Practical notes on moral training : especially addressed to parents and teachers

MORAL TRAINING

PREFACE f3V

:IRR ,\v.i V

CANADIAN

MESSENGER

LIBRARY

REGIS

BIBL,
COLLEGE

Section

•,fr PRACTICAL NOTES

ON MORAL TRAINING

ESPECIALLY ADDRESSED TO PARENTS
AND TEACHERS

WITH PREFACE RV

FATHER GALLWEY, S.J.

FOURTH EDITION

EGIS
L MAJ.

LONDON: BURNS & GATES, LIMITED

NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO! BENZIGER BROTHERS

"iiijy

4

CONTENTS.

Chap. page

Preface . , v

I. Early Education ...... '

II. Instruction 10

III. Example 23

IV. Discipline observed and maintained ... -9
V. Life, interior and exterior 4<i

VI. Unselfishness 60

VII. Decision and Resolution ..... (>7

VIII. Temper, Criticism, and Sympathy . S.>

IX. Timidity. Diffidence, and Reserve ... 107

X. On True Principle 121

XI. On the Moral Virtues «34

XII. On being True and Trusty . .... i(>'

XIII. Humility and Simplicity '77

PREFACE.

THIS little volume on education appears without
the name of the writer to whom we are indebted
for it. For one reason this is to be regretted,
since the name of the authoress would be a guar
antee that this is not the work of a stay-at-home
traveller, who is only pilfering from the diaries
of those who have borne the burden and the
heat of the day, but a volume of genuine jottings
by the way. The writer has travelled over every
foot of the ground described. Possibly this is
one reason why the volume is not bulky. For
as it is said that sermons are shorter when the
preacher is careful to practise all that he
preaches before he goes into the pulpit, so is
it natural that a volume on education should
be short if all the suggestions it contains are
the results of hard-earned experience. The
authoress of these pages has spent her best days
in the school-room, either forming directly the
minds of children or training their teachers in
their difficult art. As might therefore be ex
pected, this is a volume well stocked with practical
hints on «•) great variety of subjects connected

vi Preface.

with education, both as regards the culture of
the intellect and the formation of the moral
character. I am much mistaken if it do not
become a very popular book, not only in con
vents and houses of education, but also in family
drawing-rooms. Fathers and mothers will, I
think, when they have read a few pages of this
little treatise on education, be struck with the
value of the suggestions which they meet with
in every chapter, and will wish that they had
become acquainted with it at an earlier stage
of their married life.

Principiis obsta, sero medicina paratur,

is a familiar Latin axiom. Watch over the
early beginnings of passions and apply remedies
in good time. Otherwise you will find later on
that your labour is in vain. Children before
they can articulate a word are capable of being
helped towards virtue or disposed towards the
indulgence of their passions. It is therefore a
blessing for them if their parents, or those who
have charge of them, are from the beginning
acquainted with the judicious rules and sound
principles found in a volume such as this is, and
are from time to time reminded of them.

The preface of a condensed volume ought
not to be too diffuse. It would be therefore

Preface. vii

inopportune to make many extracts here from
the wise lessons which abound in the following
chapters. But it will do no harm, I think, to
present one specimen of the good sense and
valuable hints which parents and teachers will
meet with in every portion of this admirable
little work.

Treating of the habit of truthfulness and its
importance, the writer observes how those in
trusted with the care of children are, oftentimes,
without being at all aware of the mischief they
are working, forming those under their charge
to habits of dissimulation and falsehood. " If
the nurse is ill-tempered, she is likely to incite
the child to untruth and subterfuge by her threats
of severe punishment for mere acts of childish
mischief. . . . But the case is worse when the
school-boy is accused and punished for some
thing he has not done and menaced with still
further chastisement if he does not acknowledge
having committed the fault. . . . To me the
length to which teachers and even parents will
sometimes go to convict a child of a lie seems
as unwise as incomprehensible." The authoress
here speaks of the school-boy, but no doubt has
the school-girl equally before her mind. If then
only this one page were to come under the eyes
of thusc who have to train children, what a

viii Preface.

friend it would prove to many a child who bu\
for this kindly warning would have been terrified
into the first lie. If the Prince of the Apostles
yielded before the cross-questioning of a serving-
maid and afterwards shed so many tears over
the frailty of that night, how salutary must be
the caution here given to parents and teachers
by this true friend of children, that they know
not what they are doing when " they investigate,
examine, and cross-question, looking so stern
and angry all the time, as to give the child the
impression that they are cruel and vindictive
foes trying to entrap him in his own words ".

This is but an average specimen of the
treasures which this volume contains in great
plenty. If then St. John tells us that to one
who brings a false Gospel we must not say " God
speed," is it not right to infer that to a volume
so full of Christian truth and practical charity
we ought very cordially to say " God speed " ?

P. GALLWEY, S.J.

Feast of our Lady's Nativity,

CHAPTER 1.

EARLY EDUCATION.

Tin-: aim of education is to combine the cultivation
of the intellect with the formation of the moral, and
the direction of the spiritual life, so that each faculty
of body, mind, and soul shall be in the highest
degree trained and fitted to fulfil the purpose for
which God endowed us with it. Education which
fails to accomplish this, is not a true but a false
education, it has fallen short of its proper mission
and left its appointed office unfulfilled. But when
the work is faithfully performed, the soul of man
is thereby led to the truest wisdom and highest
perfection he can aspire to in this world. God is
known, served, and loved, and our neighbour also
for His sake, in the way too which His Divine
decrees have appointed and designed from all eternity
for ea< h of us. Our duties are pointed out to us,
and we are prepared for them, what is evil in us i^
reproved, all that is good is cultivated and developed,
our minds having been first tempered to receive such
essential education or training with childlike hearts
and calm unsullied intellects. We are taught the

2 Moral Training

practice of virtue, sound principles are implanted in
our minds, the beauty and value of truth are disclosed
to us, so that we may seek, cherish, and abide in
it for ever. In a word, education develops all the
good that is in us, moulds, trains, and exercises it
in the best way, and turns it to the best account.
There is no exception of classes ; no matter in what
position we are placed, nor under what circumstances,
nor the amount of ability or talent we may possess,
good education secures the like blessings for all, and
at the snme time is suitable to each.

We are apt to attribute too much importance to
the amount of instruction the child is to receive, and
lay too little stress on the preparation needful to
enable the mind to accept it and take it in. The
labourer who sows his corn gives us a practical
lesson on education. He knows it is not for him to
choose the ground he works on, but it is his business
to make the best of the ground he has. He procures
the kind or sort of grain best suited to the soil, and he
is skilled in sowing it well. Still all this is little
in his eyes. He knows the most important thing
in the matter is, that the ground should be properly
prepared beforehand. So to this preparation he
applies himself diligently before everything and above
everything, and to it, under God, he attributes the
success of the crop. Now this is just the point
most neglected and overlooked in the education ol

Education* 3

children ; we do not draw out and predispose their
minds for thought, or induce them to study suffi
ciently, and our method of instruction is not always
attractive. This arises from a false idea that children
when at school can be compelled to study, and even
made learned against their will. In some circles of
the wealthy classes boys are often found unable to
learn at school ; the thoughtless and heedless lives
they spend at home, and the desire for the amuse
ments they have been accustomed to, prevent them
from applying their minds to study, or from working
steadily at their own improvement. Children do not
so need diversion, as that we should make strenuous
efforts to amuse them — it is often better to leave
them to their own resources, and we shall see that
occupation brings the sweetest enjoyment ; they often
prefer work to play, and they play all the more
gleefully when the work is over. A child requires
cheerful encouragement in all his little plans and
projects, which he should be allowed to think out
for himself, and to carry out himself as far as possible,
particularly if they refer to the comfort or benefit of
somebody else. When he has decided on some work
within his reach, both good and reasonable, he should
have an intelligent and trusty person to put him in
the right way of doing it, and with the proper materials,
but on condition he finishes the work, and finishes
it well, for much of the boy's future career may

4 Moral Training.

depend on those two points. I am inclined to
believe that if we asked the good and thoughtful
men of our acquaintance what it was they enjoyed
most in youth, and also what helped most in their
education, they would tell us that it was some study
they took up of their own accord, and which they
prosecuted silently and with success, or a talent for
mechanism which they displayed in childhood and
were allowed to cultivate. In either case, and in
every case, we shall find, that education only begins
when the child, discovering its power of thinking,
utilizes that power. Education progresses as the
mind expands to the perception of all that is good
and noble. Under this method the boy seeks
happiness in his own soul, he is content and happy
in his own home, and diffuses peace and joy to all
around him. He takes the freshness of childhood
with him far into his youth, and he bears the fresh
ness of youth for ever in his heart.

We often confound in our own minds education
and instruction, so far at least as to rest satisfied that
the work of instruction is the whole process of educa
tion. No doubt instruction is the principal mean*
we have of conveying to the mind of another the
information we possess ourselves, but in order that
the information we give may be received and mastered
by the mind of the pupil, it must be suitable and
made attractive to him. We know from our own.

Early Education. 5

experience how much this is disregarded and for
gotten, and how much we have lost in consequence.
But it has taught us one lesson, that we should never
teach anything 10 anybody without trying to secure
his own concurence and co-operation. To accom
plish this we must make a subject as interesting as
we can, and explain it simply, inducing the pupil
to learn by awakening his attention, and getting him
to apply his mind to what is put before him. And
when he understands it, to get him to hoard it up
according to his capacity and comprehension as a
treasure of great value.

The pupil must not only co-operate with his
teacher, but he must also do his own work and store
his own mind, he must remember that we cannot
pack it for him, as we can pack his trunk. He must
use his own intellect, and do it for himself. We
shall be able to help him according to the good will
he bears us, and our personal influence with him.
If he has faith and confidence in us, he will take
readily and willingly all we give him and make it
his own, but if he disesteems and dislikes us, he will
reject and cast from him whatever he receives from us,
and may even bear towards it ever afterwards a lasting
distaste. A child feels before he thinks, and at first
only thinks as he feels, so if he feels strongly any
antipathy, it grows and magnifies as he broods over
it, and as early impressions ara the most durable,

6 Moral Training.

it is not surprising to find the prejudices and re
pugnances of our childhood existing for years, and
even overshadowing the rest of our lives.

Instruction must not only be interesting, it must
also be suitable to the mind of the pupil. A child's
mind can be formed almost from infancy if he has
been always told what is true. One truth becomes
the basis of another. And as he advances in age he
advances in knowledge of simple facts. These facts
will rest in his mind, and he will preserve them with
faith and trust if he is not overburdened and confused
by unfitting and unseasonable instruction. After a
time he will be able to discriminate between one
object and another, to observe and discern their
peculiar properties. In other words, he will begin
to think, and if fairly guided, his education will be
far advanced, even before he takes a book in his
hands, and when he does, his book-learning will
come easy to him. A mother's patient love is of
great value in first awakening the mental powers of
a child. His views and opinions harmonize most
readily with hers, and great as her influence may
be, she will not, if she is wise, instruct him so
much directly on any subject, as she draws out
his powers of discernment, exercises his mind, and
makes him conscious of his faculities. She then
puts before him the main object of life and the end
he must try to attain.

Early Education. 7

The most agreeable and the surest way to get a
pupil to apply to his studies, and even to adopt a
life of study, is to incite him in his early years
to the exercise of his own intellect, and to encourage
him not to receive passively from his master the
information he requires, but to seek and search for
it himself, and then make it his own possession.
When he uses his own mental powers in arriving at
the knowledge he is in need of, he will remember it
more clearly ; and what he acquires in this way will
be more satisfactory to him. We find this is the
course a practical man adopts when he wants to come
to a definite conclusion on a subject of deep interest.
He will not be satisfied if we can give him a treatise
on the question he consults us about, no matter how
much to the point and lucid it may be, unless we
first allow him to speak out his own mind and to say
all he wishes to say himself. And in doing so if we
only help him to express his thoughts and draw him
to consider his views, he is pretty sure of forming
a true judgment, and one he is likely to abide by.
The contentedness that this mode of action gives
him does not arise from following his own will,
or from preferring his own opinion to ours, but
from the conviction that we understand his case
perfectly, th:it what we suggest is suitable to his
circumstances, and within his reach and power to
accomplish. This contentedness is intensified when

8 Moral Training.

he has formed his decision by the exercise of his ovm
reason.

If it is the most successful system of education
to dispose the pupil to master 'his studies by the
Employment and exertion of his own intellect and
energies, the very worst method, on the other hand,
that can be used in the training of any one, and the
very worst means that can be used to make a pupil
learn, is the power and influence of fear. If a child
has deliberately committed a great fault, it is well
that the fear of suitable correction should prevent
him from ever committing it again. The fear of
occasional correction may also be useful in inducing
an idle boy to learn his lessons ; but once he has
learned them, he should get every mark of approba
tion and every encouragement.

But to bring up and rule a child entirely through
fear would be a great act of injustice to him. It
would be sure, in the generality of cases, to engender
cunning and deceit, and to habituate him to the
control of the senses rather than to the guidance
of reason. If he were governed only by fear
during his study, it would be sure to hinder his
advancement in learning. Fear not only depresses
and confuses the action of the intellect, but the
anticipation of some dreaded evil chills the energies
and paralyzes the mental powers. When this dread
or apprehension exceeds the fear of God io the heart <

Early Education. 9

it drowns the voice of conscience, and the child will
pretend to know what he has not learned, and cannot
learn, and he will act untruthfully and with duplicity
as the temptation offers. If however the pupil be not
actuated and governed by fear to this extent, still what
ever he learns through its influence will always be
associated with a feeling of dislike, and most probably
will never be an attractivesubject of study to him. This
brings us back to the necessity of gaining the willing co
operation of the pupil, of which we cannot doubt when
we remember in how little one man can help another
except with his assent and concurrence. And this is
especially the case with regard to everything in the way
of mental and moral culture and improvement. Thus
it is plainly revealed to us that the first duty of those who
have to instruct others is to secure their co-operation.
The pupil who likes to learn, and who gives his
mind and attention willingly to his studies, gives but
little trouble to his teacher. All that has to be done
is to put the right subject in the right way before
him. But those who have no taste for study, and
are unwilling to learn even what is most needful for
them to know, have to be incited and worked on by
an effectual influence, an influence of a threefold power.
The power of a true, clear, and earnest method of
instruction ; the power of good example, that enkindles
the desire of imitation; and the guiding and controlling
power of well-ordered discipline and just rule.

CHAPTER II.

INSTRUCTION.

ALTHOUGH there is much trouble and drudgery in
learning, as we all know, I fear there is generally
a great deal more than there need he, for we have
not only to learn, but often to un-learn and re-learn
what was taught us badly at first. This does more
harm to the minds of children than is usually sup
posed, for it spoils their faith and weakens their
trust in those placed over them, and to whom they
should look up and rely on, without doubt or
hesitation.

A child's misgivings are accompanied by pain and
fear. A species of mental pain is caused by the
fruitless effort and inability to reconcile contradictory
statements, or to decide between them, and this
uncertainty creates a dread of being misled now,
having been deceived before. The child cannot
see his way and has lost much of his reliance on
those who lead him. With a perplexed and troubled
mind he tries to grope on in the dark, and at the
time those around him may think him dull and

Instruction. \ \

thoughtless he may be pondering over his diffi
culties.

Children have an inherent love and desire for
truth, they believe implicitly whatever is told to
them so long as there is an entire absence of in
consistency in the lesson we inculcate. Therefore,
if we teach what is true, as it becomes more and
more intelligible to them, they will pri/.e it and
gladly store it in their memory for life. And it is
not unlikely that in after years they will give them
selves most readily to the studies that attracted them
most in youth, that helped to develop their tastes
and unfold their minds, because their esteem and
belief in them were never over-shadowed by a doubt.
A child must take all things on faith, and if what
he has been taught in childhood looks all the
brighter and truer the older he grows, his character
is founded and built up on faith, for it has
strengthened with his strength and grown with his
growth, giving him a simple upright soul, a strong
clear intellect, and a brave trusting heart.

Hut if the structure of his teaching has to be
pulled down and then built up again, even in part,
it will seldom attain great solidity. For the habit of
distrust and disbelief is hard to be cured and often
not cured perfectly : it generally leaves some defect
and weakness, a sort of flaw in the " settlement " of
the building up of the mind. And so it is that children

12 Moral Training.

who have thus been taught or learned to be sceptical
in their youth, seldom acquire true or trusting
hearts, no matter how profoundly they may study
or how well they may be supposed to be educated.
Their principles and convictions are ever weak and
wavering, there is no sound foundation of truth in
their minds. They have no standard before them,
no sure ground to occupy, and having no firm
spot on which to rest the lever of their reason, it
cannot work steadily or rightly. They are neither
healthy nor happy minded.

Clearness is the next thing to be observed, after
truthfulness, in our method of instruction. We should
ever bear in mind that education is only a means
to fit us for the duties of our calling and position
in life. So to secure its being a blessing and a help
it must be rightly directed. Our instruction must
then have a distinct aim and object in view, and
it must also be distinct in itself, and fit and appro
priate for those who receive it. For all readily
acknowledge that no matter what amount of erudi
tion a man may possess, if he be ignorant of what
is necessary for him to know, his education is a
failure.

Now, to prevent such mistakes, would it not be
well to allow those we have to teach to forecast
their future lives and see beforehand what it would
be requisite for them to know, according to their

Instruction. 1 3

intended state or profession, and their peculiar tastes
and talents, always keeping close to what is good
and practical. Then with a distinct aim and a firm
purpose before them, they are likely to apply their
minds earnestly, and to study diligently, in the
hope that each day's labour may lead them further
on their road and nearer the object they have in view.
Instruction, when it is clear and simple, will gain
the attention of the most heedless, and do much
to brighten the dullest intellect. But it is only
when we know thoroughly what we teach, that we
can be clear, and the more we understand a
subject the mure simply and clearly we can define
or explain it It is no easy matter to define any"
thing clearly. Pere I.acordaire says: "To make
definitions is at once the most difficult of all mental
exercises, and the most calculated to make us re
flect, and master our ideas ". So it is only when
we define truly in our own minds, that we know
what we teach. When our definitions are strictly
correct they are of immense value to ourselves*
and a great help to those on whose mind we wish
to make a lasting impression ; for a true definition
is seldom forgotten. The intellect not only appre
hends it and grasps it as a truth, but generally
speaking, it also recalls some similitude as an illus
tration, or clothes it in some symbolic form that
rests firmly in the memory. We can seldom exercise

14 Moral Training.

our capacity of discrimination without calling into
action whatever powers we possess of discovering
likeness. We know practically that while the mind
is analyzing a subject or defining an idea, and
when it has disengaged and abstracted it from
its surroundings, and when it appears in its
intrinsic worth, the memory calls up some material
forms by way of exemplification. If the defi
nition is true, this figure or representation of it
in the mind enables us more easily to convey our
ideas, and to give them a clear expression and
explanation. The more accurate and just the defini
tion, the stronger the resemblanoe to the emblem
of it in our minds, and the more clearly and easily
we can communicate the knowledge of it to others.

Not only must we be clear, we must also bring
our subject to a clear and definite conclusion. This
is needful in all cases, but it is absolutely necessary
in the instruction of women ; the best lecture that
could be given will be lost to them if this truth
is overlooked. If they have the subject even partially
drawn out, but with the truth or dogma it is meant
to convey first clearly defined, and its end and
aim pointed out, they will take in the whole and
store it in their minds, making it their own for
life. There is something in the mind of a woman
who has true instincts and common sense that
makes her look first at the result and the end

Instruction. 1 5

proposed. When she has ascertained that, she will
go over all that has been said, apprehend it, apply
to herself the instruction given, and adopt it for
future guidance.

But if it is left to herself to draw her own in
ference and to form her own conclusions, no matter
how plainly and carefully the end may be implied,
few women, if any, will hit on it rightly — many-
are likely to take some far-fetched view, and all
will feel disappointed and dissatisfied. For it is
as painful to a woman as it is to a child to be
left in a state of uncertainty, and this is the case
more especially where she has trust and reliance
and expects guidance. Men sometimes like to
exercise spontaneously their own mental powers,
and to draw their own conclusions. They like to
follow the argument, and relish having its points
repeated frequently as a help to discover and eluci
date the truth. But it is just the opposite with
women. They usually dread mental labour, and
have misgivings of their own discernment, and above
all, they weary and are intolerant of much repeti
tion. So it is well to give them the subject clearly
stated and developed at first, and they will adopt
and fix it to their own special position and practice.

The human mind is so limited, that we find
even those gifted with the best intellects seldom
more than one branch of knowledge. They

1 6 Moral Training.

may know a great deal, having a good general know
ledge of many things, but they will only know one
thing thoroughly, and they undoubtedly gain that
knowledge not by talent and genius alone, but also
by earnest attention. They apply themselves stead
fastly and succeed. I must say that I believe earnest
ness of character is the higher, and surpasses in
worth both talent and genius. Talent and earnest
ness are often united, for talent is simply the power
of doing well what has been done before, and this
cannot be accomplished without close and earnest
attention. When we say a boy has talent for such
a profession or calling, we mean that he shows
some desire and leaning towards it, and has also
a certain aptitude for it. This aptitude displays itself
fully in his efforts to learn its established laws, and
to acquire a knowledge of the rules and practices of
that business or avocation, and according as he
shows devotedness and gives attention to such
matters we may foresee and predict his future
success.

Genius bestows greater liberty of spirit, and enables
us to do our own work after our own fashion, and
to originate new modes of action. It draws us away
from the beaten path into the fertile but untrodden
regions of our own minds, there to create on the
ground-work of truth new thoughts, conceptions, and
designs. And when these are fully realized and

Instruction. \ 7

apprehended, genius imparts to us the power to
express and delineate them with ability and fidelity,
or to carry them into effect with ardour and intel
ligence.

\Ve observe this to be the case with regard to
artists, painters, sculptors, and others who are only
considered to possess genius when their works are-
not alone true to nature, but true in depicting the
idea they have conceived, and when they throw the
likeness of life, as well as the expression of nature,
into the works of their hands. The same rule
governs the intellectual worker. No matter whether
he speaks or writes the simple truth, or portrays it
under the guise of metaphor or allegory, still his
thoughts and images, the word-pictures he puts before
us, if they have the stamp of genius, must have the
stamp of truth, and represent faithfully as in a mirror
the workings of the human mind, according to the
special view and the peculiar conception he has
formed of them, arid these again coloured and vivi
fied by his personal thoughts and feelings.

The paramount and prominent office and function
of genius is to create ; and when we inquire
whence this gift proceeds, we find it arises from an
aptitude for realizing the cause and nature, as well
as for entering into the life and spirit of all
it considers. When the intellect is fully con
formed and adjusted to the object contemplated, it

i3 Moral Training.

is reflected truly in the mind, and genius not
merely demonstrates it, but reproduces it, full of
soul and animation, shaped and stamped with
the character and expression of each man's inspira
tion.

The second power of genius is to see likeness and
find resemblance where it is unobserved and over
looked by the many. This special feature of genius
appears distinctly when it is applied to science, and
still in a more marked degree when science and
practice go together, for then it calls forth the in
ventive faculty, which is another instance of its
creative powers. The man of genius observes simi
larity in things that heretofore were considered to
have nothing in common, and to differ so widely
as even to consist of opposite properties. After
the recognition of likeness in a case of this
kind, he tests their force and efficacy. Being
gifted with a free, original, and energetic mode
of thought and action, he discovers the secret
and hidden laws of nature, and through this know
ledge and his spirit of invention he creates a
new and twofold power unthought of before, which
he tries and applies skilfully to remove a diffi
culty, or obviate an existing evil, and succeeds
in doing so, when ordinary means and previously
known remedies had failed. Genius springs from a
true insight and just appreciation of truth, and is a

Instruction. 19

special gift from God, from Whom we receive the
knowledge of truth and the help we need in acquiring
it, no matter whether it refers to the knowledge of
God Himself, or to the recognition of the powers of
nature.

\Ve must bear in mind that man does not create
the powers of nature. He can only discern them
as God gives him understanding, and then he applies
his knowledge as far as he has ability and as his
reason guides him. For instance, man did not create
the lightning flash, the electric power, or the force
of steam, nor did he give virtue to the herb. He
only observed these wonders and utilized them, con
trolling them and directing them for the use and
benefit of man, for which end they were bestowed
by God, as well as for His own glory in man's right
use of them. Therefore, the laws of nature, the dis
cernment and appreciation of truth, and all true
science come from God and lead to God. They
display His power and wisdom, and are conducive
to His honour.

Now, with all due respect for talent and genius,
and even while considering the service and advantage
they are to us, we must feel convinced that without
a large share of earnestness they would be but of
little avail. And when we remember that earnestness
is generally accompanied by energy and application,
we mu<t own it is a gift of higher value and of greater

2o Moral Training.

worth, even when united to common endowments,
than great genius unaccompanied by earnestness and
devotedness.

Earnestness is a great help to perseverance, and it
fosters enthusiasm— that quiet, gentle enthusiasm
which arises from the spirit of sincerity and ardour,
co-existing with a high appreciation of what is good,
generous, and noble. It also confers upon us that
great and wonderful gift, singleness of purpose, or
unity of aim, which is able to effect so much. We
find men with ordinary intellects mastering hard
studies and accomplishing difficult work when they
concentrate their powers and apply their minds stead
fastly to some special subject, and keep to it perse-
veringly until it is understood. Their application to
some specialty or particular study will be no hin
drance to their learning other matters also, for in
pursuing one subject thoroughly they must gain much
general knowledge, and their habits of attention,
earnestness, and conscientious labour will make all
further study more easy to them.

It is well to bear in mind that discouragement is
the enemy of earnestness, and we should avoid
dealing in it if we look to the improvement of others
Encouragement is not only useful, but necessary, for
our progress in all manual work. In this sort of
work we may easily be disheartened and discouraged,
because others readily discern our defects, and WL

Instruction. 2 1

ran see so plainly ourselves when we fail, or how
slowly we improve. This is not so much the case
with mental acquirements, as we cannot so easily
gauge the shallowness of our own minds, or sound
the depths of mind in others. Hence it is harder
to ascertain our true state, the amount of proficiency
we may have attained to, or the lack of knowledge
we labour under. Although we may, particularly
when young, make mistakes in our own favour from
taking wrong views and using false tests, still dis
couragement will not cure such blunders. Our daily
faults and failings are more likely to show us the
truth, and our experience in the battle of life will
more surely do it.

It is a great mistake to think that children and
young people learn from those only appointed to
teach them. They learn much, and acquire know
ledge more willingly, from their play-fellows and
school companions. We find their tone of mind
strongly affected and their views of life shaped by
their early associates. Now earnestness of character
and manner on the part of those who have to instruct
others is one of the best reasons for preventing and
counteracting anything injurious that might come to
them in this way. For it gives instructors much
personal influence, because an earnest spirit is attrac
tive, infectious, and diffusive, and invites a willing
obedience. It enables its possessors to teach well and

22 Moral Training.

impressively, inducing them to seek out the method
best suited for every case. The character of each
child is trained and studied and his disposition care
fully considered, so that it may be governed wisely
and worthily directed.

CHAPTER III.
EXAMPLE.

THERE is an abiding power in example which is as
persuasive as it is undying. It is our first teacher
and earliest guide ; whatever we have learned we
have acquired in a great degree through the means
or through the influence of example, and what we
have acquired in this way we have mastered more
thoroughly, and with the greater ease and pleasure.

Now everything we learn leaves its own mark on
the mind, alters its previous condition in some
measure, and helps to form our character and to
mould our manners and disposition ; so example,
and especially early example, possesses a mighty
and prevailing power in shaping our lives, and in
shading and colouring our existence.

In a general way we admit this easily enough, when
we think only of its effect in leading others ; yet if
we question ourselves we shall find that we are often
sceptical as to its power over ourselves, and that
many of us are incredulous also as to the influence
our own example may have on others. We do not
realize that it can have a good or a bad eflect on

-4 Mo ml '1 'mining.

any one. The good effect we may have reason to
doubt, and on the bad effect we do not like to
reflect. We think, and console ourselves by think
ing, that those who are placed under us have
no business to imitate us, or learn anything from
us except what we wish to teach them. We forget
that our words and acts operate on others even
against our will, and that all our actions and all
the words we utter are borne in memory and live
in the minds of some of those who witnessed or
heard them, and may have led to their repetition
again and again. It is appalling to think how an
erroneous opinion, a rash judgment, an uncharitable
remark, may be perpetuated, and how it may grow
and increase in evil until it meets us at our final
doom.

We cannot well exaggerate the dire consequences
of bad example, as all our faulty words and acts
leave their own records, carry their own results, and
make an impress on the soul in some special manner
that affects its condition, probably even for eternity.
Still, some may adopt extreme views and overrate
their obligation to give good example, and their
attempts in this way are often overstrained, and
generally do much harm to those intrusted to their
care. For when they are beset with this anxiety
and haunted with this idea, they are apt to say and
to do many things, both forced and uncalled for,

Extimple. 25

merely for effect, and to impress their good example
on others. This practice is injurious ; it makes them
appear weak and false, and renders their instructions
useless. Young people discern quickly that such
things were said and done for display, merely because
of their presence. So their faith and confidence may
be sorely shaken in all that has been taught them,
or may be taught them in future, even in all that
is good and sacred. Simple and trusting souls suffer
much in discovering ignoble faults in those they
believed perfect and looked up to with respect. This
is especially the case in those whose faults betray a
want of sincerity and uprightness, and reveal that
they were unreal in the part they played, and untrue
in the character they assumed. A sad discovery of
this kind, made even in early youth, has often em
bittered a man's life, and overshadowed his days
with a feeling of disappointment and a dread of
meeting with further deception. We must be true
and act truly, if we want to teach truth, "for men
do not gather figs from thorns or grapes from
thistles ".

Father Faber, speaking on this subject, tells us
"we must never do anything in order to edify others,
for the express purpose of edifying. We must take
great pains not to disedify, but it would be very
dangerous to take great pains to edify ; the two
things are very different"

26 Moral Training.

Good example, of which I speak, is always
beneficial, but it increases in worth and efficacy,
as it is accompanied by true moral influence, arising
from the full faith and trust we have in those
who exhibit it. When these are strong the power
of example is active and inspiring. We usually
find such personal influence in men of firm, fear
less, and decided characters, who have good and
laudable ends in view. Those who have true and
clearly defined principles, and who act on them
faithfully, will always have influence with others, who
will readily adopt their ideas and opinions and follow
their example, not at first through love or liking, but
from implicit faith in their honesty, and a strong
conviction and reliance on their fidelity and truth.

Those in authority will find their own example
to be the most effective means within their reach,
not only for the preservation of good order and the
observance of duty amongst those whom they control,
but also for the inculcation of the practice of honour
and probity. Their position gives their conduct a
great deal of controlling and guiding force. This is
apparent in well-ordered families, schools, and train
ing institutions, where the opinions and convictions
of the heads or rulers have been carefully formedr
clearly understood, and firmly impressed. Those
placed under them carry out their injunctions, adopt
their views, and imitate their mode of acting. It

Example. 27

is well that it should be so, for then their spirit
and tone of mind pervades the whole establishment,
and governs, while they remain quiescent, though
always on the watch-tower. Almighty God Himself
seems to prefer ruling the world in this wise. He
likes to lead us on freely and unconstrained, and
to draw us to Himself voluntarily, by the adoption of
His will and the influence of His grace.

If the controlling power of those who hold the
first place in households and institutions is not felt,
and if it is not exerted in the right way by the
right person, the task of governing will become a
failure.

CHAPTER IV.

DISCIPLINE OBSERVED AND MAINTAINED.

DISCIPLINE supposes, in the first place, the recognition
of just authority, with due submission to higher
powers; secondly, diligent and efficient training in
all things that it behoves us to know and that
obedience may demand of us to execute ; and,
thirdly, the habit of self-control and the practice of
self-renunciation in the fulfilment of duty.

A few moments of reflection will show us what
constitutes military discipline, and that it consists of
these three things. We know very well what is meant
by a well-disciplined army. We know that it must
be entirely obedient and completely submissive to
the field-marshal or the general who commands
it, who has been appointed by royal authority.
AVhether he orders certain rules of action to be
observed and carried out, or the enemy to be held
in check or contended against, he is instantly obeyed.
The slightest indication of his will is noted and
followed with the greatest promptitude and precision.
Besides all this, every man in the army has been
previously and carefully drilled, and thoroughly

Discipline observed and maintained. 29

practised in all that is necessary for him to know,
or that may be required of him. So when the word
of command is given he acts at once. He knows
what to do and hosv to do it ; he does it faithfully
without consulting his own wishes, and regardless of
his own inclinations.

Moral discipline has the same influence and pro
duces the same effect. It is ordained by. and holds
its commission from the Lord of Heaven and earth.
It first recognizes and submits to the Supreme Power
of God, Whose laws are written in our hearts and
minds. Our consciences receive His commands
and urge us, in spite of all contrary desires, to carry
out His will. When conscience is rightly formed it
becomes a central executive authority in the soul by
which our faculties are governed. All that is good
and right is approved and ordered, and all that is
wrong is forbidden by it. In this way our actions
are guided, not by self-will, but are performed,
restrained, and corrected by the authority and through
the dictates of a right conscience, directed and
enlightened by God and faithful to His grace.

Moral discipline is not easily acquired ; the drill is
hard and difficult to nature, and the apprenticeship
is continuous and life-long. We have to learn the
proper exercise of our intellect, to direct our affec
tions, to control our senses, and to subdue and over
come our passions ; and this not only on great and

3O Moral Training.

important occasions, but still more frequently in
matters apparently of little moment.

As a general rule no man falls from the state of
high perfection and the enjoyment of God's friend
ship all at once and directly into mortal sin. We
believe he usually fails gradually in " small things,"
committing slight faults one after another, and so
he descends, "by little and little," into the gulf of
iniquity. May we not also expect to find the same
rule apply to our growth in perfection ? Is it not
by small acts of self-denial we advance — by looking
first to the good of others, by controlling all expres
sion of impatience and ill-temper, by bearing incon
venient and annoyance cheerfully, by enduring pain
silently and calmly, and by labouring earnestly and
generously at the work God has given us to do — is
it not by these and such-like acts we may hope to
make progress in perfection.

Though we may begin the practice of self disci
pline with the slightest exercise of self-control and
the most trivial acts of self-denial, still, if we only go
on and persevere, God will assuredly give us in time
more strength, greater gifts, and higher graces. When
we reflect on the glory and triumph of the martyrs
we are apt to think they secured their eternal heritage
in some cases very swiftly, if not easily, when one
stroke of the axe purchased their palm for ever.
Probably we overlook the truth in many instances,

Discipline ol served and maintained. j 1

and are ignorant of the real histories of such cases.
We may justly believe that the last and heroic act of
charity was a grace bestowed and a reward conferred
for a previous life of self-sacrifice, through which
the cross was taken up daily, borne manfully, and
Carried generously after our Blessed Lord, though
unobserved by others.

We shall at once recognize and acknowledge the
power of discipline, if we consider and admit the
strength of habit, which of itself can control the soul
of man and conquer his will, for it is not merely a
"second nature," but often is far stronger than nature.
Moral discipline is the growth of habit, it is the result
and consequence of repeated acts of different virtues,
and as we take up and practise each of them faith
fully we advance to the perfection of disci pline. As
the railway facilitates and secures the safe progress
of the steam-engine, so discipline guards and guides
each act of virtue, and directs it to the right end.

Self discipline affects in a marked way our temper
and manner, and also affects the method of rule
or government of those in authority ; for whatever
control we exercise over ourselves in subduing our
passions, in restraining and regulating our senses
and inclinations, the same amount we may hope to
exercise over those under our charge. Experience
especially teaches us the value of self-command and
equanimity of manner, lor we are apt when first

32 Moral Training.

placed over others to think it wise and even neces
sary to assume a stern and repulsive bearing, partly
in imitation of those who trained and taught ourselves,
and partly from the dread of not being able to master
those committed to our care.

When we have habituated ourselves to such a
manner, and when it is engrafted on our natural
im'periousness and irascibility, it is likely to become
a moral defect for life ; and this all the more readily
as we scarcely consider it faulty.

We fancy we put it on for duty sake, forgetting
that no one ever cultivates a vice without possessing
it from nature. We do not see the harm it inflicts
upon our character and the injury it does in spoiling
the best part of our work.

The young and the ignorant are very quick in seeing
the faults of those placed over them, for they expect
of them almost superhuman perfection, and when we
think ourselves only zealous for the progress of others,
or for the maintenance of good order, they deem us
severe and ill-tempered, and as this conviction gains
ground, those under our care lose their esteem for and
confidence in us, consequently our labour for their
improvement becomes in a great degree fruitless.

We may subdue and control our dependants by
severity, and govern them through fear, but
coercion alone is not discipline, and it does but
very little towards forming the mind. Its operation

Discipline observed and maintained. 35

is evil towards influencing the heart, which is nearly
sure to rebel under undue restraint, and the direful
reaction that takes phce when that restraint is re
moved is likely to draw off the soul from the good
which has been inculcated, and even to throw it into
the path of false liberty and indulgence. This course
is adopted by way of compensation for past rigour
unwisely imposed and unwillingly borne.

It is well to ponder on the might and strength of
the Omnipotent God, and then note how sparingly
He uses that power in the way of coercive chastise
ment, and how, when lie does so, it is by means
of secondary causes. This discloses to us the slight
value He sets on what is done through force and
by compulsion, and the desire He has that we should
serve Him through love, with free minds and willing
hearts, as God wishes to rule the world by charity,
and to unite all by its holy bonds.

This reveals to us the secret of maintaining true
discipline and the blessing to be derived from it
Discipline should be in accordance with reason,
justice, and benignity ; it should call forth a willing
service, with a cordial cooperation, and it should
possess the power and be imbued with the spirit of
union, which should bind together our hearts and
fill our minds with faith, trust, and mutual respect.
Everything that mars this union or injures it in any
way is a fault against discipline. Anything that
3

34 Moral Training.

shows suspicion or causes distrust, everything like
tale-bearing, espionage, or the detective system, is
ruinous to good government, it destroys mutual
reliance and confidence, and it is utterly fatal to
uprightness of character. If we watch and note
the method observed in the erection of a great edifice
we see the blocks of stone prepared for it, cut, and
squared, the angles chiselled and fitted together,
and placed one above the other. But all this is not
enough. The stones would soon fall out of their
places, the walls would give way and tumble down
if each stone was not embedded in mortar, and the
wall thoroughly cemented together into a firm con
crete mass. So it is that society is also formed and
built up, no matter how limited it may be, or how
fai ft may extend, or whether it be in the home
circle, in public life, or in the intercourse demanded
of us by the duties of our profession or calling. We
must all lean one on another, sustain each other and
be united to each other in Christian charity, which is
the source of all peace and happiness, and the
foundation of all order as it is of all fidelity and
forbearance.

Confidence arising from entire faith and trust is
to be dearly prized and carefully guarded. It works
wonders in the way of ruling and influencing, but
we must ever remember that it cannot be forced,
that it is easily checked, and when once broken or

Discipline observed and maintained.

lost is seldom repaired or recovered. Those who
trust most, may suffer more from others, but still they
enjoy greater peace of mind, and so are amply com
pensated. They possess a larger share of happiness
because they are ever actuated by motives and prin
ciples which conscience dictates and enforces. To
he trusted is just one of the most important points
for those who govern, and they will be trusted if they
are faithful to truth and firm in principle — true
without prejudices or partialities, firm without harsh
ness or severity— not, remember, for the sake of
being liked and of making themselves popular, but
for the sake of truth and justice, and for the bene
ficent effect these virtues have not only on their own
hearts but upon those of others. I believe it is far
better to be trusted than loved by those committed
to our care. The feeling is more lasting, and likely
to be more generally felt, consequently more universal
in its effects. It gives greater liberty of action, and
is more profitable for all parties. Parents sometimes
seek to be loved at any cost. They forget that the
child loves most and loves longest those whom he
looks uj) to with trust and reverence.

To try to please for the sake of being popular is
nearly as bad as to show an ill-tempered or
repulsive demeanour, and it is more injurious to those
who govern, as it undermines their influence and
authority. The desire for popularity is quickly dis-

36 Moral Training.

cerned by those who are under us, and they are apt
to meet it with a large amount of flattery. Having
laid ourselves out for it, and having sought for it, we
cannot well reject it when offered. Hut once we
invite it and receive it willingly and gladly, when
once our weakness on this point is clearly ascertained,
our moral influence and power of control are at an
end. Our places are changed, and our positions
are reversed. Those who should be subjects become
rulers, and reward or punish us by giving or with
holding their praise and approbation. As the case
grows worse we have to go down more and more
into bondage ; having sold our liberty they have a
strong hold upon us, and we are at their mercy. We
must continue to please them or they will be dis
satisfied, and will reproach us. No matter what we
do in future to meet their wishes or to gratify them,
it will be taken as a right. They have paid for it,
and though we are paid in base coin, still it was the
price we were willing to accept.

Some may think it prudent to conciliate at first
those placed under their care, fancying if they
succeed in making themselves favourites, they can
rule more easily. No one in authority can ever really
know whether he is liked or not, or to what extent he
is popular. And what he does to become so may
have just the opposite effect. The less concerned he
is about this matter, and the less he allows such

Discipline observed and maintained. 37

a thought to rest in his mind the better, the better for
his own honesty and the honesty of those around
him.

The best tiling, and the great thing, is to try
for the sake of charity to act kindly, to think well,
and believe the best of everybody, and in all
doubtful cases to suspend the judgment and refrain
from forming opinions. There is a general agreement
that it is better to be deceived than to suspect, but
I am inclined to go farther. I think it better not
to know all the faults and shortcomings of those
placet! under us, and thus to afford them opportunity
to right themselves, and to give them time to gain
heart and courage to recover and redeem their posi.
tion. They would probably despair of doing so, and
make but faint efforts to improve, if they thought they
had entirely forfeited our good opinion, and that
we had noted down all their errors and registered
al! their mistakes. Many will not agree to this ;
there are persons who think that they ought to know
cTcrvthing regarding those under their care, and
that all will go wrong if they do not inquire and
investigate every particular about them. Of course
we should take care to prevent the smallest evil,
and if we have reason for believing harm has
been done, we should take care to prevent its
recurrence, and correct bravely and fearlessly the
faults we know to have been committed. But

3 8 Moral Training.

not unfrequently close investigations do more real
injury than the fault itseli". Suppose it has been
proved in this way that a youth has done some
thing wrong, will the accusation and imputation
of this fault hinder him from committing it again ?
I fear not. On the contrary, once he has been
branded with it, and has lost his self-respect
and the respect of others, it will be harder to
cure him of it, and more difficult to prevent
him from falling into other errors. It is not
unusual for youths to say when warned against
some fault which they frequently commit : " My
father knows I do it," or " My parents are aware
I have this habit," consequently, and for that reason,
they make no effort to overcome it. They see that
it is not alone that the worst is known of them, but
the worst is thought of them, so they do not strive
to improve, as their higher aspirations are destroyed
and dispelled. Their spirit of emulation fades away
with their good name, and hope of future amendment
becomes faint.

We cannot be ignorant that besides our deliberate
acts, both good and evil, we perform many which are
indeliberate or half deliberate every day, and of the
merit or demerit of these it is not possible for us
to form anything like an exact judgment. If we
cannot do so with regard to our own acts, is it
not often beyond our power to judge correctly those

Discipline observed and maintained. 39

of others? And yet it is on such points we are
likely to make investigations, and that we think it
wise and just to prove them beyond a doubt, and
to impress them with the mark of certainty. In this
way many an innocent child is found guilty of
misconduct, made acquainted with guilt, and mayhap
led into it for life.

In saying this I do not mean to approve of
the plan of shutting our eyes, and pretending not
to see faults committed before us. This would
be miserably untruthful, and give the idea that we
are cunning and cowardly, and set the example of
dissimulation. I believe that errors should be met
promptly, and the plain truth spoken to those in
fault, but it should be guided by the sweetest charity,
including ardent hope. Everything like exaggeration
or want of accuracy should be carefully avoided,
and everything like contempt or anything even
bordering on it should be shunned completely, as
its effect is injurious, often rankles, is of no use for
correction, and is seldom forgotten.

There is one method of reproof that I have
no faith in, and I question if it could benefit any one:
I mean the system of correcting by means of unjust
criticism and undeserved condemnation, and depre
ciating whatever those under our (are do best and
most excel in. This is done to prevent them from
(>eing self-complacent, and to hinder them from

4-O Moral Trainin

o •

taking pride in their gifts and merits. It is more
than doubtful that such devices can have this
effect, they are disregarded as they are not true—
they are likely to produce results opposite to
those designed. Such remarks induce the objects
of them to debate, and canvass the matter objected
to in their own minds, and to fix their atten
tion on the points that tell most in their own
favour, so they easily pass sentence in approval
of themselves, and to their own advantage. The
more unjust and uncalled for such reproofs appear
to be, the more injury they are apt to inflict on mind
and heart, as then they are likely to beget more
pride and self-appreciation. But when our real
defects are truly and honestly pointed out to us, we
generally see and acknowledge them more readily,
and self-love more easily gives way.

Truth alone can teach humility, and it possesses
a power that is sure to overcome any difficulty, we
may have to contend with in influencing and govern
ing others. It is the source of happiness and reliance
to the just and upright, to whom it imparts strength,
it adds force to the weak, and overcomes the wily.
Everything like deceit or cunning comes from some
mental or moral defect. There is some weak
ness or darkness in the mind that incapacitates it
from observing and keeping the path of rectitude.
Any evil or ill-regulated desire, any unrestrained

Discipline observed and maintained. 41

passion, any undue fear of a threatening disaster,
[Assesses a stronger motive power, and can draw
the mind away from the right course into all that
is false and insincere when it is wavering and untrue
to principle and faithless to grace. It is generally
found that if a mind is given to disguise and dis
sembling, the weaker it is, the more wily the character
is likely to become. The best way to deal with such
a mi ml in order to reform it, is to meet it with
the utmost ingenuousness and integrity, and to act
invariably with candour, straightforwardness, and
plain common sense. It would be worse than folly
to try to overcome cunning by cunning. We should
most surely fail in the attempt, and should certainly
deserve to fail.

In governing others there are two points we should
guard against— first, we must avoid making iron
rules, which some persons, when first intrusted with
responsibility, think it wise to draw up, and after
wards find them a serious impediment. They have
not tested those rules by making sufficient trial of
them, they frame them too rapidly, without consider
ing or anticipating the probable variety of cases they
may have to deal with. Such rules will not work and
cannot work, because they are not accepted accord
ing to circumstances, and rather than make them do
so, or alter them in the least, their authors will
sacrifice the peace and well-being of those they

42 Moral Training.

govern. This comes in a great measure from having
drawn up the rules before studying and making sure
of the principles on which they are to act. True
principles never need be changed, and never should
be changed ; they suit all states and circumstances.
A rule should always emanate from a principle, and
unless it does, it must prove a hindrance even to
those who drew it up.

Secondly, we should be careful not to impose a
great number of small and exacting regulations. They
may seem very good and wise, and look very well
on paper, but they will most likely be found an irk
some and unnecessary burden to those who have
to carry them out. They are also likely to draw
off the attention from the main business in hand,
which should be kept foremost in view. Besides, if
we consider the peace and happiness of those com
mitted to our care, we should avoid being over-
exacting about our own peculiar whims, and being
crotchetty about useless trifles. There is scarcely
anything that makes people more disliked, or that
is so apt to evoke the spirit of rebellion, for it takes
the appearance of petty tyranny.

Of course all things should be done thoroughly
well, and one of the best ways of getting them done
in this manner is by putting as much responsibility
on every one as is due to him, and as he has
a right to bear, at the same time giving him all

Discipline observed and maintained. 43

the aid that is necessary, and all the help he
requires.

\\e must ever hear in mind that although two
persons may perform some action equally well, yet
no two persons will set about doing it precisely
in the same way, as there are no two dispositions
exactly similar. So we must make allowances, and
give each the scope and room he specially requires,
or the light and support that is needful if we wish
the work to be done, not only well, but happily
and heartily.

Those in authority have to guard against another
defect just opposite to over-rigidness, and one we
are not unlikely to fall into through indolence and
carelessness, or through a false confidence in our
own power and position. It is allowing the weak
to rule us by giving them too much dominion. This
originates in a feeling of pity for their weakness and
an unwillingness to contend with them. So we give
them their own way, until they will not bear to be
opposed in anything, and we allow them to rule us
in little things, until at last we find ourselves in a
kind of thraldom which we must break through
resolutely, and at the cost of much pain, to obtain
our release and freedom of action. It is as irritating
as it is surprising to find that what was endured for
the sake of peace or charity, and suffered through
kindness, and perhaps through a half conscious wish

44 Moral Training.

to practise submission and patience, should bring so
much trouble and annoyance. But we must expect
to find the rule of the weak heavier and more
stringent than that of the strong, and that the
strong are weakest when contending with the weak.
One of the most necessary gifts for those invested
with authority is a keen sense of responsibility. I
do not at all mean a cowardly shrinking and drawing
back from the duties imposed on us by God, but
the accepting of those duties as His agents, and
in a spirit of dependence, regarding ourselves in
the fulfilment of them as the servants and labourers
of Him to Whom we must submit our work, and
give an account of our stewardship.

The ever-present consciousness that we are answer
able for the amount of authority confided to us, and
the way in which we have exercised it, and that we
shall be obliged to give evidence against ourselves
with regard to our bearing towards others, even in
the smallest matters. All this prevents us not only
from being despotic or arbitrary, but also protects us
against our own weakness, waywardness, and caprice.

Those placed over others would do well to be
careful, and not to express their ideas thoughtlessly, or
to communicate their half-formed opinions too freely,
for the words of persons in authority are nearly
always quoted, sometimes inaccurately, and often
with wrong emphasis. This is most painful, and

Discipline observed and maintained 43

occasions much mental suffering, and often produces
a strong feeling of isolation and estrangement. But
all this may do us good in many ways. It may detach
us from the things of this world, and incline us to
recollection and prayer, it induces us to turn to
God, and to place our trust in Him. It teaches
us reserve, which comes from the remembrance of
having been misinterpreted already, and the doubt
of being misunderstood in future, it draws us into
the habit of silence, that leads to peace and much
interior happiness, and gives us unwittingly a strange
and controlling power over others.

CHAPTER V.

LIFE, INTERIOR AND EXTERIOR.
LIFE is a wonderful gift from God, one for which we
owe Him eternal praise and thanksgiving. Vet the
grace to use this gift rightly is a still higher favour
and greater blessing even than life itself. For we
learn from our Divine Lord's words, that it would be
better never to have been born, than to misuse this
great boon, or turn it to a wrong account. It is.
therefore, a matter to us of the most serious concern
to reflect and examine how we have spent the time
God has given to us, and for what end we have
lived.

That there is a special meaning and object in the
life of each one of us — that God had a Divine purpose
in calling us into existence. We cannot doubt that
it is our duty to serve Him, to serve " Him only, "
and 1hat in the way He has marked out for each
of us.

The study of human life is full of the deepest
interest, whether we consider in it the gift of immor
tality, that wonderful capacity, or endowment, by
which God has granted to our souls a never-ending

Life, interior and exterior. 47

life, the power of living everlastingly, happy, pos
sessing Him, and possessing Him eternally, or
whether we consider it merely as the span of our
existence, which has been given to us that we may
gain that eternal life by a faithful and willing service
in this world.

As we are formed of two natures, we live, as it
were, two lives — one sensuous and exterior, the other
spiritual and interior ; though we abide in and greatly
appreciate the possession of both, still we usually
value one more than the other, and therefore more
especially cherish it and cultivate it. So one or the
other has the mastery, and rules our conduct, ac
cording as we are faithful or unfaithful to grace, and
as we obey or disobey the dictates of conscience.

The exterior life, which should be directed to God
and devoted to His glory, is itself a most instructive
subject for reflection, and one which brings before us
simple truths we are likely to overlook, just because
they are simple and common-place, and yet they
reveal much of God's ways towards us.

First we see before us the various and successive
phases of man's existence, and the duties to be
accomplished in each ; duties which, if negligently
done, or overlooked in one stage, are seldom over
taken or entirely repaired in the next, and still more
rarely at any late period. Each phase of life has its
own special work, and has its ov n special difficulties.

48 Moral Training.

Hurtful as it is to be dilatory and procrastinating,
still we must be careful to avoid being over eager in
anticipating what has to be done, for order, " Heaven's
first law," should always be observed.

As we reflect on the different states and conditions
of human existence, the discovery that strikes us with
most surprise is the limited nature of our bodily
powers, and the fewness of our days of physical
labour, in comparison with the continuous action and
ceaseless durability of the intellectual and spiritual
life. We are amazed to find our hours of toil and
servile work are much shorter than we imagined, and
that the time we spend in this way, no matter how
hard we may labour, and though we may devote to it
our best years from youth to age, still scarcely
amounts to one-sixth of our earthly existence. For
instance, if we look through the life of a good, intelli
gent, hard-working man, who has lived three score
years, we find he has given over twenty years to sleep,
nearly twenty years to childhood, school, training
and apprenticeship, and that he has given ten
years at most to his laborious employment. To do
this he must have devoted eight hours a day to it
for forty years. From this calculation \ve must deduct
Sundays and festivals and allow, say, ten days
each year to health and recreation. These facts,
though they teach us how carefully and faithfully
we should utilize our corporal energies, point out

Life, into- ior and exterior. 49

more forcibly the supereminence of the intellectual
and spiritual life, and the importance it is to us
that they should be duly cultivated and directed, for
they rule and guide our bodily powers, concurring
and co-existing with all our actions of mind and body,
conferring upon them their worth and value, even
rendering our hours of rest meritorious.

The time of childhood and the season of growth
seem at first sight disproportionately long, considering
the usual tenure of human existence; but when we
remember what they do for us, or at least, what God
intends them to do, we recognize His Divine Provi
dence, we discover in this His decree, as in all His
ordinances, one of goodness and mercy. Childhood
and youth are the most important period of our
lives ; they are the seed time, the appointed time
for planting and pruning. Whatever our life has
been, and whatever it shall be to the end, whethei
filled with all that is frivolous and worthless, or with
all that is good and generous, the seeds have been
sown in childhood. If we look back to that time,
and recall to mind what influenced us most, even
in passing events and trifling circumstances, we shall
find that our characters were then drawn out, and our
dispositions moulded firmly. There are some qualities
and characteristics which, if not secured in early
youth, are rarely acquired in after life unless with
much effort ami difficulty, such as forget fill ness of
4

SO Moral Training.

self, a strong appreciation of justice and honour,
and decision of character.

Even as very little children we learn lessons in life ;
as we grow in years we grow in experience, and as we
advance our character gets more pronounced and
matured, still it clings to its first outline, and is true
to its early impressions. If we had anything like a
clear remembrance of ourselves when we were very
young, and anything like a true knowledge of our
selves as we stand at present, we should easily discern
a marked resemblance in tendency and disposition
between the boy and the man. But unfortunately, we
are generally thoughtless when we are children, and
seldom note or observe ourselves at any stage of life,
and rarely know ourselves in youth or age ; so we live
on haphazard and in the dark.

While reflecting on this subject, it occurred to me
that it might be a useful experiment, and one likely
to help us to discern and interpret character, and also
to test the truth of the theory, that early impressions
affect the whole conduct of life, if a good intelligent
mother would note down, clearly and conscientiously,
what she observed in her child from the age of three
to the age of nine years, indicating and exhibiting his
disposition and temper, his feelings and opinions,
habits and tastes, and the circumstances which called
them out. If the mother sealed and put aside a
paper so prepared for about ihirtv years, and then

Life, interior and exterior. 5 i

allowed it to come into her son's hands unaltered,
would he not find in it a key to his past life, his
failures and successes, his habits of mind and body,
would he not make the discovery all the more clearly
if he were a thoughtful, truth-loving man ?

I have selected middle age for this experiment, for
it is more than likely that any revelation of the kind,
presented earlier, would be slighted, or have little or
no effect on his future conduct. For the period of
life between youth and middle age is but too generally
engrossed by external objects. We live outside our
selves, and expend ourselves in the imitation, and
sustain ourselves on the estimation of others, and are
occupied with all that is exterior and ostensible.

But when we come to the meridian of life, we
become more reflective, somewhat like a traveller
who find himself on the summit of the hill, which he
has reached with a great expenditure of time and toil.
He stops and looks around him, and on the road he
followed, before he pursues the uncertain and indis
tinct path that winds down the opposite side.

The interior life is the department of our existence
which is most overlooked and neglected ; never
theless, this unexplored region exists, although its
importance is rarely realized or admitted. It holds
whatever portion of happiness and peace we possess,
and guards and preserves them, for if peace and
happiness are not found in our inmost souls, we are

52 Moral Training.

destitute of the"m entirely, no matter how we may
appear externally to enjoy them.

This inner life is the life we live in our own
heart — at home with our own thoughts — occupied
with our hopes and desires. Whatever we like best
and value most, at every season of our existence, we
hoard up here for the time, and hold discussion with
ourselves about it. It is here we foster our wishes,
and mature our intentions, and above all, it is here we
converse with our own souls. The subjects we enter
tain, and the thoughts that occupy us, reveal to us
what we are, and the end and object we have in life,
and they also manifest to us our repugnances, tastes,
and inclinations. In the inner life alone can we learn
what we really are, or acquire anything like self-
knowledge, or observe correctly the faults and weak
nesses of our character ; but to do this successfully
we must " watch and pray ".

As every human existence is twofold, there are as
many varieties and diversities in the interior life as in
the exterior. There are no two souls alike, nor two
minds identical. Therefore, to form a fair judgment
of what these lives are, and the difference that exists
between them, we shall class them under three heads,
the inner life of the wicked, the natural life, and the
supernatural life. Our interior life, whatever it may
be, is our real life ; it is the store-house of our affec
tions, and the centre and source of our thoughts and

Life, interior and exterior. 53

desires. These thoughts and desires are the acts of
our interior life, they combine to form and move the
will, and the will produces the outward development
and the overt deed. And in this way our external
or material life, is shaped and fashioned in the
interior, and it is either good or bad, perfect or
imperfect, as our interior life happens to be.

From the simplicity of the life of the just, there is
not generally speaking the marked difference between
this inner and outward life as there is in the life of
the wicked. The two-fold life of the wicked not
unfrequently appears to divide into two distinct lives,
in which the exterior and interior differ so widely as
to contradict and disclaim each other, and to seem to
pursue opposite ends. For there is no one whose
outward life is such a contradiction to his inner life as
the man who is mastered by some unjust and evil
disposition, or overcome by some unworthy passion,
while trying to appear at the same time upright and
honourable, and to pass for a good man to all his
acquaintances. Such a man does all he can to con
ceal the evil that is in his soul, and that has taken
root in his heart. His greatest care and constant effort
is to seem what he is not, he is a " whited sepulchre,"
his words misrepresent his thoughts, and his life is a
living lie, without peace or order. Human respect
and the opinion of the world alone have any power
over him ; his reason and conscience, unaided by

54 Moral Training,

God's grace, are unable to restrain and guide him —
they are over-ruled or blinded by passion and un-
mortified inclinations and temper. While he tries to
persuade himself that he is happy and enjoying his
liberty, he is a miserable slave to some evil habit,
enchained by some wretched propensity, his heart
is not only devoid of all true joy and peace, but
filled with vexation and bitterness. As he advances
in years, unless prevented by some great grace,
he will grow in duplicity, and become more
and more discontented, morose, cynical, and un
happy.

There is not the same contradiction or dissimu
lation in the life that is merely natural. The man
who leads this kind of life, if he has earnestness, is
animated by some strong and special desire, which
supplies the principal aim and motive of all his
actions ; this may be the care of his family, his own
advancement in the world, or his success in some
literary or scientific pursuit. When we see him
engrossed with this, his favourite object, either
actively engaged about it, or in silent communings
with his own mind, and when we look at him again,
in society, or in his own home, surrounded by his
friends, we could almost persuade ourselves he can
not be the same person, he seems so different in the
two characters. Yet he is a sincere and straight
forward man, one in whom there is no deception, for

Life, interior and exterior. 55

his outer life does not contradict his inner life, hut is
directed and controlled by it.

lie may be prosperous and successful in his under
takings, he may have a good deal of natural enjoy
ment, while he is hale and strong, and so long as
suffering and affliction keep aloof from him. But
when their hour comes, when he has to struggle with
grief and anguish, he finds he has mistaken his path
and has striven for an unworthy prize. He has
trusted his happiness to, and anchored his heart in,
creatures, and he has let his earthly possessions
absorb his hopes. These, of their own nature, are
incapable of fulfilling his trust in them — they must
fail him in the end, but many of them will, of their
own accord, fail him long before the end comes, and
cause him pain and deep sorrow. In vain he asks
help from human wisdom, or comfort from human
counsel ; it is from God alone that can come strength
to uphold him, or love and mercy to sustain and
console him. He has deceived himself, leaning on
the arm of flesh, and resting confidently in his own
powers, but even these forsake and desert him, and
fade away in a few years also, and then he discovers
that his life has been a failure.

The supernatural life is simply that led by the
Christian, and the only true interior life ; every other
kind of inner life is death, or leads to death eternal.
This true interior life brings with it, and confers on

5 6 Moral Training.

us the gift of wisdom — that wisdom which discerns
the value of everything, and estimates all things at
their real worth. It teaches us the right knowledge,
and gives us a high and just appreciation of God. as
the beginning and the end of all things, the Creator
and Preserver of all creatures, and the Eternal and
Omnipotent^-full of love and mercy. When God
gets His true place in the heart, and rules the soul,
then all things else on this earth are comparatively
valueless, or valued rightly, and are placed in the
position they ought to hold in our hearts before Him.

This interior life brings peace and calmness of
mind and joy of spirit. When the heart seeking
God sincerely, and above all things created, is
cleansed from past sin by true repentance, and has
sins of to-day warded off by prayer and vigilance,
when it only wishes for what God wills, and only
desires what He ordains, then the love of God
takes possession of it, and it gives itself entirely to
Him. And as the soul loves Him, it becomes united
to Him, and so begins to live the true interior life,
which leads to a happiness the highest to be found
on earth, which will never desert us, never disappoint
us, so long as we are faithful.

As the soul grows in this love, she has continually
with her the remembrance of God and walks in His
presence, holding personal converse with Him and
silent communings, consulting Him first in all matters

A//t*, interior and exterior. 57

and waiting on Him in peace to know Mis will, and
then carries it out before Him and under His
eyes, for His sake and for His greater honour and
glory.

We all lead an inner life of one kind or another,
and it would be well for us to examine and consider
what sort of an interior life we are leading, and what
we would wish to have led at the hour of death, and
to try and follow that life now.

There is a peculiarity about the inner life that it
is well to note, and one we cannot fail to observe
if we study the subject, and that is, its dislike to
inspection and scrutiny. Though the inner life
differs widely, in different persons, and though it
changes with each character, and varies with every
disposition, still it displays this one trait almost
invariably, or renounces it with difficulty and most
unwillingly. This propensity in the inner life to
remain unknown and unnoticed amounts in general
to a feeling of dread and abhorrence of all investiga
tion, and a strong regugnance to disclosure and dis
covery. This tendency is got over and conquered,
in a great degree, by a higher motive, to fulfil our
duty to God by the help of His grace. Still we
find ourselves very unwilling to go into this matter
further than we can help, or than conscience obliges.
There are corners and crannies in almost every heart
that the probe may never reach, and they may remain

58 Moral Training.

overlooked and unheeded for life. To watch over
the movements of the soul, and to keep a guard over
it, is disagreeable labour and arduous work, which
human nature is sure to shrink from and to avoid
as far as possible. If we are doubtful on this point,
we can easily convince ourselves of the truth by con
sidering what strangers we are to ourselves. How
very little we really know of our own minds and
character, or the hopes and aspirations we harbour
in our hearts; and are there not many wishes and
desires we are only half conscious that we entertain
at all? If we have been reticent with ourselves on
some points, on how many have we not kept silence
with those around us ? And how little they know
how, and with what subjects, we are engrossed, and
entertain ourselves in our own minds. And is it
not true that our most intimate friends and nearest
relations will live and die without having a true idea
of what we really are, or the kind of life we enjoy,
and the kind of life we suffer in our own souls ?

We do not observe this secrecy and disguise
through any spirit of artifice or deceit, but partly
through natural reserve, and partly through heed-
lessness and self-ignorance. We do not observe
ourselves, and we take no note of what passes in
our interior, unless we are under the influence of
strong feelings. These, even with our strongest efforts
at concealment, will assert themselves sooner or laterr

L ife, interior and exterior. 5 9

and they are sure to reveal themselves in our conduct.
But all these circumstances should only convince us
that we lead a twofold life, no matter how we may
discredit or disregard the fact, and that we are ruled
by one or the other, the natural or supernatural, the
exterior or interior.

CHAPTER VI.

UNSELFISHNESS.

I AM inclined to believe that if we do not acquire
the spirit of generosity and unselfishness very early
in childhood we seldom acquire it at all, at least
to that degree which amounts to forgetfulness of
self in our considerations for others. If we once
are self-absorbed, and have acquired the habit of
looking to self first on all occasions, of inquiring solely
what self likes and does not like, of seeing only to
one's own advantage or interest, and of overlooking
that of others ; if we once acquire this habit I
believe it is almost impossible to get rid of it,
except by that great and wonderful grace, the gift
of Divine charity, when the love of self is then con
sumed by the love of God. Nothing short of this
will cure thorough selfishness, not only that dire
and fatal form of the disease which makes us stop
short in self and look no further — to live in self
as our centre and last end, but even the milder
form of the malady of looking first to ourselves in
everything.

UnselfisJuiess. o I

We may know and feel convinced we have this
habit (which knowledge is a great grace), we may
contend against it, and try earnestly to overcome it,
in which there is much merit. As long as we
find ourselves unable to act unselfishly without a
conscious effort, it is clear the disease still lurks
within us. As the spirit of self-sacrifice is the
highest form of unselfishness, so a sure evidence
of selfishness, and one we can easily discern, is
the practice of indulging in self-commiseration for
any trouble and labour we may have to go through
in the service of our neighbour, to whom God
enables us to be of use, and for which we owe Him
deep gratitude.

It must be acknowledged that children in general
are naturally inclined to selfishness, and the way in
which many of them are brought up but too often
strengthens and confirms them in it. Parents and
nurses give too readily to the child whatever he
wishes, in the hope of winning his love, or merely
to keep him quiet. He soon knows his power and
uses it. He sees that it is by cries and constant
importunity he will most surely get what he wants,
lie is unconcerned as to the amount of trouble he
gives to those around him, as he finds by experience
that the greater it is the more likely he is to attain
his wishes. If he is reared in this way we cannot
be surprised to see him finally become more en-

62 Moral Training.

grossed with himself, and forgetful and inconsiderate
about others.

Yet children can easily be made ashamed of the
first symptoms of selfishness, arid they can even be
preserved from giving way to it, by being taught to
act generously even before they come to the use
of reason. They can be trained at first to bear
others in mind — to consider their wishes— to look
to their interest — to try and give pleasure to them,
arid then by degrees they can be led on and
encouraged to think of others before themselves,
and to act disinterestedly and nobly.

To accomplish this we must not allow them to
grow self-important or exacting, but keep them to
their true position, not only obedient to parents and
those placed over them, but yielding, unassuming,
and courteous to all with whom they associate.
Upon this much of their future happiness and
much of their enjoyment even in this world depends.
Very young children can be taught without any
difficulty to give way to others, to stop their games
and relinquish their places to grown-up people. And
when they see themselves and their playthings thus
put aside, it shows them they do not hold the first
place, and that others should be considered before
themselves. When they are a little older it is
easy to induce them, from time to time, to lay
down their books and put aside their occupations,

Unselfishness. 63

no matter how interesting, to play with their younger
brothers and sisters, and if they are sick or ailing,
to devote themselves to them, their comfort and
service, declining all amusement. They are con
scious that they are fulfilling a duty, and pleasing
those they love, in acting thus ; and this makes
them not only content but happy. Self is quickly
forgotten in the deep joy at finding they are of
use, and can be a comfort to those dearest to
them, and of service to their neighbour ; they
discover at the same time, that the true secret of
happiness consists, not in living for oneself, but
for others, and in the way God appoints for us.

To my mind an only child is much to be pitied,
particularly the only child of the wealthy and
worldly. The sympathies and generous feelings of
such children are not usually drawn out and exer
cised at a very early age. And they are but too
often brought up and impressed from infancy with
a sense of their own importance. They are trained
to think first of themselves and before all others,
which is apt to make them selfish for life, or at
least inconsiderate and inattentive to those around
them. When made aware of this failing and con
vinced of it, they will perhaps act and nobly and dis
interestedly on the next occurrence of temptation,
but it always costs them an effort to be kind or con
siderate in every matter unconnected with themselves.

^4 iMoral Training.

The children of the poor are taught unselfishness
in a hard, but good school, where they learn it truly
and thoroughly. The poor man's child knows and
fully understands, almost before he can speak, that
his father is the main-stay and prop of the house,
the support of the whole family, and that all they
have is procured by his daily labour. He is, there
fore, of the first importance to his family; his children,
especially, look up to him with grateful admiration
and loving reverence, for his days of hardship and long
hours of toil, gone through uncomplainingly and borne
cheerfully for them.

We must admit that strength of purpose and the
spirit of endurance, and even bodily prowess, are
all strongly appreciated by human beings of all
ages, but to the young they are peculiarly attractive
and inspiring, and lead to the desire of imitation.
The tiny child regards his father's constant labour
and unsparing exertion and drudgery with love and
wonder, and he is proud and happy in trying to
follow and imitate, as well as to help and comfort
him. He will gladly offer his father, and joyfully
give, anything he has, and exults when it is accepted
and his whole ambition is to be able to assist his
parents and to lighten their burden. No matter
how much petted and loved he may be, he never
puts himself first in his own thoughts — his parents
have the first place there, and they leave no room

f 'nseljishness. 65

for self in \\\<. heart, so he grows up forgetful of
himself and full of consideration for others.

If we observe children of all classes with regard
to their habits of generosity, either in association
with their school-fellows, or living in their homes,
surrounded by their relatives, we shall find, as a
general rule, that the children of the poorest (when
good and industrious) are always the most unselfish
and generous. They are ready to divide everything
they have, and they are pained and grieved if their
offer is declined. But poor parents are wiser than
rich ones in such matters, they take with pleasure
whatever the child presents to them even in infancy,
be the gift ever so insignificant, and so it becomes
.1 joy to the child to divide with them ; thus a generous
tendency is encouraged, and the habit grows. When we
call to mind how good the poor are to each other,
their generosity may well fill us with admiration, for
the charity they show each other is something mar
vellous, they give " not of their abundance," but
even of "their whole living".

It is grievous to think in how many ways the
workhouse interferes with and prevents the blessing
of home training, and the exercise and expression
of filial affection and sympathy, in poor families.
It habituates the poor inmates to the practice of
selfishness. The poor children there must look
to themselves, and they continue to do so. They
5

66 Moral Training.

try to get what is best, and seek themselves
as far as they can, and so grow callous and
indifferent about the feelings and wants of others.
They have no home ties or family duties, no one
to care for, and no one to care for them.

Boarding schools may have the same baneful
effect on the children of wealthier parents, unless
they are first carefully reared at home and unless
their natural affections are exercised and well
directed to those to whom they are due ; unless,
also, principles of generosity and disinterestedness
are inculcated, and early habits of self-abnegation
and devotedness to others acquired.

CHAPTER VII.

DECISION AND RESOLUTION.

DKCISION of character is acquired in childhood. It
not acquired then, it is to be feared it will never
become a firm habit of mind afterwards. We have
more opportunities of practising it while we are chil
dren than we have generally in after life. If we look
through our past years we shall find we made more
decisions while we were young, than we have made,
or were called on to make, throughout the rest of
our lives, and we shall also be amaxed to discover
how much of routine there generally is in the life
of middle age, and how little we have had of liberty
of action since we left youth behind us. We have
made one or two important decisions, and these have
chained us within a circle of duties, which we have
to go through each day and each year — duties which
\ve cannot alter or leave unperformed without being
imprudent or unfaithful.

Whereas in childhood there were many things left
to our decision, we had to select our games, whither
we should go, and what we should do during play-

68 Moral Training.

time, we had pleasant projects proposed to us, anti
gifts and rewards presented to us, and (within a
certain limit) liberty of choice was given to us about
many little things. But above all and before all, we
had our own plans and inventions to try and carry
out, silently and resolutely, for we had more time then
than we can now call our own.

I do not at all mean to say that we acquire decision
of character by getting everything we wish and by
being indulged. No, what I mean is that we must
get the habit of using the will promptly, and we
cannot get this habit unless we have something
real to exercise our decision on. It is clear
there can be no theorizing in the matter. A
good theory is an excellent thing to have, but it
will not of itself teach us decision. We may
be able to form opinions and judgments for
ourselves on many subjects by study and mental
application, but this is different from deciding. It
is not improbable that those who are able to take
various views, and see the subjects put before them
in different lights, are just the persons likely to
suffer most from indecision, unless they have
been trained in childhood to decide clearly and
promptly. It may be observed that the decisions
we make in childhood are of no importance, as
they are merely about trifles. I grant this, but
they were not trifles to us then, they appeared of

69

much consequence, and they called out and exercised
our derisiveness all the same.

When we enquire what decision of character is, we
find that it implies a firm will influenced and
animated by a well-formed judgment, trained and
habituated to active exercise and to prompt energetic
action. As bodily activity is attained by early train
ing in athletic and gymnastic games, and this training
consists in frequent practice, so something of the
same process is necessary for the creation of the
mental vigour that is required for the exercise of
decision. The mind must have, not only a certain
freedom of action, but it must be made to act,
even though the action may result in or be freighted
with some little difficulty.

It is an interesting and curious study to observe
children selecting their yearly premiums, or a large
family, young in years, getting their choice of some
little Christmas gifts. The eldest usually has the
first choice, and as he is often the favourite with
his parents, he knows he can easily obtain what he
wishes at any time ; he fancies it looks manly
to seem indifferent, so after looking over everything
carelessly, he ends in taking something that attracts
his eye at the moment, but is not of the least use
to him. If he adopts the habit of acting in this way
for some years, he is nearly sure to grow into an
undecided and irresolute man. All the while the

/o Moral Training.

mind of one of the younger boys is thoroughly
exercised, and he is growing into a different and
opposite character. He is aware that he is not the
favourite, and expects no preference, but he knows
what he wants, and why lie wants it. He lias made
his selection silently in his own mind shortly after
he entered the room, and as he expects to find
others of his way of thinking, he has little hope
of getting it. He waits anxiously for his turn to
come, when we see, by the direct and determined
way in which he walks up and takes the object he
has chosen, that his decision was firmly made before
hand. From the caprice and indecision of his
companions, it is more than likely he may get even
the first prize he selected. He has learned the
value of knowing his own mind, and it is a lesson
he will not forget through life. Indeed such a
boy who has received some good early training,
and who has had to think for himself, and to
make his own way in the world from his boyhood,
ivill be found as he advances in years a most decided
character.

We must remember that decision of character is
a blessing, or the reverse, according as it has been
inculcated or nurtured, and as it affects the conduct
of a man. If, when school days are ended, a youth
has made his own way in life, although he may have
gone through great toil and suffering, and had much

Decision and Resolution. 7 1

to contend with, still if he has met with a large share
of kindness, even in the good wishes and encourage
ment of those around, he will, (if faithful to good
early training), be firm and determined, and at the
same time noble and generous, always ready to help
those lie sees struggling with difficulties as he himself
had struggled, and to protect the weak. This dis
position, (which is characteristic in him), is founded
in charity and fellow-feeling towards those who suffer
as he had suffered.

Such a man is also likely to be gifted with presence
of mind in no small degree. On a sudden catas
trophe, or an alarming accident, he is calm and
resolute, his intellect and conscience tell him his
duty, his heart is full of desire to do it, and hope to
accomplish it. From the habit of thinking of results,
his mind takes in at a glance all he has read or heard
of courses taken with success on a like occasion, and
with swift undaunted judgment he determines what
had best be done, and does it promptly and firmly
sustained by the consciousness that he is doing what
he believes is right.

I5ul if this man had been brought up in more
unfavourable circumstances and was of a harder
nature we should have found him a very different
person. If he had been treated with indifference
and neglect in childhood, and with harshness and
injustice in youth, and if he had to work his own

Moral Training.

way through opposition and difficulty without religious
principles, as helps to kindness and sympathy, we
should have found him at nature age self-sufficient,
overbearing, and intolerant of control, and an un
feeling as well as unhappy man.

Decision without virtuous principle hardens the
heart in pride and evil. In the training of young
people the spirit of obstinacy and stubbornness may
be evoked by uncalled for opposition and unreason
able thwarting of their laudable projects and designs.
When once this spirit is called up, who shall say
when it may be allayed, or if it will ever be properly
subjugated?

True decision of character does not emanate from
one virtue only. In every act of decision many
virtues are exercised, and all more or less swiftly as
occasion may demand. If we analyze the process
the mind goes through in carrying out one such act,
we shall see what these virtues are, and how necessary
it is for us to acquire them and possess them
thoroughly, so as to practise them instantaneously
when required. First, there is the thought or the
wish which occurs to the mind, and suggests the
action. This thought is followed by the consent or
concurrence of the will. The consent of the will
is followed by the determination and resolution to
put its decree into execution. After this resolve
we have to discern and select the best means of

Decision and Resolution. 73

doing this and of accomplishing our purpose. Lastly,
after we have decided on the means, we require
courage, energy, firmness, and perseverance, to use
them effectively, and at the right time and place.
We see in this how much the mental and moral
powers are called out in a single act, and as this our
decision may in many occasions involve the eternal
interests of our own souls and those of others, it is
of the utmost importance to form and execute it
properly.

Now the will is the acting power that forms the
decision. But as the will is easily led by passion
or inclination, unless ruled by reason and con
science, it is but prudent to provide ourselves
with well formed principles for immediate action.
For instance, if inclination suddenly should pro
pose some project, without giving us time to reason,
but merely to say "Yes," or "No/' and at
the same moment grace should warn us it was
wrong; if we recalled and acted on the principle
and oft-formed resolution, "Never to go against om
conscience under any circumstances," we should
find ourselves preserved from present danger, and
our will strengthened to take the right course in
future. Again, if the case were reversed, and con
science summoned us to act contrary to our natural
tastes and tendencies, and we felt a strong repugnance
in obeying, still if we recalled the firm resolve that

74 Moral Training.

"by God's grace \ve would do our duty at any cost,"
we should find our will fortified and made resolute
In this resoluteness of purpose resides decision.

The habit of raising the mind at the moment of
doubt or uncertainty, to a standard principle of virtue,
always gives strength and courage. In every moral
difficulty, virtue is ever a firm support, and a sure
guide, for virtue is always consistent, and in moments
of peril it makes us brave, from the consciousness
that we are doing what we ought to do, and that we
can "do all things in Him Who strengthens us".
For if we have a firm desire to do God's will we may
have as firm a confidence in His help.

After having made the firm resolve, the next thing
to do is to look for the way and select the .means
for carrying it out. Prudence, knowledge, and
experience come to our aid here. Prudence points
out what we ought to do, and what we should avoid ;
it enables us to judge of the best thing to be done,
and the best way for doing it, always keeping the
right end before the mind. Whatever knowledge
we have on the subject should be diligently recalled,
that decision may be more prudent, especially
if the subject seem to present many and divergent
views. Some may not be fitting or suitable to the
occasion. We must adopt simply what seems
proper or right in accordance with special circum
stances.

Decision and Resolution. 75

\

Experience here will stand to us as a powerful

ally. There is no mode of instruction which gives
us such practical lessons as experience, and no school
we attend so early and remain at for so long 3
period, viz., to the end of our lives. Yet how littlt
we learn, unless we are naturally observant, or have
had our attention drawn to the consequences of our
acts from our childhood. The old German proverb,
"Don't cool your child's first pudding, and you save
it many a scald later," brings before us how soon
experience can teach us, and how well it would be
if it were allowed to teach us from infancy. Buv
if we look back on life we shall be surprised to
find how scant our store of knowledge is, except in
warnings of what we should avoid. Labour, pain,
and difficulty are the teachers of the practical man.
The principle lessons they teach us are of our own
deficiencies and failures ; and if we have learned
these lessons we have learned much, for they point
out the faults and mistakes we are most likely to
fall into and the evils we should most carefully shun.
This may seem a one-sided view, for surely most of
us have succeeded in some things— a charge, a duty,
or an undertaking has prospered under our hands.
Xo doubt ; but how much of this success can we
honestly and justly impute to ourselves? How
much has God done for us in cases we claim
the full credit for, though we know in our hearts

76 Moral Training.

He did all? Our experience of God's bounty and
generosity in this way is something wonderful,
and it would be even far greater if we gave Him
all the glory. We must acknowledge also the help
we receive from others. We know we should never
have succeeded in many things, except for those
who worked with us ; our efforts would have
done little, but for their co-operation and willing
concurrence.

This brings us back to the point that experience
is a light borrowed from the past, which brings before
us not only the shoals and quicksands we have
already stranded on, but warns us of the rocks and
reefs which are still before us and which we should
strive to avoid. It also manifests to us the extent
and the quality of our natural powers. If we have
done a difficult thing once and accomplished it well.
we have more courage to do it again, and practice
will make it comparatively easy. It will teach us
what it cost us, where the greatest strain was, and
whether we could bear much more for a con
tinuance. By observing and testing our own powers
when duty and necessity call them into action, we
get a fair idea of the work we may hope to do, and of
the bounds within which we must in prudence content
ourselves.

Practice does more than give experience, it pro
duces and teaches system, and with a good system

Decision and Resolution. 77

half our work is done. But a system to be good
must be progressive, else it will restrict efTorts,
and chain them down to mere method or routine.
And while priding ourselves on our constancy
and stability, we shall find in the end that we
have been in reality limiting the circle of our
usefulness and efficiency, and so far frustrating the
designs of God and resisting his demands. System
should expand with duty and grow with experience,
if we would be good and faithful servants, and desire
to advance by the right path.

After having selected the means for carrying out
our resolve, we come to the duty of applying them.
Now this is the point of the greatest difficulty, and
at which most decisions fail in part or wholly. Up
to this, all we have come to is merely an internal
decision ; it may involve a well arranged plan, a wise
and good intention, or a noble design, but it is as
yet shut up in our own hearts, or at most made known
to a few sympathizing friends who have encouraged
us ; when we come to act it is quite a different thing.
\Vc know beforehand, if it be a matter of importance,
that many will disapprove and contemn our deter
mination, that some will thwart and oppose it, and
that others will ridicule and critici/.e it — and all this
in addition to the prospect and expectation of real
and substantial difficulties to be met with in the un-
Our courage and energy, our firm

78 Moral Training.

ness and perseverance, are fully called out and exer
cised if we are faithful to duty. It requires courage
to encounter and conquer human respect in any of
its varied phases and forms, in its fear of disapproval,
and desire to conciliate. It requires energy and
strength to contend against undue contradiction and
unjust opposition, and it also requires firmness
and perseverance to hold unflinchingly, and to
maintain persistently the right, straightforward course
of action, which conscience dictates and duty pre
scribes.

Undecided characters are wanting more or less in
all these gifts. Generally speaking they know
what they ought to do, but they have not the
resolution to do it. They do not fail so much in
the decision as in the execution. They will raise
difficulties and objections, they will put off and delay.
If the work is once commenced, it is begun in such
an indirect, roundabout fashion, that it is never
accomplished in the right way, or conducted to the
right end.

Although courage, energy, firmness, and perse
verance are necessary for true decision of character,
few possess them all, or at least possess them equally,
and at the same period of life. In youth courage
and energy are most likely to abound, while firmness
and perseverance are the growth of years, and seldom
appear in a marked way before mature age. It may

Decision and Resolution. 79

be that experience proves to us how limited are
human efforts, or we are engaged in a certain state
or calling in life, and we know we ought to give
our attention to it and fulfil its duties. So we con
centrate our energies on some definite object or
special aim, and then pursue it steadily. Out of this
singleness of purpose or unity of aim, grows stability
of character, which with even small abilities can, with
God's help, achieve much good.

Now an important question suggests itself. If
decision is such an excellent thing to possess, is it
well to exercise it on all that comes under our obser
vation, and are we obliged to decide about every
subject we hear talked of or discussed ? It would
be a great mistake, and a great waste of time and
thought, to occupy ourselves with useless topics, or
with matters whose true bearings we do not know
accurately. On all subjects that bear on the
character and conduct of others, we should sus
pend our judgment, unless positive evidence and the
proved fact declare the existence of evil — for we are
in justice bound to believe or presume persons inno
cent until they are found guilty, and in doing so we
are saved from the sin and the remorse of judging
falsely or rashly, or indeed from judging at all, which
is the best and wisest course.

As to the amount of deliberation to be given to
our actions, our duties, and the obligations that de-

8c? Moral 'J^r

volve on us, we must be guided by prudence. If
we know and feel sure we ought to perform an action,
and our conscience tells us it is fitting and incumbent
on us then and there, we ought not to deliberate
further on it, but fulfil the duty, whether agreeable
or disagreeable. If we have a choice between two
actions, both equally good, St. Francis de Sales tells
us to choose the one we prefer, to prevent us from
losing time through indecision. But in difficult and
important matters we must use great circumspection,
and give due time and care to deliberation.

In a case, for instance, where the responsibility of the
decision rests entirely on our own shoulders, but at the
same time that it is advisable to us to consult others,
we are liable to fall into two mistakes, both arising
from the same defect— want of due reflection and
consideration — but quite opposite in their way of
influencing us. First, we may come to some hasty
decision, induced merely by feeling and inclination,
adopted and adhered to regardless of counsel and
advice, and the dictates of prudence and the light
of reason warning us of our rashness in following
our own will. Prayer, the examination of our motives
of action, and the guidance of conscience in such
cases, would save us from error and give us light
to follow the right path. The second mistake is just
the reverse of this ; it arises from neglecting the
exercise of our own powers, so far as not to form

Decision and Resolution. 81

any opinion or come to any decision on a matter,
and also in failing to gain an insight or to acquire
any knowledge of it, until we obtain others' counsel
and receive their advice, and then without farther
reflection we take up and adopt as our own the
judgment of some person who has only given a cur
sory glance at it, and puts forward a one-sided view.
Me may fancy he has no responsibility in the matter,
.uid therefore has taken no pains to study the case
or to ascertain its true bearings; so his ill-formed
and partial opinion leads us to a wrong decision,
because we followed it blindly and unwisely.

In all deliberation on matters of consequence,
method is of great value. It helps us to a right
judgment, and simplifies the process of deciding, and
even removes difficulties in the way of it. If we
observe a man of vigorous and conscientious character,
who has been habituated to decision from childhood,
in the act of making up his mind on some important
point, we find him submitting himself to strict mora
discipline, and practising much mental labour. He
first considers and realizes his own responsibility in
the matter, and then he tries to acquire a clear and
periect knowledge of it, so that he may know what
he ought to do, and how it should be done. He
collects all the information that can be had, and
gives his full attention to each particular thai presents
itself, and forms his opinion so far, until he has
6

82 Moral Training.

examined the next point that comes before him. And
from a connected manner of thinking he sees dis
tinctly through the case, and makes his stand when
he comes in view of a clear conviction and just con
clusion ; but he suspends his judgment, and defers
making his final decision until he hears the opinion
of those he should consult, and on whom he has
reliance. It may seem that this should have been
done sooner, but a practical man — who wishes to do
the right thing and tries to do the best thing — finds
a greater help in the opinion of others when he has
studied the matter fully himself. Fie thus sees the
value of their suggestions, and he is able to ripply
them to the best advantage, according to his needs
and the help they give ; but always bearing in mind
that he alone is responsible for the decision. He
knows the labour it costs to form a true judgment,
therefore he gives due consideration to all that is
proposed.

CHAPTER VIII.

TEMPER. CRITICISM, AND SYMPATHY.

PFACE forms a great part of this world's happiness,
f«>r there is no real happiness without it. It came
with the glad tidings of our Saviour's Birth ; it was
His parting gift to Mis Apostles at His Resurrection.
Therefore it is a matter of much consequence to us
to consider what constitutes peace, what tends to
disturb it, and how it is to be cultivated and pre
served.

True peace is the perfection of order. It is the
tranquil reign of reason over human passions and
vices ; the human soul obedient to God's will, and
submissive to all His decrees and dispensations; the
human heart resting in (Jod and united to Him in
love, and, for His sake, full of charity and good will
for all men. We are told by the Spirit of Truth,
"There is no peace for the wicked". All sin is the
enemy of peace; grievous sin is its destruction, de
priving us of true interior peace and sanctifying grace,
hvery disorderly and uncontrolled passion lias power,

84 Moral Training.

so far as it is indulged, to trouble and disturb our
tranquillity ; but the passion of anger is the one that
is most universally destructive of it. Not only is it
the most turbulent of all the passions, but it is the
one most easily and most frequently excited, for it
is the combatant that stands forth in defence of all
the others. If our inclinations are opposed, or our
wishes contradicted, unless we have learned to over
come our irascibility and to conquer our impatience,
our ire is at once provoked and our peace invaded.

The government of temper is therefore a matter
of great consequence to the preservation of tran-
quillty, and we cannot learn to subdue it at too
early an age. The passion of anger being part of our
nature, is born with us, and is the passion we are
most prone to in infancy. A child may form habits
of ill-temper before he comes to the use of reason,
and bear them through life, blighting and embittering
his existence, unless by God's grace he has struggled
successfully against them after he became conscious
of their existence. It is only fair to him to preserve
and guard him against this evil by early and easy
lessons of forbearance. For instance, an infant makes
his wants known by cries and tears ; but, if allowed,
he will continue to cry for what he requires long after
he ceases to be an infant. When he is able to speak
plainly enough to ask for what he requires, and when
he understands what is said to him, it is well to

Temper, Criticism^ and Sympathy. 8 ^

explain to him that his wishes will be complied with
as far as it is right and possible, when he says what
he wants, but not when he cries for it. Once he
has practised this lesson in self-denial, his moral
training has well commenced, and he has even
already learned much. At the same time, while we
get him to relinquish the old method of expression
and to adopt the new, he must be treated very gently
and patiently, so as to effect the change gradually
and sweetly, and with true affection.

A child's temper can often be controlled by a
kind, serious look from the age of twelve months,
and more perfectly subjugated as he advances to
three years of age. He can then, in most instances,
be made ashamed of giving way to an outburst of
anger, and he can also be taught that to do so is
wrong. When a child gets into a passion he should
if possible be taken away at once from the presence
of other children, and have no witness of his con
duct but his mother or nurse, who should observe
unbroken silence, not as thorough sternness, but from
sorrow and surprise. To correct or contradict him
at a moment of wild excitement would be worse than
useless, while to pet or caress him would do him a
lasting injury. If he cries violently it is well to
soothe him in a kind and gentle manner in order
to quiet him. The silence soon awes and subdues
him, and when he reflects a little he is likely to

cS6 Moral Training:

feel shame and remorse, and to ask forgiveness
humbly acknowledging his fault. Once a scene
like this is over, it should never be alluded to
again, and then the impression will probably be
lasting.

Besides indulging in violent and convulsive fits
of passion, which may occassionally occur, children
are apt to get obstinately bold and stubbornly re
fractory with all placed over them except their
parents. A boy five or six years old will not allow
his nurse to dress him or undress him ; he will not
take off his hat or put on his boots. In such a case
the nurse should not threaten to complain of him
or scold him, should avoid everything like a conflict
or collision with him ; but she should reprove him
seriously and calmly, and explain to him fully that
it is his parents' desire that a punishment should be
inflicted on him, or any of their children, who commit
a deliberate fault and persevere in it. So in accord
ance with their directions and the penalties named
by them for disobedience and boldness, she cannot
allow him to see them after dinner with the rest of
the children. At first he may seem indifferent and
say he does not care. She should take no notice
of this, but continue to picture to him how sad and
lonely he will feel by himself in the nursery, after his
little brothers and sisters have gone away to enjoy
themselves, and how grieved his mother will be at

Temper^ Criticism, and Sympathy. 87

his absence, particularly when she guesses the cause.
After advising him to repent while there is yet time,
she should direct her attention elsewhere and address
him no longer. He will then probably begin to feel
the pain of being in disgrace, which will make him
reflect and see his error and desire to repair it. And
so he will overcome himself before it is too late by
asking pardon, and by submitting freely to all that
is required of him. Kven if this trial fails at first,
be assured it will succeed eventually. This may
seem a very simple and commonplace method for
training children and for making them amenable and
obedient, but it has great advantages. The child's
excitement is not increased by any violent opposition,
but, on the contrary, he is taught to think, and to
discern the truth that, sooner or later, punishment
follows all wrong-doing, and that it is better and
happier not to incur or deserve it. Once he is
convinced of this, his moral culture readily advances ;
he will in future, with God's grace, conquer and
restrain himself, following that injunction of our
I)ivine Lord, "Let him deny himself,'' which is the
sure road to peace. There are some who seem to
lead this precept amiss, and to think it is quite the
same thing, and just as good, to oppose and con
tradict children, as to get them to deny themselves.
So a child is often allowed to take his own course
when naughty, and even exasperated more and more

88 JMoral Training.

by contention and reproaches, until the demon of
anger is called up in his young soul, and then, when
he is as bold as he well can be, he is punished
severely, the nurse or teacher feeling satisfied that
the severity of the chastisement will prevent a repe
tition of his conduct, forgetful of the force of early
habits, and their own obligations to guard the child's
soul from evil, and to help and induce him to over
come himself.

A horse may be trained by mastering him
thoroughly once, but not so the human soul, that
must be guided by reason, and the strongest and
most coercive measures are of no use without it.
Therefore, when a master loses his temper whilst
correcting his pupil, the latter has always the best
of the contest. No matter what amount of suffering
he has been made to endure, he is not subdued or
humbled. He considers himself the victor, and he
believes that he stands on a higher level. His master
may be gifted and learned, but he will lose all strong
and healthful influence over him. If influence in
such cases is regained, it will be at the cost of much
labour and of many difficulties and of much self
conquest.

Example has a powerful effect on temper, and the
example of ill-temper in those we love is most in
fectious. For we imitate them more readily, and
in doing so we overlook or palliate the fault ; we

Tcjnper, Criticism, and Syinpatliy. 89

make no effort to correct it, as we lose sight of
the harm it does to our souls. If we observe
those who have been brought up with and accus
tomed from childhood to live with passionate
and irascible natures, we shall find that their
tastes and sympathies generally go with those who
are " rough and ready " in manner and speech,
and that they are likely to attribute hot words
spoken in anger to courage and candour, and to
mistake proud resistance to just authority for bravery
and resolution.

Children, it must be owned, are prone to annoy
each other, and to tease even those they love. Such
a tendency should be carefully watched over and
checked. IJut it is when they display this propensity
through feelings of dislike, and from a spirit of re
venge, that their characters sustain a serious injury.
To decide what course we should take in such cir
cumstances is often a difficult matter. There are, I
believe, two principal motives which induce children
to worry, annoy, and give trouble to others. One
is the desire for notice, and the other the love of
power. Children, accustomed to obsequious care,
are impatient of any seeming neglect ; and if they
have not attracted attention by being good, they
will secure it by being naughty and troublesome.
Those who love power soon discover their capabili
ties for disturbing the peace and comfort of people

9O Moral Training.

around them ; and as it is the only means within
their reach of affecting others, they like to test it
and exercise it, particularly on those they do not
love. If a boy discovers a way of annoying his
master, he exults over it, and he is sure to make
use of it when he is out of temper. In both these
cases it is all important that his teacher should show
great forbearance and calmness of manner, and as
far as possible take no notice of the boy's efforts.
If a favourable opportunity should offer, it would be
well to send him on a message that he would be
glad to deliver, or to occupy him in some way agree
able to his taste, which at the same time fully engages
his attention. The evil inclination will, in all pro
bability, soon pass away and give place to better
thoughts. So in a little time, if the boy reflects, he
will be ashamed of his unkindly feelings and of his
unworthy attempt, and its complete failure will make
him not likely to try it again.

Yearning for notice is the great moral disease of
the present day, even among well-meaning people.
And I believe it is the principal cause of divisions
and unhappiness in homes and households. But it
is still more baneful in its effects on the weak and
erring, as it is but too often found that an insatiable
craving for notice is the cause of most of the offences
and many of the crimes committed in our country,
especially among women, because it is the mainspring

Temper, Criticism, mid Sympathy. 91

of jealousy, and " jealousy is hard as Hell ". The
extent to which this passion is now unhlushingly in
dulged by all classes, and seemingly without any
effort to control it, or any reasonable excuse for
displaying it, gives rise to the fear that it is a
growing evil that is likely to increase mightily and
fearfully, and to draw innumerable miseries and
suffering after it. What ! if it can be attributed in
:i great measure to our present mode of early
training?

Our ancestors were wiser than we are on some
points, particularly in not humouring or yielding to
the caprices of their children. They knew that lore
only is the true price of love — that bought love-
seldom lasts, and that the beauty of filial affection
lies in its fidelity and disinterestedness. Children
now-a-days are not sufficiently impressed with this
truth, or with entire trust in their parents' love for
thcni. They do not always take it on faith ; they
must needs have evidence of it. And while the
mother vainly thinks she is growing in her child's
affe< lion by gratifying every whim and indulging
every fancy, she is in really contracting and harden
ing his heart in selfishness and alienating his love
from her and centring it on himself. It is not un
usual to find, when persons of weak and vain minds
receive undue attention, that they do not ascribe it to
the true cause — vi/., the kindness and affection ot those

^- Moral Training.

from whom they receive it — but are far more likely
to attribute it to their own worth and importance,
a.nd to value themselves accordingly, looking on the
favours offered to them as so many proofs of their
own excellence. If such demonstrations cease, or
if they do not grow and multiply with their years,
they will be filled with bitterness and vexation, as if
they were deprived of a necessary condition of their
comfort ; and if such marks of approval are shared
with others, and conferred where they are justly
deserved, then the demon of jealousy is evoked.
Pride and anger rule the heart, peace is disturbed,
and charity is injured in proportion as the passion
is indulged. In the human heart jealousy is no sign
of love, except self-love ; it never co-exists with
pure, unalloyed affection, and is always a proof of
self-seeking. With God the case is just the reverse.
He has a right to be jealous ; He is Himself essen
tially His own end ; He is also the last end of all
His creatures. It is a proof of His love for us, and
the ardent desire He has for our happiness, that He
claims our hearts, and wishes they should rest in Him
for ever.

Sacrifice is the test of love, and where there is true
natural affection we always find generosity and for-
getfulness of self; and though the loving soul may
meet with neglect, unkindness, or injustice, still so
long as true love remains in the heart, jealousy does

Temper, Criticism^ and Sympathy. 93

not take possession of it. No doubt disappointment,
grief, and anguish may strive to preclude and banish
hope and confidence, but the trusting heart will suffer
many a hard struggle before it doubts. The dis
covery that it over-estimated at one time suggests
the idea that faults may now appear exaggerated ;
excuse after ex'cuse is made before the standard of
appreciation is lowered ; but as this goes down love
decreases, and as esteem fails affection wanes also,
and will probably decline altogether, leaving only
sorrow and pity after them. In all this we see no
jealousy or place for rivalry, and so long as the
heart does not admit it, there is every likelihood
that forfeited esteem may yet be redeemed, and
dislocated affections revive. Just impressions and
right influences will regain their true force and
efficacy.

If we observe and examine the spirit of jealousy
which is now so prevalent in nurseries and school
rooms, drawing-rooms, and institutions, and wherever
the human family is congregated, we shall find that
it comes principally from a craving for notice ; that
true affection is seldom really expected in many
cases, or even sought after in the same degree as
manifest signs of preference before others ; and we
shall also discover that the very worst stamp ol
ill-humour, and the most galling kinds of asperity
of manner, can be traced to the early indulgence of

94 Moral Training.

self-will and the gratification of vanity and self-esteem
in childhood.

There are few propensities of the heart of man so
diversified in their origin and character, and so
variable in their mode of expression, as that of ill-
temper. If we study its many shades and forms we
shall see that these change with each one's tempera
ment, and with his dispositions for the time being,
that they alter not only with the individual, but
with the changing circumstances of life, as they are
influenced by the manner and tone of mind of our
associates, and above all by the variances in op
position and pursuits. For we sometimes find those
who were blessed with placid tempers in youth, be
come impetuous and hasty when over-weighted with
responsibility ; and those gifted with amiable dispo
sitions not unfrequently grow wayward and fretful ii
they are flattered and indulged in their caprices.
But early lessons in self-denial and self-restraint will
guard us against these evils, and with God's grace
help us to keep our peace.

It is probably a mistake to think that people,
when under the influence of anger (unless it be
very violent), always speak incoherently and dis
tractedly, and that no heed should be taken of
their words. Is it not more likely that they express
their thoughts truly as they occur to the mind at
the time, though probably in an exaggerated form ?

r, Criticism, and Sympathy. 95

Therefore it is well to meet their complaints reason
ably, but gently, viz., as the opportunity offers at
some future hour, when all excitement has passed
away.

The indulgence of ill temper is a defect that is
sure to bring its own chastisement in this world,
and that even more swiftly than vices of a darker
dye. For it exacts in retribution the sacrifice of
our own peace and happiness, and it does this far
more surely than it disturbs the comfort and tran
quillity of others. It also imposes on us the duty
of reparation for the harm it has done before we
can find rest. In other words, it is like the act of
cutting the bridge under our own feet, although we
have to build it up anew before we can get home
again in our own hearts, or feel at home in the hearts,
of those around us.

There is no perfection of God, next to His mercy,
that wins our love and confidence, or attracts our
hearts to Him so much as His infinite patience.
Surely He is the same "yesterday, to-day, and for
ever". In our faith in His unchangeable goodness,
is the measure of our trust in Him, and our trust
in Him the measure of our love. Now a firm
resolution to honour this Divine attribute by observ
ing evenness of temper at all times is a great help
to preserve our peace. No one can foresee what
trials of temper he may encounter in the day, nor

96 Moral Training'.

all his temptations to impatience, but the determina
tion, with God's grace, to remain calm and to preserve
our equanimity under all circumstances, comes to our
aid, and suits all occasions. Probably we shall often
fail in this effort, and fail oftenest when we think we
are most succeeding, for passion, pain, and anxiety
will frequently exercise their influence over us in some
degree involuntarily. But still, if we make a good
fight, with God's help, we shall conquer in the end
arid abide in peace and bring peace with us every
where.

The refraining from all severe personal criticism
and the avoidance of all unnecessary fault-finding,
will prove a powerful remedy against all defects of
temper. I do not mean that we are merely to
avoid speaking of the faults of others, for this is
clearly everybody's duty, but we must abstain from
commenting on them in our own minds. We must
not allow our thoughts to dwell voluntarily on their
errors, mistakes, or incapacities, unless we are
charged with their instruction, and then only with
the charitable intention of setting them right. We
are not inclined to animadvert on the actions of
those we love ; on the contrary, we are always ready
to defend them, and to have some justification to
offer for them. We excuse or suspend our judgments
about their defects and shortcomings, and we find
it hard to condemn them j so, as a rule, we may

TV-w/vr, Criticism, and Sympathy. 97

be pretty sure that often when we find ourselves
censuring others in our minds, they are out of
favour with us, and have offended us in some way.
The more we entertain these injurious views and
impressions, the more irritable and resentful we
are likely to become, and to appear so in our manner
and words. Therefore, we may often take such
temper as the test and evidence of our want of
charity, and the thoughts we indulge in will indicate
where we are weak and faulty and likely to fail.
In our words, it is much easier to avoid fault-finding
than criticism, because we can refrain entirely from
the first ; but great watchfulness is required to guard
our expression and frame our remarks, and to divert
our discourse in the latter case. We cannot well
exclude criticism totally from conversation, as we
should so hinder the free and happy interchange
of thought and opinion, which is the enjoyment,
as well as the advantage of all friendly and rational
intercourse, and deprive ourselves of the easiest
and most agreeable means of improving our mind
and receiving instruction. But criticism, when it
grows at all captious and censorious, should be at
once held in check, for human respect or timidity
on this point will quickly lead us into much evil.

As we advance in life we usually become more
dispassionate, and more tolerant of the faults of
others, for we see but few that we have not fallen
7

9^ Mcnal Training.

into ourselves. Therefore, if in middle life we still
find ourselves given to harsh criticism, we may
justly believe we are ruled by some evil passion,
or have ceased to dwell peacefully in our own
hearts. Finding no happiness to satisfy ourselves
there, we live outside ourselves in the affairs of
others, inquisitive but incredulous about their merits,
depreciating their worth, and disturbing their peace
as we destroy our own happiness.

With regard to the young, we must give them
more latitude, without foreseeing or predicting so
many evils, though we must allow they are usually
very severe critics. But this is not so much from
ill-nature and unkindness, as from the want of ex
perience, and the spirit of inquiry and vivacity that
belongs to and accompanies them from childhood.
The tendency can be discerned at a very early age.
When we give a child a toy to do what he pleases
with it, we shall probably find, after rejoicing in its
possession for some days, and showing it to all
his friends, that he will take it all to pieces. He
does this not through caprice or for mischief sake,
but from the desire to see of what it is made and
how it is constructed, for he has seiious intentions
of making another like it, but with, what he con
siders, his own improvements.

We may observe the same dispositions in him
ten or twenty years after. In place of the toys

Temper, Criticism, and Sympathy. 99

of his childhood he is likely to pull to pieces all
who cross his path, -to comment on their appearance
and bearing, their habits and abilities ; but above
all, to criticise their work, and their method of
doing it. All this often is, and always seems
very ill-natured, and should be discountenanced,
but it often comes from the wish to test his judg
ment, and to measure his own mind with those of
others, and to get information easily by drawing out
their opinions. It sometimes also springs from self-
conceit and exalted ideas of his own cleverness.
He has no patience with what he considers the
slowness and incompetency of those around him.
He is strong in theories, but he has had no practical
knowledge as yet. He has not given himself to
any steady pursuit, and he has done no work ; he
has no idea what work involves, and what it costs
to accomplish it. 15y-and-bye, when he applies him
self to some undertaking, and tries to carry it out
thoroughly and to the fulfilment of his design,
he will discover difficulties in its execution that
were out of sight and unanticipated, and his own
experience will teach him to be more tolerant in
his criticisms and more just in his estimate of
others.

The tendency to criticise can be trained and
directed very early in life. Children can be easily
impressed with the truth that to delight in fault-

ioo Moral Training.

finding, to indulge in censure evinces a miserable
temper, and increases it. It- always indicates a
small mind to look for defects in everything that
comes before us. Dispraise is like the work of
destruction, which is easy to the dullest intellects.
A few strokes of the hammer or of the brush
rudely and unskilfully given to the finest work of
art, will deface or disfigure it. So the weakest and
most uncultivated mind can disparage and condemn
what it is not only powerless to accomplish, but
incapable of appreciating. On the other hand, the
young cannot be taught too soon to admire all
that is good and beautiful, and to discern what is
excellent and noble in every thing and every body
around them. Sincere admiration for all that is
deserving of it has a powerful effect in enlightening
the mind and enlarging the heart. It makes us
partakers, in some measure, in the best and greatest
gifts from the pleasure they afford us, and the good
impression they leave on the memory, and the
approval of them creates the desire to imitate and
attain them.

If it is important to direct children in the exer
cise of their po\vers of criticism, it is just as neces
sary for their future peace and happiness to guide
and cultivate their feelings of sympathy. To succeed
in this, we must begin by calling up, almost from
infancy, amiable and humane emotions and desires,

Temper, Criticism, and SympatJiy. 101

so that the right bent may be given and established
in the child's mind before the contrary tendency
has been developed. Everything unkind, revengeful,
or spiteful should be opposed and hindered. That
children are often inclined to act unamiably, and
even cruelly, especially when they are out of temper,
cannot be denied. They display this propensity
in tormenting their pets, and the weaker animals
when they are out of danger themselves, and have
no fear of being hurt, for cruelty and cowardice
nearly always go together. Even one deliberate act
of wanton cruelty may leave a lasting and evil
impression on a boy's character, and may make
him harsh in his nature, lowering and darkening
the aspirations of his life, unless he is made ashamed
of it, and regrets it sincerely.

Sympathy, in its first stage, takes the form of self-
pity, and it will probably remain in this form if it
is not rightly directed and properly exercised. A
child soon learns to compassionate himself. We
often find that he weeps less bitterly at the time
he falls and is hurt than at the moment he receives
commiseration. The tears will readily come to his
eyes when we pity him, and he will understand
why we do so, and feel grateful to us. But he will
be surprised at first, and look wonderingly at us
when we want him to give his compassion to some
body else. It may never have occurred to him that

•5O2 Moral Training.

other people suffer also, or that their pains may he
greater than his. But when this fact is explained
to him, and when he realizes, in some degree at
least, what they are enduring, he will pity them
heartily.

But this lesson only brings him to the second
stage of growth in sympathy, and one in which even
those gifted with the most tender hearts may stay
for life, unless they possess the virtue of charity.
Such persons feel acutely every calamity that occurs,
and they are really pained and grieved at the troubles
and afflictions of their neighbours. But as such
matters affect them sadly, and as their hearts are
wrung by scenes of woe, they are persuaded they
ought to avoid the pain which is so inflicted, and
therefore, to spare their own feelings, fly from th
sight of sorrow or suffering. In fact, they pity them
selves for their excessive sensitiveness, and they believe
that too much sympathy for others is injurious to
their own happiness. Unfortunately, this is sympathy
with benevolence left out. Most likely they received
too much when young, but were not encouraged U>
apply it, or extend it fully or faithfully.

We must remember that true sympathy is not mere
sensitiveness, but the essence of charity and a God
like gift. It is the power of understanding other
men's minds, of reading their hearts, of entering into
J.heir feelings until we make them our own an<*

Temper, Criticism, and Sympathy. 103

then of acting towards them as we would wish them
to act towards us. It is a faculty of the intellect as
well as an emotion of the heart, which leads us
to deeds of humanity and kindness, which begin
in lurgetfulness of self and are perfected in self
sacrifice.

Sympathy is as necessary for the well-being of most
children as air and light, and it is an injustice
not to give it duly to them. I am inclined to be
lieve that the most unfeeling and cold-hearted of
human beings to be found — those whose first thought
is to condemn, and whose first word is to contradict,
are just those who received least sympathy in their
youth. We should therefore give a goodly measure
of it to eveiy child, and more and more when he is
sick and afflicted. It is not well to make large
demands on his kindness for others while he is suffer
ing. Such demands at such a time often harden the
heart, and irritate the temper. But when he is better,
it will do him good to see some one afflicted like him
self, about his own age, patient, though in pain, and
he should be induced through charity to consider
what his little friend is enduring, to sympathize with
him, to enter into his feelings, and to realize his
weariness and depression, until he forgets himself in
the sufferings he sees before him. Pity will be
awakened when he contrasts the comforts lie enjoys
with the wants of his fellow-creatures. He will

104 Moral Training'.

probably desire to supply these wants — a word
will suggest the disposition, and then whatever
he wishes to give that belongs to himself, or what
ever he is willing to sacrifice of what is intended
for his pleasure and pastime, he should be allowed
to give it at once, freely and heartily. The action
should never be related before him. If he should
express his thoughts about it, or confide his feelings
to his parents, they should receive his confidence
kindly and cordially, and preserve it faithfully, re
warding him afterwards for his charity and generosity
in a way he will appreciate. Even one incident like
this in a boy's childhood leaves a happy impress on
his character, a-nd inclines him to be a large-minded,
kind-hearted Christian.

True sympathy, not only brings happiness to our
own hearts, but diffuses peace around us. It removes
all asperity in our manner, calls up kindly feelings,
and inspires due consideration for others, which is
the test of good manners as of good taste. Good
breeding consists, as does humility, in taking the
lowest place in our own esteem, in preferring others
before ourselves, in thoughtfully and kindly consider
ing their feelings in everything we say or do, and
in sacrificing our convenience to them in all things
except where duty and principle forbid our doing so.
We find ill-breeding the reverse, of all this. The
really vulgar-minded man, no matter what his position

Temper, Criticism, and Sympathy. 105

may be, pushes himself forward beyond his place,
and values himself above his merits. Instead of
showing any delicacy of feeling for others, he is
unmindful of their peace or ease, and unconcerned
when he wounds and offends them, and even enjoys
the sight of their annoyance and discomfiture. He
looks only to his own comfort and satisfaction, and
never thinks of accomodating himself to any one.

The value of sympathy is seen especially in every
day life, and in the home circle, where genial
manners, mutual respect, and kind thoughtfulness for
others, preserve and cultivate peace and charity,
and maintain union and cordiality even between those
who are most dissimilar. No man beginning life
can foresee who his companions are to be, or with
whom he is to associate during the years of his
sojourn on earth, but if he has been wisely trained, he
will not expect to find all people acting in accordance
with his wishes, and some may offend his taste. The
views and opinions of others may be opposed to
his, and their manners may jar upon him. If he
has been allowed to grow up unsympathetic, self-
engrossed, and self-important, such things will seem
unbearable to him, and the more he makes grievances
of them, the more miserable his life will be, and
the greater the probability he may fall into the line
of conduct of which he complains in others, and
thus he may become disagreable and vexatious to

loO floral Training.

all his aquaintances. If he had due consideration,
and looked beyond the surface, and studied people
better before forming unfavourable opinions of them,
he would find qualities in them worthy of esteem,
and much in himself to condemn. The importance
of manner with regard to a man's well-doing is pro
verbial, but its power in destroying or promoting
peace and charity is often overlooked. For, sin
excepted, I believe the greatest amount of unhappi-
ness in this world is caused by discourtesy and
incivility. But sympathy, as charity's most active
agent, is the best restorative of peace ; it softens the
hardest hearts, and makes excuses and allowances
for faults and defects, it discovers hidden virtue
and silent merit, and preserves and promotes kind
and cordial intercourse in families and among friends.

CHAPTER IX.

TIMIDITY, DIFI-TDENX'E, AND RESERVE.

THKKK are few characters so hard to interpret, or
so difficult to comprehend as those under the in
fluence of timidity. They seem made up of incon
sistency and contrariety, and act in every change of
circumstances in the very opposite way to that we are
led to expect.

Timidity and diffidence are often mistaken for each
other, and at first sight they exhibit some resemblance,
ax they are both attended by shyness and fear ; but
fear arising from different sources. They denote in
reality dissimilar dispositions.

Every human heart on earth is liable to suffer from
the passion of fear in some form or other, and that
in the same degree as it values some possession,
and desires to hold and preserve it, though it be
beset with danger. The more we love ourselves the
more we dread any harm that may befall us, and the
point on which we value ourselves most is just the one
on which our fears can be most painfully excited if it
is impugned or assailed.

As the passion of fears belongs to the sensitive

io8 Moral Training.

appetite, and is swayed by the imagination, \ve can
not be surprised that very impressionable natures,
when possessed with a false idea as to the importance
and worth of the approbation of their neighbours,
should desire to retain it, and dread especially the
loss of it, and that they should dread still more
incurring disapproval. This brings before us two
distinct classes who suffer most from timidity. The
first is actuated by the desire of praise, but is checked
by the fear of not receiving it. Those of the second
class do not expect praise, but feel keenly all disap
probation, and are easily depressed by the dread of
incurring it. The timidity of the first class may be
fairly attributed in a great degree to vanity and over
self-consciousness, as it springs from the apprehension
of not succeeding in the opinion of others according
to our expectations and the esteem we entertain for
ourselves. A timid person of this kind does not
stop to question, and perhaps does not doubt, his
own powers, but he is dubious as to what others
may think of them. His misgivings enfeeble his
energies, and induce him to draw back when he
might do good service to his neighbour, inducing
him to remain inactive, rather than run the chance
of subjecting himself to unfavourable comment.

Timidity of this sort is not a permanent quality of
the mind, as a confirmed characteristic. It alters
with circumstances and changes with positions, and

Timidity ) Diffidence, and Reserve. 109

can be laid completely aside at times. For instance,
when a very timid person is placed over others in a
post of authority, where he is sure of his ground, and
the extent of his power, and where he sees no likeli
hood of being controlled, he will most probably be
found far more imperative in his method of governing,
and more peremptory in his manner of asserting his
rights and declaring his will than others placed in the
same position would be. It may be that he doubts
his power, as it is new to him, and likes to test it
by way of making sure he possesses it, and while
he assures himself of holding it, his fear of being
depreciated is relieved, and subsides accordingly.
Another peculiarity of timid people, is their difficulty
in conquering a repugnance, or overcoming an
estrangement. They seem to succumb to such
things, and to get passively possessed by them, with
out making any effort at resistance, even though
such feelings have arisen without any real cause of
complaint but have been awakened through wounded
vanity, and created by some supposed slight or
imaginary offence. Having habituated themselves
to be guided by feeling and not by reason, it is
most difficult to convince such people of the true
state of the case. They will only see the matter
in the way they wish to see it, and they persuade
themselves they cannot do what they dislike to do.
If children were made to do the light thing because

iio J\Ioral Training.

it is the right thing and what they ought to do, and
never excused on the plea of timidity, they would
be saved from many faults and innumerable foible*
in after-life.

Of those who belong to the second class, and who
suffer from timidity through the dread of blame, and
the fear of disapprobation, the number is beyond
counting and of world-wide extent. For dispraise is
not naturally agreeable to any one, and all are
inclined to shun it as far as fidelity to duty and
uprightness of conduct permit. This shrinking from
censure is occasioned not only by the pain caused by
being found fault with, but also from a dread that
those who disapprove of our actions, and animadvert
on them, may inflict injury on us. Much of our
peace and happiness in this world depends on the
disposition of our fellow-beings towards us. There
fore, it is a matter of great consequence to avoid
giving rise to an unkindly spirit, and to cultivate with
all feelings of goodwill.

The passion of fear, to which we are all subject,
is especially felt with regard to our fellow-mortals,
and we cannot look narrowly into our hearts without
discovering the natural dread we have of each other.
Even in the most trusting dispositions we find there
exists a feeling of apprehension lest others should
prove undeserving of the esteem we desire to cherish
for them, but when they verify our e-xpectations, and

Timidity, Diffidence, and Reserve. 1 1 i

show themselves worthy of our regard and confidence,
we then fear for ourselves, lest we should exhibit
some weakness or defect that would lower us in their
estimation. We shall see how true this is, if we
watch the growth of acquaintanceship with a perfect
stranger, but one with whom we ar.e likely to have
much intercourse in future. On seeing him for the
first time we regard him studiously, trying to discern
his dispositions and to measure his worth, questioning
our hearts if we should consider him as a friend or
look on him as a foe. As we get to know him better
we see much to admire, and much that harmonix.es
with our own feelings, yet we withhold our friendship
from him until by some unmistakeable proof we are
satisfied as to his merits and goodness and discern his
excellence.

Kven when we have experienced for many years
his unchanging regard and unfailing fidelity, still we
seldom open our hearts and minds to this our best
friend except in their most favourable aspect. How
much we never confide to him at all ? And how
little in reality do we ever trust him with, except
what tells to our advantage and appears to our credit.
This is from the fear of losing his esteem, or of in
curring his disapprobation if he had any knowledge
of our errors, and was conversant with the failings of
our character. If we have apprehensions and mis
givings about one who has been faithful to us, jnJ

H2 Moral Training.

animated with the kindliest feelings towards us, how
much stronger our dread must be of those who have
given us no assurance of their goodwill, and of those
who have manifested disapproval. From all this it is
plain that a fear of our fellow-man is inherent in the
human heart, and that it is universal, though unequally
felt, as some are more sensitive of its power than
others.

As the timidity of the two classes often presents the
same appearance, it is sometimes difficult to dis
tinguish between them. But the remedy that most
surely and rapidly effects the cure in either case, will
indicate the source of the disease, and will reveal to
us its real nature. They are overcome by different
kinds of treatment. And by observing what appli
ances afford relief — the means by which timid persons
are reassured, we can easily discover the form of the
malady with which we ourselves or others are afflicted.
Praise is the surest and most instantaneous means of
removing the timidity of the vain. They receive it as
a right and as a tribute to their worth. The feelings
of self-complacency called up by commendations
remove the fear of disapproval, and lull to rest the
dread of criticism. The thirst for admiration thus
excited becomes an incentive to action, and timidity
declines and dies away as flattery promotes self-suffi
ciency and maintains self-confidence. The timidity
that springs from the consciousness of our own dc-

Timidity, Diffidence, and Reserve. 115

ficiencies, and expectation o: censure, is overcome
by the virtue of fortitude and the practice of purity
of intention. The approbation of our friends is, no
doubt, both agreeable and encouraging to us, but its
influence over us is not sufficiently strong to induce
us to act. It must be sustained by a sense of duty,
and the conviction of our own minds that a particular
line of conduct i* just and right.

At this point timidity tends to and seems even to
merge into diffidence. It is not at all easy to dis
tinguish them unless we trace them to their source,
and discover the kind of dread that rules us when
influenced by timidity, and the nature of the fear that
governs us when controlled by diffidence. As timidity
is caused by the fear of our fellow-beings and the
apprehension of their disapproval, diffidence is created
by the dread of our own dissatisfaction, the terror
of self-reproach, and the sentence of condemnation
pronounced by our own judgment on our own actions.
The first comes from those outside us, who make up
our small world, but as these change, and as our
surroundings altu" in our walk through life, so timidity
comes and goes, and often departs altogether, without
leaving a trace behind.

Uut with regard to diffidence the case is reversed.
Our fear in this state does not arise from anything or
anybody external to ourselves. It comes from the
beat of judgment within our own souls, and the ui>

i 14 Moral Training.

favourable opinion there pronounced against oui selves.
The disesteem of others is generally felt acutely by
the diffident rnan, but he feels still more intensely
that he has caused that disesteem. For this reason
he is keenly sensitive as to the effect his words and
conduct may produce on those around him. If be
considers himself in fault he condemns himself
severely, and the expressions of disapproval he may
hear or observe among his acquaintances, do not
give rise to his sentiments of self-reproach, though
they certainly embitter those sentiments as furnishing
painful evidence that he has judged himself truly.

As we do not part company with ourselves through
life, carrying our natural tendencies and dispositions
with us wherever we go, so we shall generally find
that diffidence is an abiding and permanent quality
of the mind, though it may appear under different
forms as it is called forth by dissimilar circumstances.
For instance, the stronger our self-love the more
painful it is to us to observe our short-comings and
to be convinced of our errors. Sometimes we are
apt to lose courage, to give way to depression and
despondency, and to leave our work undone or
half done. But if we conquer our cowardice and
dejection by trust in God, then our diffidence in
self only makes us confide more fully in Him, and
while resting entirely on Him we gain strength and
fidelity to serve Him bravely and resolutely.

Timidity, Diffidence, and Reserve. 1 1 5

But long before we reach this happy stage, diffi
dent souls, when natural sensitive, pass through
mental troubles that are unknown to those differently
constituted. Their sufferings do not arise from
scruples or doubts of any kind, but come from a
decided and distinct judgment pronounced against
themselves, and from a clear discernment and severe
condemnation of their own faults and negligences.
I ani persuaded that a diffident person is more
inexorable towards himself, and more harsh and
merciless in condemning some of his own acts, than
he is in censuring the worst acts of his neighbour.
This is often imputed to wounded pride and the
vexatious chagrin caused by the sight of his own
failings, and still more by the exposure of his defi
ciencies before others. There may be much truth
in this, for self-love never dies a painless death.
But I must say that over and above the general
liability to feelings of hurt vanity and human respect,
there is in diffident persons an inherent proneness
not only to self distrust, but to self-condemnation for
omissions and blunders that are entirely unperceived
by others, and observed only by themselves. If
this disposition becomes morbid, the person affected
by it is likely to give way to fits of despondency
and keen remorse about the veriest trifles.

There is one distinctive mark which seldom fails
to indicate truly characters influenced by diffidence.

116 Moral Training.

and that is their proneness to retirement and desire
for seclusion. And in counter-distinction to this, we
usually find timid natures fond of excitement and
variety, and given to loquacity when leaders of their
company, and sure of approbation. The latter prefer
talking to thinking, as they live outside themselves,
and much in the opinion of others. Whereas, the
former rise and fall in value as they are weighed and
measured by their own judgment. The diffident man
may enjoy exceedingly pleasant society and derive
great pleasure from agreeable conversation, but he
knows he will be summoned to a close self-examina
tion for every word he utters, and that the pain of
self-accusation and self-reproof will probably exceed
the enjoyment he has experienced even in the most
agreeable company. So he avoids diversions and
festivities, and prizes only the companionship of those
he trusts and esteems, and whom he has no fear of
disedifying or misleading, and the social intercourse
with true and tried friends, with whom he is at ease,
as they understand him better than he understands
himself. At this point we find diffidence lapsing into
reserve, and assuming its principal characteristics.

Reserve of mind and manner can be attributed
to different causes, though the one usually assigned
is the motive of prudence. We are induced to ac
quire this habit when experience has taught us the
worth and wisdom of self-command in restraining

Ti in it/ ify, Diffidence, and Reserve. \ \~

our feelings and emotions, and when grace has led
to the practice of self-denial in curbing our thoughts
and wishes, and in repressing the expression of oui
ideas, until by the light of conscience we have judged
of their fitness and propriety.

But the tendency to a reserved character is often
acquired in early childhood, long before we come
to the years of discretion, or have had any experi
ence of its value. We generally come by it in one
of four ways. First, by the example of those we
love. Reserved parents have usually reserved chil
dren if they are affectionate also. Secondly, reserve
is acquired from having suffered from the want ot
reserve in those we have trusted. A mother chills
her child's affection and estranges him from her
when he overhears her relating to a group of visitors
what he said to her in secret, and he is filled with
wonder and disappointment when he sees her laughing
over his childish ideas and fancies. He had opened
his heart to her as she encouraged him to tell his
thoughts and feelings, and he loved all the more
as he trusted her and had reliance on her fidelity.
Hut now his faith in her is rudely shaken. He does
not complain, his love is too true. To whom could
he complain of her, and in whom else could he con
fide? So he begins at once to be reticent, and to
shroud his thoughts in his own heart, and grows up a
man of reserve.

1 1 8 Moral Training.

Communicative mothers often feel acutely that they
do not possess their children's confidence, forgetting
that they themselves are nearly always to blame in
failing to cultivate feelings of sympathy and trust
according to each child's disposition. When reserve
becomes apparent, mothers are apt to twit their children
on their habits of secrecy, and to ridicule them for
their love of mystery, and they do this in the hope of
curing them. But such a course of action has the
opposite effect, and generally confirms them in their
habits of reticence for life.

The third way the reserved character is formed in
children is from misunderstanding them. Parents
often come to a hasty judgment about the disposition
of their children, and adhere to it without questioning
its correctness or testing its truth. A child bears a
strong resemblance to some member of his family, and
is at once declared to be like him in all respects. He
hears qualities and propensities imputed to him that
he knows he does not possess. He finds that there
is no use in his trying to disprove such statements,
his words are unheeded. It is not his place to con
tradict his parents, and so he becomes silent about
himself and uncommunicative with regard to his real
feelings and impressions.

But the child most likely to grow into a thoroughly
reserved character is the one most overlooked in
the family. His tastes and opinions are supposed

Timidity, Diffidence, and Reserve. \ 19

to be the same as his brothers, and there is nc
special inquiry made about them. He finds it his
place to listen to the views and plans of others,
which he is allowed to adopt as far as he is ablo,
but he is not expected to express his own ideas,
and no one seems willing to hear them, or to care
for his confidence. As he lives on he is more and
more convinced that there is nothing in his mind
to interest those around him, and that probably
they would not understand him if he revealed him
self to them. So he suppresses his feelings and
locks up his thoughts in his own heart, and acquires
a habit of silence with regard to himself which he is
but rarely, if ever, induced to break.

Habits of reserve are generally accompanied by
much personal influence, which can be attributed in
the first place to the absence of inquisitiveness about
those around us. The indulgence of curiosity of
this kind is destructive to that esteem which must
coexist with healthful controlling power over others.
Xo doubt the reserved man is the one most likely
to be trusted and relied on, and to receive more
confidential information than persons of a different
character.

The influence of the reserved man, in the
second place, comes from his disinclination to
communicate his ideas, and this gives a two-fold
force and value to his opinions. First, he is

12O Moral Training,

supposed from his habits of thoughtfulness to have
consider a matter thoroughly before he pro
nounces judgment; and secondly, that judgment is
taken only to express a portion of his thoughts, the
best of which he is supposed to reserve, shut up
from others, but within his own reach, and to be
utilized as prudence may require. The belief that
he possesses a hidden power at his command and
holds untold resources within himself, scares and
intimidates some who regard him with a feeling akin
to superstition — so far as we may consider super
stition to be a dread of a secret unknown power.
While others are attracted to him by their faith in
him, a«d revere him for his discernment in under
standing them so thoroughly as to see what is best
and wisest for them, and so they submit to his guid
ance with childlike confidence.

CHAPTER X.

ON TRUK I'RINCIPLE.

WE may define true principle in conduct as law re
duced to action, and persevered in faithfully and un
remittingly to the end. We may also represent it
as the Maker's stamp on the soul that marks it as
His own, attests its being genuine, and confers upon
it the likeness to Himself in truthfulness. God im
prints His law on every soul, and in proportion as
we are faithful to it, He gives us clearer light to
discern it, and more strength to act up to it stead
fastly, and in this way it becomes the ruling power
over our actions, and directs them to their perfect
accomplishment.

Principle is not merely the knowledge of what is
true, or the conviction of what duty demands, it is
also the source of the fulfilment of that duty, the
performance of the right act, and in the right way.
For we all admit that if a man knows thoroughly well
what it is to be upright and honest, just and truthful,
and yet acts deceitfully and unjustly, he cannot be
a man who follows true prim iple. And the more
fully he understands the Divine law, but fails prac-

122 Moral Training.

tically to fulfil it, wilfully declining his true obligations
both to God and man, the more unprincipled in
conduct he must be. It is clear that if we know our
duty and neglect and evade it, we are, because of our
knowledge, all the more unfaithful.

It is of the first importance to us to consider what
true principle is, and also to exa-mine whether we act
upon it. This study is of the deepest interest to us,
as our characters are formed and our lives influenced
by the principles that guide us.

Before we define more fully what principle is, we
shall first declare what it is not. It is not merely
a decision we have come to, or a resolution we frame
for ourselves, which seems good and suitable, but
still may be laid down and taken up at pleasure.
It is nothing we can make or form for ourselves,
nothing we can design solely out of our own mind
and judgment. It is not a maxim or truism that we
take up from another and adopt and modify for our
own use. It would be quite disastrous to come to
such an erroneous supposition, for no matter how
wise a maxim may be, yet, generally speaking, if it
is only a maxim, it is only wise in the circumstances
to which it directly refers, and which called it forth,
or on similar occasions. A maxim is apt to mislead
us if we apply it generally, and the desire to do so
will probably cramp our minds and fetter our energies.
Principle is not a method of our own in the per

On True Principle. 123

formance of our actions, a system and form of life,
or a habit of mind and manner we have grown into
for many years, and now think it would be incon
sistent to give up, and so cling to it rigidly, no matter
whether it is suitable to ourselves or others, agreeable
or the reverse to those around us.

True principle is nothing of all this. True prin
ciple is based on the law of God, and takes its source
from the light of truth given to us by Him. We
must ever bear in mind that the law of God is written
on our hearts by His own hand from the beginning
of time, giving us light to discern between good and
evil, and a just knowledge and certain consciousness
of what is right and wrong in our own actions. This
primeval or natural law rules, or ought to rule, every
human soul gifted with reason, but it becomes more
deeply impressed and more distinctly declared, and
all the more binding on us, as we grow in the know
ledge of revelation, and of the precepts and ordinances
of Holy Church. God's law is unchangeable as God
is immutable, but in His mercy and compassion for
the weakness and waywardness of man's heart, He
enlightens more, and marks out more definitely the
true way, the path of justice for the faithful soul, in
proportion as it has more dangers to encounter, and
is4 beset with greater evils and errors. He guards it
moie carefully with His shield of truth as it needs
more continual protection and guidance.

124 Moral Trailing

We know that the mountain-pass so long as it is
only frequented by wise and prudent travellers, is
often left for years in its first simplicity, but when it
becomes crowded by those who are reckless and fool
hardy, who are careless in following the beaten track,
and therefore lose themselves in thorns and thickets
and fall over cliffs and precipices, it is then moR
clearly marked out, protected by parapets and sup
plied with beacons and guides, to preserve future
travellers and prevent them from encountering similar
disasters. The road is the same still, it goes over
the same ground as it did at first and leads to the
same end, but it is clearer now and more distinctly
defined, that all may keep to it and follow it securely.
It is in this way that Almighty God has been
pleased to act with His creatures from the beginning
of the world, either through Himself personally or
through His Church. The law He first impressed
on Adam He imposes more strongly and implicitly
on Moses, and He again reveals it in the fullest
manner and enforces it in the most perfect way by
the preaching and example of His Divine Son, Who
came not to destroy the law but to fulfil it. And
the doctrine of the Saviour has been faithfully pro
claimed by His Apostles, who have inculcated it all
the more strongly, and enunciated it all the more
clearly as His interests were opposed and His truth
impugned. We see unyielding and firm devotedness

On True Principle. 125

in all the Apostles, hut St. Paul exhibits it to us in
a very marked way in his dauntless declaration and
announcement of that truth, which he sets forth more
and more clearly, and more and more bravely, as
he prosecutes his mission and conflicts with Gentiles
and unbelievers. Vet he came after our Blessed Lord,
and was the last of His Apostles,, and never taught
personally by Him, but was instructed by His disciple
:incl enlightened by the Spirit of Truth. So it is with
the Church. Guided by the same Divine Spirit, she
holds steadfastly the same truth and the same law,
but she declares it more emphatically and expounds
it more fully when she is called on by the wants
of the faithful to do so, and as they stand in need
of light and support to follow the sure path to Heaven,
and to contend with falsehood and the evils of the
day.

\Ve know that the mere knowledge of the Divine
law is not principle in the individual, and that it only
becomes so when it is put in practice and observed
undeviatingly. As we are faithful, God gives us and
makes us more and more conscious of a strong moral
sense of right and wrong, which enables us to discern
more clearly, and fulfil our obligations more perfectly.
This gift, like all his graces, can be wasted and for
feited when we are heedless of it and reject its
warnings. But if we respond to it carefully, it points
out tons what is good and evil, and warns us what

126 Moral Training.

we ought or ought not to do. And in this way it
becomes a sure guide to conscience in the direction
of our actions.

Now we must bear in mind that it is law that
governs us, and that conscience dictates to us the law,
for we are apt to confuse these two things. Con
science is the executive power, the judge that carries
out and enforces the law ; it exhorts us to just actions
and enjoins just actions, and it condemns and pro
nounces sentence on our unworthy deeds and our
unfaithfulness to duty.

No doubt we sometimes speak of the laws of our
conscience, and it often makes laws of conduct for us
in this way. There is something we desire very much,
but our conscience condemns it and contends with
the desire, declaring against it until its accomplish
ment is prevented. This sentence is laid up in our
memory, and when a similar desire presents itself it
is overcome and put away by the recollection of the
former sentence, which acts as a law without further
discussion or reference. And as cases of this kind
multiply and are stored up in like manner, they pro
tect us against ourselves, and ward of much evil that
we should otherwise be likely to fall into if we were
unmindful of grace and our interior monitor.

We find in the exercise and practice of true prin
ciple that Almighty God gives us three powerful aids,
all accompanied with special graces, which are in-

On True Principle. 127

creased as we correspond with them. First, we have
the law of God imprinted on our hearts, revealed to
us by God Himself, expounded by His Apostles, and
enforced by His Church. This law directs us in the
way we should walk, enlightening us at every step,
and showing us how to please God by seeking and
following His holy will in the path of truth.

Secondly, God bestows on us, besides this general
knowledge of what is good and evil, and what He
commands and forbids in ourselves and others, the
gift of moral sense, the faculty of discerning what is
right and wrong in and with regard to our own acts.
It is the lamp of conscience, and like conscience it
cannot extend to or be exercised over the doings of
others (except so far as our own duty has some con
nection with them), for it throws light only on our
own actions, and points out what we ourselves ought
or ought not to do. The fact that this faculty does
not extend to the duties of others, explains why it
is we are so likely to wrong and misapprehend our
neighbour when we judge his intentions and assign
motives to him, though we cannot know his mind
or read his heart. And we see how good and just
Almighty God is in forbidding us to act in such a
way.

The gift of moral sense is that personal and innate
consciousness of what is right and wrong which we
feel in our inmost hearts, urging us to all that is good

128 Moral Training.

and dissuading us from evil. It is sometimes called
the voice of conscience, and we may well regard it as
conscience itself in reserve, and before it comes into
act.

Then, thirdly, we have conscience in its true form
and right capacity, that judges and passes sentence
on every deliberate act of our lives. Now it is just
what conscience dictates, when it is guided and
enlightened by the two aids mentioned above, that
reveals to us the true principle which should actuate
us on every occasion, and rule and direct us at all
times.

We must remember that we may be influenced by
a false and a wrong principle when we wilfully blind
or pervert our conscience, and follow in its stead
passion or prejudice. Conscience is very easily
blunted, and grows callous when slighted or sinned
against, so we may easily drift into a wrong way if we
do not watch over ourselves. We may go on in this
wrong course for years, if not for life, deceiving our
selves all the while with false views and ideas, because
they enable us the more easily and unscrupulously to
follow our own will.

There are also doubtful and scrupulous con
sciences, and there may be doubts and uncertainty
as to the principle on which we should act. The
doubtful conscience of one who loves truth and is
humble, is soon set right by consulting an experienced

0" True Principle. 129

and competent judge, and taking his opinion. A
doubt arises in the mind when two impressions exist,
and two views present themselves, and the contrary
reasons for each are so equal that the mind cannot
decide, without help and counsel, which to adopt.

The scrupulous conscience is by far a greater diffi
culty in our way when trying to maintain true prin
ciple, for a scrupulous conscience is a diseased and
unhealthy conscience, in fact no conscience at all,
but a self-willed, weak, and unstable judgment which
takes its name, and whilst it is dubious and vacilla
ting about its own views, it has still less faith and
but little confidence in the opinions of others. I
believe, with the exception of those who have been
afllicted with scruples as a spiritual trial, or those who
arc truly humble, that scrupulous souls have a deep
stratum of natural suspicion and distrust in them that
often re-mains for life, or at least is seldom entirely
removed.

At first this distrust is turned against themselves, and
displayed in all their actions ; but after some years,
when they are partly cured and the disease has grown
somewhat chronic, it appears in a marked way in
their intercourse with others. Their suspicion is pain
fully exercised on those who are engaged with them
in their duties, or who have to assist and co-operate
with them in their undertakings. Nothing appears
right but what they do themselves or sec with their
9

! 30 Moral Training.

own eyes. All others are sure to err in some way
or to be deceived. This seems a wonderful change
and a strange reaction in those who a short time
before were so timid and distrustful of themselves
on all occasions. But the character still remains the
same, the object of distrust alone is changed, and
the tendency to doubt continues. The encourage
ment that timid souls beg for and receive, the assu
rances that they have acquitted themselves well of
their duties, and the praises they have sought, have
not cured them of the habit of doubting, but only
of doubting themselves, and this is especially ap
parent to those who are placed under them. But to
those who are placed over them, and those to whom
they look up with respect, this distrust of others and
confidence in self does not appear. On the contrary,
to these the scrupulous person seems a humble and
docile soul, only in need of support and guidance,
until his will is resisted and his designs unexpectedly-
contradicted, when opposition brings out the true cha
racter, which displays much self-esteem, much tenacity
of opinion, and also great uncertainty of aim and
purpose, with still greater instability in action.

Divine grace and the practice of the virtues are
essentially necessary for our perseverance in true prin
ciple, as well as for the preservation of a right con
science. They give us light and strength to discern
God's law and to do His will. Some of these virtues

On True Principle. 131

we do not always value enough, or prize as we ought,
because we do not know their worth or study them
sufficiently. In saying this I do not include the
theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity, for we
have been instructed from infancy in these Divine
virtues, and we would adhere to them in preference
to life itself. We know we could not acquire these
virtues by our natural strength, but that God gives
them to us, as He alone infuses them into every
baptized soul, and that these supernatural gifts may
be impaired or even wholly lost by sin, though they
are always recoverable by repentance. For the time
being, mortal sin destroys the charity of God ; repent
ance will restore it. These virtues grow in the soul as
we preserve them faithfully, and God, in His mercy,
increases sanctifying grace in our hearts as we prize it
and pray for it, and augments with it the gifts of the
Holy (ihost nnd all supernatural and moral virtues.
The early instructions we receive on all these points,
as well as on all matters of faith, impress them deeply
on our minds, and make us comprehend their great
importance to us through life, and their matchless
worth and boundless power in obtaining salvation.

Now if good instruction is of such avail, and of
such vital consequence with regard to the theological
virtues, we cannot doubt that good instruction on
the moral virtues must also be of very great use to
us. I do not mean to advocate the habit of theo-

132 Moral Training.

rizing about the virtues, as this might mislead ami
prove hurtful. We might thus rest satisfied in dis
cussing and analyzing them, and overlook the more
important point of putting them into practice. The
kind of instruction which generally proves useful to
us in childhood is simple explanation of the virtues,
with a clearly denned method of exercising them.
This may aid children to the love and practice of
them. The better we understand the moral virtues
the more we appreciate them, and the more strenu
ously we yearn for their more perfect acquisition.
We cannot be earnest in ruling our lives or in
governing ourselves wisely without calling the moral
virtues to our aid and finding in them every sup
port.

We discover this to be the case when we decide
on a rule of life, or form resolutions as to our conduct
under certain circumstances, and thus make compacts
with ourselves as to what we shall do or omit to
do. A practical knowledge of the moral virtues
assists us to form these resolves rightly and suitably
to our state, from the knowledge we have of our
own character and dispositions. It also gives addi
tional weight and power to them, for we are aware
we are not acting solely on our own opinion, or resting
on our own judgment. We have meditated on the
virtues, and desire to embody them in our rule of
conduct and to build up our lives on them. By

On True Principle. 133

doing so we can scarcely relax in our good purposes
without soon perceiving it, for we have then a true
and fixed standard before us, that shows at once
where we have acted properly and when we have
fallen away. In this way the practice of virtue sup
ports true principle, establishes it in the mind, and
displays it in action. For the rule we act on, if it
is just and right, must emanate from principle, and
it is clear that the higher and truer our principle,
the more excellent our lives, and the more upright
our conduct will be.

CHAPTER XL

ON THE MORAL VIRTUES.

THE knowledge and appreciation of the moral virtues
will be found not only a help in the road to perfec
tion, but also a safeguard and protection against
faults and delinquencies. We must all admit that
the disorders of our lives (the defects we have fallen
into and the evil we have done) have been committed
usually while we were under the influence of false
impressions and erroneous opinions. And may we
not justly believe that with God's grace we might
have overcome these faults and avoided that evil, had
we taken His law to heart, and reflected on the value,
the power, and the beauty of the virtues which He
willingly bestows on us when we desire and pray
for them, and which He increases as we faithfully
practise them ?

We must now consider what virtue is, and what it
effects in the soul. But before doing so we should
understand and ever bear in mind that the essence of
Christian perfection consists wholly in the love of
God and of our neighbour, or, in other words, in true
charity. Now charity will increase and reign in the

On the Moral Virtues. 135

soul so far, in the same degree, as we contend
against our passions and vices, and to the same extent
as we subdue them. The virtues are the means that
God gives us to effect this great work, to uproot and
clear away all that may offend Him, and then to
decorate and fit the soul for His dwelling-place.

There must be no respite in this spiritual labour.
It must be continuous, for a virtue to fulfil its office
duly must be habitual and constantly in action. Its
work in the soul only ceases at the hour of death.
Passions revive, and vices crop up time after time,
and have to be held in check and cut down again
and again. The good to be done, the generous acts
to be performed, and the duties to be fulfilled, present
themselves hour by hour as we journey through life.
Duty is nothing else but the distinct act enjoined and
demanded of us by the virtue directing us at the time
of its performance. Therefore whenever we neglect
the duty, we fail in the virtue.

When duty has been faithfully discharged, and when
the soul is filled with charity, then virtue appears in
a perfect state in this world. We can but define it,
then, as God's power communicated, God's law esta
blished, and God's will enthroned in the human soul,
and all these acknowledged, enforced, and obeyed by
man's reason, conscience, and will.

Virtue is a supernatural strength given to us by
God, first to overcome and surmount the obstacles

136 Moral Training.

and difficulties which the evils of our fallen nature
raise between us and Him, and in the second place it
is the practice of all that is good, and the performance
of all that is well-pleasing to Him. And, in the third
place, it is the reign of order and the reign of justice
in the soul of man. Virtue is not only the weapon,
but it is also the prize in the warfare of life. It is
the triumph of grace over the passions, and it is even
more — it is the beatitude of the soul, the possession
of peace and the God of peace Who abideth in the
peaceful soul, reigning over it absolutely and supremely.

Although all virtue springs from the same source.
and is one in essence, yet it diversifies itself and
comes to us by various paths, so as to meet the many
wants of human life. Each want is provided with its
proper remedy, and that remedy bears a special name,
and has a distinct office of its own to perform. The
moral virtues divide themselves at first into four
principal channels, called the cardinal virtues of
Prudence, Justice, Temperance, and Fortitude, and
these subdivide again intc several rills and rivulets,
bringing health and strength to every soul that wills
to partake of these blessings, and desires to receive
them.

Before saying a few words on each of the cardinal
virtues it will be \vell to remind ourselves that perfec
tion is not inherent, and does not subsist in the moral
virtues as it abides in the theological or Divine virtues

On tJie Moral Virtues. 137

f)l" Faith, Hope, and Charity. Still charity will soon
grow shallow and weak, and will soon decline unless
it is replenished and reinforced by the practice of the
moral virtues.

There is a peculiarity in the practice of the moral
virtues that does not exist, at least to the same extent,
in the practice of the Divine virtues. The moral
virtues are very apt to degenerate, and do degenerate
into vices when carried beyond, or not carried up to,
the proper limit. For each virtue is ever attended
and beset by the contrary vices — that of excess on
one side and of failure or deficiency on the other.
True virtue must hold the middle course, and keep
the just mean between them. If it fails in this it not
only ceases to be a virtue, but it becomes a vice. It
either overruns and devastates the soul when, from
the admixture of violent and unchecked passions, it
breaks through the proper limits and goes beyond
the bounds which are laid down by prudence. And,
on the other hand, through want of fidelity and
correspondence to grace, its current is soon in
terrupted or restrained, and flows no longer freely or
clearly from the fountain-head. For in proportion as
we reject Divine assistance virtue grows weak, and
sinks lower and lower, until it is lost in the mud out
of which we have been made, and then it becomes
<l of the earth earthy ".

The just mean which the moral virtues should

I 3^ floral Training.

maintain and keep to, and the precise limit to
which they should go, cannot be ascertained by
mathematical rules, or the wisest maxims of
worldly wisdom. For they vary constantly with time
and place, and all changes of circumstances may
affect them. Now reason, when enlightened by
grace, will direct us how to act as we should, and
keep us in the right path. But reason without grace
will not be able to do so, for a soul habitually in a
sinful state, and willingly persevering in a sinful state,
must be unable to guide itself, and incapable of
sustaining itself steadily in the right course. Because
when reason is unaided by grace it is easily dethroned
by pride, or tilted from its seat by passion. And
these powers of evil assume its place and rule in
its stead in a chaos of disorder and tumult. All
the passions when uncontrolled rebel against reason
and desire to conquer it and enslave it, but pride
is pre-eminently successful in doing so. It has more
power in the conflict and gains the victory more
easily. We can attribute this to the fact that pride
very often usurps the authority of reason in its combat
with the other passions, at least by hindering public
and overt acts of them. But when reason is un-
sustained by grace it has no help or assistance in
its encounter with pride, and it is quickly overcome
and vanquished.

So circumstanced, reason is no longer master ; it is

On the Moral Virtues. 139

nut free to exercise its powers and faculties, it cannot
consider calmly, or judge fairly or dispassionately
even in the most commonplace questions. Reason
comes to us from the bounteous hand of God ; it is
the greatest and highest of His natural gifts to man.
\Ve debase and vitiate it when we allow it to be
overruled by our passions and evil inclinations, though
we may try to persuade ourselves we are then exer
cising it freely and fearlessly. But it is only free
and unconstrained when guided and enlightened by
eternal wisdom and eternal truth.

The first of the cardinal virtues is Prudence. It
is founded on reason, and it is a virtue of the
intellect and not of the will. In this it is unlike all
others. It, in fact, regulates and directs all the
other moral virtues, and is necessary for their per
fection, for virtue is only virtue when it is guided by
prudence. Therefore it is the most important of all.

St. Augustine says that prudence is " the know
ledge of what to seek and what to avoid ". It is a
virtue that enables us to do what we ought to do
well and wisely, with forethought and discretion.

1'rudenre considers the means, compares and
selects the best, and then urges the will to adopt
them ; consequently there are three constituent parts
in prudence. First, deliberation or the due consi
deration of the means which are within our reach
for the just accomplishment of the act we contem-

140 Moral Training.

plate. Secondly, judgment, as the selection of the
means best suited to time, place, and circum
stances. Thirdly, the adoption and employment of
the right means and the faithful performance of
the action.

The faults of excess against the virtue of prudence
are cunning, wiliness, and over-solicitude. The
faults of defect against this virtue are precipitation,
impetuosity, and thoughtlessness.

The means of acquiring prudence are, prayer,
reflection, and experience. Besides making earnest
petitions for prudence at the usual time of prayer, we
should try to gain it at the beginning of our principal
actions, or during the progress of them if forgotten
at the commencement. We must see how necessary
this practice is for us when we reflect on the serious
consequences and powerful influences which those
actions have on our own lives and on the lives ot
others, that they will either bring us joy or grief as
they have or have not been guided by prudence.
Even a prayer of one instant will often save us from
a rash and reckless act or an unjust and evil deed.
It will even render meritorious an act in its continu
ance which though not bad in itself, has been com
menced through pride, vanity, or some imperfect
motive. By a special grace we correct and purify our
intention and offer the action to God with submission
to His will. Our vicious nature is thus overcome,

On the Moral Virtues. i-ii

reason asserts itself, and God accepts and blesses
the action.

It is the intention that stamps the value on the
action even before it is fully consummated by word
or deed. God will recompense it, as the intention is
good or evil. We have sometimes hazy views and
ideas on this subject, as if what is said of the great
worth and merit of intention were something unreal
or imaginary. But let the stress and importance
the laws of our country lay on this point con
vince us of the vital power of intention. Take the
rase of one man having killed another, and the
perpetrator being brought to trial. If it is proved
that the act was done with premeditation and delibe
rate purpose, the law will condemn him to death
for murder. If it is proved that the act was not
premeditated, but was done at the moment of
passion and without reflection, the law will sentence
him to imprisonment for some years for manslaughter.
If it is proved that the accused had no intention
of giving the blow, but that it was inflicted by acci
dent, the law will declare him innocent and set him
free. Thus we find that the law deals with the
intention far more than with the act, which is only
so far considered as it reveals the thought enter
tained at the time. Matter-of-fact men, who make
these laws and execute them, in this way declare that
it is the intention as it stands in the mind of the

142 Moral Training.

culprit even before the deed is done, to which the
malice of the act is attached, and to which the
punishment is accorded ; and to give a just sentence
in this matter judge and jury must investigate and
weigh his motives to the best of their ability. When
thus people of the world so freely recognize the
importance of intention in judging the merits or
demerits of our actions, of what consequence must
not our intentions be before God, Who can read our
hearts through and through, and Who is the witness
as well as the judge of every thought and action of
our lives. We should therefore work faithfully this
mine of merits by directing every intention to God,
for prudence is only perfect when it looks to God
alone.

The second cardinal virtue is Justice. It disposes
the will habitually to give every one his right.

I believe justice to be the first if not the only
cardinal virtue that we acquire in early childhood,
and I also believe that we have innumerable
opportunities of practising it at that age. It is un
necessary to go into lengthened details to prove
this. I need only recall the daily and even hourly
appeal for " fair play " from our little companions.
The exactness with which we were required to
adjust the differences of opinion, and disputes
about the rules and arrangements of our games
and plays, and the equitable distribut-mi that we

On the Moral Virtues. 143

were expected to make of the toys and good things
that were intrusted to us to share with them. But
our sense of justice was still more strongly and
warmly called forth if any of our young friends were
unjustly accused and punished, and our indignation
on these occasions might convince us now that we
had this virtue naturally before we were blessed with
it supernaturally, as St. Basil tells us that " we have
justice and a sense of fair dealing instilled into our
hearts by nature herself".

As this virtue is strengthened by having to con
tend with the opposite vice, or from having suffered
from its violation in any way through others, so those
who have at any time been unjustly treated — particu
larly in youth — have ever afterwards a very high
appreciation and admiration for all that is impartial
and evenhanded.

The virtue of justice is exercised towards God by
submission, obedience, reverence, worship, gratitude,
and love. Towards our neighbour by being fair
and upright in our actions, sincere in our words,
and faithful to our promises, and unprejudiced in
our thoughts and opinions of him. In exercising
justice towards ourselves we must ever bear in mind
we have nothing but what we have received, and of
which we must give a strict account. So we must
not misuse (lod's gifts by wasting them thoughtlessly
and unreasonably, and neither must we leave them

144 Moral Training.

fruitless and idle, like the unprofitable servant, but
turn them to the best account, employing them
according to the Divine Donor's will, and for His
honour and glory.

The faults of defect against the virtue of justice
are so well known that it is needless to enumerate
them, but the faults of excess are more likely to
be overlooked. Under the plea that justice cannot
be carried too far we may become unrelenting,
merciless, or inexorable, thus proving the truth of
the saying, "the highest justice is the highest wrong ".
We must remember that virtue lies in the mean and
not in the extreme.

The virtue of justice is acquired by prayer and
practice. It is increased by the habit of accuracy
and by the suppression and suspension of all rash
and harsh judgments upon others. And it is culti
vated by an undying spirit of gratitude both to God
and man for every blessing and every mark of good
ness and kindness shown to us.

The perfection of justice ensures the possession
and observance of honour, as well as its high
appreciation. For honour, no matter how we
regard it, as natural or supernatural, if it is real and
true, is the crown and perfection of honesty. We
give honour to God because it is due to Him ; to
man as we owe it to his position, worth, or excel
lence,, and if we receive it ourselves we must take

On the Moral Virtues. 145

care to deserve it, so as not to take it under false
pretences. Though a man creates and preserves his
honour still he docs not hold it in his own hands,
once he possesses it. It is lodged to his account in
the judgment of his neighbours. And if he is an
honourable man he must try and be worth the
amount for which he is credited.

If a man is honoured for his profession, station,
or office, it is clear that he is bound in justice to
respect his state also, and not only to refrain from all
that would not be consonant with it, but before God
and man to be in truth what he is supposed to be,
and to fulfil faithfully, his duties and obligations in the
most perfect way in his power.

Even natural or instinctive honour brings with it
many advantages. Well-disposed people must value
it, as it often strengthens and supports them in a
good and straightforward course of life, it also protects
them from great falls and all reproach. The Almighty
seems frequently to permit it to act like a grace in
this way, and to make use of it as a foreshadowing
of great gifts and blessings. Clod is the Author of
nature as He is the source of grace, and although
man by sin has spoiled and deformed His work, still
good natural character often gleams with a ray of
original beauty; and this glimpse of His first design
must be pleasing to Him and attractive to His love,
for ou such characters we find Him building up
10

14^ Moral Training,

an edifice of heroic sanctity. All who know any
thing beyond the surface of human life or the
histories of individual souls must be aware that a
true instinct of honour often protects them from great
offences, besides saving them from little deceptions
and small insincerities.

A child brought up with a sense of honour will
do nothing mean or deceitful. As a boy he will
avoid everything underhanded or unmanly ; and when
he becomes a youth he will be careful to preserve
his name without blemish, and shun all that would
bring disgrace on his family or shame to his father.
In renouncing all that is base and disreputable
he preserves his soul from many stains. Although, I
allow, this may not be done through the highest
motive, or even through the right motive, still it is
no small advantage to avoid sin and the habit of
sin, and all the scandal that it causes.

Bnt let us suppose this soul to have been nurtured
in and imbued with supernatural principles of the
highest honour, and we shall find him not only acting
justly and " giving honour where it is due," but doing
so for the love of God, and for His greater honour
and glory he will not only avoid everything displeasing
to Him, but he will seek His will in all things,
desiring to accomplish it, and " to fulfil all justice ".

The third and fourth cardinal virtues are Tem
perance and Fortitude, two powerful and mighty gifts of

On the Moral ]rirtucs. 147

God— potent helps to enable us to conquer all exces
sive desire for sensible enjoyments, and to surmount
all excessive dread of sensible suffering, which are
our two weak points, and the twofold frailty of
human nature. The virtue of temperance enables
us habitually to hold in check and to moderate
our appetites and desires, particularly in all these
things that appertain to the senses. It gives us
power and strength to control our natural inclina
tions, and to limit our wants to what is right and
lawful. When we have emancipated ourselves from
undue claims, and have curbed all the disorderly and
unworthy tendencies of our earthly nature, we prove
ourselves faithful soldiers of Christ, prepare ourselves
to be received as the children of God, and to be
blessed with the Divine Spirit ; for as we renounce
ourselves and obey God's law, we grow in grace.

The virtue of fortitude gives us supernatural
strength to encounter labours, difficulties, and dangers
in the service of God, and in the cause of justice
and truth. It gives us courage to surmount the
obstacles and hindrances we may meet with in the
work we may have to do for our neighbour, from
the spirit of opposition, from unreasonable views
and prejudices, from unfriendliness and misrepre
sentation. It gives us patience to bear all trials
meekly, whilst we toil on steadily and perseveringly,
doing what we know is right, with peace of mind,

148 Moral Training.

and entire faith and confidence in God. Fortitude
gives us courage also to overcome the difficulties
that the weakness of our own hearts creates, and
puts between us and the duty we owe to God and
ourselves. It helps us to conquer human respect,
when from the dread of displeasing our fellow-men,
or from an overweening desire to please them, we
are tempted to omit what we are bound in duty
to do, or to do it badly or carelessly. Fortitude
gives us strength to master our timidity or human
fear, that dread of failure which makes us shrink
from, or perform reluctantly and listlessly those
duties we think we do not do well, or excel in.
It also enables us to conquer all cowardly fear that
would deter us from undertaking and carrying out
good works for God's honour from the apprehen
sion of the drudgery and anxiety they are likely
to entail on us, and even without having any assurance
of their succeeding according to our expectations.
Fortitude gives the spirit of endurance and per
severance in a life of labour, with an intrepid devo
tion to duty. And it gives us resolution and sub
mission to bear the cares and sorrows of life patiently
and bravely, with confidence and trust in God's
love and mercy.

Fortitude comes to our help in physical as well
as in mental suffering; it brings patience and
resignation in sickness and bodily pain. We all

On tlic Moral Virtues. 149

admire patient suffering, and we reverence it still
more when we see it endured constantly with calm
cheerfulness. This brings before us a picture of
holiness and of true conformity to the Divine Will
which we would gladly possess, but perhaps despair
of acquiring. I believe the habit of silence is a
powerful means for the acquisition of this virtue and
the practice of patience, though it may be very
different from, and fall far short of, the possession
of the virtue. Still I think it is a remote prepara
tion. I mean the habit of silence, not only observed
with others, but maintained with ourselves in regard
to what we may have to suffer. Of course we
should be frank and open when free speech is
required of us by duty or simplicity, but otherwise
we shall find generally that silence on this point is
a blessing.

When we speak of our pains and what we have
to endure, we usually do so to obtain condolence
and sympathy. Now, sympathy is dearly prized by
us, the boon we most value from our friends, and
the one we most gratefully receive from them. But
to be of any worth or comfort to us, it must be
bestowed freely and spontaneously. When we elicit
and invite it, it nearly always disappoints us, and it
makes us weak and unhappy the more we desire
and crave after it. We are sure not to receive always
the kind we wished for, or all we expected. So we

150 Moral '

are apt to grow morbid and querulous, just as we
are liable to become egotistical and over-exacting.

If we would keep our minds tranquil and healthy,
it is well to take up good and useful subjects for
reflection and consideration, and to occupy ourselves
with them when ailing, as far as we can do so con
tinually and agreeably. The habit of distracting the
mind in this way brings much relief, and helps us to
pass many a weary hour calmly and patiently, that
would press the more heavily if we gave way to
self-pity and painful recollections. It would be well
never voluntarily to look back on an hour's pain
once that hour is past. It will depress and un
nerve us, and so render us less able to encounter the
trials we may yet have to meet. It will be far
better for us to let each day bear its own burden
of pain to the throne of God, and leave it there
offering it in union with our Divine Lord's sufferings
in a spirit of reparation and submission, and with
entire resignation to his most holy will.

The evils of defect against the virtue of fortitude most
to be dreaded in our every-day life are faint-hearted-
ness, self-commiseration, and human respect. The
faults of excess are not so frequently committed, but
we ought to remember that if we are powerful we
ought to be merciful, and that " Tis excellent to
have a giant's strength, but tyrannous to use it like a

CHAPTER XII.

ON HKING TRUE AND TRUSTY.

FATHER FABER remarks in his Spiritual Conferences,
" There is a peculiar clearness about characters which
have learned to be true after having been deceitful ".
I am now convinced of this truth, though at first
I own I had some misgivings, for I have known
several instances, and that in the most surprising
cases, and in characters inured to habits of cunning
and deceit for years. The humiliating consciousness
of having had these defects, and the grace of repent
ance, with the yearning desire to be trusted and
found worthy of reliance, forced them, as it were, to
renounce everything like deception and untruth, and
to keep a guard over themselves, watching carefully
every word and action, lest any new fault com
mitted might revive old habits, and plunge the soul
again into all its former misery. In these disposi
tions it becomes transparently truthful. Such a soul
is as faithful to the truth somewhat in the same-
degree as the man who has pledged himself to total
abstinence is faithful to temperance. Self-distrust is
>trong in both cases, accompanied by a dread, if not a

152 Moral Training.

conviction, that the slightest failing, if not speedily
corrected, may end in irreclaimable relapse. Although
we learn here that the habit of truthfulness can be
acquired at any age, and even under the most unpro
mising circumstances, so that no one should ever de
spair with God's grace of gaining it, still, we all admit
that it is of the first importance that this habit
should be inculcated from infancy, and that the
guileless soul should be carefully kept undeviatingly
in the direct and straightforward path, and preserved
in childlike ingenuousness for life. Yet those intrusted
with the care of children in their early years, are
often not only wanting in that jealous watchfulness,
so requisite on this point, but they not unfrequently
lead those in their charge to pretence, dissimulation,
and falsehood.

Much of the unhappiness of the world is caused
by people assuming a false position, and trying to
maintain it under difficult and adverse circumstances.
How many could trace their errors in this direction
to the false impressions they nourished while in the
nursery as to their own consequence and future
importance? If the nurse is ill-tempered she is
likely to incite the child to untruth and subterfuge
by her threats of severe punishment for mere acts of
childish mischief. He remembers the promised in
fliction when questioned about it, and he prevaricates
to escape it. If it succeeds in saving him, it is

On being True and Trusty. 153

not unlikely that he will avail himself of t he-
same ignoble shield when again terrified by her
threats.

I Hit the case is worse when the schoolboy is
accused and punished for something he has not done,
and menaced with still further chastisement if he
does not acknowledge having committed the fault.
But if he acknowledges it he is told all shall be
forgiven. He sees that his denials are not believed,
and that they only exasperate his master, and make
him more severe, and as the weak, young child looks
at the cold, hard man, he thinks he may as well
say he did it, and escape punishment and his perse
cutor. So he tells the lie, but he will never forget
the injustice he was subjected to, and it will cost him
a hard struggle not to resent it for years.

To me the lengths to which teachers and even
parents will sometimes go to convict a child of a lie
seem as unwise as incomprehensible. They investi
gate, examine, and cross-question, looking so stern
and angry all the time, as to give the child the
impression that they are cruel and vindictive foes,
trying to entrap him in his own words. If he told
the lie, he is now likely to tell many more, and if
his additional untruths help him out of his difficulty
and save him from punishment, he congratulates
himself on his cleverness and cunning. If he is
found guilty, and publicly charged and branded as

154 Moral Training.

a liar, he loses all self-respect, and despairs of
ever being a truthful character, or of ever being
considered one. Now, the question arises, Is a child
to be allowed to tell untruths and commit faults
without any correction ? Certainly not. If you are
quite sure he has told the lie, and that to your
own knowledge or on conclusive evidence, and
that you have reason to believe he told it inten
tionally, then correct him, but it ought to be clear
to him that you correct him, not for vengeance' sake,
but for his good and improvement. Let him
see that you believe the worst is over with him and
that you feel sure of his amendmjnt. Anything that
would harden or degrade him should be avoided,
as well as all undue severity. If a child thinks
he has been cruelly or over-severely punished, he
is liable to become obdurate, to lose all sorrow and
regret for having committed the fault, and all desire
to atone and make amends for it. He thinks he
has paid dearly for it, and to the full amount. So he
considers he is at quits on that head at least with his
fellow-beings, and he will probably grow callous and
reckless. Therefore a character that commands trust
and reliance is a possession of special importance
to those who have to correct others. It ensures
the belief that they will do nothing unjust or oppres
sive, but still, what duty requires will be done fairly
and firmly.

On being True and Trusty. 155

A gentle word, a kind look does wonders on such
occasions to soften hearts, and lead them in the right
way. We must not be afraid to yield too soon
when there is any sign of repentance, or to meet
the poor delinquent more than half way. Once he
sees his fault, he should be treated with the utmost
frankness and confidence ever afterwards, to guard
him against a relapse, and to help him to regain
his self-respect. If a child has only been suspected
of untruthfulness, or some such fault, or if the charge
came to our ears through tale-bearing, we should
pass it by without notice. If he is aware of the
accusation, we should be doubly prompt in declaring
our incredulity, and in removing all suspicion from
his character. It need not be thought that this
mode of action will injure him if he is really guilty.
When there is no reliable proof, the person suspected
should always have the benefit of the doubt. Besides,
children often say what is not true unconsciously.
They have generally a very strong imagination, and
they partly believe what they wish to believe. A
child is also quick at seeing what he is expected
to say, and he says it fancying it must be the right
thing. Finding himself doubted or suspected would
do him great harm. We must trust him if we want
him to be trustworthy. If he is brought up from his
early years with a respect for his word, and with
fidelity and loving reverence for all that is true and

156 Moral Training.

honourable, he will, with God's grace, live according
to God's law, and die a truthful man.

We have generally a clear perception, and a
certain consciousness when we are untrue to God, to
His law, to His will, or to His service. And we
have therefore painful remorse when we fail in duty,
and are unfaithful and unprincipled. But oftentimes
we seem to have confused ideas as to the observance
of truth in our words, from the various views and
representations we think it admissible to express on
the same subject when speaking to different people.
And we seem still oftener more uncertain and unde
cided how far we ought to be true to each other.
Yet union and good faith among friends, concord
and a good understanding among acquaintances, and
with society at large, depend on our fidelity in
such matters.

Our best course is to be ever loyal to our friends,
never to utter a word about them that they could
not hear with satisfaction, and always to give our
selves the habit of being just as true to the absent
as we would be if they were present, and as true
to the present as we would wish them to be true to
us. Of course we can be true, and entirely true, as
long as we are not untrue. We can be passively
true. We are by no means obliged to say all we know
or all we think on any subject; we are truthful so
long as what we do say is truth. But we must take

On being True and Trusty.

: .

care that what we say truthfully to one person is
not contradicted in any way by what we say on the
same subject to somebody else, unless we have
changed our opinion, and then it is well to acknow
ledge having done so. It is right to be careful
that what we say should be consistent, so that if
all we have said on the same subject should happen
to be repeated, it should all be in keeping and of
a piece, each statement conveying the same meaning
in a greater or less degree, as it may be deemed
wise and prudent, but always in accordance with
truth. And any alteration in such statements should
be duly accounted for. This is more important than
it may appear at the first sight, for it must be owned
that contrary and inconsistent statements, repeated
from the same person, have often shaken faith and
trust in members of the same household, and chilled
the confidence of friends, thus occasioning both pain
of mind and bitterness of heart.

Those who mean to be true to others and consider
themselves true, we find usually divided in important
matters into two classes, and these classes are so
distinct and so completely separated, that they have
little sympathy with each other, and but too often
misunderstandings exist between them. One class
acts from and adheres exclusively to principle. The
other class aims at and piques itself on fidelity to
party. The first class possesses more power and

158 Aloral Training.

more facility of action in using it, but has fewer
friends. As it keeps up the cry, " Measures, not
men," ft is apt to adopt the spirit of the saying
too literally, to overlook men too much, and not
to be mindful enough of the individual interests
and feelings of even its adherents and supporters.
It is so absorbed in its efforts to accomplish the
good it has in view, that it disregards all else ; and
though it has right on its side, supports the truth, and
possesses trust, still it is not popular or attractive,
except with the thoughtful. The second class rests
on popularity, and the union of opinion among many
in favour of one leader, but this union of opinion
does not, unfortunately, always extend to the kind
of service he is expected to render, and the peculiar
work he is to accomplish. So that, although he
may have strong adherents and many followers, they
often restrain him by their opposing wills and opposite
'counsels, all of which he is expected to consult and
to comply with. And therefore he cannot effect
much, though within his reach, as he has little er
no freedom of action. If the merits of both classes
could be somewhat combined, if the first possessed
more thoughtfulness and a kinder consideration for
others, and if the second had more resolution and
less human respect, more would be achieved, and
far greater advantages secured by both parties.

We need God's help in being true and truthful,

On being' True and Trusty. 159

and very special graces to be so faithfully and per-
severingly. From our own nature we could never
attain to it, we are so weak and inconstant. Our
will is so easily swayed by feeling and fancy, our
understanding so frequently darkened by passion and
overshadowed by prejudice, besides being but too
often biassed by self interest. So we depend on
Divine assistance to acquire and maintain impartial
and unprejudiced minds, just and kind consideration
for others, moral courage and stability, with unfailing
attention and fidelity to our hourly duties. All these
things bring their own blessings with them, at the
same time we must own that the practice of them
is not without its difficulties.

If we consider the influence which partiality and
prej udice have over the soul, and the power they
exert in shaping and colouring human life, we shall
see they are mental conditions worthy of close study
and keen watchfulness. We shall also learn that
the best thing we can do, if we wish to be truth
ful, is to acknowledge humbly our liability to be
affected (if not governed) by both of them on many
points. It is probable that at least two-thirds of our
dislikes and antipathies have been caused by them,
and unless we are on our guard these are likely to
grow and strengthen with our years. This often
occurs without any sufficient reason, so that peace
of mind is ruffled and disturbed, and life itself cm-

160 Moral Training.

bittered and clouded by a miasma of our own
creating.

We can see the evil effect of prejudice even in
trivial circumstances and in transactions of little
consequence. For instance, a man going on a
journey is apt, when seated in a railway carriage,
to look out on the groups of passengers, and unless
he is very much pre-occupied, or very wise and
amiable, he is likely to see some one in the crowd
to whom he will feel a kind of repugnance, and this
merely from the expression of the face, or the tone
of the voice, or perhaps from a resemblance to some
person he dislikes. But should the man by any
chance get into the same carriage, he feels quite
annoyed, and will probably take up his newspaper
or remain sullenly silent, fancying himself an injured
person until he gets out again. So for a mere fancy
and freak of the imagination he disturbs his own
peace of mind, forfeits much enjoyment, and mars
the sociability of the rest of his companions. If
prejudices entirely groundless can inflict such punish
ments, should we not try and conquer them in cir
cumstances more important, and forbid them to rest
in our minds, no matter what they may spring from
or to what they may tend ? They are sure to distort
the truth, and to make us unhappy and unjust.

Partiality is even more universal in its influence
than prejudice. It is not so generally and frequently

On being True and Trusty. 161

called into action, but when it is, it is likely to take
a firmer hold on the mind and leave a more lasting
impression. Though we acknowledge that we are
subject to various prejudices which we call into
being ourselves, or imbibe from others, and that
these succeed each other constantly, fresh impres
sions now obliterating and now strengthening those
that have gone before ; still when we hear it said that
such a man showed no prejudice on such an occa
sion, or that he acted free of all prejudice, we con
sider him a fair-minded, just man. But this was only
what we expected of him. If we hear still further
that he is not only unprejudiced, but entirely im
partial, he at once rises in our esteem, and we look
on him with reverence and admiration, as a noble
character possessed of rare virtue.

In matters where we are unconcerned and indif
ferent it may be easy to be impartial, but to be so
where our feelings and predilections are engaged is
most difficult to human nature. We may be sincere
and straightforward, state our opinions candidly, and
speak our thoughts frankly, and yet give no sign or
promise of being impartial, but most likely betray
all the more clearly how far we are from being so.

Properly speaking, partiality only displays itself

when we have the power of making a choice, or of

showing a preference. If we make that choice or show

that preference without any just reason or sufficient

I i

1 62 Moral Training.

cause, merely through natural inclination, affection, or
favour, whereas our duty calls on us to see the true
state of things, and to give our opinion truly and
faithfully, we are partial. We are partial also when
we try to believe only what is most pleasing and
agreeable to us, and form our judgment accordingly.
This is clearly contrary to the observance of truth
fulness, and a serious hindrance to the practice of
justice. To acquire the true spirit of impartiality
and to learn how to act justly, we must look straight
to God and try to see the matter as He sees it. The
more important the point in question is, the more
we should seek God's light and direction, not only
in consideration of the matter itself, but in regard
to the certainty that the more our interest is enlisted
the more strongly our partiality will be enlisted also
if we do not take care. When we see its power to
lead and blind us in trifling things, we cannot doubt
its strength in greater matters. We have an instance
of this in the generally admitted fact that if a man
looks on attentively at two strangers playing some
game, or engaged in some trial of skill, he is sure to
wish for the success of one in preference to the other,
and this, not from any just reason he could assign,
but from some attraction or feeling of partiality he
experiences towards the person he favours, and thus
justice and reason are sometimes over-ruled in our
decisions and judgments.

On beiii^ 'I rue and Trusty. 163

If we can be prejudiced so easily without any real
cause, and if we are likely to become partial without
being able to assign a reason, we can understand how
liable and how likely we are to have our minds and
judgments warped and biassed in matters where our
interests arc concerned and our feelings engaged.
Great care is especially necessary if we have to form
an opinion and are obliged to come to some decision
about the actions of others, that our judgment may
not be influenced unduly either against them or in
their favour. If we feel inclined to condemn the
views or mode of action of some one we do not like,
or for whom we have no great esteem, it is well to
imagine ourselves in his place, and then to try and see
how matters look from his point of view. And if we are
about to condemn his acts, it is well, before doing so,
to imagine them done, not by him, but by one for
whom we feel a strong regard, and then to consider
what sentence we should pass on them, and what
excuses we should make for the doing of them.
Then if we transfer our judgment to the conduct of
the person for whom we have less regard, we may rest
satisfied that we are not swayed by prejudice. This
is, no doubt, an exercise of the imagination, but the
imagination, when it is a help to charity, is always a
help to the ascertainment of truth. The more kind
ness and considerateness we throw into our opinions
of others, the more in accordance with justice they

164 Moral Training.

are likely to be, and consequently the more accuracy
will be found in our decisions and judgments.

One of the most natural and necessary endowments
to enable us to act and speak truthfully is moral
courage. If we observe ourselves closely we shall find
many things we would rather leave unnoticed, and
many things we would prefer not having said, if duty
did not oblige us to act and to say them. We know
some matters are not in proper order or going on
rightly, and we see mistakes that we ought to correct,
but we consider that we have sensitive people to act
with, and we are afraid they may feel hurt if we point
out what requires redress, or what should be avoided.
If we think that they might become low and depressed,
communication with them would not then be so
agreeable; our present peaceable and pleasant inter
course would be interrupted. And so from the dread
of this, or some such inconvenience, we are cowardly
enough to shut our eyes and to make no allusion as
to what should be remedied. Our silence is mistaken
for approval, and it is supposed that all is going on
in accordance with our wishes ; and as we see dis
order continuing and increasing, we keep grumbling
in our own minds at the carelessness and misconduc
of others, overlooking our own indolenc e and un
mindful of our own neglect. A few words said kindly
at first, but with straightforward honesty, to the re
sponsible person, would have set all to rights and

On being True and Trusty. 165

saved many blunders and mistakes, involving much
pain and remorse afterwards.

The want of accuracy in a character displays itself
unmistakably in the habit of exaggeration, or in the
mis-statement of facts that we are too careless to
relate truly, or too indifferent to represent faithfully.
This habit is likely to accompany us from childhood,
as children, besides being imaginative, delight in
giving a surprise or in creating a sensation. They
are also likely to jump at conclusions and to colour
facts in accordance with their wishes, or embellish
them according to their fancy. It must be confessed
that women are inclined to these habits, in which
they would indulge unless they have been brought
up with watchful care on this point, and have been
impressed with the importance of a high appre
ciation of truth and accuracy. I am persuaded,
though it may seem a strange assertion, that next
to vain people it is the amiable and the kindly
disposed who are most likely to fall into the habit
of exaggeration, and this from their desire to interest
and entertain their friends. If some accident or
adventure has happened to such a person, he is
glad to have an attractive or an amusing subject to
speak about, and as he describes and recounts it he
SL-L-S what it is that strikes his hearers and engages
their interest, he dwells particularly on those points in
his desire to be agreeable, and he enlarges on them,

1 66 Moral Training'.

dilating and garnishing them, to gain sympathy and
to keep attention, losing sight of the simple facts, and
overlooking the real circumstances of the case. Some
of those who are listening to him, and who were
present at the occurrence, are surprised at his descrip
tion of it, as they can trace but little resemblance to
the event as it took place. They are pained ard
amazed at his want of truth, and lose faith and con
fidence in him, resolving in their own minds to
attribute in future one-half to exaggeration in every
thing they may hear him relate.

Excessive and exaggerated expressions of praise
have nearly always the opposite effect to what is
expected, and are usually most injurious to our
friends, for violent partisanship is ever likely to create
opposition. As, partly through a spirit of contra
diction and partly through a sense of truth, others
will deny the high perfections we attribute to our
friends. They will even unduly depreciate them, and
point out faults that would otherwise have remained
unnoticed. Is not " a fair field and no favour "
the safest ground for every one? On the other
hand, exaggerated blame or undue censure is sure
to do harm also. Like severe punishment, it will
go far to prevent repentance and hinder amendment,
for to some minds it will appear not only to expiate
the fault committed, but to outweigh and overbalance
it, leaving the cause for complaint on the other side.

On being True and Trusty. 167

The habit of accuracy will save us from a multitude
of errors and many misunderstandings with those
around us, which we are sure to fall into if we make
careless assertions and misstatements. It will save
us from being unjust to our friend by stating his
opinions incorrectly and representing him falsely.
\Ve do this when we give a remark as spoken by him,
and while we profess to repeat his expressions, we
leave out a word here and put in a word there ; then
alter altering the meaning and changing the effect, we
affirm that we give the sentence as spoken by our
friend. This is not only untrue, but doubly so to
our friend, for we quote him wrongly and misrepre
sent him. Even when we quote his own words, but
out of their true context, we are false to him, by
imputing to him views and sentiments which are not
his. Now, such mistakes and misrepresentations are
often the cause of great divisions among friends and
much unhappiness in families. Though we may think
lightly of them, and as matters of no moment when
they occur to others, still when we are ourselves in
question we see them in a different light. For there
are few things more likely to annoy and disquiet us
than to hear our words misquoted and our opinions
misconceived. Besides, there are few things harder
to set right, for the part that is true gives the colour
ing of truth to what is false, and this it is that makes it
difficult for any amount of explanation to clear away.

1 68 Moral Training.

If we want to be thoroughly true to our friend <ve
must be careful not to quote him, or rather not to
name him when we quote him, except it is something
excellent and praiseworthy, or a matter of public
interest ; unless, perhaps, we speak to a mutual friend
who understands us both well, and can rightly appre
ciate what was said. Above all, we should carefully
avoid repeating anything our friend says to us in
confidence, no matter how trifling or unimportant it
may seem to us ; and even what he says in casual
corversation about himself, his personal concerns, his
private views, opinions, and plans, should never be
repeated, unless he wishes us to act or desires our
advice, and we may require the counsel of a third
person. I do not say this merely with regard to such
things as may be confided to us under the promise
of secrecy, for that silence is then a positive duty is
patent to every one, and a duty we must ever observe.
Once a secret has been confided to us, it should
appear as if we never heard it ; and if the circum
stances to which it refers should become generally
known, it is decidedly a breach of trust to inform
any one that it had been previously confided to us.
For such a disclosure, besides being dishonourable
and unfair to our friend, often causes disunion and
feelings of distrust towards him among others. Such
a disclosure can do us no good : it only proves our
vanity and shows how little we can be relied on.

On being True ami Trusty. 169

Secrets are always a burden, whether we cumber
other people with them or take the load on ourselves,
so that the knowledge of them should never be
desired or sought after. At the same time, our friend
ought to feel sure that in any trouble or anxiety he
can always command our fullest attention, our sincere
sympathy and our best counsel, and he ought to
feel doubly sure that whatever he says to us shall
never be mentioned or revealed to any one.

I may be considered to go too far on this point
of silence, but I hold that we should be not only true
to our friend by keeping his confidence, but that we
should keep sacred also whatever a stranger may
confide to us in his hour of affliction. Though what
he has said might scarcely be considered a secret,
still our fellow creature has trusted us with his feelings
and sorrows, and what he has spoken from his heart
in his need of sympathy and comfort, was meant
only for our own ears, and confided to our own
keeping.

Even our enemy, should we ever have one, ought
to feel satisfied that we would observe silence with
regard to anything he ever confided to us in the days
of our friendship; and if we are wise we shall never
lend a willing ear to anything confidential that our
enemy's former friend may wish to say to us about
him. or allow him to reveal anything which was ever
•confided to him. We must keep and even strive to

170 Moral Training.

make our friends true by guarding them from being
false, if we expect them to be true to us, for we ma}'
rest assured that no one will be true to us who is
false to another.

On this principle children should never be allowed
to complain in secret of any one who has vexed them,
and young people of more advanced years should be
prevented from recounting their annoyances, troubles,
and difficulties in confidence. This is sure to make
them cowardly, untruthful, and self-engrossed. We
know that life is a warfare, and if vre are rightly
trained we must be prepared to meet the conflict
bravely and resolutely, like true soldiers of Christ,
and to meet calamities, suffering, and trial with peace
ful endurance, meekness, and resignation. But if we
have not been accustomed to practise these virtues
during our youth, speculative instruction on them
will be but little help in the hour of need. People
generally, but above all young people, seldom expa
tiate on their troubles and difficulties without throwing
the blame on somebody else, and in doing this they
are likely to exaggerate a good deal, and to go far
beyond the truth. Mothers and teachers act most un
wisely when they permit or encourage the child to com
plain to them in this way. They wrongly believe that
by receiving his confidence unchecked they encourage
him to confide in them more fully, and that they will
be better able to preserve their influence over him as

On being True and Trusty. 171

he advances in years. They could scarcely make a
greater mistake, for this method of action is calculated
to destroy their influence for ever. The child knows
when he has spoken too strongly, and has wronged
his brother or schoolfellow, and becomes displeased
and dissatisfied with those who allowed him to do so.
He will feel doubly angry when the feeling of vexa
tion with his friend shall have passed away, and while
treating him afterwards as a friend, he will be con
scious that he was false and unjust to him, and had
acted deceitfully by him, and he will never have full
reliance or entire trust again in those who led him
into this error, or listened to him without reproof or
correction. I believe it is only those who adhere
strictly to principle, not harshly, yet undeviatingly,
who can preserve a true and healthful influence over
others, and any failure or departure from it on om
part is never forgotten, and I fear scarcely ever fully
forgiven by those who are placed under us.

Faults against trustiness and fidelity may often
come from thoughtlessness and vanity, and I believe
more frequently from vanity than from anger, jealousy,
or any other unsubdued passion. Some persons when
they are in a communicative mood know not where to
stop, and often go too far ; and if they have much
vanity will often go much farther, and not only
break trust in some matters, but will reveal every
thing that was ever confided to them. They do

172 Moral Training.

this to prove how much they were trusted and
considered, and to show what experience they have
had. The impression they make on their hearers
is probably the reverse of what they expected to
produce. For we must all confess that the value
we set on any person depends on the reliance we
can place on him. And the esteem we entertain for
him is according to the trust we have in him. We
are estimated in like manner by our neighbours, and
no matter what gifts and talents we may possess, we
have no worth in the estimation of God or man without
faith and fidelity. Even with regard to God Himself,
do we not reverence Him in the same degree that
we believe in Him ? and do we not love Him in the
same measure as we have trust in Him ? There is
one subject on which persons frequently speak untruly
and unfairly, and consequently it is one we ought to
avoid talking about except to a really true friend,
who is honest enough to speak the plain truth, and
to put the right view before us, — and that subject
is oneself. Whenever we comment on our own
character and disposition, or expatiate on and de
clare our motives and intentions, we are liable to
deviate from the truth, and what we endeavour to
draw from others on such occasions is more certain
to lead us still farther from it. As a rule it is always
better to talk about things than about persons : it is
safer for truth and still safer for charity.

On being' True and Trusty. 173

It is a strange phase in the human mind and one
that clearly indicates our fallen state, that while the
desire and appreciation of the truth is always a source
of joy to the heart of man, and the faithful expression
of it to others is always a source of peace and satis
faction to us, still the process of investigating the
truth about ourselves, and the declaring of that truth to
ourselves when we have discovered it, is by no means
always agreeable or pleasing to us. We are glad to
acquire every other kind of knowledge, but we shrink
from this alone. No doubt, to undeceive ourselves
entails great labour and is a difficult task. To remove
false ideas and conceits we have of ourselves, and the
wrong impressions which the false representations of
ethers may have induced, is a wearisome and irksome
labour.

We shall find much help, and it will be of the
greatest assistance to us through life, if we impress
on our minds this simple truth, and keep it always
in our hearts, that we are only what we are in the
sight of God and nothing more. If we lose sight
of this, we are sure to be deceived, because then
we are sure to put a false value on ourselves,
and to measure ourselves by a wrong standard, and
also to make the opinion of others the law and the
governing power of our lives ; as they applaud and
approve of us, we esteem ourselves and grow in self-
importance, and as they censure and depreciate us,

174 Moral Training.

we become depressed and desponding. If we were
once thoroughly convinced that we are only what we
are in the sight of God, that nothing else is true about
us, and that nothing is to our advantage but what He
approves, or to our disadvantage but what he repro
bates, we should become indifferent to the opinions ot
others, and uninfluenced by human respect. We
should then look straight to God in everything, regard
less of praise or dispraise, and insensible to flattery
while filled with the one desire of pleasing Him. To
the really truth-loving soul flattery is always distasteful
and even painful. It is wounding to him as so much
falsehood. From the knowledge he has of himself,
it takes the form of truth in his eyes, but under the
garb of irony.

When we come to the question of telling ourselves
the truth, we find all we can learn is very little, and
very humbling to human pride, and though easily
told, it is hard to be realized. It is simply this. All
good comes from God, and we have nothing good
of ourselves. He has entrusted us with great and
wonderful gifts, but they are his gratuitous graces
and blessings. We are to trade with them until He-
comes, when we must give Him a strict account
of all, even of the very least. Now as we are nothing
of ourselves, and as every good gift comes from
God, all we can know about ourselves is by inquiring
what use we have made of the talents committed to

On being True and Trusty. 175

our keeping, whether we have turned them to profit,
or whether we have left them idle or misused them.
If we claim them as our own production and con
struction, we are false and dishonest; if we turn them
against the Giver, to offend Him, and violate His
laws, our perfidy and guilt are all the greater. So
all we can learn of ourselves are our sins and offences,
for we have nothing else of our own. When we
know them thoroughly, we shall then, and only then,
know ourselves.

If we have used any of God's gifts rightly and
according to His will, it has been entirely through
His grace and by His help, and we owe Him deep
gratitude for enabling us to do so, for sustaining and
upholding us, and for calling us into existence at all —
being what we are !

God's infinite mercy and wonderful forbearance
will strike us forcibly when we consider what
it is to be true to God. For then the cause of
our being and the object of our existence, which is
to know and serve God, come clearly before us, to
do Him honour and give Him glory. This revelation
of our duty puts us in our true position before Him
as His servants, and declares to us our obligation
to look first to Him in everything and to do His
will in all things, and gives us our right place as
His children, with the duty we owe Him in seeking
His honour and gaining His glory, by the watchful

i/6 Moral Training.

observance of His law, and the faithful and loving
fulfilment of the least intimation of his will.

What a blessing to fulfil our high calling to walk
worthily of our noble destiny ! What a blessing it
would be to us if we were as true to God as the
faithful watch-dog is to his master, standing by him
on all occasions, often seemingly unnoticed and over
looked, but still always devoted and on the watch for
his master's call and his master's interests. Every
sign, the slightest word or the least expression of his
master's will is instantly obeyed and carried out at
once. He is forgetful of himself, and entirely regard
less of the fatigue and suffering it may cost him. He
is satisfied, and even rewarded to the full in being
at times allowed to sit at his master's feet, thoroughly
happy at being tolerated there. What ineffable happi
ness it would bring us if we were as true to God, yet,
it ought not to be too much to expect of a rational
and immortal being, or to ask of a redeemed soul
to be as faithful and devoted to his Heavenly Master
and Divine Saviour, Who has bought him at a great
price, and desires his heart, that he may abide in
truth, in the union of love, and the enjoyment of
peace. Pere Surin, S.J., says : " Union with God is
the enjoyment of truth ".

CHAPTER XIII.

HUMILITY AND SIMPLICITY.

OUR Divine Saviour alone can teach us true humility,
and we can only learn it by follo\ving His precepts
and imitating His example. But in practising this
virtue in our present and perverted state, we ought
to call to our aid the remembrance of our faults and
failings, and to humble ourselves, considering our
defects and errors. The essence of humility does not
however consist in this practice, as Christ could not
employ it. It is, nevertheless, a necessary help to
fallen man to vanquish his pride and conquer his self-
complacency.

Humility is a virtue which inclines the will to
sincere self-abasement and self abjection. It is estab
lished and promoted by the knowledge through which
we recognize ourselves to be what we are, and it
leads us to manifest this knowledge by our outward
actions. Again, humility consists in overcoming and
keeping down all self-esteem, and in subduing the
frail and vain tendency of our poor weak nature to
exalt ourselves above ourselves, above our deserts.

This results from the true knowledge we have of our-
12

178 Moral Training.

selves, and the conviction of our own hearts that we
are nothing of ourselves. In other words, humility
is truth, and it is derived from the true knowledge of
God and of ourselves, and contrasting the knowledge
we have of ourselves, our nothingness and misery,
with God's infinite perfections and goodness, we
recognize our own baseness and despise ourselves.
And as we become lowly in our own opinion, we
more and more reverence and obey God, keep His
law, and submit to others for His sake.

To make this matter clearer we shall divide the
subject into two points. The first we shall designate,
for the present, humility of the intellect or under
standing. The second, humility of the heart or will.
The humility of the understanding is a true know
ledge and a clear conviction of our own nothingness.
We are nothing and we have nothing, but what we
have received, and besides this nothingness we have
the vileness and wretchedness of our sins, faults,
and shortcomings. This galling assertion may be
a difficulty to some minds. They may ask, how can
anything that exists be nothing? and how can it be
really true that we are nothing, seeing we have a
body, and knowing we have an immortal soul, made
unto God's likeness, and gifted with reason and free
will? St. Paul tells us: "If any man think himself
to be something, whereas he is nothing, he deceiveth
himself". Almighty God created us, as He created

Humility and Simplicity. 179

the earth, out of nothing, we are nothing and have
nothing of ourselves, but God in His infinite good
ness confers upon us, or rather consigns to our
keeping some of His most valuable possessions and
treasures. They are not from ourselves, so we must
not glory in them. They are His, and to be used
according to His will until the moment of death,
when we must render him an account, "even to the
la^t farthing," then indeed we shall know that we are
nothing, and have nothing but what we have received
from Him except our sins.

To speak correctly, what is called humility of the
understanding, or otherwise self-knowledge, is not the
virtue of humility, though it is essentially necessary to
that virtue, as necessary as light is to the growth of the
plant. Light does not create the plant, which, neverthe
less, without it, cannot live or grow. So self-knowledge,
nourishes and strengthens humility when it is con
ferred by God's grace and enlivened by Divine love.
Perhaps it would be clearer to represent the matter
in this way. Self-knowledge is the ground in which
the tree of humility is planted, and the root of this
tree is the knowledge of God. As the ground is
trenched and broken up by contrition, and fertilized
by the heavenly dew of grace, the root strikes through
it, taking a firm hold and lasting possession. Trie-
stem grows and throws out its branches on all sides,
spreading and expanding as the tree increases in

ISO Moral Training.

growth, and on these branches all other virtues are
grafted.

Self-knowledge of itself and without the grace of
God does not incline the will to humility. But it
often has the contrary effect, as we see in the case
of some who are, and are conscious of being, great
criminals. The clear remembrance of their crimes,
the weight and consideration of their guilt often
harden them the more, and make them more
desperate and reckless, until they acquire some know
ledge of God, a glimmering of hope, and a touch of
contrition. Then self-knowledge by the aid of grace
begets true humility. It softens the hardest hearts
and bows the proudest spirit down to the earth under
the mighty hand of God. Judas knew himself. He
possessed self-knowledge, but when he turned away
from God and resisted grace, the terrible conscious
ness of his crime, in its awful depth and darkness,
took full possession of his soul, to the extinction and
exclusion of the true knowledge of God and the
remembrance of His infinite mercy, and separated
him from his Divine Master for ever. Surely if any
of us knew ourselves really and thoroughly, without
knowing God, His mercy, goodness, and charity,
should we not despair? Was it not from the con
viction of this truth that St. Augustine prays : " Lord,
teach me to know Thee," before he cries "Teach
me to know myself"? And St. Francis of Assisl

Humility and Simplicity. 181

says : " Who art Thou, O Lord ? " before he asks,
"Who am I?"

We must allow that the knowledge and remem
brance of our sins and failings is humbling to us,
and we may readily admit that as God called us into
existence, and conferred upon us life and being and
all our powers of soul and body, we belong to Him
as our Creator, and that we cannot justly attribute
any of these things to ourselves, or claim them, or
take pride in them as our own. Yet, surely, we may-
count as ours any good works we may have done,
or think we have done through life? But here again
the grace of true humility undeceives us. If we have
ever performed a good action, it was done by God's
grace and God's help, for our Blessed Lord tells us
distinctly : " Without Me you can do nothing ". And
yet in his boundless mercy He will reward us eter
nally for the concurrence and co-operation of our will.
Though that also is a special gift and grace from
Him. No action is worthy of merit unless it is done
in the state of grace. It may be generous and wise,
and it may bring us temporal rewards, but not an ever
lasting recompense, except it be by the blessing of con
trition and conversion. Sanctifying grace is a free gift of
God, purchased by His Precious Blood, and conferred
upon us with the pardon of our sins, when He admits
us to His friendship. But besides sanctifying grace
ive require the aids of actual grace in the perfor-

1 82 Moral Training.

rnance of every good action, which God alone gives
us voluntarily arid gratuitously, and of His own
infinite goodness. Therefore if God enables us to
do any good work for Him we have nothing to
glory in, nothing even on which to rest a self-
-complacent thought, no matter how well it may be
done and even with the best dispositions, as He alone
did it, and accomplished it in us and by us, for all
good is in God and from God. But when we think
of all the faults, errors, and sins that stain and dis
figure our daily life, then we discover our special
work, and find we have nothing to be proud of, but
much to humble us even in our noblest and holiest
actions. So, true knowledge of ourselves leads to
humility of heart and entire submission to God as
the Author and source of all good. This acknow
ledgement in no way hinders the recognition of the
many and great things God has given us. In fact
the more we realize and are convinced of our nothing
ness and vileness, the more clearly we see and freely
admit with wonder and gratitude the gifts and graces
we have received.

There is nothing false, cowardly, or pusillanimous
in true humility, but quite the reverse. It makes us
honest, brave, and resolute. For few are stronger
than those who have measured truly the weakness of
their own hearts, and then lean solely on God for
help, relying on His mercy and shielded by His

Humility and Simplicity. 183

grace. Humility alone enables us to say : " I
can do all things in Him Who strengthens me".
So it is that by placing all our confidence in
God we can undertake the task duty puts before
us, and encounter labours and difficulties with
courage, perseverance, and peace of mind. Our Lord
wishes us to profit and to trade with the gifts He
confers on us. He tells us that the wicked and
slothful servant was cast out and punished, not for
wasting or misusing his lord's money, but for not
turning it to account, and leaving it buried, which was
done from a cowardly, servile fear, and the want of
all confidence and trust in God.

True humility gives strength and courage, and also
brings peace to the soul. It is a gift from God and a
light from Heaven. Our Saviour says to us : " Learn
of Me. for I am meek and humble of heart". He
alone can teach it. He blessed this earth with it
when He bestowed it on His Blessed Mother and
practised it in perfection Himself.

The first degree in the practice of humility teaches
us, that if we are true we must be humble ; if we are
true to God and truthful to ourselves, we must humble
ourselves in God's presence and acknowledge our
weakness and misery. From the conviction of our
nothingness and lowliness, we honour and worship
God, obey His law, and observe His commandments,
and all the more readily submit to His will and to

184 Moral Training.

1 1 is creatures for His sake. The more we know the
truth about ourselves, the more consideration we shall
have for others. We shall submit to them more easily
and be less exacting, as well as more tolerant of and
patient with their faults and defects. We shall under
stand them better when we understand ourselves.

As we advance in the practice of humility to the
second degree, we shall aim at conformity with God's
will, and strive to have no will but His, avoiding
everything and anything that would displease Him,
even at any cost, and submitting in a spirit of the
deepest reverence and love. As the humble man
makes progress in this degree, he despises himself,
considers himself inferior to every one, and treats
all with due submission, respect, and courtesy. He
dreads and shuns praise as so much untruth and
dishonesty. He knows that before God he is un
deserving of it and has no right to it, therefore he
must regard himself either as a fool or an imposter if
he accepts it as his due.

We must here meet a difficulty that may present
itself. It may be asked, Is it just, and in accordance
with truth, to think and believe that we are inferior to
every one? We readily admit that good and holy
souls are far above us, but to put ourselves below,
and consider ourselves worse than the greatest sinners
and criminals, sounds like exaggeration, and looks as
if we were stretching the point too far, even into

Humility and Simplicity. 185

falsehood. Now let us look closer into this matter
Suppose that the person we prefer ourselves to, and
look down upon, happens to have been a great sinner,
and guilty of crimes we know we have never conr
mitted, still we do not know the present state of his
soul. He may have repented and obtained pardon.
Simon the Pharisee condemned St. Mary Magdalen
in his heart at the moment our Divine Saviour
declared her sins were forgiven. Besides, we do not
know the dispositions, or the amount of ignorance
with regard to what is right and wrong, or perhaps
the indeliberateness with which these deeds were
done. In the sight of God we may be much more
guilty, he may be innocent of many other sins we
have committed, and committed against the dictates
of conscience and the light of God's grace. We may
well believe that if the most depraved soul on earth
had received all the gifts, graces, and aids, the instruc
tion and example, the protection and the care, with
which we have been blessed from childhood, he
would have corresponded to them more faithfully,
and not wasted them as we have done. So we have
more to answer for, as " where much is given, much
shall be required ". We know our own shortcomings
and sins, and the malice and weakness of our own
hearts. We do not know so much evil of any one
else, and so we may well put ourselves last, and
believe ourselves inferior to all.

1 86 Moral Training.

This third degree of humility is indeed very high
perfection, it is a grace that only comes from an
ardent, generous, devoted love of God, and a true
conviction of our own nothingness and sinfulness.
Great and sincere love of God fills the heart with
the desire to follow the example of our Blessed Lord,
10 imitate Him and resemble Him, in labours, in
suffering, and in ignominy. The humble soul in this
degree not only avoids praise, respect, and honour,
but prefers neglect and obscurity. Even the con
tempt of the wicked is desirable for the love of our
Divine Saviour, and in the hope of following in His
footsteps, of pleasing Him, and of growing in His love
more and more until united to Him in eternity.

Self-knowledge comes to our help also in this
degree, as in the light of God's love we realize and
see more clearly what we really are, we learn to
despise ourselves and see we are deserving of con
demnation. We do not, therefore, expect the esteem
of others, we are willing that all should see us as God
sees us. We are content to be despised by the
wicked, as in this we are drawn to a nearer resem
blance to Jesus Christ Who was so despised.

Humility is acquired by earnest prayer, and the
faithful practice of it. These are of course necessary,
for the acquisition of all virtue, but most especially
for humility, for the most fervent prayer is requisite
to give strength to overcome the innate pride of the

II n iml i ty and Simplicity. 187

human heart, as God's grace alone can subdue it.
We should pray for true, courageous, and loving hearts.
True, in examining and seeing ourselves as we really
are, and in testifying that knowledge in all our acts
towards God and man. Courageous in encountering
the trials, troubles, and warfare of life with patience
and submission. And loving hearts, in fulfilling God's
law, and doing His will in all things with distrust of
self, but with entire confidence in Him. Exterior acts
are also necessary to acquire the habit of humility,
such as words and actions. With regard to words,
we must carefully avoid saying anything in our own
praise, even for the sake of example, or in the hope of
edifying others, except in circumstances of extremely
rare occurrence, and then we ought to enter deeply
into our own nothingness and into the praises of -God
ior His gifts.* And with regard to actions, there
are two distinct ways of performing these profitably,
first by accepting cheerfully all things which present
themselves which are not of our own seeking, and
are trying to our self-love and humiliating to us.
For instance, the shame and confusion our errors and
faults may bring to us, the failure of our undertakings,
and also all the inconvenience and annoyance caused
by our neglect and thoughtlessness, or through our
want of ability and experience. And next, we must
bear with meekness and patience all that is said and
* St. I'.iul, pds$ini.

1 88 Moral Training.

done to us by others which may be hurtful to oui
pride and wounding to our vanity, all that is un
charitable and unkind, the endurance of severe
criticism and censure, and the infliction of rudeness
and incivility, whilst we desire and endeavour to
serve and oblige all who come within the sphere of
our influence. These and such like trials are sent
or permitted by God to exercise our humility, so that
by availing ourselves of them we may overcome our
pride and become meek and humble of heart.

The second way of practising humility is by im
posing humbling acts on ourselves, and doing such
things voluntarily. When these are any way remark
able so as to draw attention upon us, and the notice
of others, they should be avoided as most dangerous
to humility, because they are likely to nourish in its
stead pride and vanity, at least in the souls of those
who are not as yet saints, and in whom we usually
find such outward acts to come from a special im
pulse of Divine grace. The humiliations that God
sends are the best and safest for us, if we use them
rightly. He knows our defects and where we are
likely to fail, and what will do us most good, and
He will never try us above our strength. It is
important to keep this truth in our minds, for some
souls lose courage when told that humiliation is the
road to humility. They are deterred from praying
for humility, thinking that it is quite the same thing

Humility and Simplicity. 189

as to pray for sufferings, and knowing the weakness
of their hearts, they dare not do so. Surely this is
wronging our Heavenly Father ! We ought to feel
certain He will never put a burden on us that He
will not help us to bear. He will never give us a
"stone when we ask for bread," but the more we
seek and entreat for humility the more peace and joy
He will give our souls.

SIMPLICITY.

True simplicity belongs to the virtue of faith.
When faith is firm and strong, simplicity grows and
increases, and as faith declines, simplicity declines,
for it rests on confidence and trust. Simplicity looks
direct to God with full and childlike confidence,
having but one thought, to please Him. This
produces a singleness of purpose which pervades
all our actions, vivifies each of them, giving it a
value it would not otherwise possess. In true single
ness of purpose there is earnestness, strength, and
perseverance. It combines "The strong will and the
endeavour," with a high and firm resolve. It also
wins from heaven that great gift to the soul of man,
forgetfulness of self, which is more than being un
selfish, as it betokens a greater amount of grace when
we are unmindful of self, than when we overcome
our selfish tendenc'es with an effoit. The simple

IQO J\Ioral Training.

man does not revert to himself, or think about him
self. He looks straight to God, and acts only with
the single view of honouring Him and doing His will,
and this saves him from many faults and defects in
his daily actions. Simplicity is of higher excellence
than sincerity. The sincere man may be very honest,
truthful, and candid, still the habit of being sincere
may centre in himself. He may be ever occupied
with the fear that he is misunderstood, or with the
dread that he is misinterpreted, or mistaken for what
he is not. Whereas simplicity lifts the mind of self
and all selfish views to the presence of God, where
the brightness of His truth and the light of His
love make us forgetful of ourselves but thoughtful
of God's honour and mindful of His glory.

The practice or habit of simplicity brings us great
blessing for this world and the next, for it leads
to the possession of three gifts, the highest and the
noblest that the soul of man can enjoy. The union
of the heart and mind with God ; the knowledge
of truth ; and the principle of order. Fiist, Simplicity
draws the soul direct to God, that it may know His
good pleasure and fulfil His will, referring all to
Him as our last end, and resting in Him with implicit
trust and confidence. Secondly, by looking first to
God, we see all things in the light of His truth, we
see what they are in regard to Him, His purpose
and intentions, and conforming our judgment with

Humility and Simplicity. 191

His views, we give everything its true value, and so
seek His justice and abide in His truth in thought
and action. Thirdly, by giving God the first place
in all things and in everything, we form for ourselves
the true mariner's compass, which will guide us safely
and surely through the voyage of life. It will not
only aid us to reach Him, and the haven of our souls,
but it will assign and limit all things else to their
proper places and preserve them in their proper
order. For it leads us to look to the primary and
main object of everything, and to make sure that
this shall be first attended to and first fulfilled, as far
as matters are under our control. This I believe
is the true secret and sure way of observing and
maintaining order, even in the smallest details of our
duty.

The perfection of order manifested in all God's
•vorks reveals to us His love of it, and we know
we please Him in proportion as we observe it in
all we do, for His glory and in His honour. Every
soul in every state of life is loved, guarded, and
guided by God for the fulfilment of this end, and
each individual has special work to do for Him,
which if faithful to His law, we shall perform in
our duties to Him, to our neighbours, and ourselves
according to the decrees of Divine Providence. These
duties are various, some seem opposed to each other,
\nd many appear of equal importance. But once

192 Moral Training.

we direct our attention to God, to know His will
as our guiding star, then all things fall into their
places, one subordinate to the other, and all tending
to the perfecting of our life in the state and calling
that He designs for us. The desire to do God's
will brings us back to the true sense of our existence
and the main purpose of our being. By keeping this
supreme aim in view in all our actions, it in no way
hinders us from giving full and due attention to each
separate duty, but on the contrary it makes us more
exact, prompt, and faithful. Simplicity makes us
straightforward, generous, and unsuspicious. It has
a perception and clear instinct of what is false, it
discerns deceit more readily, and protects us more
securely than worldly prudence or wily wisdom ever
can do.

We shall all become perfectly simple at the hour of
death, and we shall then recognise its real value when
the soul, with one hope and one desire, stands before
God in judgment.

598.97