"Now, is prayer sufficient? Does this solitary expression of my faith, my love, my ignorance, suffice the wants of my heart and my duties toward G.o.d? Yes, if man were made to live alone; but not if he has brethren. I am a social being; I have duties toward society as well as toward G.o.d; my creed commands me to teach as well as to pray. My voice must be heard, and I must, following my destiny, and according to the measure of my powers, carry along with me all those who are inclined to follow me. This is the liberty of promulgating one's creed, or, in other words, the _liberty of propagandism_.

"Worship, then, means to believe, to pray, to teach. But, can I consider myself a free believer, if praying in public be denied me; if by praying, and teaching, and confessing my doctrine, I risk the loss of my rights as man and citizen? There are other means for checking public worship and apostleship than burning at the stake. It is obvious that, in order no injustice be done to my particular creed, I should risk nothing by it; that I be not deprived of any of my civil or political rights. All this is included in the term _liberty_ of _conscience_: it is at the same time the right to believe, the right to pray, and the right to exercise this triple liberty without having to suffer any diminution in one's dignity as man and citizen."[146]

=172. Religious society.=--Religious duties and rights give rise to what may be called religious society. Fenelon has magnificently described the ideal religious society where all would form but one family united by the love of G.o.d and men.

"Do we not see," he says, "that the external worship follows necessarily the internal worship of love? Give me a society of men who, while on earth, would look upon each other as members of one and the same family, whose Father is in heaven; give me men whose life was sunk in this love for their heavenly Father, men who loved their fellow-men and themselves only through love for Him; who were but one heart, one soul: will not in so G.o.dly a society the mouth always speak from the abundance of the heart? They will sing the praises of the Most High, the Most Good spontaneously; they will bless Him for all His bounties. They will not be content to love Him merely, they will proclaim this love to all the nations of the world; they will wish to correct and admonish their brethren when they see them tempted through pride and low pa.s.sions to forsake the Well-Beloved. They will lament the least cooling of that love. They will cross the seas, go to the uttermost parts of the earth, to teach the benighted nations who have forgotten His greatness the knowledge and love of their common Father.

What do you call external worship if this be not it? G.o.d then would be _all in all_; He would be the universal king, father, friend; He would be the living law of all hearts. Truly, if a mortal king or head of a family wins by his wisdom the esteem and confidence of his children, if we see them at all times pay him the honors due him, need we ask wherein consists his service, or whether any is due him? All that is done in his honor, in obedience to him, in recognition of his bounties, is a continuous worship, obvious to all eyes. What would it be then if men were possessed with the love of G.o.d! Their society would be in a state of continuous worship, like that described to us of the blessed in heaven."[147]

The great ancient moralist, Epictetus, has as superbly as Fenelon expressed the same sentiments:

"If we had any understanding," he says, "ought we not, both in public and in private, incessantly to sing and praise the Deity, and rehea.r.s.e His benefits? Ought we not, whether we dig, or plough, or eat, to sing this hymn to G.o.d? Great is G.o.d, who has supplied us with these instruments to till the ground; great is G.o.d, who has given us hands and organs of digestion; who has given us to grow insensibly, to breathe in sleep. These things we ought forever to celebrate, and to make it the theme of the greatest and divinest hymn that He has given us the power to appreciate these gifts, and to use them well. But because the most of you are blind and insensible there must be some one to fill this station, and lead in behalf of all men the hymn to G.o.d; for what else can I do, a lame old man, but sing hymns to G.o.d?

Were I a nightingale, I would act the part of a nightingale; were I a swan, the part of a swan. But since I am a reasonable creature it is my duty to praise G.o.d. This is my business. I do it. Nor will I ever desert this post, so long as it is permitted me; and I call on you to join in the same song."[148]

CHAPTER XVI.

MORAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS.

SUMMARY.

=Means and end.=--Moral science should not only point out the _end_; it should also indicate the _means_ of attaining that end.

There is, as of the body, a culture of the soul: as, in medicine, we distinguish between _temperaments_, _diseases_ and their _treatments_, so do we distinguish in morals, _characters_, _pa.s.sions_, and _remedies_.

=Of character.=--Character as compared with temperament: four princ.i.p.al types.

Character at different ages: childhood, youth, manhood, and old age.

=Pa.s.sions.=--Pa.s.sions may in one respect be considered as _natural affections_; but in a moral point of view they should be considered as _diseases_.

The law of pa.s.sions considered from this last standpoint. Enumeration and a.n.a.lysis of these various pa.s.sions.

=Culture of the soul=, or =moral treatment=.--On the government of pa.s.sions.--Bossuet's advice: not directly to combat the pa.s.sions, but to turn them off into other channels.

=Of the formation of character.=--Rules of Malebranche: 1, acts produce habits, and habits produce acts; 2, one can always act against a ruling habit.

How is one habit to be subst.i.tuted for another?--Aristotle's rule: To go from one extreme to the other.--Bacon's rules: 1, to proceed by degrees; 2, to choose for a new virtue two kinds of opportunities: the first when one is best disposed, the second when one is least so; 3, not to trust too much to one's conversion and distrust opportunities.

Benjamin Franklin's Almanac.--Other practices.--Kant's moral catechism.

We have done with _practical_ morals, the morals, namely, which have for their object the setting forth of man's duties and the princ.i.p.al applications of the moral law. The second part of this course of study shall be devoted to the _theory_ of morals, which has for its object the elucidation of principles. But to pa.s.s from the one to the other, it seemed to us proper, by way of conclusion, to introduce here an order of researches which belongs to both practical and theoretical morals, the study, namely, of the means man has at his disposal in his moral self-perfection, either by curing himself of vice, or in advancing in virtue: this is what we call _moral medicine and gymnastics_.

Bacon justly remarks that most moralists are like writing-masters who lay fine copies before their pupils, but tell them nothing of the manner of using the pen and tracing characters. Thus do the philosophers set before us very fine and magnificent models, very faithful and n.o.ble pictures of goodness and virtue, of duties, of happiness; but they teach us nothing about the means of attaining to such perfection. They make us acquainted with the _end_, and not with the _road_ that leads to it.[149]

Then, presenting us himself a sketch of that portion of morality which does not confine itself to precepts only, but to instructions also, and which he calls the _Georgics of the soul_ (science of the culture and the soul), he tells us that it should be like medicine which considers first the _const.i.tution_ of the patient, then the _disease_, then the _treatment_. The same in regard to the soul: there are moral temperaments as there are physical temperaments: these are the _characters_; moral diseases as there are physical diseases; these are the _pa.s.sions_; and finally there is a moral _treatment_ as there is a physical treatment, and it is the treatment of morality to indicate this treatment. Now, one cannot treat a disease without knowing it and without being acquainted with the temperament and const.i.tution of the patient. "A coat cannot be fitted on a body without the tailor's taking first the measure of him for whom he makes it." Hence, it follows that before deciding on a remedy, one must acquaint himself with the characters and pa.s.sions.

=173. Of character.=--The study of character is hardly susceptible of a methodical cla.s.sification. Pa.s.sions, manners, habits are so complicated and so intermixed in individuals that they afford scarcely a chance to faithfully describe them, and this subject, though very fertile, is more of the province of literature than of science. Theophrastus among the ancients, and La Bruyere among the moderns, have excelled in this kind of description; but it would be very difficult to a.n.a.lyze their works, as they have nothing didactic: they are better suited for reading.

Theophrastus describes dissemblers, flatterers, intruders, rustics, parasites, babblers, the superst.i.tious, misers, the proud, slanderers, etc. All these are unquestionably princ.i.p.al types of human character, but they cannot be strictly brought down to a few elementary types. La Bruyere is still further removed; he does not only treat character, but manners also; he describes individuals rather than men in general, or it is always in the individual that he sees the man. Hence the charm and piquancy of his pictures; but moral science finds scarcely anything to borrow from him.

Kant tried to give a theory of character, and he started with the same idea as Bacon, namely, the a.n.a.logy between characters and temperaments; thus did he confine himself to taking up again the old physiological theory of temperaments and apply it to the moral man. He distinguishes two kinds of temperaments: temperaments of _sentiment_, and temperaments of _activity_; and in each of these two kinds, two degrees or two different shades: exaltation or abatement. Hence, four different kinds of temperaments: the sanguine and the melancholy (temperament of sentiment), the choleric and phlegmatic (temperament of activity). Kant describes these four temperaments or characters as follows:[150]

"The _sanguine_ disposition may be recognized by the following indications: The sanguine man is free from care and of good hope; he gives to things at one moment undue importance; at another, he can no longer think of them. He is splendid in his promises, but does not keep them, because he has not sufficiently reflected whether he will be able to keep them or not. He is well enough disposed to help others, but is a poor debtor and always asks for delays. He is good company, cheerful, lively, takes things easily, and is everybody's friend. He is not usually a bad person, but a confirmed sinner, hard to convert, and who, though he will repent, will never allow this repentance to turn into grief: it is soon again forgotten. He is easily tired by work; yet is he constantly occupied, and that, for the reason that his work being but play, it proves a change which suits him, as perseverance is not in his nature.

"The _melancholy_ man gives to everything concerning him a vast importance; the least trifles give him anxiety, and his whole attention is fixed upon the difficulties of things. Contrary to the sanguine, always hopeful of success, but a superficial thinker, the melancholy is a profound thinker. He is not hasty in his promises because he intends keeping them, and he considers carefully whether he will be able to do so.

He distrusts and takes thought of things which the sanguine pa.s.ses carelessly by; he is no philanthropist, for the reason that he who denies himself pleasure is rarely inclined to wish it to others.

"The _choleric_ man is easily excited and as easily appeased; he flares up like a straw fire; but submission soon softens him down; he is then irritable without hatred, and loves him who readily gives up to him, all the more ardently. He is prompt in his actions, but his activity does not last long; he is never idle, yet not industrious. His ruling pa.s.sion is honors; he likes to meddle with public affairs, to hear himself praised; he is for show and ceremonial. He is fond of playing the part of a protector and to appear generous; but not from a feeling of affection, but of pride, for he loves himself much more than he loves others. He is pa.s.sionately given to money making; in society he is a ceremonious courtier, stiff, and ill at ease, and ready to accept any flatterer to serve him as a shield; in a word, the choleric temperament is the least happy of all because it is the one that meets with most opposition.

"The _phlegmatic_ temper. Phlegm means absence of emotion. The phlegmatic man to whom nature has given a certain quantum of reason, resembles the man who acts on principle, although he owes this disposition to instinct only. His happy temperament stands to him in lieu of wisdom, and often in ordinary life he is called a philosopher. Sometimes even he is thought cunning, because all abuse launched at him bounces back again, as a ball from a sack of wool. He makes a pretty good husband, and, whilst pretending to do every one's will, he governs both wife and servants as he likes, for he knows how to bring their wishes in agreement with his own indomitable but thoughtful will."

There are then, according to Kant, four essentially distinct characters: the _sanguine_, playful, kindly, superficial; the _melancholy_, profound, sad, egotistical; the _choleric_, ardent, pa.s.sionate, ambitious, covetous; the _phlegmatic_, cold, moderate, inflexible.

Kant denies that these four kinds of temperaments can combine with each other; "there are but four in all," he says, "and each of them is complete in itself." It seems to us, on the contrary, that experience shows that no one of these characters exists separately in an absolute manner; there is always to some degree a mixture, and different men are generally distinguished by the leading feature in their character.

We must, however, make a distinction between _disposition_ and _character_. To be of such or such a disposition is not always being a man _of character_. The first of these two expressions signifies the various apt.i.tudes, inclinations, or habits which distinguish a man from others; the second signifies that strength of will, that empire over himself which enables a man to follow faithfully the line of conduct he has chosen, and to bravely resist temptations. Character is not always virtue (for it may be controlled by false and vicious principles), but it is its condition.

"That tendency of the will which acts according to fixed principles (and does not move from this to that, like a fly) is something truly estimable, and which deserves all the more admiration as it is extremely rare. The question here is not of what nature makes of man, but of what man makes of himself. Talent has a _venal value_ which allows making use of the man therewith endowed; temperament has an affection-value which makes of him an agreeable companion and pleasant talker; but character has a _value_ which places him above all these things."[151]

=174. Age.=--To this cla.s.sification of characters according to temperaments, may be added that founded on age. In fact, different ages have, as it is well known, very different characteristics. Aristotle[152]

was the first to describe the differences in men's morals according to their ages, and he has since been very often imitated.

"I. _The young._--The young are in their dispositions p.r.o.ne to desire, and of a character to effect what they desire. And they desire with earnestness, but speedily cease to desire; for their wishes are keen, without being durable; just like the hunger and thirst of the sick. And they are pa.s.sionate and irritable, and of a temperament to follow the impulse. And they cannot overcome their anger; for by reason of their ambition, they do not endure a slight, but become indignant, and fancy themselves injured; and they are ambitious indeed of honor, but more so of victory; for youth is desirous of superiority, and victory is a sort of superiority. And they are credulous, from their never having yet been much imposed on. And they are sanguine in their expectations; for, like those who are affected by wine, so the young are warmed by their nature; and at the same time from their having never yet met with many repulses. Their life too, for the most part, is one of hope; for hope is of that which is yet to be, while memory is of that which is pa.s.sed: but to the young, that which is yet to be is long; but that which has pa.s.sed is short. And they are brave rather to an excess; for they are irritable and sanguine, qualities, the one whereof cancels fear, and the other inspires courage; for while no one who is affected by anger ever is afraid, the being in hope of some good is a thing to give courage. And they are bashful; for they do not as yet conceive the honorable to be anything distinct; and they are high-minded; for they have not as yet been humbled by the course of life, but are inexperienced in peremptory circ.u.mstances; again, high-mindedness is the deeming one's self worthy of much; and this belongs to persons of sanguine expectations. And they prefer succeeding in an honorable sense rather than in points of expediency; for they live more in conformity to moral feeling than to mere calculations; and calculation is of the expedient, moral excellence, however, of that which is honorable.

Again, they are fond of friends and companions, by reason of their delighting in social intercourse. And all their errors are on the side of excess; for their friendships are in excess, their hatreds are in excess, and they do everything else with the same degree of earnestness; they think also that they know everything, and firmly a.s.severate that they do; for this is the cause of their pushing everything to an excess. They are likewise p.r.o.ne to pity; and they are also fond of mirth, on which account they are also of a facetious turn."

"II. _The old._--Those who are advanced in life are of dispositions in most points the very opposite of those of the young. Since by reason of their having lived many years, and having been deceived in the greater number of instances, and having come to the conclusion, too, that the majority of human affairs are but worthless, they do not positively a.s.severate anything, and err in everything more on the side of defect than they ought. And they always '_suppose_' but never '_know_' certainly; and questioning everything, they always subjoin a '_perhaps_,' or a '_possibly_.' Moreover, they are apt to be suspicious from distrust, and they are distrustful from their experience. And they are pusillanimous from their having been humbled by the course of life; for they raise their desires to nothing great or vast, but to things only which conduce to support of life. And they are timid and apprehensive of everything; for their disposition is the reverse of that of the young; for they have been chilled by years; and yet they are attached to life, and particularly at its closing day. [They are apt to despond.] And they live more in memory than in hope; for the remnant of life is brief, and what has pa.s.sed is considerable. And their desires have, some, abandoned them, the others are faint. They are neither facetious nor fond of mirth.

"III. _Mature age._--Those who are in their prime will, it is evident, be in a mean in point of disposition between the young and the old, subtracting the excesses of each: being neither rash in too great a degree, nor too much given to fear, but keeping themselves right in respect to both. And they are of a tempering coolness joined with spirit, and are spirited not without temperate coolness. And thus, in a word, whatever advantages youth and age have divided between them, the middle age possesses both."

We must admit that Aristotle, who has so admirably depicted young and old men, is weak on the subject of manhood. Boileau, translating Horace, makes of it a far more clear and exact picture:

"Manhood, more ripe, puts on a wiser look, succeeds with those in power, intrigues, and spares itself, thinks of holding its own against the blows of fate, and far on in the now looks forth to the _to be_."

=175. Pa.s.sions.=--Character, considered from a strictly philosophical standpoint, is nothing more than the various combinations which the pa.s.sions, whether natural or acquired, which exist in man, form in each individual, so that there is, in some respect, double reason for treating these two subjects separately. But, in the first place, the divers movements of the soul take, by usage, the name of pa.s.sions, only when they reach a certain degree of acuteness, and, as Bacon puts it, of disease. In the second, pa.s.sions are the elements which in divers quant.i.ties and proportions compose what is termed character; it is from this double point of view that we must speak of them separately.

If we consider the pa.s.sions from a psychological[153] standpoint, we shall find that they are nothing more than the natural inclinations of the human heart.

We have to consider them here especially from a _pathological_ point of view (if it may be permitted to say so), that is, as diseases of the human heart.

The character of pa.s.sions regarded as diseases, is the following:

1. They are _exclusive_. A man who has become enslaved by a pa.s.sion, will know nothing else, will listen to nothing else; he will sacrifice to that pa.s.sion not only his reason and his duty, but his other inclinations, and even his other pa.s.sions also. The pa.s.sion of gambling or of drinking will stifle all the rest, ambition, love, even the instinct of self-preservation.

2. Pa.s.sion, as a disease, is in a _violent_ condition; it is impetuous, disordered, very like insanity.

3. Although there may be fits of pa.s.sion, sudden and fleeting, which rise and fall again in the same instant, we generally give the name of pa.s.sions only to movements which have become _habitual_. Pa.s.sions then are habits; applied to things base, they become _vices_.