The Elements of Character

M >> Mary G. Chandler >> The Elements of Character

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If such motives are allowed to have sway, a person soon becomes
confirmed in the habit of gossiping,--a habit that degrades alike the
intellect and the heart. The soul of gossip is a contemptible vanity
that imagines itself, or at least would have others imagine it, superior
to all that it finds of evil and absurdity in the characters of those
whom it passes in review. A very little observation will serve to show
any one that everybody sees his neighbors' faults, while very few open
their eyes upon their own; and that not unfrequently a person condemns
with the utmost vehemence in others precisely the same follies and vices
in which he himself habitually indulges. Those who study their own
characters with most care, and who best understand themselves, are apt
to say least of the characters of their neighbors; they find too much
to do within themselves, in curing their own defects, to have time or
inclination to sit in judgment upon the defects of others.

It is impossible to indulge habitually in this vice without weakening
the powers of the intellect. The heart never suffers alone from the
indulgence of any wrong passion. The intellect and the affections ever
sink as well as rise together. Where the love of gossip becomes a
confirmed habit, the mind loses its power of accurately appreciating the
value of Character,--of distinguishing truly between the good and the
bad. The power of discrimination is weakened and impaired, so that no
confidence can be placed in the opinions of the mind in relation to
Character or Life. In addition to this, we must bear in mind that
all the mental power we bestow in criticizing and ridiculing our
fellow-beings is just so much taken from our mental strength, which we
might have applied to some useful intellectual exercise. The strength
of the mind is no more indefinite than that of the body. We have but a
certain limited amount; and all that we apply to idle or bad purposes is
just so much abstracted from the good and the useful.

Sarcasm is a weapon we are almost sure to find constantly used by the
gossip; and whether it be shown in the coarse ridicule of the vulgar, or
the keen satire of the refined, it springs ever from the same source,
and is directed to the same end; as surely as the clumsy war-club of
savage lands was invented from the same impulse and wrought with the
same intent as the graceful blade of Damascus. Its source is vanity, its
end to make self seem great by making others seem little. It is a weapon
that, however skilfully wielded, always cuts both ways, wounding far
more deeply the hand that grasps it than the victim it strikes. Of all
the powers of wit, sarcasm is the lowest. There is nothing easier than
ridicule; nothing requiring a weaker head, or a colder heart.

The sincere lover of truth will never be found habitually indulging
either in gossip or sarcasm; for those who are addicted to these vices
never tell a story simply as they heard it, never relate a fact simply
as it happened. A little is added here or left out there to give the
story a more entertaining turn or the satire a keener point. As the
habit grows stronger, invention becomes more ready and copious, till at
length truth is covered up and lost under an accumulation of fiction.

There is a very common form of insincerity used by a class of
well-meaning but injudicious persons, who, rather than wound the
feelings of their friends, conceal the truth from them, sometimes by
prevarication and sometimes by positive falsehood; doing wrong, that, as
they imagine, good may come of it; as though an evil tree could by
any possibility bear good fruit.

Another class of persons converse as though the chief sin of
Conversation were the wounding the self-love of those to whom they
speak, by expressing any difference of opinion from them. Thus they
are continually temporizing, and often contradicting themselves, and
exhibiting a cowardly meanness of spirit, which is one of the most
contemptible of all the varied forms of duplicity.

There is a common form of embarrassment resulting in a hesitation of
speech, which often springs from a want of genuine sincerity. The
speaker is fancying what others will think of his remarks, instead of
fixing his mind entirely on the subject of discourse. In this divided
state, his mind loses half its power, and he utters himself in a manner
satisfactory neither to himself nor to his hearers. No doubt hesitation
in speech sometimes arises from want of verbal skill; but probably a
very large proportion of persons suffering from this difficulty would
soon cure themselves if they would steadfastly speak what they believe
to be truth, just as it rises in their minds, and without stopping to
think what will be thought of their opinions or words by those who
listen to them.

Next after truth, reverence is perhaps most important if we would order
our Conversation aright. Many indulge in a frivolous mode of speech in
speaking of the most sacred subjects; which, though it may spring from
nothing worse than thoughtlessness, cannot fail to exert a baneful
influence on the Character, and diminish, perhaps destroy, the little
respect for things holy still cleaving to the heart. This same
irreverence shows itself in another form, in speaking of the calamities
suffered by others, turning that into a jest which is to those under
discussion cause of the most bitter anguish; and though the speakers
probably would not for any consideration have their words come to the
ears of those spoken of, they still do not hesitate to make food for
mirth out of death or sin, poverty or misfortune, in a way little short
of inhuman. The indulgence of this habit falls back upon the soul of
the perpetrator, wounding deeply, if it does not kill, all the finer
sensibilities of the nature; drying up the fountains of sympathy, and
making the heart hard and callous.

Akin to reverence, and probably springing from it, is purity; which
shows itself by a careful avoidance of everything profane, obscene,
coarse, or in any way offending delicacy, either in word, tone, or
suggestion. This purity cannot be too much insisted upon; for its
opposite poisons the fountains of the heart, defiling the temple which
should be a dwelling-place for the Holy Spirit. Delicacy and refinement
are too often looked upon merely as the elegant ornaments of polished
life. They should, on the contrary, be esteemed essentials in the
Christian Character; Everything leaning towards profanity, obscenity, or
indelicacy is utterly incompatible with Christian purity of heart. Low
attempts at wit, that hinge on vulgarity, are a common form of this
vice; and those who indulge their propensities in this direction, are
laying the foundation for general grossness of Character, such as they
would now, perhaps, shrink from with horror; but towards which they are
none the less surely tending.

We are told, that "for every idle word we speak we shall give an account
at the day of judgment; for by our words we shall be justified, and by
our words we shall be condemned." This has seemed to many a very hard
saying, and while some persons try to explain it away, others turn
from it as too hard either to explain or to receive. When, however,
we reflect on what words really are, we perceive that this heavy
accountability clings to them of necessity, as effect to cause. Man was
created the image and likeness of God, and when we find points hard of
comprehension in the character or relations of man, we may often gain
much light by taking a corresponding view, so far as our finite powers
permit, of the Divine Being.

The Scriptures are the Divine Word; that is, the verbal exponent of the
Divine Mind; while the world around us is the material exponent of the
same Mind. Speech and life in humanity correspond to these two modes of
expression of the Divinity. When imperfectly understood, they almost of
necessity seem to contradict each other; but it is only then. The unity
of the Word and Works of God is becoming constantly more apparent as man
advances in the knowledge of both. Each helps to explain the other, and
it is only by a knowledge of both that the character and attributes of
God can be justly comprehended. A little consideration will show that
the speech and life of man in like manner combine to exhibit the
character and qualities of the soul within,--that they harmonize with
each other, and that therefore of necessity by our words no less than by
our works we must be justified or condemned before the All-seeing One.

Many suppose, that because we, in our short-sighted views, are so often
misled by the words of our fellow-beings, they are not true pictures
of Character. We should, however, remember that it is not before
short-sighted man that we are to be judged by our words, but before the
omniscient God. To his ear our words have a very different significance
from that which they bear to our fellow-beings. We should recollect,
that the falsehood which may make it impossible for us to judge
righteous judgment of our fellow-beings stands before the Lord only
as a falsehood; and that, in whatever form it comes, from the courteous
white lie--as man dares to call it--of polished society, to the
double-dyed blackness of malignant hypocrisy, God sees only the
varying shades of dissimulation; springing, in whatever form, from a
deep-running undercurrent of selfishness and worldliness. We may be
deceived into believing words are genuine when they are not so; but
every disingenuous word uttered is, before God, the image and likeness
of the duplicity that reigns within. To us they may seem the beautiful
garments that envelop purity and truth; but to him they are the foul and
flimsy veils that strive to conceal the soul's deformity.

Man, in the pride of his artifice, often exults because he has outwitted
his neighbor by his lying words, while all the time he has far more
outwitted himself. He has degraded his own soul,--set upon it a foul
mark that can be washed out only by the bitter tears of penitence, and
yet holds his head aloft in fancied superiority over his fellows, while
before God and the angels he stands like Cain, with the mark of sin
impressed upon his forehead.

That man should be condemned for lying words all will admit, but when
men converse idly, or without any particular thought one way or the
other as to what they are saying, they are apt to suppose that no
especial moral character belongs to the words they utter. Such, however,
is far from the truth. Man is never so sincere as in his idle moments.
His words are then the simple outporings of his affections. It has been
often said, that one can always measure the refinement of any person by
watching his language and deportment in his moments of sportiveness. It
is quite as easy to judge of other traits of Character when the mind is
thrown off its guard at such moments. Idle words, more apparently than
any other, are genuine manifestations of Character. It is in them that
the heart, out of its abundance, speaketh. The Conversation of a true
Christian is characterized in his hours of gayety, no less than at
other times, by truth tempered with love, made clear and steadfast by
simplicity, and clothed with reverence and purity.

The trait of Conversation we would next consider is courtesy,--Christian
courtesy. This is nothing more nor less than carrying out the law of
charity; the doing as we would be done by. It is to recognize the fact
that others have a right to talk as well as ourselves; and also a right
to expect us to listen to what they say as attentively and respectfully
as we would wish them to listen to us. We should not merely hold our
tongues when others speak, but should scrupulously attend to what they
say. A person who affects politeness, although he remains silent while
another speaks, yet does so with an air that plainly shows he is paying
no attention to what is said, and is waiting with impatience for the
moment when he can hear himself talk. This sort of listening is a mere
pretence put on by the conceited and overbearing when they wish to pass
for persons of polite manners; but in reality it is an insult rather
than a courtesy to listen in this way. To listen with true courtesy, one
should feel and show, not only a willingness, but a desire to know what
another has to say, should follow attentively all that he says, and
should then reply with due consideration for what has been said.

It is a remark often made, that after an argument between two or more
persons, each individual is more strongly fixed in his previous opinion
than he was before. This result is often consequent upon the want of
true courtesy. The parties to an argument, absorbed in admiration of
their own opinions, seek not to become wiser through discourse, which
should be the end sought in all Conversation of an argumentative or
discussive character, but seek only to draw attention to their own views
and opinions; until that which should be Conversation degenerates into a
mere war of words, in which each party strives to talk down, rather than
to convince, the other. In such wordy warfare charity has no part; but
pride and combativeness hold entire dominion over the soul. He who comes
off conqueror may exult in his own power; but he has overcome, not
because reason was on his side, but because his combativeness was
stronger than that of his opponent; and he exults in that which is
in reality his shame. The moral and the intellectual natures suffer
together in such contests. The mind fastens itself upon the prejudices
and opinions it has chanced to adopt, loving them merely because they
are its own, and seeks no longer to advance in the acquisition of
truth; while the heart, inflated with egotism, has no abiding-place for
charity. Let charity rule in a discussion, and how different is the
result. Each party then strives to aid the other in discovering the
truth, and at the close of the Conversation each has made some advance
in the knowledge of truth. The ideas of both have become more clear and
rational, and their minds have acted with far more power, because they
have been given exclusively to the object under consideration instead
of being divided between the object and self-love. In the one case, the
parties are like two horses harnessed together contrariwise, and each
striving to go forward by pulling the other back; while in the other,
they travel amicably and fleetly, side by side, toward the fountain of
truth.

Next after courtesy comes simplicity, which may be defined as
forgetfulness of self. There is nothing more fatal to agreeable
Conversation than thinking perpetually of one's self. Young persons,
on first going into society, are very apt to fall into the error of
supposing that all eyes and ears are fixed upon them, to observe how
awkwardly or how gracefully they move, and how well or how ill they
converse. This is the result of a mental egotism combined with love
of admiration, and usually produces awkward diffidence or absurd
affectation. Too often the first weakness is overcome, or covered up,
most unwisely, by exchanging bashfulness for impertinent boldness; while
the vanity and self-consciousness of the second very rarely result in
manners or Conversation either sensible or agreeable. To overcome these
defects, wisely, requires a strong effort. They should be radically
subdued by learning to ask one's self, "Am I doing what is right and
proper?" instead of, "What will people think of me?" It is no easy
task to learn to do this habitually, because there is involved in it
a radical change of Character. It is to learn to _be_, instead of to
_seem_. In the first state, we are absorbed by the idea of what we
_seem_ to others; while, in the second state, we are occupied with the
idea of what we really _are_, without regard to the opinion of anybody,
but guided strictly by the abstract law of right. In the first state,
we are embarrassed by the complexity of our wishes and aims. We wish to
please everybody, and we strive to ascertain what will be agreeable
to the various tastes of those with whom we converse. Thus we have no
constant landmark, no unvarying compass to guide us on our way; and we
are drawn hither and thither, as we try now to please one person and
then another. Let our wishes and aims but become simple, and we walk
steadily and surely in the light. In the complexity of our desires we
were slaves; but in their simplicity we become free. Complexity strives
perpetually after reputation, and is always advancing either in the
direction of servility or of arrogance, according as self-esteem or
the love of admiration predominate in the mind of the individual; and
advancing years find it ever deteriorating in all the best elements of
Character. Simplicity, on the contrary, deals with what is, and not with
what seems to be, and is ever seeking growth in goodness and truth;
and therefore each added year finds it growing in all the graces of
improving manhood or womanhood. Complexity grows old in mind no less
than in body. Its moral being is scarred and wrinkled by selfishness and
worldliness, and its intellect dried up and withered by narrow views and
unworthy aims. In its old age there is nothing genial or lovely, and in
its death one could almost believe that soul as well as body perishes.
Simplicity improves in mind as it grows old in body. There are no
wrinkles on the brow of its sunny spirit; there is no withering of its
intellect. Its life, in time, is a perpetual advance in all that is
gracious and intelligent,--a steady ripening for eternity,--and its
death is but a birth into a fuller and more perfect life.

In Conversation, complexity adapts itself artfully to others, in order
to gratify its own selfishness. It humors the selfishness and whims of
those to whom it speaks, in order to gain consideration from them, or to
make use of them in some way for its own advancement.

Simplicity, on the contrary, adapts itself artlessly to others, because
it is full of charity; and therefore desires to make others happy. Its
words are the overflow of genial thought and kindly affection; and all
hearts that hold aught in common with it open and expand before its
influences as plants start at the touch of spring. It is not so much the
words uttered that produce this effect, as the pleasant and kindly way
in which they are said; for this throws a grace and an attractive charm
about the most commonplace objects of its Conversation.

Intellectual brilliancy in Conversation dazzles and delights the
imagination; but it does not touch the heart. Simplicity, on the
contrary, always impresses itself upon our feelings with a power that is
all the more strong because we cannot analyze it by our intellect. We
talk with a person of simplicity about the common occurrences of the
day, and find ourselves, we know not why, more gentle, refined, and
happy than we were before. We are refreshed as by drinking from a pure
and undefiled fountain of sweet waters; refreshed as mere intellectual
power cannot refresh us; refreshed as no book can refresh us. There is a
harmonious completeness in the whole being of simplicity, a directness
and honesty in all it says and does, "a grace beyond the reach of art,"
in all its manifestations more potent, because more internal in its
effects, than anything can ever be that is born merely of the intellect.
There is no affectation, no straining for effect in simplicity. All is
natural and genuine with it. Its wit is never forced, its wisdom is
never stilted; nor is either ever dragged in for mere display. With
the simple, Conversation is like a brook flowing through a beautiful
country, and reflecting the varied scenes through which it passes in all
their grace and beauty.

Another important trait in Conversation is the correct use of words; and
the effort after this cannot fail to exert a beneficial influence on
the mental powers. In order to speak correctly, one must observe with
accuracy and think with justness; the endeavor to do this increases
our love for the truth and our capacity for perceiving it. Much of the
falsehood in the world is the result of carelessness in observation or
phraseology. We often hear two persons give an account of something they
have seen or heard, and are surprised at the discrepancies between the
two narrations. Probably neither person intended to deceive; but both
saw or heard carelessly, and so are incompetent to describe accurately;
and probably, also, neither has cultivated the habit of speaking
correctly, as that habit is not apt to be found united with carelessness
of observation. Such persons would, perhaps, look upon this sort of
carelessness as a venial offence; but it is not so. Anything that
interferes with, or diminishes the capacity for, perceiving or speaking
the truth is of importance, and should never be passed over lightly. God
is truth no less than love, and every variation from the truth is a sin
against him.

If we find we have related any fact or described any object incorrectly,
it is not enough that we apologize for the error by saying "we though it
was so." Such an error should impress us as a thing to be repented of,
and we should try to ascertain why and how it was that we fell into
it, and it should put us on our guard; that we may be more accurate in
future.

Inaccuracy of speech often arises from a desire to tell a good
story, resulting from the love of admiration or from an ill-trained
imagination. The speaker colors, exaggerates, and distorts everything he
relates, carefully conceals all the facts on one side of a question, and
enlarges upon those of the opposite side with compensating fulness. It
is no uncommon thing to see this carried to such an extent that it is
idle to give credence to anything the person says; the more especially
as such a person very rarely stops with mere distortion of the facts
of a story. As the habit increases, invention supplies new facts and
details to make out all the parts desired, till the listener finds it
impossible to separate the true from the false, and the speaker is as
unable to distinguish his own inventions from the original facts; for
when the habit of speaking the truth is neglected, the capacity for
perceiving it is gradually lost.

In an intellectual point of view, the correct use of words is of the
utmost importance, if one would speak well. To attain this, it is
necessary to have a distinct idea of the meaning of words, and then to
endeavor to use such words as truly express the ideas of the mind. The
use of pet phrases and words is entirely at war with correctness in this
respect. With some persons, everything is pretty, from Niagara Falls to
the last new ribbon; while others find, or rather make, everything
nice, splendid, or glorious. It would be esteemed an insult to the
understanding of any person to suppose that the same idea or emotion
could be aroused in his mind by the sight of the sublimest work of
nature as by a trifling article of dress; yet if he use the same term to
describe it in each instance, he certainly lays himself open to such
an imputation. Want of thorough education is an inadequate excuse for
follies of this sort, because common sense combined with far less
knowledge than may be acquired in a common school is more than
sufficient to enable every one to use his native tongue with sufficient
propriety to save him from being ridiculous.

There is one specious gift which is almost sure to mislead those who are
largely endowed with it, and that is fluency. We listen with pain to
one who speaks hesitatingly and with difficulty, and who is obliged to
search his memory for words that will correctly represent his thoughts;
but if, when the words come, we find they really tells us something
worth waiting for, we feel far less weariness than in following the
unhesitating flow of words that are but empty sound. There is always
peculiar ease and pleasure in the exercise of a natural talent, and
those naturally possessed of fluency must of course find it hard to
restrain the tide of words that is perpetually flowing up to the lips;
but if they desire to converse agreeably, the effort must be made, and
self-denial must be attained. The benefit derived by an over-fluent
talker from self-restraint will be quite commensurate with the effort,
no less than with the added pleasure of the listener, for he will
gain in the power of accurate thought every time that he resists the
inclination to utter an unmeaning sentence.

A clear and distinct utterance is another faculty that should be
cultivated, for the effect of an otherwise interesting conversation
may be seriously impaired, and perhaps destroyed, by a slovenly or
indistinct articulation. Every word and syllable should receive its due
quantity of sound, yet without drawling or stiffness; while the voice
should be so modulated as to be heard without effort, and yet the
opposite fault of speaking too loud is avoided.

Correct pronunciation is a very desirable accomplishment, though
somewhat difficult to attain in its details, authorities are so various;
but probably the most comprehensive rule that can be observed is, as
far as possible to avoid provincialisms. A person's pronounciation can
hardly be elegant if it reveal at once of what State or city he is a
native; while freedom from local peculiarities is of itself a promise
of good pronunciation, as it shows either that the individual has taken
pains to weed out such peculiarities, or that he has been bred among
those who have done so. The pronunciation of the best scholars in every
part of our country is very similar, while the difference becomes more
and more strongly marked between the inhabitants of the various States
of the Union as we descend in the scale of education.

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