THE INFLUENCE OF TRAINING ON MIND AND MORALS.
It is impossible to make the simplest movement of any kind without the
conscious or unconscious direction of the mind, so inextricably are the
two bound up together; and from the earliest times physicians, both
spiritual, mental and physical, have known that the soul can be reached
through the “subtle gateways of the body.” This aspect of training, the
importance, that is, of the cleanly health of the body, and its prompt
and unrebellious obedience to the will, which is concerned with this
question, has been alluded to before, and is dealt with more fully here.
In the chapter on exercises we insisted that both for their direct use
in athletics, and for their far greater significance in life, the speed
and promptitude of the body’s obedience was an attainment of great
value, for thus the mind has at its call a quick ready servant to do its
errands, instead of a slow loiterer. We saw, also, that these exercises,
while they are in progress, necessitate strict attention, which we may
now add should be consciously applied, as learnt there, to other
pursuits. Let, for instance, the man who has accustomed himself by this
drill, for so we may call it, to attend with concentrated attention to
these simple actions of the body, apply that attitude of mind which is
now familiar to him to other tasks. Let us say he has before him a
tedious piece of work, which at the same time requires minute
attention. Let him, then, put himself into that frame of mind (he
remembers it quite well) with which he performs his exercises. Many
people hardly know what real attention means: there is no better way to
teach it than to make rapid and correct movements, which cannot be made
without it. In the same way, also, these exercises give the habit of
control. A man who has brought mind and body into the relation of master
and willing servant, even in so elementary a matter as this, is going on
the right road to teach himself control in the largest choices and
difficulties. So, too, in other points of training: a man who has made
himself able to drop smoking, or abstain from stimulants, or from
certain sorts of food which he likes, but which his reason tells him are
bad for him, has not improved his power of self-control in that point
only, but has begun, at any rate, to form a habit of it; and the
exercise of self-control, in one point only, will make his power of
control stronger all round, in each and every case where his reason
suggests control to him. It is here, as a tonic to the mind, that
training of some sort, apart from all its other uses, is recommended to
everybody; not training for some special event, which, as soon as the
event has come off is dropped, but a daily and continual observance of
certain rules of health, a daily practise of exertion of will and
obedience of body.[12]
Again, the health of the body contributes directly to the power and
strength of the mind. Work, which is irksome and comparatively badly
done by a man who, for any cause, digestive or otherwise, is in only
moderate health, will be done by the same man with zest and far better
results if he is in good health. Also, the mind is able to accomplish
not only better work but more work, when the whole system is not laid
under a general tax to repair and make well any enfeebled or clogged
organ. A single rusty joint, a badly fitting valve in an engine, makes
the whole run less smoothly than it should, and also implies a waste of
energy. Body and mind together, working in co-operation as they always
must, are a close parallel to this. The one cannot possibly be at its
best unless the other is in health. Rightful activity in the one
stimulates activity in the other, just as artificial stimulants, such
as spirits to the body, induce a mental activity in all respects like
the physical one, temporary in character and followed by reaction. But
the habit of briskness, of activity, of quick decision, is a thing fully
as much mental as it is bodily; the two are inseparable, and, therefore,
in the training of the body, the qualities which we should aim to
acquire are those which are mentally desirable. One man’s mind may, it
is true, be naturally a much less fine instrument on its own level than
his body, and much less easily trained, but the self-control, the
alertness, the habit of speed, which such training as we have sketched
out gives, will directly and inevitably affect his mind. It may still be
slow and laborious in its workings, but it would otherwise have been
slower. Also, whatever work it does it does better, because it is not
clogged, hindered, and distracted by an unhealthy body.
Now this interweaving of mind and body is so complex, so closely knit,
that it would perhaps be beyond the sphere of safety to say that the
knitting together of the body and that within us which is the spring of
moral, not intellectual qualities, the soul in fact, is closer than that
of the mind and body. In any case, the interdependence of body on soul,
of soul on body, and of both on the mind is practically complete, and
this human trinity makes up man. There is no healthful habit of body
which does not directly exercise a healthful influence on the soul, no
harmful habit which does not hurt it. The body sins, and in its secret
place the soul sickens. From the other side, also, a high moral standard
infallibly leads the body to adopt healthy habits, a low moral standard
suffers it to drift into physical crime and degradation.
Now city life, especially to anyone who has been accustomed to have a
good deal of exercise without a modification of the food and stimulants
he may take without hurt in a more active country life, is apt to put
the body into a state which renders it particularly liable to all kinds
of moral attack. The life is largely sedentary, and in consequence a
great deal of physical vigour in young men, which would in the country
be naturally and healthily expended in games and exercise for the upper
classes, in manual labour for the lower, remains unused, and, except to
those of strong moral principle, is a dangerous thing. Again, without
modification of diet to suit the circumstances, most people eat more
stimulating food than they require, and, as a natural sequence, drink
more stimulating and intoxicating drinks than are good for them. This,
in itself, is another exciting cause to the passions. To exercise
self-control under these circumstances is a laudable and a difficult
thing; but a far simpler remedy lies to hand--namely, in not letting
these circumstances exist, by deliberately taking less stimulant and
deliberately stinting oneself in the matter of food, or giving a fair
trial to the simpler foods spoken of before, which will be found to be
far less exciting, though quite as nourishing. There are many men who
are capable, as far as will power goes, of limiting themselves in this
manner, who, if they do not limit themselves, become nearly helpless in
the grip of their temperament. For a life of sensual indulgence, to put
it on the lowest grounds, is bad for the body and the mind; sensual
thought even becomes a habit as hard to get rid of as any morphia
habit, and for many to try to rid themselves of it, while they continue
to keep their bodies in a permanent state of excitability owing to
overmuch food and stimulant, would be like attempting to cure the
morphia habit, and yet continually going about with a phial of it in the
pocket. And nothing, again putting the question on low grounds, is so
bad for the nerves as to be incessantly desiring and dwelling in thought
upon a certain thing, and incessantly refusing to gratify the desire. We
do not, of course, mean that it would be better to gratify it,’ but that
it is better to take hold of it by the root, not merely pinch the stem,
and, as far as possible, get rid of the desire. For there are certain
temptations, and impurity is one, which are not safe to fight
consciously, since to approach them even in thought means to be seized,
as it were, by the tentacles of some infernal cuttlefish. Do not school
yourself to fight them; school yourself to run away from them. Interest
yourself in other things, tire yourself physically, and, above all, do
not indulge in stimulants of food and drink, which, however innocent
they may be in themselves, predispose, by the very feeling of vigour
they give, to things which are not innocent.
It is not only the suddenness and almost overwhelming force of physical
temptation to some natures which constitutes their only danger, it is
the gradual, hardly observable nature of the effect of such indulgence.
For years, it is no use denying it, a man’s mental and bodily health may
continue, as far as one can see, absolutely unimpaired by such excesses.
The greatest harm is done by preachers, schoolmasters, and others who
warn boys that such habits will lead to immediate decay of the mental
and physical powers, and early death. The boy may be frightened for a
time, but if this is the only preventive that keeps him back, his fright
will wear off, and he will find by experience that no such effect, as
was predicted, follows. He will, therefore, probably conclude that there
is no ill-effect. He will, also, assuredly meet men who tell him that
such practises are good for the health. A greater fallacy was never
invented by the devil himself. There is no truth whatever in it. But
what his teacher ought to have taught him was that such practices are
the cause of mental and physical decay in thousands, though not
immediately, that to yield to such temptations is for everyone to become
less able to resist them, and that by perfectly simple rules in the use
of water, in the limiting of food especially, for instance, late in the
evening the force of such temptations becomes infinitely less. Many
people, no doubt, will say that this is a low ground on which to build
up high motives. It is for that very reason, since it will appeal to
those to whom high motives would not appeal, that it is so extremely
useful. Thus it will appeal to many to know that at the age, let us say,
of fifty, a man who has lived purely is, almost without exception, a
stronger and more vigorous person, more capable of work and also of
enjoyment than one who, in early manhood has, though possibly for a few
months or weeks only, behaved like a mere ‘brute beast.’
It is in this connection that we strongly advocate the introduction into
London and other big towns of those evening clubs for exercise, which
have been tried with great success in America. There are boys’ and men’s
clubs in enormous numbers in London, and admirable things they are, but
we know of few where billiards is not, perhaps, the most violent form
of exercise provided. What is wanted is a number of tall buildings built
with many floors, where, for a moderate subscription, that class of
young man who now spends his evenings in the promenade of the music
halls, or in aimless (perhaps it would be better if they were aimless)
strolls up and down Piccadilly with not infrequent visits to the public
house, could get an hour’s violent exercise in boxing, fencing, or
gymnastics. We fully believe that this class, as a whole, would enjoy
such an evening far more than the evenings they are now accustomed to
spend; that it would be infinitely better for them in body, mind and
soul alike, not even the flabbiest moralist would be disposed to deny.
As it is, a young man gets away from his work, say at five or so, and
what in heaven’s name is the poor vigorous thing to do with the hours
that divide him from his natural bedtime?[13] It is out of the question
to expect that he should sit in his room and read a book; he has been at
work all day; his body tingles for diversion. Out he goes, if he is
human at all. In the general way there are two places open to him, the
public-house or the streets. There his vigour finds further stimulus, or
unhappily, its satisfaction. That there are, as we have said, many
clubs for such people is perfectly true, but papers, draughts, chess
(and we suppose now pingpong), are not the sort of thing that is needed
to work off the potential violence of the body. What is wanted is
violent exercise.[14] That such institutions would be enormously popular
with the class of which we speak, those, in fact, for whom more
expensive clubs are utterly out of the question, is, we think, beyond
doubt, and financially, we believe, that they could quite easily be made
to pay. It would, of course, be out of place to discuss this here, but
it is worth noting that where such clubs have been tried in Boston and
elsewhere, they have proved successful.
It is these evening hours which are the dangerous time. Purposeless
loafing in the streets, though entertaining enough, is not sufficient
for a vigorous young body, which has been pent all day at work; while
loafing with purpose, we may say, is not good for anybody, yet it is to
loafing with purpose that purposeless loafing naturally leads.
Purposeless loafing is innocent enough, but, to use the morphia simile
again, it is as if the sufferer from the morphia habit took a bottle of
morphia and continued to finger it, a highly dangerous performance; and
we do not believe that the class which loafs in the streets, anyhow the
best of them, loaf because they prefer it to some suitable employment
for their body, but because no suitable employment for their body, is
accessible to them. The bulk of them would vastly prefer something
different, and the eagerness with which they would embrace bodily
exercise may be gathered from the crowds on the Serpentine and waters of
the park if skating is possible. The theatre every night is, of course,
as hopelessly out of their means, as it would be to belong to Prince’s
or Lord’s, but with what patience and in what numbers do the crowds wait
at the pit door. The middle classes of England, we believe, are not
naturally sensual, but, as it is, during just those hours in the day
when they are at leisure, there is nothing whatever for them to do,
except loaf, till loafing becomes a habit, and from being an innocent
one passes into the Devil’s care, who has made the London streets what
they are, down the most populous of which, Piccadilly, the Strand, etc.,
no man would willingly take his sister at night.
It is towards this removal of causes that predispose towards ill-health
in the moral sphere, ill-health as shown by a lack of energy,
promptitude, power of work and endurance in the mind, that the training
of the body, as we have attempted to outline it, is largely and
unceasingly devoted. Health, as we understand it, the condition, that is
to say, not of the ordinary man who considers he is “well enough,” but
that higher health which is the result of training the body to
quickness, energy, and so to strength, which implies an obedience to the
reason in matters of food and stimulants, directly benefits a man’s
moral and mental life. The body “is in subjection”; it obeys with less
struggle the dictates of the non-material part of man, and it obtains in
itself a greater resistive power to temptations of laziness or lust,
just as it obtains a greater resistive power to its own purely physical
enemies of cold or fatigue. It is in this respect, therefore, (a far
higher consideration than mere physical fitness), that we put forward a
system of training that will be likely to ensure such results, and that
consequently we regard the obedience to laws of bodily health, and
means of physical fitness, as partaking of the nature of duty. And this
further: it is clearly accepted as man’s duty that he should keep his
mind and his morals in the highest and best possible state; but seeing
how intimately both these are knit with his body so that none can act
without the other, the soul sinning through the body, the mind dictating
every movement, is it reasonable to suppose that a corresponding duty is
not laid on man with regard to the health of his body? Is it not, in
fact, directly his duty to keep his body, as well as his soul and mind,
in its highest and best possible state? No doubt compromises have often
to be made; a man, in order to do his work, may be obliged to disregard
certain rules which the health of his body requires should be kept. But
saving this, there seems to us to be a clear duty with regard to
physical health, quite apart from the advantage which physical health
will bring to his mind and morals. This wonderful machine is a servant,
no doubt, of the mind, but shall the master keep it, so to speak, in an
insanitary attic, and pay no regard to its health? The compromises also,
which we have just spoken of, will be rarer if the body is well, since
it will be more capable of bearing fatigue and unreasonable hours of
work.
_The simple, but unswerving principles on which morals are based, the
highest development of the mind, the utmost health of the body_: these
things, and nothing short of them, are the results of ideal training.