one single rational system of training; the pupils would be subject to
the same examinations; and there would be effected between the different
countries an exchange of individualities, destroying race hatred in the
idea of rights common to all and the rightful administration of
collective communities.
Armed peace, costly as it is for every nation, is a benefit in these
modern times. Each nation, by preserving the integrity of its own
territory, is more at liberty for intercourse with its neighbours, and
for the development of the high ideals which are urging the peoples
towards economic unity.
In former times, taking France as an example, the various provinces
detested one another, and were at variance through all kinds of
conflicting interests. They were separated by the barrier of opposite
temperaments, dissimilar customs; each of them preferring to remain a
stranger to the rest, though they all spoke the same language. But by
means of gradual changes, they were at length drawn together, each
province grew to feel a certain oneness of thought with the others,
until finally the rigid barriers broke down, and to-day the whole race
aims at the training in international feeling of every individual,
desiring that future generations, free from too local a patriotism,
should attain to what I may call geographical fraternity. For this
object nothing would be so valuable as the creation of international
schools, by which the tide of different ideas may enter, and thus solve
the great problem of comparative education.
Let us imagine similar schools in every country. Young men and girls,
sent abroad to follow up the course of study they have begun in their
own country, would find the completion of their education in the mental
intercourse offered by contact with the boys and girls of the foreign
school. They would by this means widen the horizon of their ideas, they
would become cosmopolitan without effort, reap such advantages from
foreign life as would greatly add to the force of their own personality,
and return home with an equipment of sound judgment and self-possession.
In addition, they would have learnt the foreign languages so necessary
to the pursuit of commerce, manufacture, letters, and the arts.
The young man and the girl thus educated in the idea of
world-relationship would hold their own in the circles to which they
belonged, and would be certain to do their country good service at an
age when, in the ordinary course of things, they might dream of going
abroad for the sake of seeing the world, without any ability to profit
by that exchange of ideas and comparison of manners which the
international school would secure to them just at the impressionable
age.
When one considers how useless in most cases, and how invariably costly
to parents, travelling is in the case of young men destined for
professional or even commercial careers, when undertaken after their
education is completed, one must acknowledge the advantage which would
result from the exchange between the countries of young, amenable
pupils, quick to assimilate all the elements needed for complete
training.
Of course each student sent abroad would have professors of his own
tongue and race to continue the course of study he was pursuing at home.
But from the very fact that they were living in a foreign land, they
would be able to learn the new language outside the classroom without
any trouble, and become initiated in new ways and ideas, acquiring all
sorts of useful knowledge, which would help to mature their minds. So
would each one, without losing contact with his own land, profit by the
constant recurrence of matters for comparison and analysis.
Sainte-Beuve had conceived the project of such a state of things when,
on the eve of the Franco-German War in 1870, he said: “War is being
prepared between the two greatest peoples in Europe.... It would be
better to found two schools, one in Berlin and one in Paris. The flower
of our youth would go and strengthen their minds in the laboratories of
Berlin, which are richer than ours; the Prussians would come here and be
moulded to our French grace.” The real difficulty between nations is
that of mutual understanding. Whether it be a question of medicine,
manufacture, commerce, or education, there are many efforts made which,
in the first instance, are unknown in neighbouring countries, and
thereby progress is hindered. By means of international schools, a
solution would be found to problems common to all, for instruction would
pass from one to another.
In commercial and industrial matters, especially, dealings between one
country and another would be carried out more easily, and on a larger
scale.
Through uniformity of customs, and harmony in feeling and ideas, brought
into play for the good of all, peace would be assured, while rivalry, on
which progress depends, would still exist. Autocracy, democracy,
imperialism, all would be merged in the common desire for improved
conditions.
On the day when harmonious endeavour shall become the rule between
people and people, the wealth of the world will increase tenfold, simply
through the working of all intelligence for the good of every nation.
THE NECESSITY OF RELIGION, AND ITS INFLUENCE OVER THE PEOPLE
Religion is neither a collection of natural laws nor a philosophic
dogma. It is higher in dignity than teachers of to-day represent it, and
it will be understood if we consider the meaning of the word “religion”
as applied to the life of the individual. In the words of Dr. Nicati,”
... applied to an individual, it denotes the allied operations of the
spirit upon which rests his judgments and actions. As applied to
society, it is the symbol of the facts which determine the relations
between individuals; it embraces in one common term _the principles of
social harmony_.”
In giving us this definition of religion, Dr. Nicati is not considering
any creed in particular, but all religions, each of which, taken
separately, is a moral code.
The religious idea, which French governments of to-day set aside as
useless, is, on the contrary, of obvious utility, primarily for all
those whose brains, ill-supplied with mental nourishment, need both
spiritual food and also a curb. What a strong restraining force is the
fear of eternal punishment; what an encouragement the desire of endless
reward!
In vain have all our orators striven, our materialists shown their
contempt; it is none the less true that the wiser spirits--men like
Littré, Taine, and Renan--have maintained in spite of all that “the
people must have a religion, a religion considered purely as an idea
inculcating morality.”
I will not embark upon the study of the evolution of religions, of the
Roman Catholic religion in particular, which, from its origin, remains
the moral authority of the Latin peoples. I will simply state that,
compulsory education notwithstanding, criminality in France has
increased in alarming proportion, whereas in England, as the noble
thinker Lord Avebury remarked some time ago, “prisons have had to be
closed for want of prisoners.”
Let us make no mistake. French criminality is in exact proportion with
the lowering of the moral level; the absence of criminality in England
comes of the respect shown by our neighbours for all religious sects,
provided they use their influence for the development of the religious
principle in children--that is to say, the fear of the punishment which
comes of wrongdoing, and the hope of the reward which good merits.
Until the moral sense has become thoroughly developed in everyone,
religion--that is to say, a preventive training against the
passions--will continue necessary.
“We have schools enough of every description,” says the author of
_L’Education de Soi-Mème_, “which give us general knowledge and
admirable skill in the technique of every branch of human activity; what
we need is a school for the making of men.” The Church would have
remained such a school if the Romanists had not made of their authority
a political weapon.
Nevertheless, religious morality dwells in the depths of the mind, and
thus it is, according to Maurice de Fleury, “that modern savants who
have lost their faith, and cannot believe in human free will, become
reconciled ultimately to the teaching given us by the Church.”
The rational morality which comes of mental training may be sufficient
for the strong, relieving them of a thousand illusions and childish
fancies. It remains none the less true, however, that, even amongst
those who are past masters in the arts, in science, and politics, there
are some who, from an ethical point of view, are spiritual weaklings,
needing, in place of the Latin _intelligere_, some creed, hidden or
avowed, adapted to their imaginative and imperfectly-controlled brain.
Whatever may be said, the mass of the people has to be considered as an
“inferior majority.” Apart from it, a “superior minority” stands out; no
longer bound by all the old beliefs, but all the same given to an
“inner” religion, which is the ethical intelligence whence springs
rational morality.
Let us consider the apostle. The inferiority of his followers is
manifest, but as soon as these disciples reach a higher level, through
the education of their spirit, they in their turn will become apostles,
and moral equality will exist in a group which, in its turn again, will
win over other groups.
We must then concede to the people a religion which may take the place
of the moral law, one giving them the hope of living again in
[Illustration: THE INFANTA EULALIA AND HER TWO SONS
_Photograph by Boissonnas & Taponier, Paris._]
a better life, affording comfort in affliction, and restraining their
cravings. Religious beliefs are but the poetic materialisation of moral
truths. By maturing the popular mind, by improved education, the time
will come--in some far-distant future--when man will need no other dogma
than that natural one which is faith in _himself_, without which he does
not (consciously) exist.
On the day when religion shall no longer serve to govern morals, it will
be useless. For many it is already a dead letter. That matters nothing
in the case of those whose morality, I repeat, is based on reason; but
how regrettable when it is a question of persons of inferior
intelligence who, without fixed rules, are unable to attain the
perception of good and evil!
Amongst certain peoples, a religion was founded by philosophers as long
ago as 500 years before Christ. Did not Confucius correct the habits of
his country, reform justice, and bring in prosperity, through moral
training? Chief authority of a new sect, governed by the idea of
rectitude in the life, he organised a state of things which continues
yet.
This may happen later on in our Western countries; but until we have
replaced the ancient creeds by a moral Ideal impressed upon all minds,
it will be necessary to keep up the religious sentiment amongst the
people, who have remained hitherto an unconscious force.
THE PRESS
“The newspaper,” says Eugène Tavernier, “is the expression of society.”
That is a rudimentary truth which has strangely lost its meaning since
the Press, whose social rôle was that of an educator, gave itself up to
sectarianism, and, in consequence, was no longer able to exercise, for
the most part, a really moral influence.
From the fact that the Press sells itself shamelessly to its supporters,
it often happens that it attacks the weak and blindly defends the
strong, thus making capital out of ostracism and injustice.
Present-day morals have destroyed the original character of the
newspaper. In the hands of men more concerned with their personal
interests than the good of their country or the pursuit of truth, the
Press has sacrificed everything to profit, for money is its object.
Newspapers are bazaars where everything is sold, calumny included. And
the turmoil of life has made of the journalist a purveyor of sensational
news, of paradoxes which falsify the popular judgment, and information
as misleading as it is swiftly obtained. The result is that in our
democratic times, when everyone claims the right to give expression to
his ideas, we see most journalists writing to order and playing the
sorry part of impersonal machines.
Since writers worthy of the name found themselves obliged to bow to the
will of these dealers in spoilt paper, many of them have refused to
write for the daily papers.
Now, as journalistic over-production increases continually, and as the
success of many enterprises (based on the exploitation of credulity, the
fear of scandal, and excessive advertisement) is almost always in
inverse ratio to integrity, hosts of ignorant men,--“men of all
work”--shelter themselves behind the newspaper and make a livelihood out
of their trash. The day after the Commune, Louis Veuillot said of the
Press: “I have been associated with it all my life, and I do not like
it. I may say that I hate it; but it belongs to the considerable class
of necessary evils. Newspapers have become such a danger that it is
necessary to create many. You cannot contend against the Press, except
through its multitude. Add flood to flood, and let them drown one
another, forming no more than a swamp, or, if you will, a sea. The swamp
has its lagoons, the sea its moments of slumber. We will see whether it
is possible to build some Venice within it....”
The daring controversialist and uncompromising fighter did not foresee
that the Press, far from neutralising itself through its numbers, would,
later on, create a State within a State, developed to such an extent,
and so imbued with disintegrating principles, that it would become as
dangerous to social groups as to individuals.
I shall be told that, since its very modest beginnings, in the time of
Louis XIV., the Press was as formidable under the Revolution as later,
and that all governments suffered through it. But I reply that in former
times the journalist, in spite of many excesses, held his calling
sacred, and that his exercise of it found an excuse in his talent and
sincerity. It was a time when men of strong opinions fought beneath the
same flag; in our own day we often see men pass from one side to the
other and defend by turns diametrically opposite views.
In the critic’s domain, for instance, it was esteemed an honour to show
oneself possessed of a sense of the beautiful. Men like Théophile
Gautier, Sainte-Beuve, Paul de Saint-Victor, spared not their personal
preferences to pay homage to talent, no matter whence it came.
Art was the first object with spirits like these. To-day, mere talkers,
with some dubious interest at their back, are willing to boom any
mediocrity who makes it worth their while. Everything is done with an
eye to expediency. The independent artist is regarded as an enemy
because he will not condescend to pay the paper’s price for praise and
puffery. It is the same in politics; and whosoever, in commerce or
industry, fails to sacrifice to the omnipotent god of advertisement,
finds himself checkmated by rivals pushed forward at a great expenditure
of bank-notes.
It comes about then that, in a free state, a privileged class, generally
recruited from amongst the quasi-intellectual of the “flash-in-the-pan”
type, is able to place itself above the law because, in many cases,
slander is--or so it appears--a means of instructing or amusing the
public.
Not long ago, when the Press was censored, people cried out at the abuse
of power; but when it was given freedom to express even destructive
opinions, it hastened to turn this freedom into licence. And, in fact,
to-day the evil has become so great, through the falsity and baseness of
the subject-matter, that the least well-informed reader, seldom though
he may look at a paper, knows beforehand the stuff that will be served
up to him, whether as regards politics, art, science, or the small
change of public scandals.
The intrusion of advertisement, too, is such that the man whose article
is published is often the one who pays. In this way, the Lie, in a
thousand different forms, is retailed every hour of the day to the poor
deluded reading public.
In order that the Press may fill the rôle of educator of the people,
leader of the masses, it must adhere to a political, social, and moral
ideal, frankly sincere, and with a personal sense of the beautiful.
The opinions of honest, enlightened minds, freed from the snare of
time-serving, would be offered to society, instead of such as corrupt
individual aspirations or bring a ferment of confusion into the
different social spheres.
But, to make that possible, every newspaper should be, first of all, an
enterprise possessing considerable capital, supplied by independent
shareholders, uncompromising, honourable men, whose fortune would be an
element making for success.
Established on a solid and lasting foundation, the Press, in spite of
differences of opinion, would become an admirable organ of instruction,
such as would waken the intellect, but not satisfy morbid curiosity.
For the spread of thought, selection of the best information from all
sources must be considered, not extortion and satisfaction of depraved
taste.
When the Press becomes genuine, writers of merit of all kinds will bring
to it the tribute of their observation, ideas, and workmanship. When
that day comes, the newspaper will be entirely free with regard to
political and social groups and private individuals alike, since it will
be a common enterprise of good men--men well informed, worthy of their
office, and fit for the accomplishment of sound, honest, and
praiseworthy work.
MORALITY
Morality is a metaphysical quality by the help of which our practical
actions are justified, and which in most cases constitutes restraint.
Morality is a science, say some; morality is an art, say others; for
many idealists it remains a _revanche_ of reason, and M. Rodrigues sees
in it the will which binds itself and which we bind. “Individual
liberty,” he says, “if it exists, only plays a part on the second plane;
in practice it signifies little when humanity in its entirety is
considered. Bound to an organism, and still more to society, the
psychological or moral consciousness, when it draws inspiration from
within itself, finds there in effect what its _milieu_ has placed there.
It expresses a system of representations, to the forming of which it has
in itself contributed but a small part.... Morality, too, has undergone
an evolution parallel in all points to that of science.”
Yes, truly, morality, like everything which touches on conduct, social
laws, rites, traditions, ancestral prejudices, the need of freedom, the
right of the individual, undergoes continual evolution according to the
conditions of a community. We are to-day far from the morality which,
according to Kant, is legislation on the part of the reasonable being,
enjoining upon all persons the same duties.
According to the morality of Epictetus, resting on the idea of liberty,
“man may free himself of all dependence with regard to other men and to
Nature, and raise himself to absolute freedom, distinguishing between
the things which rest on him and those which do not, and despising the
latter as immaterial”; according to the ethics of Epicurus, pleasure is
the sovereign good of man, and all our efforts should tend towards its
attainment, provided that pleasure consist as much of the satisfaction
of the heart and mind as of the senses, but modern morality has become
sectarian, and differs according to class.
The principle of _bourgeois_ morality is to preserve the unity of the
community without any consideration for the liberty of the individual;
the _bourgeois_ family being a sort of commercial association, it
confines its morality to the idea of a duty which is, above all, the
protection of the interests of the community. It is a morality which is
quite beside the point, and which has no intrinsic value.
The principle of aristocratic morality is to preserve for the glory of
its escutcheon all the splendour it deems requisite. It does not trouble
itself as to the means by which that escutcheon gains in radiance,
because it has made a virtue of its pride. The superadded adornments
trouble it with no pangs of conscience, because for it duty consists in
the integrity of appearances. This morality is not, in the main, more
false in conception than that of the _bourgeois_; it is the guardian of
appanage as the other is the guardian of selfish interests.
The morality of Courts consists in preserving tradition intact, and it
does not hesitate to sacrifice individuals to the Cause which is one,
unchangeable, and imperative. It is thus a morality extraordinary,
having authority above right and outside duty.
But whatsoever constitutes the quality deemed essential, whether it be
the commercial and industrial stability of the _bourgeois_, the true or
false splendour of the nobleman’s escutcheon, or the more or less
artificial halo of the Court, it is none the less true that class
morality is daily obliged to yield to circumstances and bend to
conditions.
Being one of the manifestations of human action, morality is necessarily
subject to the law of living according to such and such an epoch. It has
to adapt itself to change. For this reason personal interest,
selfishness, pride of birth, and the idea of being above humanity must
all, in spite of their rules, conform to new conceptions of altruism and
idealism, for there is no moral finality.
To speak truly, every individual bears the moral sense within himself,
but he has to remember that the sanction of moral judgment is one of the
most important factors of civilisation and progress, and cannot be
dissociated to-day from the scientific element.
Nothing leads men more astray than to let them believe that certain
persons or certain things injurious to society are desirable.
The personal interest of the merchant is not adapted to the artisan’s
life conditions; an escutcheon is not a thing to be coveted by the
worker; and the right called “Divine” diminishes in no degree the right
of a people. On the contrary, class morality is hostile to the new
moral ideas answering to new social needs; this is the reason why its
value has depreciated, because humanity is making a constant effort
towards an ideal which it creates and changes according to the
difficulties of the way, and because the straight road leads to
righteousness.
PUBLIC OPINION
“It is easy, in the world, to live after the world’s opinion,” says
Emerson; “it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great
man is he who, in the midst of a crowd, keeps with perfect sweetness the
independence of solitude.”
In this logical rounding of his thought, the master has given us a rule
of conduct based on self-confidence, the result of vigorous
mind-training and the exchange of opinion.
Every slave to public opinion lives irresponsibly, because he fails to
possess his own soul, is incapable of inward control, and unable to
arrive at an independent view.
To be checked by public opinion means the abandonment of mental effort,
the surrender of the “_I_”; it means resigning oneself to become mere
reflection, a nonentity.
Not to everyone is it given to be able to brave public opinion; only a
few have the force to throw off social conventions.
One of the conditions permitting of contempt of public opinion is to
have no need of anyone, both from the point of view of material
existence and of moral status. I am not speaking of those on whom
fortune has smiled from their birth, but of the great majority who,
lacking firmness of character and matured personality, obey blindly as
circumstances dictate.
What is public opinion if not a collection of incongruous judgments
turned to general use, rules followed from force of custom, hypocritical
virtues, lies in disguise? And why should not I hold to my own private
view, in spite of current opinion, if, in the consciousness of pure
intention, wisdom in action, I show forth in my conduct the precepts
guiding my life?