THE VALUE OF SAINTLINESS
291
1
We all know daft saints, and they inspire a queer kind of aversion. But in comparing
saints with strong men we must choose individuals on the same intellectual level. The
under-witted strong man, homologous in his sphere with the under-witted saint, is the bully
of the slums, the hooligan or rowdy. Surely on this level also the saint preserves a certain
superiority.
forget this now when, in discussing saintliness, we ask if it be an ideal
type of manhood. We must test it by its economical relations.
I think that the method which Mr. Spencer uses in his Data of
Ethics will help to fix our opinion. Ideality in conduct is altogether
a matter of adaptation. A society where all were invariably aggressive
would destroy itself by inner friction, and in a society where some
are aggressive, others must be non-resistant, if there is to be any
kind of order. This is the present constitution of society, and to the
mixture we owe many of our blessings. But the aggressive members of
society are always tending to become bullies, robbers, and swindlers;
and no one believes that such a state of things as we now live in
is the millennium. It is meanwhile quite possible to conceive an
imaginary society in which there should be no aggressiveness, but
only sympathy and fairness, — any small community of true friends
now realizes such a society. Abstractly considered, such a society on
a large scale would be the millennium, for every good thing might
be realized there with no expense of friction. To such a millennial
society the saint would be entirely adapted. His peaceful modes of
appeal would be efficacious over his companions, and there would
be no one extant to take advantage of his non-resistance. The saint
is therefore abstractly a higher type of man than the “strong man,”
because he is adapted to the highest society conceivable, whether
that society ever be concretely possible or not. The strong man
would immediately tend by his presence to make that society de-
teriorate. It would become inferior in everything save in a certain
kind of bellicose excitement, dear to men as they now are.
But if we turn from the abstract question to the actual situation,
we find that the individual saint may be well or ill adapted, accord-
ing to particular circumstances. There is, in short, no absoluteness
in the excellence of sainthood. It must be confessed that as far as
this world goes, any one who makes an out-and-out saint of himself
does so at his peril. If he is not a large enough man, he may appear
more insignificant and contemptible, for all his saintship, than if
he had remained a worldling.
1
Accordingly religion has seldom been
292
THE VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE
so radically taken in our Western world that the devotee could not
mix it with some worldly temper. It has always found good men
who could follow most of its impulses, but who stopped short when
it came to non-resistance. Christ himself was fierce upon occasion.
Cromwells, Stonewall Jacksons, Gordons, show that Christians can
be strong men also.
How is success to be absolutely measured when there are so many
environments and so many ways of looking at the adaptation?
It cannot be measured absolutely; the verdict will vary according
to the point of view adopted. From the biological point of view
Saint Paul was a failure, because he was beheaded. Yet he was
magnificently adapted to the larger environment of history; and so
far as any saint’s example is a leaven of righteousness in the world,
and draws it in the direction of more prevalent habits of saint-
liness, he is a success, no matter what his immediate bad fortune
may be. The greatest saints, the spiritual heroes whom every one
acknowledges, the Francises, Bernards, Luthers, Loyolas, Wesleys,
Channings, Moodys, Gratrys, the Phillips Brookses, the Agnes
Joneses, Margaret Hallahans, and Dora Pattisons, are successes from
the outset. They show themselves, and there is no question; every
one perceives their strength and stature. Their sense of mystery
in things, their passion, their goodness, irradiate about them and
enlarge their outlines while they soften them. They are like pictures
with an atmosphere and background; and, placed alongside of them,
the strong men of this world and no other seem as dry as sticks, as
hard and crude as blocks of stone or brickbats.
In a general way, then, and “on the whole,”
1
our abandonment
of theological criteria, and our testing of religion by practical
common sense and the empirical method, leave it in possession
of its towering place in history. Economically, the saintly group of
qualities is indispensable to the world’s welfare. The great saints
are immediate successes; the smaller ones are at least heralds and
harbingers, and they may be leavens also, of a better mundane order.
Let us be saints, then, if we can, whether or not we succeed visibly
and temporally. But in our Father’s house are many mansions, and
each of us must discover for himself the kind of religion and the
amount of saintship which best comports with what he believes
1
See above, p. 256.