently noble and strong
for these severe lessons, and is not overwhelmed by
them, they soon land the pupil in the top class.
And what is our failure here but a triumph's evidence
For the fulness of the days ? Have we withered or agonised ?
Why else was the pause prolonged, but that singing might issue thence ?
Why rushed the discord in, but that harmony should be prized ?
Sorrow is hard to bear, and doubt is slow to clear.
Each sufferer says his say, his scheme of the weal and woe,
But God has a few of us whom He whispers in the ear —
The rest may reason, and welcome ; 'tis we musicians know I >
The first lesson of history is the good that can come
out of evil. The Thirty Years' War made Germany,
and the Boer War has made the Empire. Resistance,
dangers, reverses are a powerful education. Our initial
misfortunes and the slow discipline of the war in South
Africa have done much for our national character. The
glory of character is that in confronting antagonisms it
can draw from them new nobilities of principle. " No
man," says Jeremy Taylor, "is more miserable than
he that hath no adversity." A perpetual calm will
never make a sailor. Self-denial is always good for the
character, for it is the path of life. Adversities not only
help character, but they reveal its hidden qualities;
they show the difference between the Paris diamond
and the African, the pinchbeck and solid gold. They
reveal —
> R. Browning, " Abt Vogler ".
CHARACTER AND GROWTH 109
One who never turned his back, but marched straight forward,
Never doubted clouds would break ;
Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph.
Held we fall to rise, are bafHed to fight better, sleep to wake.^
" It often requires," says Maeterlink, " a great sorrow Sorrows reach
us through our
spent together in silence to reveal a man whom we have Thoughts.
seen for years, but never before known" " Nothing
befals us," says Maeterlink,^ " that is not of the nature of
ourselves," and to each of these severe lessons there
must be something in the character to respond, some-
thing they touch, or else the pupil does not profit. It
all goes over his head, or sours his temper with the long
words he cannot make out It might almost be said
that there happens to men only that they desire. We
have little power over external events, but much as to
how far they shall become parts of ourselves. Not a
single sorrow exists that can touch us save through our
own thoughts. These form, as it were, an atmosphere
through which every external event must pass, and
which determines its character and effect on us. The .
same event to one man is an evil he deplores, and to
another a blessing in which he rejoices, solely on account
of the different minds through which it passes. A mind
can thus be formed to which " all things work together for
good ". One of the characteristics derived from such cir-
cumstances is fixedness. Steadiness of purpose is always
well marked under great pain or pressure. To keep
head against a rapid stream is different from paddling in
a pond.
* R. Browning.
* Maeterlink, Wisdom and Destiny (A. Sutro), p. 31.
fo6 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
But there is another teacher of a milder mood
through whom we could, if we would, learn most of
adversity's lessons. Death, grief, trouble teach much;
but they who love much may know the secrets these
teach through this alone.
Trials and distresses are often needed to teach us
sympathy ; but love could (I think) instruct us without
their aid.
For life, with all it yields of joy and woe
And hope and fear — (believe this aged friend)
Is just our chance o' the prize of learning love,
How love might be, hath been, indeed, and it ;
So take and use thy work !
Amend what flaws may lurk.
What strain o' the stuff, what warpings past the sum t
My times be in Thy hand I
Perfect the cup as planned I
Let age approve of youth, and death complete the same 1 *
We have thus considered the two great means of
growth, by food and exercise, ideas and circumstances —
and especially circumstances that seem against us — both of
these being in the main educators of the unconscious mind.
We may now look a little more generally at the
education of the mind, both unconscious and conscious,
as a means of growth.
Education of The end of all education most worthy of the name is
character, and for this natural means are more effectual
than artificial and forced methods. With education in
the narrow sense of information, rather than formation,
the reverse is true. Natural means lare useless, and
artificial and forced methods are the beginning and end
of the system of all crammers — who, after all, are a most
* R. Browning, " A Death on the Desert " and " Rabbi bin Ezra ".
CHARACTER AND GROWTH 107
useful body of men under the present senseless regime of
supplying all our public services and most professions.
Among the principal general instructors that educate us
unconsciously and exact no fees are the following :
the external world, from the stars in the heavens to the
daisies at our feet, change and novelty, monotony
(" blessed be drudgery **), relationships of life, responsi-
bilities of life, friendship and love, religion, besides those
we have already spoken of — ideas, circumstances gener-
ally, and adversity.
The use of others as a looking-glass for ourselves Is
often a potent educator and revealer of character.
Evil characteristics, seen objectively, disgust us, though
unnoticed or condoned when subjective ; hence we often
correct ourselves by the follies of others.
The opinions of others, we have already seen, have
much effect on weak characters.
Now opinion is cruel, and truth is merciful ; opinion
is worth little, truth is priceless ; and yet probably more
are moved in this world by opinion than by truth,
because opinions are to weak characters what truth is to
strong, and Carlyle (who ought to know) says that " most
men are fools ".
Amongst the great unconscious educators our readers
have been waiting to hear named are doubtless the cele-
brated twins — Science and Art — which are so much alike
that they can be hardly told apart, though when together
the difference is clearly discerned.
Science is said to rouse and advance people; art Science and
soothes and does not advance them, although many have cators.
MB SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
the greatest faith in it as a civilising agent. Art, indeed,
has little or nothing to do with goodness and morals, and
often flourishes in a decadent empire, and with the worst
vices, though no doubt Ruskin rightly teaches us such
art is not the highest art.
Modem progress has a powerful effect on character,
and we are all now busy " teaching our grandmothers,"
who lived in the dull twilight of " the early Victorian era "
— the fashionable name just now for all that period which
is old enough to be despised, and not old enough to be
worshipped.
Wireless telegraphy, telephony, cycling, the Rontgen
rays, the imperial penny post, motor cars, bank holidays.
Cook's excursions, and perhaps still more, " educational "
travel and polytechnic tours. Board schools, and a
thousand Other novelties all have a powerful effect as
unconscious educators of character.
In women the effect has been so radical as to
produce what is described, by those who have had op-
portunities of observing it carefully — an entirely fresh
species — under the simple title of " the new woman "
— a much shorter and more intelligible name than
would be given to a new plant or animal. Modern
circumstances are almost entirely responsible for this
creation, in whom it is said that the inward graces of
the mind more than compensate for the occasional lack
of external attractions. This may be so, but we some-
times say with a sigh, " The old is better ". The
varieties of the genus vary ; some, indeed, as " the new
wife," should be approached with caution and respect, and
CHARACTER AND GROWTH 109
are not everywhere received with enthusiasm, differing
thus greatly from " the new nurse," who comes as a boon
and a blessing to men to replace the early Victorian
variety — Mrs. Gamp. Considering the force of modern
life on character we are still waiting hopefully for the
production of" the new man " (" the new boy " has already
arrived as a harbinger), "the new tradesman," "the new
domestic servant," and some others we will not name.
Food has a powerful influence on character. I have
studied this to some slight extent by observing orphan and
other schools, where in some cases children are brought
up mainly on farinaceous food, and in others on a well
mixed diet ; and I am inclined to think that in the former
the character is slower, more even and placid, in the latter
quicker and more fiery. Certainly physically the former
are stouter, slower runners, and are generally less active
than the latter class.
Dress is not only significant of character, but, like so
many things, acts in a double way, and reacts on character.
People do try to live up to their " blue China,*' whether
under this head they mean dress, or deportment, or
artistic surroundings.
Turning to conscious education generally, "we are conscious
finding that success is to be achieved only by making cwacter. °^
our measures subservient to that spontaneous unfolding
(unconscious education) which all minds go through in
their progress to maturity ".^
Wise teacheis thus, instead of overcoming evil by as*
, Education, pp. 58, 59.
ii« SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
sociating it with punishment, seek to draw out character
by active pursuits that enlist the mental faculties in
some good purpose, and the evil is forgotten. In short,
in this, as in all else, objective methods are better than
subjective. Development and skill in all arts and pur-
suits are not gained by subjective effort, but objective.
The best way of direct education of character, with a
view to growth, is to put ourselves under the power of
good influences, ideals and habits ; character cannot
actually be directly educated, but we can direct the
forces that act upon it.
Introspection fostered by direct education often en-
tirely defeats its objects. La Bruy^re has shown that
many men submit with pleasure to have their small faults
pointed out, tacitly assuming they are credited with the
greater virtues. If rebuked for silence, they assume it
is because they think so much ; if they are useless with
their hands, it is because they are so strong in their
minds ; if dirty and untidy, it is because they are so
occupied with much greater matters.
Sometimes education applied homceopathically seems
the most powerful — so contrary is man. Thus we are
told that to form the love of a thing we must get satur-
ated with its opposite, while an evil is best got rid of by
pursuing and practising it incessantly. We fear many
under this system are killed before they are cured.
To sum up : the result of true education of character
is its steady growth.
The emotions are steadied, because, after passing
through many and varied circumstances, by the remcm-
CHARACTER AND GROWTH 111
brance of past impressions we learn the true average
and value of events as they come ; we also learn at the
same time humility and suspense of judgment.
With regard to intellect^ " To be able," says Sweden-
borg, " to discern that what is true is true, and that what
is false is false : this is the mark and character of intel-
ligence " ; while the will becomes the expression of the
enlarged and enlightened moral seiwe within, and thus
emotions, intellect and will combine to Drove the growth
of a higher personality.
CHAPTER VIII.
ANALYSIS OF CHARACTER;
Unconscious- PERHAPS in looking at character now a little more
scTousnS and closcly it Will be Well first of all to consider something
Self-conscious- ^^^^ ^f j^g relations with unconsciousness, consciousness
and self-consciousness.
The order in point of time in which these appear in
the child are as given above.
As far as we can tell, when a child is born, though it
undoubtedly possesses stores of psychic qualities, it is
wholly unconscious of them, and even sense impressions
at first rouse but the feeblest ideeis : it has eyes, but does
not see ; ears, but does not hear.
Consciousness, however, soon dawns, the bulk of the
child's psychic life remaining, however, unconscious and
instinctive. Later on self-consciousness supervenes. The
child at first makes no distinction between self and not
self. It examines its limbs as strange phenomena. When
the conception of " e^o " dawns a new era begins, and
henceforth the division of** self "and **not self " exists,
dividing the world into that within and that without.
Consciousness grows naturally with exercise, and is not
subject like self-consciousness to artificial development,
(112)
ANALYSIS OP CHARACTER 113
Self-consciousness perhaps culminates with the completed
physique at and after puberty. We have ventured, as
will have been observed in earlier chapters, to speak
distinctly and definitely of an unconscious mind ; not
thereby meaning for a moment a separate mind, but
rather that part that lies in unconsciousness.^
This is a necessary position if we are to understand
character at all, for, as a whole, it lies habitually in un-
consciousness ; and it is this, as we have observed, that
makes the difficulty of its analysis.
Let us consider for a moment the conscious and the The Qualities
of the Con-
UnCOnSClOUS. scious and th<
Unconscious.
While the states of the former are ever changmg, the
latter is a permanent possession. This is so true that if
the state of consciousness remains fixed, it soon ceases
to be consciousness. If I gaze at the same object long
enough I cease to see it consciously, or if I repeat the
same sentence often enough I cease to do so with con-
scious intelligence. Both conscious and unconscious are,
however, capable of education, no education of the former
becoming permanent till stored in the latter.
The unconscious is the home of character and all
hereditary qualities, of instincts and motives, of con-
science or the moral sense, of intuitive perception — such
as axioms.
It is dogmatic, absolute, persistent, all-pervading, un-
swerving and consistent in its action.
We do not use it ; it uses us, and we are so far its
^For the fuller development of this subject see Th4 Unconscious
Mind, A. T. SchofieUL
8
114 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
slaves ; as indeed is obvious, since it forms the greater part
of ourselves. We cannot take up the unconscious mind
as a tool as we do consciousness, but we can let it speak
to us, or we can prevent it. We have no absolute need
to act on instinct, and for a time the conscious will can
inhibit the action or expression of the unconscious mind.
Yet in the long run the latter will out, for we cannot be
always on the watch, and a man shows himself to be
what he is sooner or later.
We have given some interesting illustrations of the
way in which the unconscious asserts itself in Tke Un-
conscious Mindy to which we have referred. Those given
by Cardinal Newman (p. lOo) and by Hartmann (p. loi)
are familiar. One of the most interesting is where it
is shown that the unconscious comes to the front in
spite of every effort at repression by the conscious. In-
stances are given on pages 73 and 75 of psychologists
who with their conscious intellects reject with all the
vigour possible the idea of unconscious psychical pro-
cesses, and yet in the same work they freely admit them,
and in one case even assert them. The only explanation
possible is that the truth of unconscious mental processes
being known unconsciously to them, though refused by
conscious intellect, betrayed itself in words, and thus
gave them away.
This need not be thought an extraordinary or far-
fetched explanation. Many a girl shows she 'v& in love
unconsciously in action, when she would vigorously and
truthfully, as far as her consciousness goes, deny it
The unconscious mind progresses by conscious and
ANALYSIS OP CHARACTER 115
unconscious education, the latter being the more power-
ful of the two. In the unconscious mind you get an ease
and accuracy unknown in the efforts of the conscious,
but it is like that of a machine ; and in many ways the
work done by the conscious is of more value than that
done by the unconscious ; as a hand-made article, though
the stitches are not so regular, is of more value than one
that is machine-made. If in the conscious mind you do
not have the same ease and perfection, you have thought
and purpose.
Now in the conscious mind we get constant change. Value of
Consciottsn«si
we get intelligent action, we get moral value, we getandSeif-
consciousncsSi
freedom of thought and of will, we get responsibility, we
are free ourselves, or at any rate feel so. We have power
to acquire knowledge at will, we have the distinctive
stamp of humanity, and we know pleasure and pain and
all sensations.
If the will be good, the life is noble in proportion
as it is lived consciously. It will surprise some who have
not studied the subject to know what a great proportion
of life is lived, if not unconsciously, at any rate in sub-
consciousness.
Self-consciousness is a further development of mere
consciousness. It is a new power that enables us to
see and alter character by introspection. It can adjust
the balance between instinct and reason. It is a faculty
that is needed, but which must be cultivated sparingly.
Like salt, we could not do without it, but it will not
support life. Its absence is a great loss to character :
its presence in moderation gives dignity and self-respect,
ii6 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
and indirectly respect of others. In excess it leads to
all sorts of morbid actions. Introspection may destroy
all usefulness of character if carried far.
" There is no value/' says Dr. S. Bryant/ " in inward
scrutiny that searches for roots of evil that don't put
forth leaf or branch."
Conflict be- Now, although character as such resides in the un-
tween Reason
and Instinct, conscious, its activc expression is in consciousness.
Character has been described as " organised (uncon-
scious) habit in recurring situations, and as the result of
conscious reflection at exceptional times ". The working
of consciousness and unconsciousness, with their two
qualities of reason and instinct, is of great moment to the
character.
The union and harmony of the two give unity to the
eg-Oy and peace instead of war between the rational and
instinctive selves. This is not, however, always possible.
It is often the case that reason suggests one course and
instinct another. If the question is a moral one the
moral sense must be the umpire. If not, the question
must be referred to a triumvirate of intellect, emotion
and moral sense, or mind feelings and conscience, and
both sides must bring up their arguments. The mind
is thus often turned into a court of law, with pleaders of
no small ability on both sides ; and finally I myself, a
compound of reason, feeling and moral sense, decide for
or against.
Where this state of things is perpetually recurring
» Dr. S. Bryant, Mind, 1897, P- 86.
^
ANALYSIS OF CHARACTER X17
It is disastrous, and shows the reason and the in-
stincts must have been trained in two very different
schools.
Again wisdom and reason are not the same. To be
reasonable is not the same as being wise. Wisdom is
never attained by mere reason. Reason knows the
Infinite objectively, wisdom subjectively. The ideas of
reason are clear, those of wisdom often obscure and
unconscious.
Reason should never interfere with instinct need-
lessly. Rochefoucauld says that " nothing so much pre-
vents our being natural as the desire to appear so " ; in
other words, naturalness, an unconscious quality, cannot
be shown consciously.
With regard to responsibility, every man is responsible Responsibility.
for what he does wittingly, that is, consciously. But
then the question is how far is he responsible for what
he tsP That is, how far does responsibility or merit
attach to the possession, apart from the expression, of
character ? Some answer that a man is not intellectually
responsible, but morally ; but this is not an absolute or
a very clear distinction.
We should judge (under correction) that responsi-
bility attaches to that part of the character that we
have become, or that we have added to the original
stock. That while we cannot be responsible for what
was originally imparted to us, we can be for that we
have added or permitted to be added to it, even apart
from its expression in action. The subject is abstruse
and speculative, and we will not pursue it further. It is
Ii8 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
a question in which the old schoolmen and casuists have
revelled with eager delight.
With regard to the expression of character by will
action we must not say much here, as it forms the
subject of Chapter X. But we may just point out that
the value and responsibility attaching ever to the will is
simply because it is the active e^o, or the eg-o in action.
It is free, and yet it acts according to the unconscious
swaying of the character and the moral sense and hidden
motives.
" My son, give Me thy heart " means " Give God the
seat of thy motives ". Whoever has this has cap-
tured the will ; and though it may appear free and
feel free, it is controlled by the One who possesses the
heart. " Out of the heart are the issues of life," because
thence the will is controlled, and the will determines the
conduct, and the conduct the life ; so all is gained when
the citadel is the unconscious mind, the motive is sur-
rendered.
Ballast is as essential to character as to a ship, or as
a tail to a kite ; and by ballast we mean that restraint
that reason places on instinct. It is a faculty that may
be acquired. Without it the man is " unstable as water,
and cannot excel ".
The Com- We will now pass on, after these general remarks, to
ponents of . , i i • r t • .
Character. Consider the analysis of character into its component
parts as attempted by one or two able men. We have
already in Chapter III. referred to such analysis as
definitely connected moral qualities with " organs " in the
brain, and then gave Bain's corrected list of these.
ANALYSIS OF CHARACTER 119
Dr. Edridge Green^ suggests the following as a list
of the components of character : —
Faculties. — Acquisitiveness, Perseverance, Destruc-
tiveness. Courage, Cautiousness, Secretiveness, Appro-
bativeness, Firmness, Self-esteem.
Social Qualities, — Amativeness, Parental Love,
Sociality.
Moral Qualities, — Love of Truth, Spirituality, Hope,
Veneration, Benevolence.
We give the list without further comment.
Samuel Bailey* says the elements of personal character
arc: —
1. The predominance of certain feelings over others
less marked, united in infinitely varying proportions.
2. Being able to perform certain intellectual opera-
tions better than others, as reasoning or remembering.
3. An aptitude with regard to special matters.
4. Strength or weakness of will,
5. Physical endowments.
This list is an agreeable substitute of general
characteristics from the many-syllabled qualities com-
mon to other lists ; but to us we cannot say that it
carries conviction or bears the stamp of a complete
analysis.
Another, and to our mind much more able, list is Dr. Martin-
T^ >»■ . eau's List of
given by the late Dr. Martineau. primary Prin-
ciples.
" Principles of character are," he says, " divisible into
two classes — primary and secondary."
* Edridge Green, Memory, p. 67,
* See Sully, The Human Mind^ vol. ii^ p. 2(^
lap SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
Primary principles of character are natural and
instinctive.
Secondary principles are those that are superadded
by consciousness and self-consciousness as means to
recognised ends.
The list of the primary is as follows : —
1. Propensities (natural forces). — Food, Sex, Exer-
cise.
2. Passions (natural capacity of suffering and repul-
sion). — Antipathy, Fear, Anger.
3. Affections (attractions). — Parental, Social, Com-
passionate.
4. Sentiments. — Wonder, Admiration, Reverence.
All those primary qualities are distinguishable, and
each yields (in action) some sort of satisfaction which in
itself may become an end — i.e., an aim to produce certain
states of emotion. These are the secondary principles,
founded upon the primary, and they are here given in
their moral order : —
Malice, Vindictiveness, Suspiciousness, springing from
the three primary passions.
These three alone of all the secondary principles have
no place in the moral order of springs of character, as
they are alone utterly bad, being corruptions of the
passions which were given us for our protection into
attractions for our pleasure in that which is evil
1. Love of Pleasure.
2. „ Food and Sex.
3. „ Exercise.
4. „ Money.
ANALYSIS OF CHARACTER III
All Springing from primary propensities.
5. Sentimentality (from the affections).
6. Antipathy, Fear, Anger, as secondary qualities.
7. Love of Power.
8. Self-culture, ^Estheticism, Religious Feeling.
9. Wonder and Admiration.
Both 8 and 9 form primary sentiments.
10. Parental and Social Affections, as secondary
qualities.
11. Sympathy.
12. Reverence, as secondary quality.
For our own part we think that but little is gained by
a general analysis that is wide enough to embrace all
characters. We hope in the next chapter to enter upon
a consideration of the qualities of character, and with
this rather than with a complete and orderly analysis we
must at present rest satisfied.
The two sexes present some differences of character character in
and mental qualities generally that are fairly constant
and general. We may note a few : —
Intuition, instinct and tact are far greater with
women than with men. These are qualities of the uncon-
scious mind. The result suddenly appears in conscious-
ness, the antecedent steps lying buried in the unconscious.
A woman will know instinctively the right course to
adopt, while quite unable to say why, while a man is
laboriously trying to reason out the "pros" and "cons ".
The instinct, moreover, when not perverted, is generally
a true guide, and can attain results with a celerity and
certainty of unconscious mind action that far outstrips
m SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
the steps of reason. It is the high development of this
great gift that makes women often such helpful coun-
sellors in cases of difficulty ; and it is on account of their
right estimation of its superior value that women are
often so impatient of argument. Even when women
take the trouble to reason a matter out, they will often
reject the conclusions they arrive at in favour of a solu-
tion suggested intuitively. This is one of the differences
in the mental characteristics of the sexes, and the whole
character is swayed by it. Men have also the faculty,
and more largely than they think, but they do not trust
it or use it nearly so much. Instinct and intuition must
of course carefully be distinguished from impulse, and
especially as women are so often called "creatures of
impulse ". Intuition may often counsel an action the
direct reverse of what an impulse would suggest.
Special Points Women again are keener at perception ; their rapidity
in this is remarkable. Houdin has known ladies, pass-
ing each other at full speed in carriages, who coulc
analyse each other's dress, bonnets, shoes, etc., as to
fashion, colour and quality, and even detect the dif-
ference between hand and machine made lace.
A slight difference in dress or appearance is far more
readily detected by a woman than by a man.
Women are much quicker in thought. They can use
their brains more rapidly within the accustomed range.
Beyond it, on the other hand, they are slower.
Women are easier to educate and train than men,
They are quicker as well as more diligent.
They are more sociable and domestic. Man may be
in Women.
ANALYSIS OF CHARACTER 123
more clubable, but there is very little sociability at clubs.
Society itself is made and ruled and maintained by
women, not men. Sociability is quite different from
powers of combination for specific purposes.
Women are said, on what ground we know not, to
be more prominent in politics than religion, and J. S.
Mill, at any rate, considered women better fitted for
politics than men !
Women undoubtedly excel in fiction, although the
greatest novels (in the sense of power and originality)
are written by men. They also excel in acting. The
predominance of the emotions and imagination in the
female sex accounts for this.
Natural social instincts we have already seen charac-
terise women. Moral instincts are also stronger in them,
and the whole range of what may be called the passion
virtues. Women are much more flexible than men,
though when rigid they are more rigid. A woman has
greater adaptability in new surroundings and circum-
stances, and can ascend or descend the social scale with
greater ease and more perfect steps.
Women are, as we have said, more dependent and
more patient than men.
In work, women are better than men in patient con-
tinuance, and in mechanical work at low pressure. At
the Post Office women do light work better than men.
Women can express their thoughts better and are better
letter writers than men. Mechanical inventions are made
bestlby men and used best by women. Women are more
conventional than men, and are readier to accept arti-
124 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
ficial standards of conduct, in dress, or right and wrong,
than men.
Special Points Besides those spheres where man's strength and his
in Men.
dominant position, so long maintained, give him un-
questioned pre-eminence, there are some things in which
men excel the cause of which is less obvious. In art
of all sorts, for instance, in religion as leaders and writers,
in poetry, the highest type of genius seems to be con-
fined to men, and this not on account of better education
and surroundings, for it is a purely natural product of
the unconscious mind ; and though its powers are con-
sciously exercised, their source is hidden from their pos-
sessor. Men are essentially more selfish and egotistic
than women. This indeed is well marked throughout
life. A man far more constantly talks about himself
than a woman, though capable at times of sublime un-
selfishness. Man is undoubtedly naturally more self-
centred than woman.
He is also capable of combining for a common object
for pleasure or business far better than woman. This
is, indeed, one of the chief hindrances to advance in
the female labour markets.
He is more violent in the expression of his emotion,
and yet less emotional on the whole. He is more vari-
able, — more brilliant in many cases, more worthless in
others. He is more capable of original work and
better able to work at high pressure. His greater
strength, of course, enables him to do the more
Further Con- ardu(ius work of the world. Women are, on the
whole, more impressed by facts than laws, by the
ANALYSIS OF CHARACTER U5
particular than the general, by the concrete rather
than by the abstract.
Some time ago fifty students of both sexes, an equal
number of each, were to write out the first hundred words
that C9.me into their heads, making 5,000 words in all.
Of these 5,000, 3,000 were found to be in pairs,
showing that the thoughts of the sexes were more alike
than different. Out of the remainder it was found that
the men used more different words of a mere abstract
nature and largely connected with the animal kingdom,
while the words thought of by the women were mainly
concerning dress and food. The thoughts of the men
evidently ran on the remote and abstract ; that of the
women on their environment and the concrete.
Amongst seven stories, six by boys whose ages
ranged from four to seven, and one by a girl of five, it
was found, while the boys' stories were marked by action,
slaughter, repetition and want of coherence, that of the
girl was orderly, quieter in tone, with well arranged
sequence, and, above all, gentle and showing the love
of home life.
Men are more mobile and progressive, women more
stable and conservative. Women are more plastic within
fixed limits, men more in wider limits. If men, however,
have greater originality, women have more common
sense.
Common sense, by the way, ts not a reasoned quality,
but rather a quality of the unconscious mind exercised
intuitively. The unconscious psychic powers generally
are larger factors in the life of women than of men.
IS6 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
Men think more, women feel more. Man specialises
arts, crafts, and professions, being more original. The
fine division of labour is said to be a male characteristic.
Looked at very broadly, passivity characterises women
most, activity men.
Pursuing the subject yet further to religion, it is clear
that naturally a woman is more religious than a man.
She is more superstitious, and forms by far the majority
of those who are swayed by successive forms of imposi-
tion that have deluded the credulous. But this is a
different matter, and arises from a different cause from
her pre-eminence in true religion. At the bottom we
find a reason in the altruistic nature jof woman as com-
pared with man, arising in a larger measure from her
maternal cares, and the God-given love and patience
needed to rear a family. This predisposes her to accept
and understand a Bible whose whole story is that of
unselfish love to the helpless and the lost.
Another reason is that the affections are more de-
veloped in her, and love is more her life. This love
rightly directed towards God is the fulfilling of the whole
law, and the Bible again is the story of its divine ex-
pression towards man.
It is not a little remarkable to note in the Gospel
story that while the enemies of Christ were ever men,
women were always His friends ; and one feels instinc-
tively how much more they cared for Him than often
His own disciples.
Such is an imperfect outline of some of the different
characteristics of men and women that are more or less
ANALYSIS OP CHARACTER 127
obvious. Many of our readers may not even agree as to
all of these ; but we think the majority will be regarded
as correct. We will now return to our general analysis.
States of mind is another name for fixed tendencies States of Mind
or characteristics, and are totally denied as antecedent
to conduct by some psychologists, more especially
those naturally who object to all unconscious mental
processes.
States of mind produce other states of mind or of
body. One thought leads to another by what is called
apperception. The powers of association in apperception
are great enrichers of character. The whole process is
unconscious, but affects the entire life. The words
home, mother, nursery, childhood, God, mean in after
life pretty much what was impressed unconsciously in
suggestive ideas in childhood. One of the greatest
blessings of a good character is the character of the
apperceptions acquired. The secret of a good memory
is by using the power of apperception in the relation of
ideas, and not by mere repetition.
Sometimes apperception leads us astray, as when a
town child, seeing a pot of maiden-hair fern, called it a
pot of green feathers.
Apperception requires time to perfect. In the con- Apperception,
scious mind there may be two or three clear ideas (it
cannot hold above six at a time), while in the unconscious
mind may lie a number of associated ideas (as in an
ante-chamber) ready to be ushered into consciousness.
The more intensity in the ideas and the more time given
them, the more associations unite with them. We have
m8 springs of character
given a beautiful description of this process by Maeter-
link in the preceding chapter.
Age affects character. The old and experienced
are more steady than the young, and the temperament,
moral and physical, is less easily altered. Character,
when consolidated and formed, becomes an organic
entity. The many qualities that enter into it are like
the chemical elements in a compound, they form in-
separable parts of the whole. This we will speak of
later more in detail.
The mind when formed is no mere bundle of associa-
tions, but reaches Mr. Stout's state of " noetic synthesis "
or has this organic character.
An organised mind is not controlled by impulse and
association, but groups all new facts in accordance with
settled plans and interests.
Turning now to varieties of character, we may begin
at the bottom with those that, as we say, have no char-
acter, i.e., are of such a weak and superficial nature as
to be incapable of being inspired with ideals, so that
nothing is very clearly impressed or expressed in their
life.
Ruskin fears this condition is creeping upon our
nation. He says:^ " I felt with amazement we are all
plunged into a languid dream. Our hearts fat, and our
eyes heavy, and our ears closed, lest we should see with
our eyes, and understand with our hearts, and be healed.'
That " life itself should have no motive, here is a mystery
^jf. Ruskin's Works, vol. i., p. 134.
ANALYSIS OF CHARACTER 129
indeed ". And yet elsewhere he draws a more hopeful
picture of our countrymen. " The modern English mind
has this much in common with the Greek, that it intensely
desires all things : the utmost completion or perfection
compatible with their nature." ^
Next above these of no class we get men of inter-
mittent inspiration, who occasionally reveal signs of
character, but are still too vague to classify.
At the other extreme we get the genius, which is as Mixtures and
Compounds.
much beyond classification as these are below it. The
more ordinary characters have been grouped in various
ways. Adopting the language of chemistry we may
divide them into mixtures and compounds. A mixture
is where two or more ingredients are mixed in various
proportions, and still retain their original qualities ;
in a compound the ingredients chemically unite so
as to form a fresh body. Air is a well-known mixture
of the two gases, oxygen and nitrogen, in varying pro-
portions, and either can be separated from the other.
Water is a compound of the two gases, oxygen and
hydrogen, which are so chemically united as to lose their
identity and form a liquid. In a "mixed" character
you get the Jekyll-Hyde type, that is a man who is
different characters at different times, according to
which ingredient or side of the mixture is uppermost or
active at the time. This type is common and well
known, and the various and ever contradictory sides of
character displayed by the same individual are often
startling.
* J. Raskin, SUmei of Venice^ vol. ii., chap. vL, pp. 11, is.
9
130 SPRINGS OP CHARACTER
A " compound " character is of a much higher type ;
in it the different ingredients have had sufficient likeness
or have been so carefully blended that a stable com-
bination is the result, and the action of the person is
uniform, and you always ** know where to find him *',
You can rely on his acting in such and such a manner.
You are not startled and sometimes shocked at finding
Mr. Hyde at home when you call on Dr. Jekyll.
It is interesting to see that often the fires of adversity
and trouble and sorrow have the power to fuse mere
mixtures into combinations, and produce out of a fickle
and uncertain mixture a stable and harmonious com-
pound. I think this is one of the commonest ways in
which adversity " improves " people. It is not only
that the " dross " is burnt away, but that the qualities
that remain learn to act together in the stress of war
in a way they never could in the piping times of
peace.
Compound characters themselves may be divided
into (i) the well-balanced — qualities blended more or less
evenly ; (2) the single-minded — qualities blended, leav-
ing one conspicuous trait that characterises the whole.
Again we may say that all men are either (i) lovers of
freedom or idealists, i.e., with a mental or psychical
bias ; or (2) lovers of pleasure or sensationalists, t,g,,
with a materially physical or sensuous bias. The former
are, as a rule, the more, and the latter the less moral,
and are respectively altruistic and egotistic. The latter
generally predominate, inasmuch as characters are, as a
rule, compounded of self-regard, tempered with benevo-
ANALYSIS OF CHARACTER 131
lence, whereas they should be love tempered with self-
regard.
Another classification we may name falls under three
heads. These are the blind, the seeing, and the seeing
and doing. Perhaps the best threefold grouping is those
characters where will predominates, where emotion rules,
and where intellect guides. The first are energetic,
but not distinctively sympathetic or wise. The second
are inactive, but credulous and sanguine. The third are
thoughtful, abstracted and clever, leading a reticent life
with little emotion. Sometimes we get a rare com-
bination in right proportions of all three. Such a char-
acter may not be outwardly attractive, but its inward
worth can never be concealed.
Emerson says : "He who aims high must dread an
easy home and a popular manner. Heaven sometimes
hedges a rare character about with ungainliness, as the
burr protects the chestnut." On the other hand, super-
ficial characters are often the most attractive. The
qualities that are the most showy are often on the surface,
and of little intrinsic worth. The scientific man is the
practical embodiment of an intellectual nature, while the
artist (in music or painting) represents the one whose
feelings are in advance of his thoughts, and who has
quick mental emotions.
Memory varies immensely in people, and, in children Memory and
, ,- - , , . . t , Character.
especially, has no doubt some connection with the
character.
A so-called good or naughty little child may depend
for its character rather on its memory than its morals.
132 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
Some forget pain so readily that they do the same thing
at night for which they were punished in the morning.
Others remember both commands and penalties so well
that they never commit the same fault twice. The
former class are ever sinning and repenting.
The motor force that expresses character is the
motive. Motives are what move the will, and thus show
character in conduct. The motive is the moral element
in voluntary action, and its determining cause.
Some characters are so characterless that they appear
purposeless, and no motive of action can be traced.
There is more hope even of a man with a bad purpose
than of one with none at all ; with the latter, as we say,
there is nothing to work on. Some men are like floating
straws carried haphazard on the current of life, sad or
bright according to what chances to befal them. Others
there are who influence and brighten all that touches
them with the fixed purpose of their inward life.
Maeterlink compares^ the two lives to a mountain stream
and a canal — the one turned aside by every obstacle, de-
layed, winding, useless, though perhaps picturesque ; the
other controlled by wisdom, of great use, and over-
coming all obstacles in its straight course.
Motives should not be artificial, but should be natural,
and in any case express the self —
" To thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man."
The springs of action do not often divide into good and
' Maeterlink, Wisdom and Destiny (A, Sutro), p. 26,
ANALYSIS OF CHARACTER 133
bad, but into better and worse. Few actions are the
result of a single motive, but each is rather the resultant
of several, being characterised by the strongest.
A right motive by no means implies a wise act. We
are all familiar with foolish people who "mean well,"
and whose motives are beyond criticism.
Principles determine the right of the act or character
— consequences determine the wisdom of the act o
conduct.
In speaking of good and bad, we only, as we have
so often said, attach moral value to the voluntary acts.
Moral and immoral only relate to conscious purpose,
hence it is not strictly accurate to speak of moral
instincts, for these are unconscious. The same instincts
swayed by new motives of action may become moral or
immoral accordingly.
It is, however, difficult to analyse motives, or even
to classify them.
The moment we try to bring a spring or a motive
into consciousness it shririks in size and importance. It
is always greater than can be expressed in words. A
man makes his motives, not motives- the man, though
they reveal him — self is not caused, but causal.
Motives may be classed as selfish or egotistic, unselfish Egotistic,
... .... XT , . , , r Altruistic and
or altruistic, and religious. Huxley, m his famous Religious
T-k /^ r Motives.
Romanes lectures at Okford, laid down that, whereas the
first was the law of all physical progress, the second is
the law of all psychic advance ; in other words, the body
advances by looking after Number One, the soul by
caring for others. From this Leslie Stephen, in his
134 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
Science of Ethics, entirely dissents, tracing both to egotistic
motives. The third and highest class of motive, when
pure and true, is the noblest source of action.
Motives might also be classed as intellectual and
emotional. Prudence, or the interested motive of good
conduct, is a type of one ; sympathy, or the disinterested
motive of good conduct, a type of the other.
Duty as a motive simply means obedience to the
moral sense within, whether the duty be to self, or to
others, or to God.
So far we have considered character analytically, and
glanced at its varieties and its motives, and we will now
close with a few words on pleasure and pain, as motives
and objects, before passing on to consider the qualities of
character.
Pleasure is said to be an exaltation and stimulation
of emotion — pain a depressor.
Increased capacity for pleasure means also increased
capacity for pain, although an emotional temperament
feels pleasure more than pain. So universal are the
effects of pleasure and pain that it seems evident they
probably rest upon some common physical basis.
With regard to their position as influencing character
Bentham says : " Nature has placed mankind under the
government of two sovereign masters. Pain and Pleasure.
It is for them alone to point out what we ought to do,
as well as to determine what we shall do." But then
we must remember Bentham was a great sensationalist,
a modern Epicurean in principle, though certainly not in
practice.
ANALYSIS OF CHARACTER 135
A system, however, that makes pleasure itself, indi-
vidual or universal, the end of life is not truly moral.
" Even expediency," says Coleridge, " is the anarchy
of morality."
A moral character does not pursue pleasure, but
takes it as it comes, and in the most natural way
possible.
Fortunately it is true that, though pleasure should not
be an object, it is often associated with virtue, and wrong-
doing with pain. Taking pleasure in a virtue does not
lessen its value, but enhances it with the perfect man,
to whom perfect right is perfect happiness.
There is no doubt that in the unconscious mind
there is ever a strong instinct to seek pleasure and avoid
pain, but we are here speaking of conscious aims and
objects
Now, pleasures and pains are by no means fixed Varying
Sources ol
entities, but depend themselves entirely on the character Pleasure
' ^ ^ and Pain.
of the individual, no two agreeing on the list of the two.
Publicity is a source of the greatest pleasure to one man,
agony to another. A good dinner is a keen pleasure
to some, a source of weariness to others. There is no
doubt the loftier the character the higher are what are
classed as pleasures, and vice versd.
It is also true that the greater the wealth and the
easier the circumstances the less pleasure is found in
them. The pursuit of any single pleasure invariably
ends in disappointment. Perhaps a healthy frugal life,
in medium circumstances, with a good character and
high aims, on the whole ensures the greatest pleasures;
136 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
Neither poverty nor riches seem to go with much enjoy-
ment, as the wise man found out long ago.
Goethe, with all his prosperity and riches, states that
he had not five weeks of genuine pleasure in his whole
life ; and the Caliph Abdalrahman said that in fifty
years he had had only fourteen days of pure happi-
ness.
The character of a man may be fairly judged by his
pleasures, which always harmonize with it. The mor
unselfish a nature is the greater is its capacity for
pleasure.
As we have seen, where an ideal at which the life
is aimed is really loved and followed with the affections
as well as the intellect and will, intense pleasure is the
result of its pursuit. Indeed, life itself becomes one long
pleasure, where the highest aims are followed with a
whole heart.
In this analysis of character we do well to remember
the words of Aristotle : ^ " We do not engage in these
inquiries merely to know what virtue is, but to become
good men".
^ Aiistotle's Ethics, chap, xi., 2, p. x. (See also Epictetus, Enck,, 514
CHAPTER IX.
THE QUALITIES OF CHARACTER.
We will devote this chapter to a consideration of the The Value
consists of
various ingredients or characteristics of character. The Proportions of
Ingredients.
value of character, curiously enough, does not depend
entirely on what qualities are contained in it, but also
upon the proportions in which they enter into it, in order
to compose the ** noetic synthesis " of the whole. Hydro-
gen and oxygen will never make water unless there are
exactly two parts of hydrogen to one of oxygen. It is
this question of the infinitely varying proportions of the
various elements that go to make up an ordinary charac-
ter that renders the analysis of the most complicated
organic compounds mere child's play in comparison to
the analysis of the most commonplace character.
It is quite impossible for any mental chemist to say
of what elements, and in what proportions-, any given
character is compounded ; and a brief and serious con-
sideration of these difficulties will, I think, lead any one
to understand that it is impossible at present to found a
true science of character, or to make any ultimate analysis
of it.
In connection with the great fact of the value of pro- Weii-baianced
nit'' 1.1 Characters.
portions, we find that it is generally vaguely recognised
(137)
138 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
in our current expressions : such as " a well-balanced
character," "a one-sided character," or "a level-headed
man". Cranks and eccentrics and "hobbyists" and
faddists may all have good characters, but they are
essentially ill-proportioned, and therefore of little value.
The first meaning of StKacoa-vvij as understood by
Plato is not justice, but the equal balance of the different
factors of character.
Rationality and sanity depend on all-round views —
cm seeing things from a general standpoint (which is of
course the combination of various standpoints), and not
being wholly absorbed by a single aspect.
Such rational characters affirm much and deny little,
knowing that we are generally right in what we affirm
and wrong in what we deny. Truth is so many-sided
that they who have seen what different aspects it may
wear from various points of view know the force of this.
But they who have only one standpoint, and observe that a
certain object appears round, are not content with saying
it is round, but must deny that it is square, and quarrel
with any who assert this. One can always rightly affirm
the truth of what one sees and knows, but to deny there
can be anything else is to say one knows the thing or
matter completely and perfectly. The fact is that on
Truth is greater earth we cannot co7nprehend truth. At most we ap-
than we are. , r . 11 . ^t^ 1 1 .1 1 . <
prehend m part and know m part. Truth, like light, is
one, and is white ; but passing through the prism of the
finite, truth becomes split up, like light, into many
coloured rays — violet, indigo, blue, red, etc. The man
who discovers the red ray is so fascinated with its
THE QUALITIES OF CHARACTER 139
beauty that he constitutes himself its champion, and
declares that red is truth, and truth is red and nothing
but red ; and he becomes a bitter antagonist of another
seer, equally limited in thought, whose path, having
been illumined by a green ray, proclaims henceforth
that truth is green and nothing but green. It is sad to
think that these two doughty champions, both valiant
fighters for different aspects of the one truth, may not
become reconciled until the diverging rays become again
absorbed in infinity, and the light that is above the bright-
ness of the sun reveals to their astonished gaze that truth
itself is neither red nor green, but white. The man who
takes the widest views is always the one who makes the
most moderate statements, and the strongest characters
are generally the simplest in speech ; the feeble en-
deavouring to conceal their weakness by the strength,
and, sometimes, profanity of their language. This is one
reason why weak young men are so given to swearing
and superlatives.
Emerson says, referring to the balance of common Harmony and
_,, . . , /. , . Common
sense : " There is a certain wisdom of humanity common sense.
to all men ". The " sweet reasonableness " of Matthew
Arnold still better describes the quality we are dwelling
on. " Let your moderation be known unto all men "
perfectly expresses the idea of a well-balanced character
in New Testament language. It is the curbing of in-
stinct by wisdom that governs destiny. Just as a circle
is the most perfect figure in geometry, so is a character
perfect in proportion as it is circular in form. All square
characters have angles, and all lopsided characters are
140 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
uneven. A good man !s a symmetrical man, whose
powers are all harmonious. The more you strike him,
the fuller the chord you get out of him ; and there are
no discords. It is the presence of this harmony that
distinguishes the "man of character" from the "man of
qualities" only. It is this harmony that the Greek
philosophers ever regarded as the essence of virtue.
Turning to the character of our Saviour as the most
perfect representation of the highest ideal, we find that
in the striking symbolism of the Old Testament it is
represented by "fine flour mingled with oil/' which
apparently would convey the idea of perfect uniform
excellence and evenness, no single grain being larger
than another, pervaded throughout by the Holy Spirit,
of which oil is the well-known figure.
Overgrown powers on any one side of the char-
acter dwarf and starve the others ; as Lord Bacon,
for example, with his hypertrophied intellect and his
atrophied moral nature. If we take a circle to repre-
sent perfection in character, we may be sure that if we
see a bulging on one side, that is, predominance of some
characteristic, there must be a corresponding flattening
or deficiency on another side. We all have the defects
of our virtues in this sense.
A man cannot be specially strong all round. There
is even the positive and negative side both to virtues
and vices. A drunkard is not only a drinker to excess
(positive vice), but he is not a temperate man (negative
vice). A philanthropic man not only does not hate his
neighbour (negative virtue), but loves him (positive virtue).
THE QUALITIES OF CHARACTER 141
We can thus express any vice or virtue either in its
own positive terms, or in negative terms of its opposite :
for all have opposites. The practical remark we wish
to make on this is that to eradicate or overcome a vice
it is not enough, according to the Divine Code, and
according to the highest ethics, to practise its op-
posite negative virtue. Every vice has its antiphonal
virtue, which should be positively practised. As in
war, an attack should not be met with a mere defence
(negative), but with a counter attack (positive). In
hatred it is not enough not to hate, we should love ;
he that steals is not only to steal no more, but to give
to him that needeth ; corrupt communications are not
only to cease out of the mouth, but that which is good
is to proceed from it j we are not only not to be drunk
with wine, but are to be filled with the Spirit. Evil
habits are best overcome, not by mere resistance, but
by the vigorous formation of the opposite virtuous habits.
Agfain, this balance of which we have spoken involves, The Relative
at any rate in humanity, a relative value to each quality iota
rather that an absolute.
The absolute is the infinite; all with us is relative.
We can seldom indeed absolutely affirm or deny the
right or wrong of our actions. In most cases it is a
balance, and an adjustment and relative values ; and
in the presence of a better and a worse, the better must
ever be the right to us. In practice the answer to the
question. Which is right and which is wrong ? may be
*' Either," " Both," or " Neither '\
The result practically is that a mixed character which
I4S SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
has pairs of tendencies directly opposed to each other
must have a fixed predominance of one of each pair to
produce consistency of conduct. Those who have them
in such equipoise as to act on each alternately are ever
unstable and the sport of circumstance.
To have Jekyll and Hyde alternately inhabiting the
one man is monstrous, though not uncommon. The one
or the other should rule and keep its opposite in abey-
ance ; where this is not done conduct appears opposed
to character, and two sorts of conduct are ever due, of
course, to a double character.
We will now consider the question of self and selfish-
ness in the balance of character. " Faith in self," says Dr.
S. Bryant,^ " and self-confidence is the salt of character.'*
Self-interest is not selfishness. Selfishness is self-grati-
fication at the avoidable expense of others,
"Each mind," says James,* "must have a certain mini-
mum of selfishness in the shape of instincts of bodily
self-seeking in order to exist."
Love of self is assumed in the New Testament. It
is found in the golden rule "to do unto others as we
would they should do to us," and also in a remarkable
passage in Ephesians, v. 28.
True self-love is as far from egotism as from altruism.
There is no real antagonism, in one sense, between egotism
and altruism. The latter is merely the extending of the
thought of self so as to embrace wife, children, friends
and country, and, in Christianity, one's enemies. The
^ Dr. S. Bryant, Studies in CkaracUr, p. g^
^Vf, JamcB, Psychology, p^ig^.
THE QUALITIES OF CHARACTER 143
enlarging of self thus forms altruism, until it may embrace
humanity ; and one may thus continue to satisfy egotism
with what is regarded as absolute unselfishness. On the
other hand, egotism, wrongly used, may prove a swamp
in which the higher qualities are all lost. Love may be
narrowed into mere self-love ; justice may be perverted
into insistence on one's own rights alone. " The faculty
of tender emotion," says Bain, " may all be centred in
self." Egotism may avail itself of the principal function
of our generosity.
Self-conceit and self-consciousness are forms of ego- Exaggerated
Virtues.
tism, and are merely potential virtues spoiled through
exaggeration. The virtue they distort is self-respect.
These two particular characteristics are common faults
with young men when passing through the first of their
three phases. The first phase is the wearing of magni-
fying glasses, when everything, including the value of
themselves, is magnified. The next is the wearing of
" diminishing " glasses, when everything is played out
and worthless, and nil admirari is the attitude ; and the
third is when glasses are put aside, and, for the first
time, life and all things are seen as they are.
Another balance we must strike is between the
intellectual and the emotional. We are accustomed to
think much more of the heart than the head, because of
the supposed warmth of the former, and the coldness of
the latter. But if emotions are deeper, intellect is higher,
and the mountain is necessarily colder than the valley.
Intellect and morab may, and often do go together, as
we have seen \ and, on the other hand, a warm heart is
144 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
by no means a synonym for a good character. To exalt
either at the expense of the other is to lose in character ;
nevertheless it is by virtue of our reason that we are dis-
tinctively human, while it is our instincts and emotions that
link us with the lower creation. It is in this sense that
consciousness, in the light of which reason is exercised,
is nobler than unconsciousness, from the depths of which
our instincts spring.
Even here, however, we must guard our statements ;
for, on the other hand, there is a subtle connection, of
which we shall speak in Chapter X 11 ., between the in-
stinctive moral sense within and the Creator, that makes
it speak from a higher level, and with greater authority
than even the voice of reason.
That character is best and most perfect when a good
intelligence is joined to a warm heart, and the stream
of emotion is controlled by wisdom. It is this I think
that makes humour such a " saving grace ". A character
with no sense of humour is essentially deficient. It is a
peculiarly rational quality, and is generally present in
a well-balanced mind. It is due to the co-existence of
two points of view at the same time, whose incongruity
causes the humour. Dr. Jackson thinks it is by the con-
current action of both sides of the brain. It is said to be
the combined action of enthusiasm and rationality — in
other words, the emotions and the intellect, the unity of
the two currents causing the ripples of laughter.
Turning now for a moment to another quality of
character — truthfulness — we find a subject full of com-
plexity. It is most difficult to speak of truth considered
THE QUALITIES OF CHARACTER 145
as a balance and a compromise ; we shall touch on it
as a virtue a little later on.
We must always be as truthful as possible ; even if
we are not to be truthful at all costs. At any rate we are
never to compromise truth from self-interest. Motives
are, however, hard to analyse. We cannot define moral
motives with precision, nor press them absolutely ; they
must be followed and practised in the light of common
sense.
A certain compromise of truth is involved in answer-
ing " yes" or no " to doubtful questions about matters
which are partially right. So long as the answer given is
understood by the hearer to be only true within limita-
tion no harm is done ; and this is the case where one
person of average intelligence speaks to another.
To speak the truth three things are required : one's
words and actions must represent one's thoughts ; they
must represent the facts, and they must convey the right
meaning to the hearers. When the Chinese are told the
blessed dead are clothed in white, and are placed at God's
right hand, that does not convey the truth to the hearer,
though it does to the speaker ; for to the Chinese white
is the colour of mourning and the symbol of death, and
the right hand is not the place of honour.
If a real deliberate suppression of full truth be ever
required by higher interests, pain at the needed com-
promise must and should be felt by a truthful character.
Such occasions will occur. Of course, what we call truth
is, after all, generally relative with us and seldom absolute,
unless dealing with what are called "axioms" or "truisms".
10
M«
SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
Self-respect and self-esteem, as we have seen, are good
qualities, but not self-righteousness, self-congratulation,
self-depreciation, or self-approbation.
With self-respect should go self-doubt, self-criticism,
and humility. These are the proper complements, and
preserve the balance.
Motives and appetences may, as we have seen, com-
bine or conflict. It is best, of course, when they combine ;
it is more common for them to conflict ; for, disguise
it as we will, we are all potential Jekyll and Hydes :
the doctrine of two natures is not only found in Scrip-
ture. Many men are two entirely different beings when
drunk and sober ; many lunatics who have lost the com-
bining power of common sense display two characters so
different that one cannot believe them to be the same
people. Stevenson's romance wakes an echo in the mind
of every reader. We have in each " an old man " who
" is not subject to the law of God, neither, indeed, can
be " ; an old heathen epicurean, a traitor ever ready to
respond to temptation and evil suggestions ; while, on
the other hand, we all have a God-given moral sense,
and those who are Christians have in addition a new
motive of life and new principle so great that it is
characterised as a new birth, a new beginning. The
conflict is described by St. Paul in the most graphic
way, which could well furnish a text for Stevenson's
lay sermon.
" I know that in me, that is, in my flesh (my carnal
disposition unguided by moral sense), dwelleth no good.
. . . For the good that I (the higher nature) would, I
THE QUALITIES OF CHARACTER 147
(the active will or e£^o) do not, but the evil which I (the
higher nature) would not, that I (the lower nature) do.
Now, if I (the lower nature) do that I (the higher nature)
would not it is no more I (the eg-o, the true selO that do
it, but sin (the lower carnal self, here deemed to be selQ
that dwelleth in me."^
That is, my higher self, my new self, the self em-
powered and enlightened by God's Spirit, and by the
moral sense, is now to me the true e^o ; and any actions
that are done without its consent are not my actions, but
the actions of a lower principle ; which, though I have
had it all my life, I now refuse to recognise as a part of
my personality; but regard it as a foreign body that
gives me great trouble, and that I would fain get rid
of.
Nevertheless, it is clear that the lower nature, psycho-
logically and positively, forms a part of the character;
and the only practical way, and the way laid down by
St. Paul,2 to prevent its activity is never to let the
conduct be guided by or be the expression of these lower
principles, so that they are " as dead," t.g.y in operation,
and by degrees become atrophied by want of use.
There is no doubt that a persistent virtuous life does
weaken the hold of the lower appetites and passions.
The qualities of a sound character generally are as Qualities of «
r^il-v.,.« . sound Char-
follows : — acter.
I. Intellectual activity.
a. „ docility and humility.
3. Reverence for truth.
4. The will to know, or energetic pursuit of truth.
> St. Paul, Rom., chap, vii., ver. 18-20. ' St. Paul, Rom. vi.
148 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
With regard to good qualities we must remember
we have besetting virtues that may need repressing as
well as besetting sins. Candour, benevolence, humility
and love itself often require moderation in their exercise.
Vicious instincts themselves may not be the perver-
sion or disorder of a good character, but the expression
of the normal, healthy (bad) character of the man, just
as different breeds of animals (^.^., dogs) have different
instincts, but all equally natural. Reason alone, the
distinctive quality of our humanity, gives the power to
lead consciously evil lives, in which case it is necessarily
divorced from morality.
Criminals have often abnormally clever reasoning
powers, but all work for evil, because the moral sense
is deficient, the instincts vicious, self-control weak, and
self-indulgence strong.
We will not dwell further on generalities, but proceed
to enumerate in detail some of the leading qualities of
which character is compounded. We fear it will be little
more than a barren list, as a discursive treatise on the
virtues and vices of mankind would be both wearisome
and useless ; indeed we have some hesitation in inserting
this list at all. However, as we have already given
some lists, made by recognised authorities, we may
perhaps now enumerate some of the commoner qualities
that make up human nature.
We will class them in the natural order. First into
the two great orders of GOOD and BAD. Each of
these falls into the divisions Personal and Relative.
The Good Personal qualities make two sub-divisions.
THE QUALITIES OF CHARACTER X49
Moral and Non-moral (as distinguished from immoral),
5uid the Moral falls into two sections of Positive and
Negative. The Relative, both in good and bad qualities,
may be in connection with others or with God. The
whole scheme therefore stands thus : —
(a. Positive — 16 examples.
. Moral
I. GOOD— A. Personal -[ y^. Negative— 10 examples.
Non-moral — 20 examples.
^ , ^. To others— 31 example
B. Relative '
u.
To God — 7 examples.
II. BAD — A. Personal — 30 examples.
B. Relative— 27 examples.
I. Qualities of Character — GOOD.
A. Personal.
a. Moral. — a. Positive. — Purity, Hope, Good Temper, List of Per-
.««<• j-^t .... ,/. -sonalQualitiet
Self-respect, Prudence (this is the contracted form of
providence, and means foresight), Wisdom, Self-develop-
ment, Perseverance, Firmness, Rectitude, Self-esteem,
Peace, Humility, Sense of Beauty, Admiration, Cheerful-
ness. This last is not only a source of great enjoyment,
but a great safeguard. It wears well and rests the mind.
p. Negative. — Self-denial, Self-preservation, Cau-
tion, Secretion, Carefulness, Temperance, Reserve,
Self-restraint, Sobriety, Self-control.
Witji regard to this last we must say one word.
Self-control, self-denial, and self-restraint may be de-
scribed as the re-action of moral ideas and ideals upon
impulses and instincts. Self-control always refers mainly
to control over the lower self Man alone can control his
instincts and cultivate his own powers.
I50 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
The lack of self-control leads to defective quaiines,
which, if allowed, spoil the whole character and mar tnc
life ; unchecked irritability of temper thus spoiled Burke.
Systematic self-control soon makes one master ol ones
self.
d. Non-moral (as distinguished from immoral). —
ConficiGnce, Simplicity, Common-sense, Energy, Dili-
gence, Industry, Amativeness, Fear, Wonder, Wit,
Humour, Matter-of-factness, Enthusiasm, Romance
(these two are invaluable ingredients in the character of
childhood and youth, both lessening with advancing
years), Imitation, Timidity, Imagination (this is auto-
matic and is unconscious memory chiefly ; it is the free
play of thought deriving its ideas from the stores of
the unconscious mind). Love of Power, Knowledge,
Intelligence (the essentials of which are discrimin^tLn,
retention and identification). Intellectual culture, it must
be noted, has little to do with the moral character.
B. Relative.
of Relative ^. To Others (my neighbour).— Im^^ (the greatest of all),
luaiities. LoYingkindness, Righteousness, Gentleness, Sympathy,
Compassion (these two are not the same : the former is
an hereditary natural quality largely dependent on the
power of imagination), Sincerity, Patriotism, Gene-
rosity, Benevolence, Hospitality, Unselfishness, Altru-
ism, Self-sacrifice (this virtue, the expression of altruism,
is strongly developed in some altruistic natures and
curiously absent in others). Long-suffering, Patience,
Uprightness, Straightforwardness, Meekness (this may
ist
THE QUALITIES OP CHARACTER 151
be natural, or acquired as the result of a deeper know-
ledge of one's self, or objectively by contrast with
greater men or with God), Honesty (perfect intellectual
honesty is one of the rarest of mental characteristics),
Charity (or almsgiving), Indignation, Anger, Justice
(charity is less than justice ; both should go together —
fellow-feeling with fellow-seeing). Courtesy, Deference
(the compliments of self-respect). Goodness of heart
(** an innate quality of mind " (A. Bain). Real goodness
consists in feeling a personal gain in the realisation of
any good, anywhere, to any one), Truth (Truth, it may
be noted, is rather a controller of action than a spring of
it), LoYC of Approbation, Friendliness (sociability), LoTe
of Children.
d. To God. — ReTerence, Faith, Spirituality, Love to
God, Obedience, Devotion, Conscientiousness.
II. Qualities of Character — BAD.
A. Personal.
Vanity, Pride (vanity craves for the esteem of others, Ust of Bad
pride relies on its own), Love of Pleasure, Selfishness,
Sensuality, Carelessness, Foolishness, Impurity, Self-
indulgence, Cowardice, Senselessness, " Yisionariness,"
Discordancy, Impatience, Egotism, Bad Temper, Miser-
liness, Unstableness, Recklessness, Apathy, Self-conceit,
Self-righteousness, Ennui or Want of Interest, Impru-
dence, Impulsiveness, Despondency, Laziness, Fickle-
ness, Waywardness, Stupidity.
15a SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
B. Relative.
Malice, Yindictiveness, Dishonesty, Suspicion, Hate,
Rage, Lying, Quarrelling, Thieving, Killing, Cruelty,
Brutality, Slandering, Backbiting, Injustice, Rudeness,
Deceitfulness, Irreverence, Callousness, Hardhearted-
ness, Shiftlessness, Faithlessness, Irritability, Treachery,
Impudence, Arrogance, Affectation (which Locke calls
the lighting of a candle to our defects).
We attach, as we have said, no special value to this
list It is not scientific or exhaustive, and probably no
two will agree that every quality is placed under its
right head. Its survey, and the consideration that
probably not one-fourth of the qualities of character find
a place in it at all, may enable one to understand the com-
plexity of a compound into which any of these elements
(or simple compounds) may enter in endlessly varying
proportions. And even then we have not reached the
expression of character. For this we must set over this
compound a moral sense compounded of endless moral
principles acting according to a standard that varies from
year to year, and sometimes from day to day, according
to the various lights by which it acts.
And yet all this is not, as might be thought, a
description of chaos, but of character t
CHAPTER X.
CHARACTER AND THE WILL.
It may be remembered that we devoted Chapters V. and The Main.
spring of
VI. to investigating the two springs whence character Character,
flows, and we mentioned the use of the word "spring" in
another sense, not as a source, but a force, the considera-
tion of which we would reserve for this chapter. The
mainspring of the expression of character is the will.
We shall consider first of all the freedom of the will,
which includes the whole question of moral responsibility;
and then its effect on character. Its relation to morality
will come next, and finally its expression in action.
All our readers must be aware of the endless discus- is the Wffl
free?
sions that have raged about the question whether the
will be free or not, resembling in their persistent character
the eternal disputes in theology as to whether man is
responsible or God sovereign. The answer in each case
is that " both are true ". Here is an instance of the value
of affirmations over denials. Assert the will is free and
man responsible; but don't deny it may be controlled
and God sovereign. Or we may change the assertion
with equal truth, but |must never deny what appears to
be the incompatible opposite, for we are small and our
(153)
154 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
mental capacity limited, but truth and God are great
and infinite.
The will is free. There can be no morality without
freedom of will, because there can be no responsibility.
Nothing less is required and nothing more is needed than
our own personal freedom and responsibility in order to
build up personal character.
Free will and Divine foreknowledge cannot clash,
though to human logic apparently incompatible, for they
are two parallel lines that never meet.
The freedom of will, moreover, is always consistent
with the Divine foreknowledge of action ; and if of
Divine, then of any other knowledge as well. Because
a certain action can be predicted it does not prove it is
not a free action.
To be morally and practically free one must be able
easily to resist all instinctive and unconscious impulses.
We may be free, and yet it may be quite certain what
use we shall make of our freedom. There can, of course,
be no movement of will without a sufficient exciting
cause, but we may know perfectly well in what direction
this exciting cause will act.
While, therefore, we are literally and absolutely free
in theory, there are laws of character as irresistible as the
law of gravitation. And in this lies the importance of
character — that while I am free to form it, to re-form it,
and to transform it as I like, and have abundant power
available to do so, when I have formed it, I have freely
imposed conditions myself on my own free will.
Though a man may be free to go wrong, in fixed
CHARACTER AND THE WILL 155
characters it is practically impossible in certain directions.
Of course, this remark is equally true with regard to right
doing, though in neither case is the force of character
absolute.
John Stuart Mill observes^: "A man feels morally
free who knows he is master of his habits or temptations.
To be completely free we must have succeeded in the
effort. Hence, none but one of perfect virtue is com-
pletely free " — and yet, as we have seen, such an one is, to
a great extent, under the power of virtue instead of vice.
When we cease to be slaves of sin, we are described as
slaves of God, and yet, at the same time, we are morally
free.
Virtue often has a tremendous conflict to attain this virtue is Free
freedom, or this possession of the e£-o. The Homeric enslaves,
conflict is described in full by St. Paul, whose profound
introspection exceeds that of most men, as we have seen
in Chapter IX. (vzWe Rom. vii.). Freedom is certainly
linked in that passage, and throughout St. Paul's writings,
with virtue. " Stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ
has made us free ".^ And Christ Himself attached free-
dom to truth : '* And ye shall know the truth, and the
truth shall make you free.'*'
The conscious will should rule, and rule in accord-
ance with the moral sense ; but sometimes the instincts
of character, and what may be called the unconscious
will, prevails over the conscious will ; and *' the firmest
resolve," says Maudsley, " or purpose sometimes vanishes
1 J. S. Mill, Systgm of Logic, vol. ii., p. 477.
•St. Paul, Gal. v. i. • St. John viii. 3a.
156 SPRINGS OP CHARACTER
issueless when it comes to the brink of an act, while
the true (i.e., unconscious) will, which determines per-
haps a different act, springs up suddenly out of the
depths of the unconscious nature, surprising and over-
coming the conscious ".^
If the conscious will be allied with the character, of
course there is no difficulty.
As a rule, I do what I would, though at all times it
is impossible to trace all the springs that move me : so
unconscious are they ; yet, however many there may be,
I feel the will is free, that I need not have so acted
unless " I chose," and that I am, therefore, a responsible
being before God and man.
Will controls The will, as we have seen, is, in a sense, determined
and expresses , - , , . , , . _ ,
Character. by the character, but masmuch as the expression of the
character in action is at the control of the will, the will
also forms the character by repeated action. We cannot
will to be different, any more than we can will to play
the violin ; but we can will to do certain actions that
make us different by repetition, so as to attain one
result, and modify the character. The effect of action
is even more subjective than objective — inward more
than outward. The outward effect may be good or bad ;
the effect of the action on our character depends on the
motive that caused it Each action performed under the
influence of motives is my own, the character being more
definitely formed with each voluntary act.
" Character,'* says Novalis, " is a completely formed
will."
* Maudsley, Physiology of Mind, p. 417.
CHARACTER AND THE WILL 157
But the will must be strong and resolute, and often in
the desperate conflict with inertia and positive evil needs
all the aid it can get from the higher side of character,
and from the enlightened moral sense, energised by
the Divine Spirit. Many amiable, good characters are
marred for want of will. We see plainly they might be
so much better, do so much more good, with more will
and purpose than they do.
Effort and overcoming are essential factors in all
strong characters, and determined wills are their main-
springs. Prof. James ^ earnestly insists upon our never
suffering a single emotion to evaporate without its
yielding some practical service. Freedom is not standing
still ; it is the power to become ; it is advance.
We are really as capable of moulding our characters
if we will, by force and exercise of will, as of having
them made for us by others unconsciously.
A habit of willing is called a purpose. It is only Source of
when our purposes have become independent of pain or Decision.
pleasure or internal sudden impulses that we are said to
have a settled or confirmed character. A whole-hearted
purpose to be true to one's best instincts ever leads
onward. A great deal of moral power is gained by
liccustoming our will to act with decision the moment
che right path is clear. This decision, and the habitual
discipline of a strong will, are essential to a good char-
acter. " In the supremacy of self-control consists one of
the perfections of the ideal man. Not to be impulsive—.
•Profc James, Principles of Psychology, vol. i., p. 125.
158 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
not to be spurred hither and thither by each desire-
but to be self-restrained, self-balanced, governed by the
just decision of the feelings in council assembled . . .
that it is which moral education strives to produce." ^
Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control —
These three alone lead life to sovereign power.
Yet not for power ; that of itself would come unsought,
But to live by rule, acting each rule by law,
And because right is right to follow right,
Were wisdom in the score of consequence. ■
At a large girls' college in the States girls deserving
of it are put on the roll of the " Self-governed," and
are then permitted to do as they please.
The bravest trophy ever man obtained
Is that which in himself himself hath gained.'
We will now consider the relation of the will to
morality. We have seen that the will must be free in
order that moral responsibility can exist. A person, to
be moral, must be capable of being immoral ; a free will
implies choice. For moral action there must be con-
sciousness. Instincts as suck, strictly speaking, are not
in themselves moral ; what we mean by the words moral
instincts are instincts which form the basis of moral
action. It is clear, therefore, that moral responsibility
does not attach to the original character, save when it
becomes the cause of action in consciousness. I am
responsible, morally, for all my acts, though they may be
done in opposition to my better self, and in this sense I
can say it was not I who did them.
1 Herbert Spencer, Social Statics, p. 185.
• Lord Tennyson, (Enone. * Earl of Stirlinf .
CHARACTER AND THE WILL 159
We arc not what we do, but what we approve of.
Nevertheless, we are responsible for what we do. A
responsible man is one, therefore, whose conscious will
endorses the actions that may spring from unconscious
motives. We are responsible for all actions, however
much they may be predetermined by character. Punish-
ment for and suffering for sin is thus really in the
interests of humanity, and of the whole race. If fools
and sinners did not suffer for folly and sin, the world
would soon consist of nothing else.
We see from all this what moral importance attaches Action of
Will shows
to the action of the will. All moral training is essentially Morality.
a training of the will ; moral health implies a vigorous
will. The two evils as to will are feebleness or indolence
and the corruption of will by self-indulgence. The first
moment, therefore, that moral sense is developed, the
conflict 'begins between two springs of action, a higher
and a lower ; and the first index of moral character is
the choice between them. It is useless, therefore, to
think a man is good because the analysis of his motives
and character shows it. No man is known to be good
until he has exhibited his worth in voluntary action.
Morality and the exercise of the will are inseparable.
We must now consider what constitutes right con-
duct, without trenching too much on the domain of
conscience and Christianity, which form the subjects of
Chapters XII. and XIII.
Let m hear what Plato has to say on this.^ " Right
» Plato, Rep.t 443, c— B.
i6o SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
(i.e., conscience) concerns itself with the inward springs
which are man's true self and life. When he has turned
to account his three principles (wisdom, courage, and
self-control) like the three notes of a scale (with any
intermediate notes), then he may be and become, no
longer manifold in character, but one compact and balanced
nature. He is at last prepared so to act and call that
conduct right and good which concurs with this character,
and that knowledge which directs it — wisdom : and on
the other hand, that conduct wrong which may misrepre-
sent it, and that judgment ignorance which directs such
conduct."
Every action is right which in the presence of a lower
motive follows a higher. " I do that I would not " is
seldom literally true when we are conscious of our actions.
We must abet to some extent every action we are aware
of.
Now a right action may not be positively right and
yet relatively so. The generous man may have to close
his hand, the merciful man to harden his heart, the
truthful man to veil facts ; but if done with sorrow, the
action is right, and no harm ensues to character.
Good conduct should be righteous and right ; but
between the two the former prevails. An action is good
not in itself, or in its results, but in its motive. The
motive may be known or unknown. It is better when
known. It is well to know always why we act, or at any
rate the leading motive. Where instinct pulls one way
and reason another, we must ever remember that the
defeat of reason by instinct fs to a certain extent de-
CHARACTER AND THE WILL i6i
moralising, even when the latter is better, while, on the
other hand, the defeat of instinct by reason is good and
common ; the resisting of temptation is generally a
conflict of the latter sort. Many think that if they act
according to the moral sense it is necessarily right.
Not so ; it is right with relation to this, but may be
wrong with reference to God and man ; as when St.
Paul, with a good conscience, sent Christian men and
women to prison To do what we think right may be
all we are capable of at the moment ; but we should not
rest till we are assured that what we believe to be right
actually is so, and therefore that what we do zs right.
So much stress has been laid in this chapter on the We are mort
than what
moral worth attaching to action, that it may seem as ifwerfo.
what we do is worth more than what we are. That is of
course ridiculous ; for the former is ever based on the
latter, and is its expression. The only reason why it is
of such value is because this expression depends on the
will that causes the action ; and this will being free,
moral responsibility attaches to it in a special way ;
and thus the morality which we may say was passive
and potential in character, becomes active and embodied
in conduct We therefore will now proceed to consider
conduct generally.
tl
CHAPTER XI.
CHARACTER AND CONDUCT.
Actionsexpress In the former chapter we were occupied with the motive
Character. m -i* ••.t
power on which our moral responsibility rests. Now we
have before us the expressed results of that power in
what we call conduct, by which a man is legitimately
judged of his fellows. " By their fruits ye shall know
them " ; and this because these are the best expression
of the character of the tree. In winter many trees are
indistinguishable by the trunk and branches alone ; in
spring the leaves, and, later on, the flowers, show definite
qualities ; but, after all, it is the fruit that proclaims what
the tree really is without doubt.
Now character is not a product of reason or con-
sciousness, but lies in the unconscious mind ; and as far
as our actions are unconscious, they express it perfectly :
but reason and conscious will can interfere and alter
this expression, unlike the case of the tree whose fruits
are wholly unconsciously produced.
Therefore our conduct is not so true an expression of
our real character as is the fruit of the tree. But we
must touch on this again a little later.
(162)
CHARACTER AND CONDUCT 163
Ribot says : ^ ** Character is the only immediate cause
of voluntary action. Motives are mediate causes, but the
latter are conscious, or liable to become so ; the former is
absolutely unconscious." This remark, we think, must
not be examined too critically, but it is true in the main.
Motives frequently baffle scrutiny, as we have already Motives of
Conduct.
seen. How often do we think we have consciously
weighed all our desires on a point, and yet at last we
act from some other reason which has lain in uncon-
sciousness all the time ?
"It would go hard with mankind, indeed, if they must
act wittingly before they acted at all."^ " Men, without
knowing why, follow a course for which good reasons
exist — nay, more, the practical instincts of mankind
often work beneficially in actual contradiction to their
professed doctrines."^ They are, in short, better than
their creeds ; for common sense, one of the four internal
senses of the Aristotelians, is the judgment or voice of
the unconscious mind.
Conduct, indeed, is finally determined rather by
feeling than reason ; and as a matter of fact, conduct
is best when the reflective and the impulsive are well
balanced.
Acting on principle, as distinguished from expediency,
means acting from a moral motive, rather than from the
expected result of the action. Of course there are many
actions, perhaps the bulk, that cannot be classified under
either head.
> Ribot'8 Otrman Psychology^ p. 245.
• Maudtley, Physiology of Mind, p. 13. » Ibid,, p. iSi
i64 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
Consistent and inconsistent conduct refer us to the
character which they do or do not express. The more
educated and trained a mind, the more it selects its
conduct and speech according to a settled character
and train of thought, z.e,, it is always relevant. This
settled character is called by Stout ** noetic synthesis ".
A yokel telling a story has no such guide, but wanders
among associations, and loses his thread ; so also the
aged, and where the mind is weak. The talk of an un-
educated man springs from chance associations and ap-
perception ; that of an educated man, as well as his
conduct, is controlled by "noetic synthesis" (a truly
fascinating term).
Thought, speech, conduct, therefore, as far as they
spring from the last idea or accident, arise from mere
association ; as far as they are purposeful and con-
sistent, they are due to "noetic synthesis" or char-
acter.
Acts that are not the result of character have com-
paratively little influence; for it is rightly felt that
action should be the outcome of the personality. The
effect of any action is measured by the depth of feeling
from which it proceeds. But we must remember tha''
character itself is, or ought to be, growing, the " noetic
synthesis" enlarging and consolidating. Our actions
are the result of our character, just as character is the
result of heredity and education. But we are free to
improve character. Quite so ; we are free to do so, but
our doing so depends upon the will. The desire must
be there, and for this often an external influence — the
CHARACTER AND CONDUCT i^
Breath of God, the Holy Spirit — is needed to put life into
the dry bones of a purposeless character.
By conduct we mean our words and acts and general what is
Conduct?
deportment. As expressors of character we have also
our thoughts, but these reveal character only to our-
selves. Others can only arrive at our thoughts through
the conduct. Just as in a watch, any one may see the
face and observe the hands move round, and judge of
its value by the accurate time it keeps, yet no one but
the owner ever opens the case ; so with ourselves, any
one may judge of our value by our conduct and the way
in which we keep God's time of day in this world, but
only ourselves, the owners, can open the case and there
see the mainspring (the will) that sets the works (the
character) in motion, controlled by the balance wheel
(the moral sense).
Conduct is generally called forth by circumstances.
Indeed, it is the product of circumstances and character.
It may thus be represented as a reflex action : —
OiroumstanoeB
Conduct is of practical value to the mind. If the varieties <
ideas of reason are to become any part of our character
they must be lived and acted on as they come to light.
*' The limbs of the mind," says Ruskin, " must all be
exercised." Conduct, of course, varies at different ages.
At first it is largely the result of the natural instincts
modified by hereditary instinct, and is wholly uncon-
i66 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
scious When it becomes conscious, then the child is
" old enough to be good," that is, old enough to control
impulse and instinct by reason. Thereafter throughout
life conduct is the reasonable expression of character
until, in old age, the reason is less active, and the con-
duct becomes the expression of confirmed habits.
Human life is three-fourths conduct, and this should
be, as we have seen, the expression of the character.
Corre- For we should not depend on the belief or even on
spondence of
Conduct and the fact of OUT character being good, but should express
the same in our conduct. Many think the great point
is to be right within and leave the outside to take care
of itself, and are thus careless about their actions. This
is as wrong as if we said we know the watch has good
works, and do not, therefore, care what time it tells.
On the contrary, we should see that our conduct is up
to our standard of life, even in the small matters of
dress, cleanliness, deportment and manners. Many
minds are so great that they neglect these small
matters ; smaller minds are absorbed with them, while
other minds again are so petty that they depend on
being thought great because they neglect them. The
first is bad, the second worse, the third worst. In this
and other ways some people's conduct reveals their
characters ; that of others partly conceals them. In all
we say or do we should express our formed selves (our
"noetic synthesis"). Unassimilated principles, that as
yet do not form part of ourselves, lie silent till absorbed.
In great things our character will show itself without
effort, without our knowledge or will.
CHARACTER AND CONDUCT 167
When conscious action is of the same character as Education of
the Conscious
the unconscious, it shows that our conscious mind and and Uncon-
scious.
unconscious correspond ; when our conscious actions are
easier, better, and more refined than our unconscious,
it shows that our conscious mind is better educated than
the unconscious ; in short, that education has done more
for us than heredity. When our unconscious actions
are easier, better, and more refined than our conscious,
it shows the reverse, that however defective has been
our conscious education, our unconscious mind is edu-
cated and our heredity good. We are all well acquainted
with these different characters, the best, of course, being
when both have reached the same standard, and the
unity of the man is proclaimed.
Our friends, of course, do not analyse the grounds
of their knowledge of us, and yet they know. We are
all discerners of spirits by our own unconscious minds
reading the minds of others, though consciously we
know not how it is done.
If the conduct is very much better than the character
the difference is probably consciously assumed for a
purpose ; but a slight difference is legitimate, and may
exist unconsciously. It arises as follows : If a character
is growing the conduct will soon be slightly better than
the character, because it represents what we would be,
rather than what we are : it is the growing point. If, on
the other hand, we are degenerating, the conduct will
again be a little better than what we are. Because,
although growth is an aim, degeneracy is never a positive
object or source of conduct. Degeneracy is in spite of
t68 springs of CHARACTER
our wishes rather than because of them, and conduct
h'ngers behind, and still keeps up outwardly a standard
long since departed from inwardly.
Lastly, conduct tends most exactly to represent
character when that character is stationary and fixed.
Action may be prompt or slow. The strongest
characters are slow in action, but unswerving. The
ideal character combines, unconsciously, prompt habitual
action in familiar circumstances, with slowness and
wariness in unusual circumstances.
Public and private conduct vary immensely ; the true
character is almost invariably more exactly expressed by
the latter.
Character After all, however, the character is more than its
more than . , ^ . . . . ,
Conduct. expression, however perfect this may be, just as the
works are more than the hands of a watch ; nor, indeed,
is action the only way in which character is expressed.
' It is exhaled from us every moment. It declares itself
unconsciously, not by acts only, but when sitting or
sleeping. It is shown in silence itself. We cannot find
the full worth of Washington, of Chatham, of Sidney, of
Essex, of Schiller, or of Gordon in their deeds, or even
in their words. Their characters were greater than
either. Character not only affects conduct, but conduct
affects character ; in all these matters there can be no
action without reaction. We are never exactly the same
after our deeds as we were before them.
The true development of mind lies in right doing and
true knowing, with attention paid to ends and objects,
and not to the growing and changing self. Our moral
CHARACTER AND CONDUCT 169
character is thus the outcome not only of external in-
fluences, but of our own conduct.
With regard to the connection of morality and conduct
we have already spoken at length in the last chapter.
Morality is said to be the science and art of conduct ;
certainly the value of morality is in its practice, just as
the end of knowledge is conduct Conduct when it is
good brings happiness and peace to the person. It is
the flower and fruit of the inner life. The leaves of pro-
fession may make a goodly show, but the fig tree must
be cursed if it bear nothing but them ; the flowers and
the fruit alone display the full character of the stock, and
in bearing these the tree alone fulfils its destiny.
The object for which we are sent into this world is to
bring glory to God, not by our characters alone, but by
the conduct which expresses them for good or evil.
Still, as of old,
Man by himself is priced;
Bor thirty pieces Judas sold
Himself— -not Christ.
CHAPTER XIL
CHARACTER AND CONSCIENCE.
The Moral We havc 10 this chapter to consider one of the most
Element in
Character. powerful factors in the production of character ; inas-
much as when we speak of character, however broadly,
the moral element in it is always most prominently
before our minds, and therefore the moral sense or con-
science has more to do with it than any other of the
abstract or special senses. Conscience is ever active in
the formation of character for good or evil, for it is quite
an error to suppose that its influence is always on the
side of right. No doubt normally it is so, but we find at
times that it is practically enlisted on the side of cruel
wrong and injustice.
It will be noted that in the present day some of the
best psychologies may be searched in vain for the word
" conscience," to which there appears to be an increasing
distaste ; the tendency of modern thought being wholly
in favour of natural development as contrasted with
Conscience or supernatural endowment and special organs. Instead,
Moral Sense.
therefore, of regarding conscience as a unique endow-
ment standing by itself under the title of the moral sense,
an attempt has been made to range it with other abstract
senses, such as the logical faculty and aesthetics.
(170)
CHARACTER AND CONSCIENCE 171
In our desire to simplify the obscure and bring life's
mysteries within the range of the human intellect, wc
may, however, and frequently do, go too far.
When, for instance, life is ranged with other natural
forces, such as light, heat, electricity, we feel at once that
what we apparently gain in simplicity, we lose in truth ;
for while there is much in the action of vital force that
is on a par with the natural forces, life is still an inscrut-
able mystery, and possesses powers (especially psychic)
to which there is no equivalent in heat, light, or even
electricity.
In somewhat the same way, though, as we shall see,
conscience ts an abstract sense, there is undoubtedly
that about it which rightly prevents us from placing it on
an equality alongside of other abstract senses ; and the
word conscience is a convenient word to retain to mark
this difference. It would indeed also be convenient if the
other senses had a single word to describe their use in
the same way. We will therefore retain the word, though
it is discarded by so many.
Words are often found in common parlance that are Value of Wore
in coi
completely ignored by scientists ; words which enshrine Use.
ideas as old as the race, but which, because these ideas
are obscure and possibly run counter to those current in
science at the time, are useless to those who would limit
their vocabulary to what they understand. Amongst
these may be included such words as life, mind, con-,
science, and to many " God ".
We, however, consider the retention of these and
many other well-known words and phrases of some
in common
Ill SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
importance, as a testimony to the existence of realities
and truths as yet beyond scientific analysis, as well as
being of great practical convenience. (Some phrases
are retained for convenience only: an example, ht
instance, is that truly misleading phrase ** the sun sets,*
for which a brief scientific substitute has been sought in
vain).
The Idea of a The idea of a conscience is to be found in all religions, ^
Conscience. . . .. _._, /•• t"
and IS of great antiquity. In Egypt, for instance, we }
find that the oath of the ancient priesthood ran : —
" I have never defiled my conscience for fear, or for
favour of my superiors.'*
The Greek word for conscience {a-vveiSrfcns:), which
was afterwards used so largely in Christian writings, first
occurs in the works of Dionysius of Halicarnassus,^
shortly before the Christian era. " Best of all," he says,
** is never willingly to lie or defile one's conscience."
The Greek-thinking writers in the New Testament
largely use this word. Amongst Hebrew writers, as in
the Prophets, many equivalents are used — the "word of
the Lord " being often used in this sense. The descrip-
tions of its actions are very vivid and frequent in the
Bible.
Comparison of It may be convenient here briefly to compare the three
ceptions of conceptions of conscience amongst Hebrew, Greek and
Christian writers, as they differ essentially in character.
In Greek writings the conscience is entirely subjec-
tive : it is ourselves at our best. In the Old Testament
* Dion. Halicarn., vi., 825-15.
CHARACTER AND CONSCIENCE 173
ft Is objective : the result of the voice of God ; while in
Christianity it partakes of both characters.
The Christian conception is more personal and
important than the Greek, while less so than the
Hebrew.
To the Greek conscience is our better self; to the
Hebrew, God acting in as ; to the Christian, the voice of
God in us.
The Greek was an independent agent, conforming
himself at his own will to the God in Nature.
The Hebrew was acted upon, moved and guided by
Jehovah's voice and law.
The Christian is God's son ; free (like the Greek),
but energised and guided by God's Spirit in him, thus
bringing him into harmony with God without.
The Christian conception apart from its religious
▼alue is the most practical and best adapted to the
development of character
But it is time to ask : What is this conscience — so \
universally admitted, so universally moulding and form- ^
ing men's lives, and constituting the one moral natural i •
force in life?
The answers, as may be expected, are various and
confusing. We will give a few replies before attempting
to give one more answer to the perplexing question.
Confucius, Plato, Aristotle, HegeJ, Spinoza and Kant what is o
. . ,. , science?
consider the power m conscience to be the enlightened
reason. Epicurus, Hobbes, Bentham and Bain consider
its power to be the instinct of individual self-preservation.
Comte^ Schopenhauer, Clifford, Smith, Hume, Hutche-
/
174 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
son, Lewes, as well as Leslie Stephen, consider it to be
the instinct of social (selO preservation. Leslie Stephen
says : ^ " Conscience is the utterance of the public spirit
of the race, ordering us to obey the primary conditions
of its welfare ". G. H. Lewes says : " The social factor
is the real cause of the elevation of the animal into the
human, the sensible into the ideal world, knowledge
into science, emotion into the sensational, appetite into
morality ".
None of these theories appear sufficient to account
for the voice of conscience.
Its actions and impulses are often against reason and
are certainly neither suggested nor guided by the intellect
while its decisions in abstract questions of right and
wrong place it quite beyond any social or individual
considerations. We cannot say of reason as of morality,
that its treasures, often hidden " from the wise and pru-
dent, are revealed to babes ". Such words, however absurd
about learning or about science, are nevertheless true
about this wonderful moral instinct.
.J ** Conscience," says Dr. Fowler,^ " is the aggregate of
our moral opinions, reinforced by the moral sanction of
self-approbation or self-disapprobation which is habitually
attached to them."
" The conscience," observes Prof. Starcke,* " is placed
in the midst of our feelings and volitions, net simply as
*L. Stephen, Science ofEthicSy p. 351.
■Dr. T. Fowler, Progressive Morality, p. jo.
* Pro£ C. N. Starcke, International Journal of Bihics (Copenhagen),
Toi. a^ p. 347.
CHARACTER AND CONSCIENCE 175
/^2> product (the italics are ours), but as a person ruling
them."
Professor Shairp says : " Conscience is the absolute in j
the soul " — a fine remark.
The Old Testament says, in the words of Solomon :^ The Bible v|e
_,, ..^ .11 /"i-r* 1. -, of Conscienc<
" The spirit of man is the lamp of the Lord, searching all
the innermost parts of the belly".
The New Testament by St Paul says-' "The
Gentiles . . . are a law unto themselves, which show the
work of the law written in their hearts, their conscience
also bearing them witness, and their thoughts the mean-
while accusing or else excusing one another."
Conscience is universal, although its action differs conscience !«
. , , ,. . 11 UniverMU.
Widely according to its standard.
Bishop Butler says : * " There is a conscience in every
man which distinguishes between principles of heart as
well as external actions, and without being consulted (the \
italics are ours), magisterially asserts itself and approves ;
or condemns the riian accordingly ".
The Bible throughout declares that all have an inwaid
power to discern moral truths.
" Even of your own selves judge ye not what is right**
The "light that lighteth every man that cometh into the
world" includes the conscience, though it may mean more.
There is a moral sense, a sense of duty, in all men.
It is even to be seen in Tennyson's " Northern Farmer,"
who is represented as dead to any higher thoughts ; for
even he " stubb'd Thamaby waiste ".
> Prov. XX. 27. * St. Paal, Rom. ii. 14-15.
* Bishop BuUcr, Strmon 9% Human Natun, p. 40).
■90 SPRINGS OP CHARACTER
Nowhere is conscience or the moral sense denied ; its
evidence is too strong in every human heart.
Darwin says : " Of all the differences between men
and the lower animals the conscience is the most im-
portant". Conscience is indeed essential to humanity.
"There have been no beings," says Dr. Robertson,^
"absolutely human and sane in whom conscience is
totally inactive."
But conscience is not altogether an unique function,
and we will proceed to compare and also to contrast it
with other abstract senses of which we have spoken, and
of which it forms one — such as the aesthetic and the
logical senses; indeed, the three may well be grouped
together.
These three abstract senses are part of the natural
equipment of every rational man. We have our ordinary
senses — sight, hearing, etc. — by which we recognise
physical phenomena ; and then, over and above these,
differing from them in toto, and with no special organs
for their use as far as physiology at present knows, we
have these comparative or synthetic (hence avvetSTjat^ for
conscience), a comparing together of faculties which deal
with the relations of things.
The (Esthetic sense deals with the relations between
physical sights and sounds, lines, colours, harmonies,
etc.; the logical sense with rational and intellectual
relations ; the moral sense with relations between God
and man, and man and his neighbour.
^ Dr. Robertson, CoHscieHC4, p. 6.
CHARACTER AND CONSCIENCE 177
The JEsthetic sense is said to be the most physical ; :
the conscience to be connected with the heart, as logid
is with the head. The three are to a certain extent!
interdependent.
The aesthetic sense may not ignore moral and logical
relations, otherwise its judgments and results are bad
and mad.
The logical may not ignore the aesthetic or moral, or
it becomes unattractive and unscrupulous. The moral j
' faculty, if cut off from the other two, becomes repulsive \
land irrational (morbid conscience, etc.).
Right and wrong, to a certain extent, are terms that
may be applied to all three, and each abstract sense has
the power of letting us know when we offend against its
standard and laws. Each faculty is imperative, and Right and
.... Wrong in Ro
pronounces judgments without necessarily giving reasons lation to them
for them. A bad argument is abhorrent to the logical
faculty, a discord to the aesthetic, as an immoral act is
to the moral sense. The pain felt is not necessarily in
proportion to the actual wrong done. Many a one will
tell a lie without pain who will suffer agonies in the
aesthetic sense if a dress be ill cut, or in the moral sense
if detected in some petty meanness, or in saying some-
thing out of place at the time. The pain felt, as we
shall see, is in relation to the standard of perfection
in the light of which the abstract sense acts.
In each case we are conscious of a fact of relation (net
a sensible or physical fact), which is as self-evident to the
possessor of the faculty, and as clearly seen, as a visible
percept If we deny it we deny ourselves.
12
I7« SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
Our ordinary (special) senses are receptive, not
creative or authoritative. The aesthetic, logical and
moral senses are creative and authoritative ; they say
not only what the relations are, but what they ought toi
be ; therefore we feel we are doing wrong if we use a bad (
argument, create discord in colours, sounds, etc., ori
practise immoral acts.
I All these three abstract senses can be educated and
/ trained as every other sense can ; or they can be neglected,
\ abused or degraded.
A fine school of painting raises the aesthetic sense
and makes a great painter, as bad teaching degrades it.
So with schools of morals. Conscience can be made
more sensitive and delicate and true, or deadened and ]
warped.
If conscience were in the fullest sense the direct
voice of God, this were impossible; though the voice
might be stifled, it could not then be made to speak
falsely.
Inscrutable These three senses are alike in another respect — in
thrS Senses, that their origin is at present entirely inscrutable. Why
should one thing be beautiful to one and not to another ?
The aesthetic sense is the most arbitrary of the three ;
and while colour in flowers is of great value in the insect
world and amongst birds, we can scarcely think that any
but man truly possesses the aesthetic sense.
The logical sense that makes axioms, etc., possible is
a reasoning faculty whose origin is equally inscrutable.
Conscience, the moral sense, with its still more
authoritative voice and its power of inflicting tortures
CHARACTER AND CONSCIENCE 179
that can neither be endured nor escaped, also defies
scientific investigation. Many have affected to regard it
as the result of natural development through animals of
simple instincts, material morality following, and suc-
ceeded by mental morality ; but we doubt if they them-
selves are satisfied with the attempt, which, like many
similar ones, is ingenious rather than convincing. Con-
science in its origin is as inscrutable as life. For both a
Creator must be postulated. Spontaneous generation is
as great and mischievous a fiction in morals as in bio- '
logy.
The simplest, most scientific, and, we believe, the
truest account of the three, and especially of the moral . '
sense, is that they are given by God as special endow-
ments of man as distinguished from the rest of creation.
There can be little doubt that it is largely in the posses-
sion of these three abstract senses that man is made in
the likeness of God. They are undoubtedly, speaking
generally, the (subjective) light of men. " The life was
the light of men." ^ That is to say, life common to all
organic creation in man alone was of the nature of a
light (of reason, of sense of beauty, of morality) by which
he could see God.
So far we have compared conscience with two other
allied abstract senses ; we will now contrast it with them
in some important points.
There can be no doubt that it is through the moral Difference be
sense within us that we are most truly brought into relation sdence^aTd th«
other abstract
» St. John 1.4.
i8» SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
with God. The aesthetic and logical senses generally
raise no issues of spiritual importance ; and though they
help to form character, have little relation with it looked
at morally, in the sense in which the word is generally
used.
The aesthetic and logical senses do not go further
I than man and man's approval ; the moral sense looks to
' God.
A conscientious man may be described as a moral
artist ; but his work is of direct value not only to man
but God, and is not only for time but eternity. This
relation with the Infinite (whereas the others are con-
nected with the finite) explains at once the gulf that
separates the moral from the other abstract senses.
I Morals, moreover, differ from art in that, while in the
I latter "the end justifies the means," in the former it does
Uiot.
We do not here claim for a moment for conscience
that it is the voice of God. It is a gift of God, and it
brings us into relationship with God. It is not merely a
I sense of good and evil, but it is a strong instinct to ac-
l cept the good and refuse the evil. It possesses an
authority beyond appeal in common with the logical and
aesthetic faculties, all of which have their home and
origin in the unconscious mind ; but it goes beyond the
other two in the penalties it inflicts upon the dis-
obedient Innumerable suicides testify to the unendurable
agonies of remorse inflicted by an outraged conscience,
which have no parallel in the action of the other senses.
" Two things," observes Kant, " fill our minds with
CHARACTER AND CONSCIENCE i8i
increasing wonder and reverence — the starry heavens
above, and the moral law within."
Conscience thus possesses us far more than we possess
it. It furnishes moral axioms on which arguments can
be based amongst men. It pronounces judgments ac-
cording to the standard before it, which are binding*
however, only on the individual; so that in this sense
each man is a law unto himself, as he acts according to
his conscience ; much evil always ensuing when he seeks
to impose this law upon others. Conscience is first seen Conscieiwe b
^ Moral Con-
with the recognition of the e^o; in short, with the sciousness.
rise of self-consciousness, for conscience is moral con-J
sciousness. The infant at first is guided by instinct;'
to this, as reason dawns, is added precept ; and further
on, when self-consciousness begins, the e£-o beginsj/
to sit in judgment on itself, and moral conscious-
ness becomes active. Before a child says ** I " it has not
a distinct moral sense. Then with the " I " comes at
once the " ought," for "I" and *' ought" are Siamese
twins that cannot be separated without the death of both.
This power of an objective ego in sitting in judgment
upon a subjective one is exclusively human.
Whence comes this mysterious " I ought " which en-
nobles men and raises them from the brutes that perish
— obedience to which determines the rise and fall of
nations ?
Surely we must agree that either directly or indirectly
it is a crowning gift to humanity from the Great Creator.
As we have seen, the home and spring of all the
abstract senses lie deep in the unconscious, though con-
ita SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
science is ever exercised in the fullest consciousness. No
consciousness is perhaps more vivid, that is not aroused
by our physical senses, than the sense of right and wrong
produced by conscience.
Conscience and We wiU now sce how far conscience is connected >
Cognition, . i , , r i .1 • . , •
Emotion and With the three parts of the mind : cognition or the \
Volition. . ,, . , /• 1. 1 \. . , '
intellect, emotion or the feelings, and volition or the
will.
1. In cognition we get the intelligence of the moral
action.
2. In emotion the feeling of its value.
3. In volition the will in carrying it out.
Now, the first part, the discerning or intelligence of
good and evil, is the essence of the moral sense ; and
mark, this knowledge is wholly involuntary, and can no
more be controlled by the will than the beating of the
heart ; as is the case with all faculties that spring from
the unconscious mind.
The other abstract senses of aesthetics and logic are
the same, but the special senses are not. We are not
obliged to see or hear, but we cannot help admiration,
reason, and knowing good and evil. With conscience
also there is invariably a measure of the second part —
emotion. We feel what is right and its value, and if
obedient we feel at peace ; if not, we feel remorse — from
our conscience. Conscience includes not only knowing,
but feeling of the most acute kind. But here it stops :
the third part, willing or volition, is no part of conscience
proper. We are forced to know, but not to do. If we
were, moral value would cease. Nothing that we do in-
CHARACTER AND CONSCIENCE 183
voluntarily, that is unconsciously or by force, can have
real moral value attaching to it. That is why true moral
action must ever be conducted in consciousness. Willing
or carrying out the decrees of the moral sense is the
j action of the e£^Of and is determined not by conscience
but character.
With regard to the first two, greatest stress in con-
science is laid on cognition by Socrates, Spinoza, Fichte
and Hegel, and on emotion by Schiller, Herbart and
J. Edwards. Conscientious people make most of emo-
tion, unconscientious people of cognition.
Conscience is, as we have seen, a natural endowment Conscience is
not the Voice
as inscrutable in its origin as our other abstract senses, of God.
but differing from them inasmuch as being a discemer
|of moral questions it brings us into direct relation with
|the spiritual world, with God Himself (though it cannot
be said to be in itself His voice) and with eternal issues.
Moreover — and it is this that is most germane to our
subject — it exercises by far the most powerful influence
on the formation and ennobling of character.
It is, as we have said, natural ; but it may be, and is in Conscience
nearly every man, more or less educated. This educa- Educated.
tion may be natural, or partly or wholly artificial. The
former simply strengthens and develops its powers on its
original lines,- the latter distorts its faculties often to the
extent of calling wrong right and right wrong. We wilJ
consider (i) the natural conscience, (2) the naturally
educated conscience and (3) the artificial conscience as
explained above.
I. Conspicuous in the natural conscience is the fact
i84 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
that its verdicts are based upon love*and justice, and ne\U
upon either alone. Be humane, it says, but be con-
sistent. It condemns caprice, and it condemns selfish-
ness. The moral ideal is to be humane and reasonable
at once. Now this is most remarkable, because it has
been already noticed that the most constant moral
qualities seen in the infant are love and a sense of justice.
God is love and its Source ; God is light, and the Source of
all righteousness and justice. And the little child repro-
duces in its unconscious mind these two g^eat principles,^
from which all good comes — the fulfilling of the whole
law. And it is on these two Divine principles that the
natural conscience is founded.
Conscience The natural conscience is perfect in action, but when
differs accord- i . i
ing to its educated the value of its verdicts depends on the per-
Standards.
fection of its standards. Moreover, in our complex
affairs almost every moral judgment is between a better
and a worse, and there are all gradations, both in character
and in ethics, till we reach Divine perfection. Truth for
instance, as we have seen, is more often relative than
absolute. John Stuart Mill holds that only in England
is truthfulness a part of the average man's moral ideal.
The power of the natural conscience is immense.
It is often thought that the remorse it produces is the
result of education. It is not always so.
Conscience in Mrs. F. Hodgson Bumett ^ in her autobiography tells
Childhood.
us of the awful effect of conscience (in very early years
t and under no special training) when she bought a
i
> F. H. Burnett, The One I Knew Best ofAlk
CHARACTER AND CONSCIENCE 1S5
gingerbread for a halfpenny on credit ^ unknown to her
mother. She spent agonies and sleepless nights in con-
sequence, and yet her mother was most kind, gentle and
easy-going, and she knew she would not be punished.
The natural conscience at different ages varies im
mensely ; being generally most acute before puberty
and gradually deadening in old age. That of children
as we have just seen, is very strong in its sense of sin
and is also severe in its penalties. This has been proved
by Professor Earl Barnes from the result of questions put
to some 20,000 school children in England and America*
One question was: " If a mother gave her child some
\ paints and then left the room, and the little child
I painted all the chairs blue, what should the mother do
\ to her when she returned ? " The answers given showed
that the younger the school children, the heavier the
penalties they wished inflicted. In the lowest standards
nothing less than corporal punishment satisfies the of-
fended conscience. As the children rose in the school
so was the penalty modified, until in the highest standard
punishment disappeared, and the answer to the question
was merely that the child should be remonstrated with,
and shown its error.
The extreme severity of the younger children's
sentence may be partly due to the innate cruelty in
childhood, as well as to an exaggerated idea of the
young artist's sin.
There is a difference in the sexes as to conscience, conscience ii
Its range is greater in the woman than the man, though Women,
more easily disregarded. Men are, in a sense, more
rfM SPRINGS OP CHARACTER
conscientious, that is, though their conscience does not
speak so often, they heed it more when it does speak.
We have said that the standard by which it speaks is not
the same in both sexes ; for while the rightness of the
end is more prominent before a woman than the justice
of the means, in the man there is more particularity
about the means than about the end. To attain a truly
* desirable and legitimate end a woman may use means
that might at times offend the conscience of a man ; but,
on the other hand, a man is often less pure in his aims
and more selfish, and yet at the same time more scrupu-
lous about the means used, which must not offend his
conscience. We would not state this too dogmatically, for
indeed the whole issue may be contested by many. Most
will, however, agree on the two main points — that the
standard in conscience in the sexes is not exactly alike,
being higher for women than men, and that women are
less scrupulous in obeying its voice than men.
The moral faculty is naturally stable, but of course
varies with its standards when educated. Hence it
varies in action greatly in individuals, the collective
average being much more trustworthy, showing the com-
mon natural moral basis that exists.
Education of 2 and 3. Turning to the education of conscience, this
may be good is surely both racial and individual. Moral ideas, as we
know them to-day in common speech, are the product of
I a long course of development ; though the natural foun-
dations are never lost sight of.
Not only the right and natural education of con-
science is racial, but also the artificial and false as well.
CHARACTER AND CONSCIBNCB Of
We believe that history as clearly shows that cruel
perversions of the moral sense have been transmitted
for generations, as that in Christendom conscience has
continuously developed in sensitiveness and its standards
of right and wrong. The artificial conscience is indeed
a baneful product. By the term we do not of course
mean that a conscience is artificially produced, but that
the moral sense is so perverted by wrong training as
to be made to respond to false standards. These gener- »
ally pose as true, often as Divine, and the difficulty of
distinguishing the counterfeit from the real is a great
source of distress to conscientious people, and a great
cause of evil in the world.
The artificial conscience is obviously never natural ; Artificial and
but it may, as we have said, be passed on from parent Consciences,
to child, though of course it is almost impossible to
distinguish such cases from very early unconscious im-
pressions. Nevertheless, as other mental acquirements
are undoubtedly handed on, an artificial conscience may
be among the number.
Both the artificial and natural education of con-,
sciences may be conducted consciously or (mainly)
unconsciously, and both may be carried on together ; in
which case it is most difficult to decide what is natural
and what artificial in the moral sense, what is Divine
and what human.
As a matter of fact a purely natural conscience, or Rarity of a
even an acquired one wholly on natural lines, is so rare Conscience.
a product as almost to be unknown, at any rate in
anything approaching civilised life. The tendency to
i88 SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
form an artificial conscience, or to adulterate the pure
conscience with artificial elements, is overwhelming : the
one runs imperceptibly into the other.
Observe, for instance, the seriousness and gravity
that is the natural standard of moral behaviour in the
presence of solemn or Divine things. To this is rapidly
added by the Puritan the immorality of gladness or
pleasure as such ; so that the simplest and most inno-
cent amusements produce an uneasy conscience, simply
because its standard has become artificial.
Evils of an The conscience of a child is most easily affected;
sirtifici&l
Conscience, indeed a child seems to crave for artificial standards.
These may be supplied by mere suggestion or by artificial
parental rules (necessary perhaps) or by the customs and
practices of the nursery. Suffice it to say that the moral
sense is so vigorous in the child that it almost seems to
crave occasions to exercise its activity. One of the most
important points to observe in the education of children
J is to avoid setting up or suggesting artificial standards
' of right and wrong. An artificial conscience thus created
in a child and obeyed for a few years may be a great
bar to its happiness in after life ; for, curiously enough,
the moral sense is so imperative that it keenly resents
being slighted, and the consequences are almost 2^s
morally disastrous, though of course the sin is not the
same, when the standard is artificial as when it is
natural.
The social artificial standards by which consciences
are ruled are themselves the sum of the individual stand-
ards that are found in society ; and they are ever
CHARACTER AND CONSCIENCE 189
changing. A person may do a thing with a good
conscience one year, and with a bad one the next.
For instance, in this closing year of the nineteenth
century pleasure generally is considered less sinful than
formerly, while excess at table decidedly more so.
In the East a woman has a bad conscience who
shows her face, in the West if she shows her limbs.
With regard to conscience there is in weak natures a
great love of submitting it to the moral standards of
others. It is so much easier to adopt a ready-made
standard than to make one or discern one for oneself.
In a general way, of course, the standards of the
social circles in which we move must be accepted and
conformed to, and no one is justified, unless these fla-
grantly contravene the natural laws of morality, in setting
up a counter standard of his own. But we are speaking
of cases where one individual leans on another; and
perhaps still more of those cases where a person seeks,
not only to live by another's standard, but by another's
moral sense. If another thinks any particular course
wrong his weak nature proceeds to direct his conduct
accordingly, though he himself does not see the wrong.
This can only be described as parasitic morality, and Parasitic
Moralitf.
is the death-blow to an independent healthy moral life.
These moral parasites abound, and nowhere more than
in the religious world ; singular to say people are by no
means content to walk by the light God and His word
may have afforded them, but are eternally supplement-
ing these, to their own moral degradation, with the light
Touchsafed to others, and by the codes (largely artificial)
igo SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
of those whom they think more holy than themselves.
It is worthy of notice in this connection that in St.
Matthew xxiii. 8-10 there is a special warning against
this tendency (pointing not obscurely to the Roman
confessional). "Call no man your spiritual director"
{Ka6i]y7jTtj^
hand, a course of action may de wrong and we may n^pt,^ \ V^'o
know it, and look back on our past conduct with added""'
light. We may not approve the act, but we feel no,
remorse, because we recognise that at the time our|
motive and acts were in accordance to the standard wcj
then had.
Two more maxims : " Happy is he that condemneth
not himself in that which he alloweth ".
'* To him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not|^
to ktm it is sin."
The effects that flow from a good conscience are
summed up in the mens sibi conscia recti^ which is a high
and sufficient reward. ** Given a sound (moral) judg-
ment," says Aristotle, **and all the virtues will flow in
its train." 1
Peace flows the moment the path of duty is discovered
and followed amidst conflicting alternatives.
The principles on which conscience acts are the Principles AriMotle, £«A»f«, vL, cadii., pb &
^ i aoa ^^^ : SPRINGS OF CHARACTER
\\%\ chg^mfet^r depends upon the right education of and
%^^ ., - , ... , 111.1 the Impossible.
** A pupil from whom nothmg is ever demanded which
he cannot do," says Mill,* " never does all he can."
With such an ideal as Christ, the Standard of perfection, ; ,
we are ever growing, never grown ; ever perfecting, never ■/
perfect ; ever attaining, never attained ; and this preserves
humility, as we have said, and stimulates pursuit
> J. S. Mill, Autobiography, p. 32.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHARACTER AND DESTINY.
flow an act, reap a habit ; sow a habit, reap a character ; tow a
character, reap a destiny.
Our study of the springs of character is completed, and
if this chapter be added it is merely because there are
often those who like to have what they have been reading
briefly summarised, so that they can better carry away
into practical life those points that seem to them of value.
This short summary is therefore given, together with a
few words on the formation of character, and the connec-
tion between character and destiny.
Chapters I. and Character then, is the mental expression of our per-
sonality, and its home is in the unconscious mind. This
personality is unknowable save to God, as it can never
be wholly brought into consciousness or wholly seen by
others. Fictitious or partly fictitious selves abound of
various sorts, and are made consciously or unconsciously
by their owners for various purposes. Others, as a rule,
know us better than ourselves, partly because they can
Chapter III. See more readily the unconscious impress of the character
on the body and in the thousand details of daily life. This
impress of the character on the body, and especially on
(220)
CHARACTER AND DESTINY aai
the face, has led to the construction of a pseudo-science
of character (phrenology), which localises character in
a series of " organs," represented by " bumps " in the
cranium.
No real science of character has, however, been con-
structed, the nearest to it being the science of ethics,
which is the abstract science, of which morality is the fi ti contrasted, 124.
„ Character of, 124.
„ of character, Emerson on, 81.
Mental and physical types corre-
spond, 33.
„ dyspepsia, 99.
„ states and bodily attitudes, 32.
Merit and unconscious action, 58.
Methods 01 early training, 65.
Mill, J. S., on forming character,
102.
„ on freedom of will, 155;
Mind and body. Interaction of^ 29.
H and character, 1-12, 220.
„ and conscience, 182,
„ as a court of law, 116.
„ Education of the, 106,
„ greater part unconscious, 5.
„ not two- fold, 5.
„ Unconscious, 4.
„ „ andChrittimnity, 2r4.
INDEX
a45
Mind, Unconadont, betrayg itself,
114.
„ „ denied, 3.
„ „ New birth in, 215.
Minds, conscious and unconscious
Education ' of, 167.
„ Scope of, 56.
„ stamped on stone, 31*
„ Stagnant, 90
„ States of, 127.
Miner, Character of a, 79.
Mixtures and compounds, 129.
Modern Christian and Greek ethics,
45-
„ progress and character, 108.
„ system of ethics, 52.
„ views and Christianity, 205.
Moral standards, Artificial, 193.
M value and habit, 73.
M consciousness and con*
science, 181.
ft element in character, 170.
H ideas, M'Cunn on higher,
196.
M principles and parents, 237.
n sense and ideals, 82.
ff „ and parents, 230.
^ „ may lead us wrong,
161.
M H or conscience, 170.
„ The, 176.
Morality and actions, 159.
„ and conduct, 169.
„ and will, 158.
„ as a habit, 72.
„ Parasitic, 189.
Morals and religion, 44, 208.
„ ethics, and character, 41*
„ in business, low, 194.
„ in professions, 194.
„ Local development of, 44.
„ Universal sense of, 44.
Motives, Egotistic and altruistic, 133.
„ Good and bad, 133.
„ of character, 11, 132, 146.
Murray on unconscious Christian
life, 214.
Natural and artificial education,
106.
„ and Christian character, 212.
„ conscience, 183.
„ „ The rarity of, 187.
„ zone of conscience, 199.
Nature and nurture, 68.
Nature of woman, Altruistic, 126.
Nature, Conflict of, 146.
Necessity of new birth, 214.
Negative ideals, 84.
Neo-platonism, 48.
New birth in unconscious mind, 215.
„ „ Necessity of, 214.
„ „ What is it, 214.
„ woman. The, io8.
Nietzsche and morality, 5a.
Noetic synthesis, 164, 166.
Nurture and nature, 68.
Obediencb and dependence, 216.
„ to conscience, 200.
Obeying conscience causes suffering,
203.
Objective and subjective ainas, ga.
„ view of self, 19.
Opinions and truth, 107.
Organs of phrenology, 39.
Origin of abstract senses inscrutable,
178.
'* Ought " and conscience, 200.
„ Power of, 200.
Ozone, Character like, 8x.
Pain and conscience, 190.
„ „ pleasure, 134.
„ „ „ Bentham OB, 134.
Parasitic morality, 189.
Parentage of children, 61.
Parents and balancing character,230.
,, and Bible maxims, 231.
„ and circumstances, 230.
„ and environment, 230.
„ and faith in God, 231.
„ and habits, 230.
„ and ideals, 230.
„ and ideas, 230,
M and moral principles, 231.
„ and moral sense, 231.
„ and responsibility, 231.
„ and will, 230.
„ as gardeners, 229.
„ Formation of character by,
229.
Paul, St., on conflicting natures, 137.
Peculiarities of Greek ethics, 45.
Personal and universal Hedonism,
52.
Personality and character, 13-28,
220.
Philosophical enquiry, Aristotle on,
136.
246
INDEX
Phrenology, 36.
„ Bain on, 39.
„ Coombe on, 38.
„ Organs of, 39.
Physical and mental, Analogy be-
tween, 8.
„ and psychic progress,
Huxley on, 133.
Pierson, A. T., on loss of Christian
ideals, 209.
Plato and Aristotle, Ethics oft 46.
„ on conduct, 159.
Pleasure, Abdalrahman on, 136.
„ and habit, 74.
,, and pain, 134.
i, and pain, sources of^ 135.
f^ as an object, 135.
„ Goethe on, 136.
Poisonous ideas, 99.
Pollock, Dr. J., on environment, 75.
Poor stock, No good growth from, 93.
Porter, Noah, on body and mind, 29.
Portraits and caricatures, 27.
Possessor, The seeker and the, an.
Power of conscience, 199.
„ of "ought," 200.
Pricking of conscience, 197.
Principles of character, Martineau
on, 119.
^ of conscience, 201.
„ Parents and moral, 231.
„ Training of hereditary, 65.
Professions, Morals in, 194.
Professional life, effect on character,
77.
Progress in character, 108.
„ Physical and psychic, Huxley
on, 133.
Prompt and slow actions, 168.
Protestantism, 226.
Psychic action, Unconadous, 8.
Ptyaline, Characters like, 81.
Public and private standards, 194.
„ selves, 22.
Purposeless characters, 132.
Pursuit of the impossible, 2x9.
Qualities, Analysis of, 148.
„ bad. List of, 151.
M good and bad, 148.
^ good, List of, 149-151.
M of character, 137-152, 147,
222.
^ Cf conscious and uncon-
scious, 1x3.
Rare characters, Emerson on, 131,
Rarity of natural conscience, 187.
Rate of character growth, 91.
Rational characters, 138.
Reason and conscience, 174.
„ and instinct, conflict be
tween, 116, 160.
„ and wisdom, 117.
M why conduct better than
character, '167.
Relative and absolute, 141.
Religion and morals, 44, 208.
„ Character and true, 225.
„ Concepts of, 51.
„ Ethics and Christian, 49.
„ more than ethics, 49.
„ none without morality, 208..
Religious character of women, 126.
„ selfishness, 217.
„ standard. False, 196.
Repression and development, 89.
Responsibility and actions, 159.
„ and character, 1 17.
„ and parents, 231.
Revolt of intellect, 226.
Ribot on character as cause of
action, 163.
Right action, 160.
„ and wrong and abstract senses,
177.
Robertson, Dr., on conscience, 176.
Rontgen screen and children, 229.
Royce, Prof., against unconscious
mind, 2.
„ on habit and morality, 7a.
Ruskin on conduct, 165.
„ on God's guidance, 216.
M on low characters, 128.
„ on the evil eye, 83.
^ on the limbs of the mind, 16.5
„ choice of Christianity, 208.
Sacrifice and self-denial, 94.
Sailor, Character of, 77.
Saviour, Character of the, 140.
Scale of ideals, 85.
Science and art, 42.
„ „ „ as educators, 107.
„ of character, 36.
Scope of mind, 56.
Seeker, The possessor and the, 211,.
Self and environment, 22.
„ as seen by others, 25.
„ conscious and unconscious, 23.
„ consciousness, Value of, Z15.
INDEX
•47
Self-consciousness, Dr. S. Bryant
on, i8,
„ control, H. Spencer on, 157.
^ denial and sacrifice, 94.
^ tf judged by others, 25.
^ seen objectively, 18.
„ The artificial, 21.
„ The fraudulent, 23.
„ The real, 15.
„ The supposed, 17.
„ „ Table of, 18.
Selfishness, Dr. S. Bryant on, 14a.
„ Prof. James on, 143.
„ Religious, 217.
„ Value of, 14a.
Selves, The various, 15.
Sensations and senses, 197.
Senses, Abstract and conscious, con-
trasted, 179.
M and sensations, 197.
^ Special and abstract, 178.
,9 The three abstract, 176,
„ The aesthetic, 176.
^ The logical, 176.
„ The moral, 176.
Sensorium, Contents of, 7.
Seven Christian virtues, Angostine
on, 51.
„ deadly sins, 51.
Sexes, Character in the, 121.
Shairp, Prof., on conscience, 175,
Silence, Maeterlink on, 81.
Six parents of children, 61.
Slow and prompt actions, 168.
Small matters. Conduct in, 166.
Social ideals, 85.
„ self-preservation. Conscience
as, 174.
„ standar ds and conscience, x88.
Soldier, Character of, 78.
Sorrow, Maeterlink on, 105,
Soul, The child's, 63.
Sound conversion, Value of, 209.
Sources of pleasure and pain, 135.
Speaking the truth, 145.
Special and abstract senses, 178.
Spencer, Herbert, on conscious edu-
cation, 109.
n N O'l God, 213.
19 M o>^ right-doing, 72.
If „ on self-control, 157.
„ „ on the Ego, 14.
Spirit of God and character, 164.
Spring of character, Habit a, 71,
„ Two meanings of, 57,
Springs of character, 2, 57.
Stagnant minds, 90.
Standard of character, Christianity,
208.
„ of Christianity, 225.
Standards, Artificial moral, 193.
„ Cause of low business,
195.
M Cure of low business, 196.
„ Dangers of low business,
195-
gi False religious, 190.
ff of conscience, 184, 193.
^ Public and private, 194.
M Social, and conscience,
188.
Starcke, Prof., on conscience, 174,
States of conscience, 191.
„ of mind, 127.
Stationary character, 27, 89.
Stephen, L., on conscience, X74.
,, », on virtue, 68.
Stevenson, R. : Jekyll and Hyde,
130, 143, 146.
Story of Christianity, 225.
Stout, G. F., on organic character, i.
„ „ on unconscious mind
and action, 70.
Strong body obeys, 33.
Subjective and objective aims, 92.
Suffering firom obeying conscience,
203.
Sully, Prof., on character, 9.
„ „ on personality, 13.
Summary on growth of character,
no.
Suppression of truth, 145.
Synthesis, Noetic, 164, 166.
System of ethics. Modern, 53.
Table of the known self, 19.
Tendencies are inherited, 62.
„ Inherited, Prof. Holman
on, 62.
ff may become virtues or
vices, 64.
Theophrastus, Death-bed of, 48.
Thought, Atmosphere of, 105.
Three abstract senses, 176.
„ Johns, O. W. Holmes on, 15,
„ voices of conscience, 197.
Tools, Twelve, for character, 230.
Tortures of conscience, 178, 180,
Training, Early methods of, 65.
„ of hereditary principles, 63
Trains of thought and character, 164,
Transmission of character, 60,
248
INDEX
Transmitted character, Huxley on,
60.
Trials and character, 103.
True religion and character, m§»
Truth and opinions, 107.
„ Balance of, 145.
„ Greatness of, 138.
„ Many-sided, 138.
Truthfulness, 144.
Twelve tools for character, 230.
Types, mental and physical, corre-
spond, 33.
„ of character, P. Jordan on,
40.
UNCONSCioua action and merit, 58.
„ „ is mental, 7, 70.
^ „ and Christian-
ity, 211, 214.
^ and conscious. Quali-
ties of, 113.
n n » selves, 23.
M »» .. will, 155.
M Assertion of, 114.
^ education, 66, 107.
M Greater part of mind, 5.
M mind, 4.
I, „ action, Bastian
on, 70.
ff M and character, 3.
ff ^ and genius, 65.
, M betrays itself,
114.
M M Creighton on, 5.
^ ^ denied, 3.
„ M Emerson on, 8.
,, ^ Kant on, 4.
f^ M Lewes, G. H.,
on, 7.
215.
„ M Wundt on, 6.
Universal and personal Hedonism
52.
Universality of conscience, 175.
Useless characters, Maeterlink on,
132.
Utilitarianism, 53.
Value of adverse circumstances, X03.
„ of character, 228.
„ of common words, 171.
M of consciousness, X15.
„ of environment, 75.
,, of family life, 76.
^ of fiction, 98.
Valae of eood ideas, loi.
M of humour, 144.
„ of ideas, 96.
M of selfishness, 141.
f, of sound conversion, 109.
„ of the will, 118.
„ of war, 104.
Varieties of character, 128.
„ of conduct, 165.
„ of conscience, 191.
Various selves, 15.
Via media in Christianity, 207.
Virtue and conscience, 203.
Virtues, Antiphonal, 140.
„ Exaggerated, 142.
„ Seven Christian, 51,
„ The four cardinal, 47.
Voice of conscience, 197.
„ of God, Conscience is not the,
180, 183.
Volition no part of conscience, 182.
Waldstein, L., on early impres-
sions, 66, 67.
Want of conscience, Dr. Martineau
on, 193.
War, Value of, 104.
Weak body rules, 33.
Well-balanced characters, 137.
What is conscience ? 173.
Whittaker on unconscious mind, 3.
Will and character, 118, 153-161,222.
„ and decision, 157.
„ and morality, 158.
M and parents, 230.
„ Conscious and unconscious,
155-
„ controls character, 156.
„ Freedom of, 153.
„ Value of, 118.
Wisdom and reason, 117.
Woman, The new, 108.
Women and men. Conscience in, 185.
„ „ „ contrasted, 124.
„ Character of, 126.
„ character altruistic, 126.
„ Religious character of, 126.
Words, Common value of, 171.
Workman's life, Effect on character
of, 179.
Works and faith, 227.
Wundt and Christianity, 5a
„ on morals, 44.
„ on the unconscious, t,
XoMBofconscience, The neutral, 199
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