Character — Ch 1b - Influence of Character, cont.

In the affairs of life or of business, it is not intellect that tells so much as character,--not brains so much as heart,--not genius so much as self-control, patience, and discipline, regulated by judgment.

Hence there is no better provision for the uses of either private or public life, than a fair share of ordinary good sense guided by rectitude.

Good sense, disciplined by experience and inspired by goodness, issues in practical wisdom.

Indeed, goodness in a measure implies wisdom--the highest wisdom--the union of the worldly with the spiritual.

"The correspondences of wisdom and goodness," says Sir Henry Taylor, "are manifold; and that they will accompany each other is to be inferred, not only because men's wisdom makes them good, but because their goodness makes them wise."

[106] It is because of this controlling power of character in life that we often see men exercise an amount of influence apparently out of all proportion to their intellectual endowments.

They appear to act by means of some latent power, some reserved force, which acts secretly, by mere presence.

As Burke said of a powerful nobleman of the last century, "his virtues were his means."

The secret is, that the aims of such men are felt to be pure and noble, and they act upon others with a constraining power.

Though the reputation of men of genuine character may be of slow growth, their true qualities cannot be wholly concealed.

They may be misrepresented by some, and misunderstood by others; misfortune and adversity may, for a time, overtake them but, with patience and endurance, they will eventually inspire the respect and command the confidence which they really deserve.

It has been said of Sheridan that, had he possessed reliableness of character, he might have ruled the world; whereas, for want of it, his splendid gifts were comparatively useless.

He dazzled and amused, but was without weight or influence in life or politics.

Even the poor pantomimist of Drury Lane felt himself his superior.

Thus, when Delpini one day pressed the manager for arrears of salary, Sheridan sharply reproved him, telling him he had forgotten his station.

"No, indeed, Monsieur Sheridan, I have not," retorted Delpini; "I know the difference between us perfectly well.

In birth, parentage, and education, you are superior to me; but in life, character, and behaviour, I am superior to you."

Unlike Sheridan, Burke, his countryman, was a great man of character.

He was thirty-five before he gained a seat in Parliament, yet he found time to carve his name deep in the political history of England.

He was a man of great gifts, and of transcendent force of character.

Yet he had a weakness, which proved a serious defect--it was his want of temper; his genius was sacrificed to his irritability.

And without this apparently minor gift of temper, the most splendid endowments may be comparatively valueless to their possessor.

Character is formed by a variety of minute circumstances, more or less under the regulation and control of the individual.

Not a day passes without its discipline, whether for good or for evil.

There is no act, however trivial, but has its train of consequences, as there is no hair so small but casts its shadow.

It was a wise saying of Mrs. Schimmelpenninck's mother, never to give way to what is little; or by that little, however you may despise it, you will be practically governed.

Every action, every thought, every feeling, contributes to the education of the temper, the habits, and understanding; and exercises an inevitable influence upon all the acts of our future life.

Thus character is undergoing constant change, for better or for worse--either being elevated on the one hand, or degraded on the other.

"There is no fault nor folly of my life," says Mr. Ruskin, "that does not rise up against me, and take away my joy, and shorten my power of possession, of sight, of understanding.

And every past effort of my life, every gleam of rightness or good in it, is with me now, to help me in my grasp of this art and its vision."

[107] The mechanical law, that action and reaction are equal, holds true also in morals.

Good deeds act and react on the doers of them; and so do evil.

Not only so: they produce like effects, by the influence of example, on those who are the subjects of them.

But man is not the creature, so much as he is the creator, of circumstances: [108] and, by the exercise of his freewill, he can direct his actions so that they shall be productive of good rather than evil.

"Nothing can work me damage but myself," said St. Bernard; "the harm that I sustain I carry about with me; and I am never a real sufferer but by my own fault."

The best sort of character, however, cannot be formed without effort.

There needs the exercise of constant self-watchfulness, self-discipline, and self-control.

There may be much faltering, stumbling, and temporary defeat; difficulties and temptations manifold to be battled with and overcome; but if the spirit be strong and the heart be upright, no one need despair of ultimate success.

The very effort to advance--to arrive at a higher standard of character than we have reached--is inspiring and invigorating; and even though we may fall short of it, we cannot fail to be improved by every, honest effort made in an upward direction.

And with the light of great examples to guide us--representatives of humanity in its best forms--every one is not only justified, but bound in duty, to aim at reaching the highest standard of character: not to become the richest in means, but in spirit; not the greatest in worldly position, but in true honour; not the most intellectual, but the most virtuous; not the most powerful and influential, but the most truthful, upright, and honest.

It was very characteristic of the late Prince Consort--a man himself of the purest mind, who powerfully impressed and influenced others by the sheer force of his own benevolent nature--when drawing up the conditions of the annual prize to be given by Her Majesty at Wellington College, to determine that it should be awarded, not to the cleverest boy, nor to the most bookish boy, nor to the most precise, diligent, and prudent boy,--but to the noblest boy, to the boy who should show the most promise of becoming a large-hearted, high-motived man.

[109] Character exhibits itself in conduct, guided and inspired by principle, integrity, and practical wisdom.

In its highest form, it is the individual will acting energetically under the influence of religion, morality, and reason.

It chooses its way considerately, and pursues it steadfastly; esteeming duty above reputation, and the approval of conscience more than the world's praise.

While respecting the personality of others, it preserves its own individuality and independence; and has the courage to be morally honest, though it may be unpopular, trusting tranquilly to time and experience for recognition.

Although the force of example will always exercise great influence upon the formation of character, the self-originating and sustaining force of one's own spirit must be the mainstay.

This alone can hold up the life, and give individual independence and energy.

"Unless man can erect himself above himself," said Daniel, a poet of the Elizabethan era, "how poor a thing is man!"

Without a certain degree of practical efficient force--compounded of will, which is the root, and wisdom, which is the stem of character--life will be indefinite and purposeless--like a body of stagnant water, instead of a running stream doing useful work and keeping the machinery of a district in motion.

When the elements of character are brought into action by determinate will, and, influenced by high purpose, man enters upon and courageously perseveres in the path of duty, at whatever cost of worldly interest, he may be said to approach the summit of his being.

He then exhibits character in its most intrepid form, and embodies the highest idea of manliness.

The acts of such a man become repeated in the life and action of others.

His very words live and become actions.

Thus every word of Luther's rang through Germany like a trumpet.

As Richter said of him, "His words were half-battles."

And thus Luther's life became transfused into the life of his country, and still lives in the character of modern Germany.

On the other hand, energy, without integrity and a soul of goodness, may only represent the embodied principle of evil.

It is observed by Novalis, in his 'Thoughts on Morals,' that the ideal of moral perfection has no more dangerous rival to contend with than the ideal of the highest strength and the most energetic life, the maximum of the barbarian--which needs only a due admixture of pride, ambition, and selfishness, to be a perfect ideal of the devil.

Amongst men of such stamp are found the greatest scourges and devastators of the world--those elect scoundrels whom Providence, in its inscrutable designs, permits to fulfil their mission of destruction upon earth.

[1010] Very different is the man of energetic character inspired by a noble spirit, whose actions are governed by rectitude, and the law of whose life is duty.

He is just and upright,--in his business dealings, in his public action, and in his family life--justice being as essential in the government of a home as of a nation.

He will be honest in all things--in his words and in his work.

He will be generous and merciful to his opponents, as well as to those who are weaker than himself.

It was truly said of Sheridan--who, with all his improvidence, was generous, and never gave pain--that, "His wit in the combat, as gentle as bright, Never carried a heart-stain away on its blade."

Such also was the character of Fox, who commanded the affection and service of others by his uniform heartiness and sympathy.

He was a man who could always be most easily touched on the side of his honour.

Thus, the story is told of a tradesman calling upon him one day for the payment of a promissory note which he presented.

Fox was engaged at the time in counting out gold.

The tradesman asked to be paid from the money before him.

"No," said Fox, "I owe this money to Sheridan; it is a debt of honour; if any accident happened to me, he would have nothing to show."

"Then," said the tradesman, "I change MY debt into one of honour;" and he tore up the note.

Fox was conquered by the act: he thanked the man for his confidence, and paid him, saying, "Then Sheridan must wait; yours is the debt of older standing."

The man of character is conscientious.

He puts his conscience into his work, into his words, into his every action.

When Cromwell asked the Parliament for soldiers in lieu of the decayed serving-men and tapsters who filled the Commonwealth's army, he required that they should be men "who made some conscience of what they did;" and such were the men of which his celebrated regiment of "Ironsides" was composed.

The man of character is also reverential.

The possession of this quality marks the noblest, and highest type of manhood and womanhood: reverence for things consecrated by the homage of generations--for high objects, pure thoughts, and noble aims--for the great men of former times, and the highminded workers amongst our contemporaries.

Reverence is alike indispensable to the happiness of individuals, of families, and of nations.

Without it there can be no trust, no faith, no confidence, either in man or God--neither social peace nor social progress.

For reverence is but another word for religion, which binds men to each other, and all to God.

"The man of noble spirit," says Sir Thomas Overbury, "converts all occurrences into experience, between which experience and his reason there is marriage, and the issue are his actions.

He moves by affection, not for affection; he loves glory, scorns shame, and governeth and obeyeth with one countenance, for it comes from one consideration.

Knowing reason to be no idle gift of nature, he is the steersman of his own destiny.

Truth is his goddess, and he takes pains to get her, not to look like her.

Unto the society of men he is a sun, whose clearness directs their steps in a regular motion.

He is the wise man's friend, the example of the indifferent, the medicine of the vicious.

Thus time goeth not from him, but with him, and he feels age more by the strength of his soul than by the weakness of his body.

Thus feels he no pain, but esteems all such things as friends, that desire to file off his fetters, and help him out of prison."

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