How To Influence Others

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INFLUENCE

HOW TO EXERT IT

MENTAL EFFICIENCY SERIES

INFLUENCE

HOW TO EXERT IT

By YORITOMO-TASHI

A NNOTATED BY B. D ANGENNES

AUTHORIZED EDITION

T RANSLATED BY D ORA K NOWLTON R ANOUS

AND H ERBERT G. W INTERSGILL

The mastery of the Art of Exerting Influence is tht

greatest element of Success

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY

NEW YOEK LONDON

ANNOUNCEMENT

Y ORITOMO -T ASHI , whose precepts are present-

ed in this book, ranks as one of the three great-

est statesmen that Japan has ever produced.

He was the reviser of the Empire's code of

laws, and the organizer of military feudalism,

he rescued his native land from the slough of

demoralization into which it had sunk. In 1186

he established the seat of his government at

Kamakura, where he organized an administra-

tive body similar in its methods and opera-

tion to the metropolitan government. From

what is known of his public career, it is evi-

dent that he exercised a domi-

nant influence over the minds of his people. To

him the art of influencing others was the key

to Success.

In the lessons that Mr. B. D ANGENNES

has drawn from the writings of Yoritomo-Tashi,

and presents in this book, the manner in which

Influence may be exerted and the means by

which it may be exercised are considered.

T HE P UBLISHERS .

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

-By Persuasion

-The Influence of the Eye

-Through Clearness of Speech

-By Setting Good Example

-By Decision

-By Rational Ambition

-By Perseverance

-By the Prestige Gained from Concentration

-By Confidence

-Acquisition of Dominating Power

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BY PERSUASION

P ERSUASION , Yoritomo taught us, clothes

itself in two very different forms; the one in-

vades the soul like the invisible molecules of

a soothing balm poured from a kindly hand,

and gently infiltrates itself throughout our sys-

tems, communicating to us its virtues.

The other may be compared to the terrible

wind of the African deserts. If, from the first

hour one feels its burning touch, he has not

known how to avoid it by shutting himself

closely within his dwelling, every crevice

and opening of which has been sealed, nothing

can escape its attacks. The imperceptible sand

drifts little by little into all corners of the house,

and even reaches all parts of the human body.

However well protected we may be, it even

penetrates closed lips and eyes, and soon this

almost invisible thing seizes on every man and be-

comes his constant preoccupation.

Evil persuasion is all the more dangerous

because it knows how to clothe itself with the

most attractive external attributes. That is what

we meet in the guise of counselors whose words

are always tempting, since they adopt the false

appearance of solicitude. With earnest words

and sympathetic smiles, these persons who

almost always have nothing to do in life, try to

spoil the lives of others without having a

suspicion of their unconscious crime.

Usually these are the kind of persons that

talk in apparent good faith about the freedom

to live one's own life. They are those who seek

the agreeable sensation of the moment, without

giving a thought to the possible bitterness of

tomorrow.

They have to learn harsh lessons, for all

that; often they are compelled to suffer for days

and weeks in order to pay for one day of care-

less pleasure; but these days are either soon for-

gotten, or their lightness of character is such

that they prefer to take the risk of drawing

down on themselves serious troubles in the

future than to make any effort in the present

to avoid them. Here Yoritomo, always ready

with examples, related the following story:

I once knew a young man, the son of one of

my friends, who was afflicted with a certain

lightness of judgment. He was not bad at heart,

but his effeminacy and lack of strength of will

made him an undesirable companion for such

of his young friends whose souls were not

sufficiently tempered by the practice of a

continual appeal to dominating forces.

One day he was calling on one of his friends,

whose father occupied an important place in

the senate, and who sent his son to the house of

one of his colleagues to learn the result of a

discussion in which he had not been able to take

part. Apropos of a very important question, on

which a favored future or a disgrace depended,

he wished to know what a night session of the

senate had determined.

On the way, the son of the senator confided

his apprehensions to his frivolous friend.

To this young man these weighty matters

seemed unimportant and childish, and he dwelt

much on the bore it would be to allow this matter

to spoil an evening in which both friends had

promised themselves much pleasure.

His reply filled the senator's son with con-

sternation; the night session had taken place,

and the most important affairs had been dis-

cust, and the absent senator had been attacked

with great bitterness by his adversaries.

But the friend said, 'Since the contretemps

is sure to bring trouble and spoil the pleasure

we were looking forward to, why risk this

trouble? We can tell your father that the

session did not take place, and that all is

going well!’

The senator's son resisted; he would not

dare lie to his father, he said. But his friend

became more insinuating: 'It would not be a

serious lie, and besides, one would have time to

say that some one had misunderstood—in fact,

are we quite sure that there had not been some

misunderstanding ?'

In order to vanquish his friend's last hesita-

tions, the young gentleman pretended to recall

the whole interview, analyzing its details and

inventing others. Meantime, he said, they would

say that several persons had stopped them and

questioned them; was it not to one of these that

they had replied?

He said so much in so persuasive a way that

at last the senator's son deliberately told his

father that the expected session had been post-

poned until the following day. Under the in-

fluence of this evil persuasion he felt not the

slightest remorse in telling this falsehood, and

passed a delightful evening.

But alas! the next day must have been

terrible!

His father and his partisans could not be

found at all in time to foil the scheme of his

enemies; his disgrace was decided on, and the

order to commit hara-kiri was sent to him.

After he was dead, his effects were confis-

cated, and his son dragged out the miserable

existence of the poor beings whom will and dig-

nity do not console.

The old philosopher did not tell us whether

the friend, the cause of all these disasters, sought

to palliate them by coming to the aid of him

whom he had ruined by his detestable counsel.

But it is probable that, feeling in this affair

as those feel who are conscious of their contemp-

tible conduct, he looked on indifferently at the

misfortunes chargeable solely to his own light-

ness of character.

It is, in fact, a common trait with those who

are conscious of their own inability to make the

least effort to experience a wicked sort of plea-

sure in observing the failure of others.

Another variety of the agents of bad per-

suasion are those persons we call pessimists,

whom Yoritomo describes thus:

One should flee those who are created with

life which makes one think only of the stupor of

death.

Their souls are always in the state where one

finds the body in the tomb; every effort seems

useless to them, or rather, they prefer to make

a show of that indifference which makes the

gestures necessary to obtain the accomplishments

they pretend to despise.

Despise them, indeed? Do they not feel,

rather a malicious joy in demoralizing others?

They like to consider man as fundamentally

bad, and to declare that the slumber of the dead

is the superior of all other pleasures.

That is true only regarding those who, as

we have said, pass through life as if they were

already dead. They would be right, perhaps, if

one heard only through pleasures of the gross,

earthly joys of existence. But, for those that

know how to see the joy of living is in all things,

and we can taste it, even in the midst of the

greatest afflictions. Can the grief of mourning,

cruel though it may be, prevent us from admiring

the sunshine at the moment when it hangs the

purple of the sunset in the sky before it sinks

to sleep behind the quivering birch-trees?

Can any grief, whatever it may be, prevent

us from feeling a delicate emotion on hearing the

sweet, strong voice of a boatman, whose song

is lost in the distance when his light craft dis-

appears in the golden mist of the great lakes.

The joy of life throbs everywhere about us;-

it is in everything that surrounds us, and we

should gather all our strength to cry out against

those that preach pessimistic doctrine, for every

life, sad though it may be, is worth living.

Do we not hear those that talk about the

scourge of our day, neurasthenia—which often is

only one of the commonest forms of egoism for

those that are attacked by it—refuse not only to

believe in the beautiful and the good, but

they devote the last sparks of their fast disap-

pearing will to persuading others of the useless-

ness of everything.

Are they always sincere? Do they not do this

in a sort of spite against those who are more

expert in the art of living and who excite their

envy by enjoying the blessings of life which

their own moral weakness does not allow them

to appreciate.

How much happier are those of whom Yori-

tomo says, They accept joyfully the evil of liv-

ing, and show it in their fervent adoration of

everything that is beautiful and good. These,

he added, are the true priests of favorable

persuasion. They know by the authority of their

own conviction, how to give courage again to

the weak and faith to the incredulous.

By the virtue of persuasion, they banish

from the invalid the pains which almost always

hasten the apparition of imaginary sufferings.

They know the right words to say to

strengthen weak wills, and to give to those who

suffer pain in reality the courage to support the

ills which sympathy and solicitude made lighter.

They are, in short, true healers.

The persuasion toward health is the best of

panaceas, for no one denies the influence of

moral qualities on physical health.

I once knew a man who, under the influence

to one fixed idea, was about to die.

He imagined that, while drinking the water

of a stagnant pool, he had swallowed a serpent,

minute at first, but which growing larger inside

of his body, caused internal ravages of which

he felt himself likely soon to die.

His friends had told me of his singular ease,

telling me how anxious they were at seeing this

so-called invalid wasting away day by day.

I was curious to visit him; I found a real

invalid, looking very ill, with features sunken,

and hardly able to drag himself about. Press-

ing his chest, he told us that the serpent was

devouring him.

His friends laughed at him and seemed to

think that I would join them in their mirth, but

I judged the moral evil too serious to try to

soothe him by trying to reason with him.

Persuasion alone, based on a real or an

imaginary proof, with the aid of suggestion,

could save the man.

Instead of laughing with the others, I pre-

tended to believe that he was really ill, and

asked him to tell me his story, to which I listened

with the deepest attention.

To his great astonishment, I sympathized

with him in his trouble, and spoke of one of my

friends, a famous healer, who would be happy

to interest himself in the invalid and to try to

save him.

Two days later I returned, actually bring-

ing with me a physician whom I had told of this

strange mania, and who had promised me his

assistance, for it was indispensable to have near

me some one who could speak authoritatively in

order to impress the mind of the invalid.

He examined the patient carefully, pre-

scribed certain medicines, and withdrew, with-

out giving any words of positive hope.

Then began my part, that of a psychologist.

I pretended that I would tell him the abso-

lute truth, however brutal it might seem. The

doctor had discovered beyond all doubt the

presence of the serpent; he had tried certain

medication. Would it succeed? He dared not

affirm it.

Several days passed, with alternating fear

and hope, which indications I noted carefully.

Finally, one day the physician declared that he

was about to make a decisive test, of which he

had great hope of a favorable result.

I had known so well how to be persuasive,

and had understood so thoroughly how to sur-

round the patient with the right occult influ-

ences, that he no longer rejected the idea of a

possible cure; and when, after taking certain

medicines that induced him to vomit freely, we

showed him the serpent which he believed he

had thrown up, our invalid found himself sud-

denly cured.

After this, if he happened to feel again pain

or discomfort of any kind, he attributed it to the

ravages caused by the serpent, and, as the cause

existed no more the evil soon disappeared.

This case shows that one of the conditions

of succeeding in the art of persuading is not

to batter rudely at convictions that one wishes

to uproot.

This hardly requires an explanation; in

order to persuade some one it is necessary to

merit his sympathy; now, one never gains the

sympathy of those whose opinions he does not

share.

Hence, in order to persuade successfully, one

must banish suspicion and know how to listen.

One must not forget the profound egotism

that characterizes all imaginary invalids; they

are so full of themselves that their ills seem to

them to acquire high importance.

They can not admit then that the whole

world is not interested in their aches and pains,

and the importance they themselves attach to

them is a subject of development for their

malady.

For it is incontestable that all moral emotion

has an immediate repercussion on the physical

state.

To be able to persuade a patient that he is

cured is, in most cases, to free him from his

malady; it is always infinitely attenuated, since

it is to spare him moral uneasiness, too fruitful

mother of bodily ills.

But Yoritomo did not stop here with instruct-

ing us in the benefits of persuasion; he extended

his remarks to the unfortunates who are assailed

by the doubt even of happiness, and he encour-

aged them with this parable:

A young lord was passing one day along the

highroad when his palanquin was struck so

roughly that it was broken to pieces; he looked

at the ruins a moment, then he ordered his bear-

ers to go in search of a new one, and sat down

by the roadside to wait for them to bring it.

A poor man passing by stopped and talked

with him about the accident.

And what shall you do with these pieces?

he inquired. Why, nothing, the rich man replied; I

shall leave them where they are. Then will you

allow me to take them? Yes, since I don't want

them. The beggar then set himself to work; he re-

adjusted the boards, washed the soiled spots on

the hangings in the nearest brook, and did so

much and so well that toward evening the palan-

quin, although a little deteriorated, it is true, was

solid and fit to use again.

Just then the bearers returned. They had

not been able to find anything but a palanquin so

light and frail that, as soon as they tried it,

they saw that it would not do.

There the beggar intervened, and offered

'his' palanquin.

The young lord was glad to pay a large in-

demnity to have the use for several hours of a

thing which in reality belonged to him.

And that, adds the old philosopher, is the

experience of many persons who will not under-

stand that a destroyed happiness may prove a

kind of blessing, if one knows how to gather up

the pieces.

Instead of grieving over them and abandon-

ing them by the wayside in order to wait for

what may turn up, is it not better to do as the

beggar did and to seek in the mishap a security

which we should find it difficult to be sure of in

the coordination of new events? It is on such

occasions as this that the power of influence

comes into play. In order to persuade men that

it is easier for them to work at the construction

(or reconstruction) of the happiness that is near

them, psychic power is more necessary than it

is in drawing them into hypothetic adventures.

Few men are not attracted by the magic

of 'beginning over again,' and how many others

count on luck, which they almost deify!

When can they convince themselves that, for

those who know the power of influence, which

develops a steady will and a strong thought, luck

is born chiefly of circumstances created by our-

selves?

Almost always we are the architects of our

own fortunes; it is in working at them without

respite that we may model them if not wholly

according to our wish, at least in a way some-

what approaching it.

It is by believing steadfastly that we shall

attain the highest power, that we shall acquire

the qualities that make a man almost more

than man, since they allow him to govern and

subdue those by whom he is surrounded.

Might we not say that here Yoritomo pre-

sented the superman of Nietzsche, and do we

not find in all those theories a commentary on

the modern phrase of the power of mind over

matter.

In what manner does this evolution produce

itself and above all by what means can one ob-

tain these quasi-miracles?

How does one make this effort to attain the

desired end, and what qualities, occult or mate-

rial are necessary to develop to attain this mag-

nificent ambition to conquer the minds of men?

Listen to what the Shogun tells us in the fol-

lowing chapters.

THE INFLUENCE OF THE EYES

F EW persons escape the influence of the

human eye. If its look is imperious, it sub-

jugates; if it is tender, it moves; if it is sad

it penetrates the heart with melancholy.

But this influence can not be real and strong

unless it is incited by the thought behind it

which maintains and fixes that look, in com-

municating to it the expression either terrible

or favorable, persuasive or defiant, which alone

can maintain the firmness and the perseverance

of the active forces of our brain.

Some persons, said Yoritomo, possess

naturally a fascinating eye; usually they are

those who can maintain a steady gaze for a long

time without blinking.

But it is not sufficient to be able to throw

a glance the persistence of which sometimes

causes a passing discomfort, which almost al-

ways tends toward the subjection of spirits of

the weaker sort.

This look should be the projection of a

thought in which the fixed form is definite

enough so that its penetrative influence shall

become efficacious.

But, some one will say, it is not always

necessary to think, since several animals possess

this power of fascination, like the snake, which

holds a bird motionless under the power of its

gaze, so that it never dreams of trying to use

its wings to escape from its enemy.

But if conscientious thought does not exist

in the animal, it is nevertheless active in re-

sponding to instinct.

There is a blind force in the brain of the

serpent, which nevertheless is very strongly

accentuated, and which turns it from taking

possession of its prey, and this force, mastered

by a powerful instinct, determines a compulsion

which in the weaker creature is sufficient to

paralyze all inclination to resist.

But the serpent does not monopolize this

privilege of fascination, if one may believe cer-

tain old French chronicles.

In the old book published by Rousseau in the

seventeenth century, it is related that a toad

shut up in a vase that he could not get out of

found it difficult to endure the fascination of

the human eye; at first, in evident uneasiness,

it tried to escape; then, when convinced that

that was impossible, it would return to its

former position and stare at the person in its

turn, and ended by dying of the effect of this

peculiar force.

Is it necessary to lend strength to this story

by adding that one day a toad, stronger or more

irritable than the others, riveted its eyes so long

upon a man's eyes that he actually felt the in-

fluence of the creature and swooned under the

implacable fixity of its gaze?

I do not believe that such experiences have

been officially established, but it is none the less

interesting to conclude that if under the sway

of an instinctive thought, the eye of an animal

can acquire a rare power, the eye of man, when

he is animated by an active and reasonable

thought, may be an important agent of influence

and of suggestion.

In order to convince an adversary, said the

Japanese philosopher, one must look him

straight in the eyes.

But it would be very stupid and unskilful

to employ this method without discretion.

Some would see in it only insolence, and

their irritation would prevent them from feeling

the full influence of the gaze; others would feel

a certain uneasiness which would cause them to

turn the eyes away before having submitted

entirely to the gazer's influence, and might pre-

vent them from renewing an interview with a

person that had imprest them so unpleasantly.

The best way to begin the use of the eye in

influencing is to talk of subjects that will not

arouse suspicion in the interlocutor.

One should present himself in an easy and

quiet manner and listen without showing any

signs of impatience to whatever objections the

person may make; some of these may not be

lacking in accuracy, and it would be unwise to

combat them.

It is unnecessary to add that the least

hastiness, which would displace the point of con-

centration of the thought, would be injurious,

and might work serious harm to the success that

we seek.

Too great excess of modesty should be

avoided, for the transmission of thought—and

consequently of influence—is worked at our cost.

Timidity is always an obstacle to the in-

fluence of the eye, which should, at the very

first interchange of glances, look straight and

frankly into the eyes of the interlocutor, at

the top of the bridge of the nose.

The first conflict once over, one should turn

away his eyes carelessly; especially he should

avoid the eyes of his opponent (as we will call

him) in the first minutes of conversation, be-

fore your own have gained any hold on him; one

should in some way fix his gaze without allowing

his eyes to gain a hold over your own.

In short, he who wishes to influence another

by his look, must take the greatest care not to

let him suspect his design, which would im-

mediately put him on the defensive and render

all your efforts vain.

I once knew a young man named Yon-Li,

added Yoritomo, who went to call on a Daimio

with the intention of serving as a mediator

between him and one of his friends.

In strict truth, I should say that the object

of this proceeding was not wholly disinterested,

since he wished to urge the Daimio to con-

clude a transaction that was injurious to his own

interests.

Besides, the friend had promised a round

sum to Yon-Li if he should succeed in influ-

encing this important personage to the point of

accepting this solution.

For a long time the young man had practiced

exercises in the development of psychic influ-

ence, and he believed that he had arrived at the

point when one is sure of himself. He entered

and immediately threw on the Daimio a glance

which the other thought rather singular; he

tried to surmise the cause of a look which

became almost aggressive in its expression

of determination to dominate him. He was a

man of strong will, who had for a long time

exercised his powers of penetration. He had

no great difficulty in discovering the motive

that actuated the young Yon-Li, and he

conceived the idea of fighting him with his

own weapons.

Taking care to avoid looking into the pupils

of his visitor's eyes, he fixed him in the way

which we have described, concentrating his gaze

at the top of the bridge of the nose and strongly

centering his thought on the idea of domination.

The young amateur was not prepared to

meet an attack more powerful than his own;

his bold assurance faltered a little; under the

influence of that penetrating look he blinked,

lowered his eyelids, and gently turned away.

Ho was vanquished, and it was with hesita-

tion that he made his request. It was not enter-

tained or even listened to, and he had besides

the embarrassment of confessing, despite him-

self, the indelicate step which he had been ready

to undertake.

Yoritomo added:

The influence of the eye is undeniable; it is

occult power set in vibration by the force of the

thought; it is the result of the action of the

forces that surround us, combined with our

own vital force.

One should not use these forces by chance.

It is well to use them, especially, as arms,

offensive or defensive, in the great battle won

by wisdom and a knowledge of human nature.

But just as when he instructed us in the ac-

quiring of energy, as well as when he taught us

how to overcome timidity, Yoritomo did not

content himself with uttering precepts; he told

us the methods whereby we might acquire the

precious gifts that he extolled.

In order to attain that authority of the eye

which is one of the first conditions in the study

of acquiring mental dominance, said Yoritomo,

certain exercises are necessary:

For example, it is well to lay a stick of bam-

boo across a sheet of vellum, and then seat one-

self at a few steps' distance and stare fixedly

at the bamboo without allowing the eye to wan-

der to the sheet of vellum.

One must use all his strength of will to

avoid blinking.

This exercise should begin with counting up

to twenty, then to thirty, increasing the enum-

eration up to two hundred, which is enough.

When one can perform this first exercise

easily, it will be time to pass to another, a little

more complicated.

Having made a hole in the sheet of vellum—

taking great care to pierce it in such a way as

to have the edges of the opening neat and clean-

cut, the experimenter now rivets his fixed gaze

on this aperture one, two, three minutes, longer

if possible.

It is well also to place oneself in front of a

bright, smooth surface, preferably polished tin—

lacking one of silver or gold—and to seek in it

the reflection of his own eyes.

Plunge your gaze into the inmost depths of

your eyes; from the beginning this will be a

good exercise in compelling the gaze of others

to yield to your own.

In this situation, turn the head from right

to left, then from left to right, without losing

sight of the reflection of your eyes.

This strengthens the muscles of the eyes, and

gives one's glance firmness and the desired power.

One should avoid winking the eyes and

lowering the eyelids, and should practice meet-

ing firmly the gaze of others.

But all these exercises would be in vain, if

during the time of this contemplation, you do

not know how to concentrate your mind on a

single subject.

How much influence could you exercise over

others if you do not know first how to master

yourself?

Singleness of thought is indispensable during

the development of the use of the eye; if it seems

too difficult to keep it fixed on a single point, it

would be well to avail oneself of certain means

of suggestion, like the following:

First, count up to ten with the simple idea

of doing it slowly, and to allow the same space of

time to elapse between the uttering of each

number.

Secondly, run through the fingers a chaplet

of about sixty beads, counting them in a low

tone of voice, without losing sight of the point

one has fixed on.

One may count at first up to five or to ten;

then increase the count, taking care to begin all

over again if one finds one's attention has wan-

dered, or that while pronouncing the numbers

it has been diverted, if only for an instant, from

the single thought that is the object of his

purpose.

But this is not all; as soon as one has acquired

the desired qualities in the cultivation of the

power of the eye, he should begin to experiment

with them, and regarding this here is what our

philosopher counsels us:

When you have mastered the use of the eye,

and have learned how to concentrate the mind,

try the ascendancy of your visual power on

some person in the midst of a crowd.

First, choose some one whose face indicates

a character weaker than your own, and fix your

gaze in the back of his neck, with a single

thought, which shall invade his mind, haunting

him with a desire to turn around.

If your influence is already sufficiently

formed, at the end of a certain time you will see

him begin to fidget, then to move his head slight-

ly, as if to shake off an importunate thought;

finally, he will move his hand to the spot on

which your gaze has been fixed, then, in spite

of himself he will turn around.

This experiment may be made on all sorts of

subjects, and it will always succeed on condition

that you know how to envelop your subject in

an intense mental current the action of which

will combine itself with the power of your gaze.

You can imagine, then, to what extent this

faculty may be useful in ordinary circum-

stances; it is the secret of those we call

fascinating persons, whom no one can resist and

who know how to obtain anything they desire

by merely saying what pleasure it would give

them to possess the desired object; for they

know well that in concentrating the mind

strongly on that for which they ask, the mind

of their interlocutor, yielding to mental sway,

abandons itself easily, especially if the domina-

tion of the eye increases this conviction by

creating in him a psychic state which compels

him to submit to its power.

These precepts were those of that other tamer

of spirits, Mahomet, who said:

The effect of the human eye is indubitable.

If there is anything in the world that can move

more rapidly than fate, it is the glance of the

eyes.

From this saying strong superstitions have

arisen, against which the Shogun puts us on our

guard:

One of the reasons, says he, that militate

in favor of the cultivation of the influential use

of the eye is the necessity of getting the better

of a certain kind of persons who pretend to

have inherited occult power from magicians.

A man gifted with a strong will has nothing

to fear from these shameless liars; but a sensitive

and impulsive person, who does not know how

to assert himself and dominate others, becomes

an easy prey; and the suggestions of these

wretches will soon lead him to dissipate his

fortune in answering their stupid requests.

Besides, Yoritomo added, those that

would wish to use their occult influence to com-

pel others to commit a wrong action would be

soon punished by the loss of this influence, which

develops itself gently only when actuated by

beneficent thought; while they retract and end

by becoming annihilated when the uppermost

thought is of the kind of which may be said:

Evil thoughts about others are rods with

which we ourselves shall one day be beaten.

THROUGH CLEARNESS OF SPEECH

T HE word is the most direct manifestation of

the thought; hence it is one of the most im-

portant agents of Influence when it clothes itself

with precision and clearness, indispensable in

cooperating in creating conviction in the minds

of one's hearers.

Were not the burning words of Peter the

Hermit the sole cause of the rising of arms for

the conquest of the tomb of Jesus?

And was it not especially because that monk

believed himself firmly to be moved by a divine

will that he knew how to make his belief shared

by thousands of men of all classes, poor or rich,

who, under the influence of his words, all pos-

sest only a single soul, impregnated with

sentiments of heroic piety which urged them to

dye the sands of Palestine with their blood?

What arguments had this monk found ? Only

three words, but powerful words, when one con-

siders the mentality and the peculiar religiosity

of that epoch: God wishes it!

God wishes it! These words were the first

to declare to the ignorant masses Peter's all-

powerful influence. In the eyes of the vulgar,

this man who transmitted to them thus the will

of the Most High assumed in their eyes the

proportions of a divine messenger, a sort of

prophet in communication with the Master of

Masters, who deigned to dictate to him His

orders.

For others, it was to resume debates by an

argument without reply; it was to excuse

fatigues and privations, and an unknown death

under a foreign sky. God wished it! How

vain were all other speech after these three

words, which bowed all heads under the power-

ful breath of divine domination, as wheat bends

under the tempestuous winds!

Yoritomo speaks as a true sage, then, when he

says:

Leaders of souls should not forget this one

thing: Too great wealth of words is hostile to

conviction.''

And, alluding to a Japanese proverb which is

very similar to one of our own well-known

proverbs, he added:

If speech is like jade, silence is like a dia-

mond. Speech is like a diamond when it is the

vibrating form of the concrete thought and when

it presents itself in a quiet way, rendering its

suggestions familiar and clear by the way in

which the orator knows how to present them.

Prolific speech is the medium of powerful

thought—of that thought of which we should

be master and not slaves.

Speech is the seed, good or ill-omened, which,

sown in irresolute natures, may produce either

nettles or wheat.

This may be also the 'fixed idea' that is

supposed to be implanted in every weak brain.

Suppose some one should chance to say to

a being endowed with the power of initiative,

but with a wavering will: 'You will be good,

because goodness is the supreme end of life,' if

the order is accompanied by the dominating look

of which we have spoken and pronounced in a

tone that will impress, there is no doubt that

these influences will produce such a radiation

as, in spite of himself, would make him feel

himself under the influence of good emanating

from himself to converge toward his fellows.

This may seem very obscure at first, but the

brevity and precision of order will implant

themselves little by little in his brain, of which

the passive forces, always submissive to con-

fused influence, will at a certain moment de-

termine the active forces to emerge from the

background where up to then they had lain

hidden.

But if one expresses this prophecy some

day before a being afflicted with moral weakness:

'You will be a criminal,' the idea, originally

repelled with horror, ends by sowing in his

brain an idea first of the impossibility of the sug-

gestion, then, more frequently evoked it be-

comes less monstrous, and he finishes, with a

smile of doubt at the beginning, then with fear,

by facing the eventuality of this prophesied

crime, the specter of which had pursued him so

persistently, that one day, when carried away by

anger or a violent passion, he accomplished this

criminal act, against the temptation of which

he would certainly have reacted, had he not been

possest with the fixed idea which designed him

before his own eyes as the instrument pre-

destined by Fate.

That is the reason why, added the Shogun,

with infinite wisdom, one can not blame too

much such parents as prophesy for their chil-

dren terrible punishments for reprehensible acts

which they can hardly help committing.

And he added:

Those who, thinking to cure their children

of faults more or less characteristic, repeat to

them: 'You will die under the executioner's

whip,' are sometimes the involuntary cause of

this execution.

To strengthen this idea of so lugubrious a

fate for the little ones, they familiarize them

with it, and dwell on its horrors.

Then they compromise constantly their au-

thority before their children, for they, seeing

them the next day filled with kind feelings and

expressing tenderness toward them, will not

fail to regard lightly the terrible menace with

which they were threatened.

It might happen that they were struck by it,

and that would be likely to be unlucky for their

future, for, once implant this idea in their

brains, they will not fail to wonder at the

serenity of their parents, who can admit the

possibility of so terrible a fate and yet go on

living peacefully with the menace of such a

future for their child.

In every way, the authority of the heads of

the family will find itself lessened, and the seed

sown in the heart of the child by the imprudent

prophecy can not fail to produce bad fruit.

It will be so much the more dangerous if

it should be resumed in a few words, those in-

cisive words that draw mental pictures which

take root in the brain.

Long lectures have only a repressing effect

on the spirit.

One's listeners, endowed with will and dis-

cernment, very soon give up trying, under the

avalanche of words that fall on their ears with

the monotony of flakes of snow, to distinguish

truths that are uttered in the confused mass of

verbiage.

On the contrary, they force themselves to

turn these thoughts from this wordy chaos, in

which the confusion equals the monotony.

As for others, the laxity of their attention

does not permit them to follow the same idea

very long, and, all effort being painful to them,

they will not long follow the orator in the mazes

of thought through which he would conduct them.

But those that know how to present their

thought in a few phrases, in a way that im-

presses itself on their listeners, may easily be-

come leaders of the masses.

The first quality of the speaker who would

be convincing should be to think deeply of what

he wishes to say.

As soon as he knows how to transform his

thoughts into clear-cut images, the contours of

which will not admit of any one's divining one

line to be different from the line intended, he

will be careful to project them into the minds of

others under the form of lights and shades.

We have already seen how the power of

thought had the gift of influencing others, par-

ticularly when this force is aided by the power

of the eye; when these two ruling faculties are

augmented by the power of spoken discourse,

the listeners are conquered by the ideas that

are presented to them.

He that will acquire these gifts will find

that he can interest men and attach them to

himself; in a word can lead them by means

of the influence that will assure him of mental

empire over most of his contemporaries.

It is necessary, also, the Shogun con-

tinued, to base oneself on the theory of like

attracts like, in the expansion of the sympa-

thetic radiation which must converge toward

great numbers to illumine men's souls.

It has been remarked with what facility

people follow noble impulses, heroic appeals,

and generous outbursts.

A speaker would be culpable, then, should

he count on the inferior mental quality of his

auditors in order to descend to their level.

This is the fault of too many speakers who

like to court less noble sides of the popular

spirit.

They give as a reason—I would almost say

an excuse—that to address them in this way

one is better listened to and more readily un-

derstood.

This is a gross error. How many times

have I uttered a noble thought in the midst of an

assemblage of persons of mental mediocrity!

As this thought was always expressed in lan-

guage clear and exact, formed of words that

all could comprehend, every time I have had

the pleasure of seeing the multitude vibrate

like a harp struck by an expert hand, and to

feel for a moment that the souls of the roughest

of palanquin-bearers were elevated under the

influence of my words which were adapted to

the purest ideal.

Is not this a kind of conquest for which

those that devote themselves to the art of in-

fluencing should strive?

It is by speech that one develops emotion,

generator of noble gestures and of generous

realizations.

Speech is the distributor of the thoughts

that surround us, of which the reiterated sug-

gestions, after impregnating certain groups of

cells in our brain, travel, by affinity, to haunt

the same group of brain-cells in other auditors.

This is one reason why it is not well to dwell

too long on the same subject, so that one can

allow some rest to the weaker brains in an

audience.

Still, it is an undoubted fact that to jump

from one subject to another, and to leave them

only to attack them again, as is the custom of

some speakers, is more fatiguing and less satis-

factory, for minds wearied by this continual

exercise end by ceasing to follow the flight of

these fugitive thoughts; and, after waiting in

vain for some repose in a discourse, they give

up trying to follow the constant flight of a too

soaring imagination.

Another type to be dreaded are those de-

voted to idle chatter and gossip.

One might, if he were greatly in earnest,

correct them in this way: listen to their conver-

sation, summarize it, and in ten minutes repeat

to them all that it had taken them an hour to

say; by 'all' one must understand merely the

ideas and not the repetitions.

But will they stand corrected? Will they

not do as did a certain lord who, having seen his

neighbor very ill, and having talked incessantly

while visiting him, without letting the sick man

get a word in edgewise, said, when leaving him:

'I will return to-morrow to learn how you

are, for I fear I have tired you very much be-

cause I have done so much talking to-day.'

Conciseness and clearness in speaking is

thus a great force in the work of influencing,

which is a noble task for one who undertakes

it seriously.

Moderation must be among the qualities

whose aim is to second the action by the word

in order to direct the focus of attention toward

the principal thought which, excluding all ac-

cessory thoughts, should be imposed on the

minds of his auditors by the speaker that

wishes to extend his influence over them.

Discretion is equally indispensable in form-

ing influence by speech.

Prom indiscretion to lying the step is short,

and one should not forget this axiom that might

well be written in characters of jade on leaves

of purest gold:

Lying is a homage which inferiority ren-

ders unconsciously to merit.

Bands of precious metals should be hung

on the walls of salons, replacing, in a way more

comprehensible to all minds, the covered rose-

filled vases that ornament festal tables.

And Yoritomo reminded us of that ancient

custom which we believed peculiar to the Gre-

cian sages, and which, it appears, was begun

centuries ago among the philosophers of the

Far East:

Hippocrates, the god whom the ancient

Greeks worshiped under the image of silence,

had presented to the God of Love a flower

which, coming from his hands, represented the

virtue which he was supposed to symbolize.

This gift was made in order to encourage the

wanton boy to guard the secrets of his mother

Venus, for we know that Love was always ready

to reveal the secrets of those that were attacked

by his flames.

This act of the god was imitated first by

the Grecian sages, then by the Japanese philoso-

phers; and at all banquets appears a closed

vase, the cover of which must not be lifted.

This vase encloses the roses, whose perfume

filters through the interstices of the vessel, let-

ting one guess what flowers are within.

It was a custom to ask the guests to let

nothing transpire regarding the discussions

that took place in these gatherings.

Later the custom became general and was

followed among ordinary people, when the

closed and flower-filled vase was a constant

warning to the guests to use discretion, and not

to allow to escape outside anything that might

have been said under the influence of wine.

Our modern humor has immortalized this

custom in the form of a figure of speech that is

on everybody's tongue, but of which few per-

sons know the origin: people often say of one

who tells secrets: 'He has uncovered the rose-

jar!'

The etymology of this figure is known to few,

but, however that may be, we are grateful to

Yoritomo for recalling it to us by connecting it

with one of the lessons he has taught us, which,

disguised in the form of a parable, fix them in

our minds in so attractive a fashion that we do

not forget them as soon as we have heard them.

BY SETTING GOOD EXAMPLE

W E read in a Japanese story that once a

man set out in pursuit of a rose. He sought it

a long time, but nothing seemed to him to be

that flower, which he knew only by hearsay,

that praised its incomparable perfume and the

beauty of its multiplex corolla.

He saw the admirable amaryllis, balancing

on flexible stems their odoriferous chalices, whose

tender tints were touched with brown spots,

that seemed like the tears of night.

He had inhaled—quite surprised to find

them without perfume—the breath of the proud

peonies which bloomed near by, looking like a

sort of burning bush.

The fragrant stalactites of the acacias had

breathed upon him their balmy odor.

He had paused before earnations, which,

crimson in their green chalices, looked like the

throats of warriors, bursting out of their armor.

The sumptuous mourning of the black lily

also had attracted him; but none of these flow-

ers were, nor could be, the rose, and he was

almost in despair when he saw, quite near him,

alight on a bush a butterfly of the most daz-

zling colors, and a delightful aroma seemed to

be diffused from it, while its wings quivered

like the petals of a flower shaken in the wind.

Greatly moved, the man approached it, say-

ing:

Beautiful creature, glowing with colors so

brilliant and exhaling a perfume so sweet, can

it be that you are the rose ?

'No,' said the butterfly, I am not the rose,

but I live near the rose; I love the refuge of

her flowery arches and branches. I come to

sleep in the hollows of her corollas, and sip the

sweet perfume of her flowers.

That is the reason why I have become so

thoroughly impregnated with her odor as to

deceive you.

This little fable may serve as a preface to

anything one might say or write on the force

of example.

Our most frequent associations are never

indifferent to our mentality, and we always sub-

mit, voluntarily or unconsciously, to the ascen-

dancy of those that surround us, unless we have

sufficient influence over their minds to compel

them to submit themselves to us.

Then the thought, projected into an envel-

oping center by a superior influence, is received

by brains of weaker caliber, which register it

mechanically, in order to reproduce it on simi-

lar occasions.

Our popular modern philosophy has put this

maxim into a proverb:

Tell me who are your associates and I will

tell you what you are.

It is explained also by Du Potet in his

Magnetic Therapeutics.

There are certain persons, says he, who

when near you, seem to draw something from

you, to pump you, to absorb your force and

your life; a species of vampire, without know-

ing it, they live at your expense.

When near them, in the sphere of their ac-

tivity, one feels an uneasiness, a constraint

which is caused by their pernicious actions and

determines in us an indefinable feeling.

You are moved by a desire to escape and to

go far away from them; but these people have

quite the opposite tendency; they come nearer

and nearer to you, press close to you, seem

fairly to wish to join themselves to you, to draw

from you that which is necessary to their lives.

Other persons, on the contrary, bear with

them life and health.

Wherever they go, they seem to radiate joy

and sunshine.

You observe that their conversation pleases

and that people seek them out. One likes to

touch their hands, to lean on their arm; some-

thing soothing which charms and magnetizes

you, quite unconsciously, seems to emanate from

them.

One easily adopts their point of view on

things in general, and their opinions, without

knowing why; and one sees them go away with

sincere regret.

In short, above all things regarding psychic

influence, we must not forget that the strong-

est reason is always the best.

Unfortunately, the strongest is not always

that which is worth the most; a regrettable con-

tagion follows from the person who suffers the

ascendancy of the other.

Or again, the old Shogun explained, the

reciprocal influence which individuals exercise

on one another is the cause of many evils diffi-

cult to conjure. That, if we may believe

tradition, is the reason why the sages of old

created so-called mutual admiration societies,

to which only those of undisputed merit were

admitted.

In the numerous reunions, whatever might

be the apparent reason for them, a low men-

tality evinced itself, and the general quality of

thought became inferior, to such a degree that the

most elevated mind felt the difficulty of escaping

the contagion of the surrounding mediocrity.

The only influence of an orator might be to

transmute souls momentarily by substituting

for mean and niggardly thoughts a current of

broad, generous ideas, from which would spring

an enthusiasm real but almost always ephem-

eral, for at the moment of realization particu-

lar interests, narrow views, and the fear of re-

sponsibility will give back to each one of his

auditors the mind that belongs to him, which

a profound study of the attainment of the high-

est and best alone could transform slowly and

definitively.

However, certain such circles do exist which

are composed of persons of absolutely pure as-

pirations, all communicant toward a noble end,

in a collective thought, the waves of which are

voluntarily directed toward a single accom-

plishment.

From these reunions of the best minds eman-

ates a current of influence the value of which

is considerable, since emulation, the offspring

of example, is found in these circles where, each

one developing, in a sense, from the same prin-

ciple, concentrates his faculties on the search

for the best in all that is good.

But it is very difficult to maintain these

gatherings under the unique direction of the

original generous spirit. To find men that will

ignore questions of temporary supremacy and

of particular interests, and that know how to

repress petty antipathies and hatreds, possibly

more or less justifiable, in order to open the

heart to the creation of an ideal—this is almost

to expect the impossible.

Is it, indeed, necessary to ask it? Is it well

to suppress ambition in men's hearts? Does not

such a leveling tend to destroy the seed of in-

dividual responsibility, a cognizance of which

leads to the most noble conquests?

While admiring the scruples of the Shogun,we

could only regret that happy time when the ancient

sages gathered with no other object than to talk

of beauty in the heart of nature, in wonderful

gardens in the midst of vegetation luxuriant and

restful, with the blue heavens as their sole canopy.

But our modern civilization has other neces-

sities, which find expression in a care, some-

times exaggerated, regarding subjection to the

order of the hour: Time is money; it is

necessary, then, that the time of the reunions

should be limited, and that the place be care-

fully chosen, large enough to contain the public,

which rarely would wish to assemble out of

doors, lest the fine weather might change into

a driving rainstorm.

The terrible question of money almost always

comes up; and since persons of lofty minds,

protagonists of generous ideas, rarely devote

themselves to the accumulation of gold, it is

necessary to introduce into these reunions a

sort of Macarena’s who, under the guise of one or

of several capitalists, whose ideas and senti-

ments may be said to border on the common-

place, comes among a group composed of the

purest elements to play the part of fruit of

doubtful quality in a basket of sound fruit.

But it is of no use regretting things that can

not be changed; and it is wiser to listen to

Yoritomo:

I once knew a man who spent large sums

in entertaining several Buddhist priests, who

celebrated the cult by lighting an enormous

quantity of lanterns, and by giving themselves

up to various ruinous practices.

I said to this man: It would be better to

burn a single lamp before the statue of Buddha

at his own home, and to invite all the priests

who lead a useless existence in the temple to

bear to the people the good word and to set

them a good example.

Put together all the money which every

year you would give to this sterile cult of Bud-

dhism, divide it into as many sums as you

would distribute to each of your priests in or-

dering them to distribute among the poor in

teaching them the blessings of the name of

Buddha.

Thus, glorified by example, the cult that

you desire to honor would spread itself the

more, since kind and charitable words would in-

evitably be connected with it in the minds of

the unfortunates whom it had helped.'

We may, even now, take account of the

strength of Yoritomo's principles in observing

that they are given as an example by another

Japanese philosopher, Kabira Ekken, who lived

in the seventeenth century, and of whom Kirsch-

bach tells us in a study that is much quoted*:

•

Wolfgang

Kirschbach, Lessing'sches Feuilleton.

The ability of certain actors, Yoritomo

continued, may be an influence, excellent or

detestable, following the quality of the examples

which they offer to the people.

On the stage, an actor who has the gift of

filling Ms very soul with the personage he rep-

resents can, at his will, sow the seeds of joy or

terror, of admiration or desire for the beautiful

in the minds of the spectators.

That is the reason why we can not too

strongly reprehend such plays as show a narrow

or a vulgar mentality behind them.

It is very wrong to impress the multitude

with reproductions of criminal or reprehensible

actions.

While it is true that there are certain lower

functions of our human nature that are common

to every one, but which we mutually conceal,

both from sight and by name, there are certain

moral defects, certain ugly actions, a manifes-

tation of which it would be very wrong to pre-

sent to the eyes of the public.

The acts of generosity, of magnanimous im-

pulses, and of heroic sacrifices—do not these

offer a field wide enough so that it is not neces-

sary to reproduce plays of sentiments and ac-

tions that are likely to be harmful?

The influence of example is considerable,

and it is a culpable thing not to circumscribe it

to the representation of noble actions worthy of

being imitated.

It may be objected that in all plays in

which a criminal is represented, the malefactor

is always punished for his misdeeds, sometimes

in a way so terrible that the example can not

fail to be of benefit as a warning to those that

might be tempted to imitate him.

That is an error common to those who oc-

cupy themselves with the study of psychology

only in a superficial way.

Among an audience capable of being in-

fluenced by these detestable examples, there are

sure to be a few who will fancy themselves much

cleverer than the criminal whose story is being

acted before them, and these will say to them-

selves: 'This crime was well-planned; and, if

he was taken, it is because he was clumsy.'

For many, these reflections are theoretical,

and they have no desire to imitate him. But what

matters that? The evil seed has been sown in

them and, under the influence of an unworthy

sentiment, hatred, calculation, or cupidity, it

may develop into a fixed desire for dishonest con-

quest, of which the pictured crime was the origin.

For those who are already tainted, the in-

fluence of such representations as we are con-

sidering would be even more vicious; for them

the stage would be a practical school of vice,

combined with astuteness and safeguarded from

punishment by a thousand means which the ac-

tions of the players may suggest.

One may say the same thing of books, though

they are more dangerous for the erudite than

for persons whose knowledge is more limited.

Alas! the Shogun knew nothing about com-

pulsory education, nor of the thousands of

cheap books, which propagate the taste for try-

ing one's luck in the convincing tone of show-

ing one how to make a fortune.

But it would be wrong to include the spirit

of a book which deplores all progress, which

we praise highly. We should, however, empha-

size very clearly the fact that too wide an educa-

tion is often a two-edged weapon.

The best way to utilize one's education is to

read attentively The Influence of Example.

Readings made in common should be on a

subject at once lofty and interesting; but the

result on the auditors when they are alone may

be indifferent or beneficial, according to the

mental qualities of the reader.

He should, above all things, be inspired with

the principal contents of the preceding chap-

ters, particularly those on the influence of the

eye and thought-transference.

If the play of glances is necessarily limited

to the reader, who is compelled to lower his eyes

upon his book, he must not forget, in moments

when he may be relaxing his gaze from the

page_new, still to dominate his audience with, his

regard.

At the same time the ideas he expresses

should be backed by so powerful a thought from

Mm that the thought-waves shall determine

the mental current which, says Turnbull, act

with the force of a loadstone and of electricity.''

Let us not forget also that personal influence

radiates more certainly when it manifests itself

under the form of altruism, charity, and kind-

ness.

Is it not a frequent thing, said the old

Japanese, to see a crowd hesitate, divided be-

tween a feeling of recrimination and one of

approbation, and then suddenly turn toward

conciliation, because one among them, on whom

the situation and the influence of others had its

effect, has openly declared himself on that side?

One of the greatest obstacles to the doing of

good actions, he added, is the timidity based

on the fear of responsibility, which haunts

mediocre minds.

It is toward these that he who would wield

the power of domination should turn his atten-

tion. It is sufficient to impose on these timorous

souls the resolution to perform the task that

they themselves desire to see accomplished, and

to set them the example of his achievement.

Their vacillating will strengthen itself by

the moral support which they will be certain to

feel, and their anxiety about the opinion of

others will be soothed by the example of those

whom they recognize as their superiors, and

whose superiority they are glad to acknowledge.

Example is the excuse behind which hasten

to hide those whose ill-regulated thoughts can

not cooperate in defensive discernment.

It is these, then, whose minds are strength-

ened by renewed practises of wise reflection,

used in the service of psychic qualities, creators

of domination, who should watch carefully over

their own acts, so that their example may be,

for the persons over whom they have an influ-

ence, a source of improvement and constant

elevation.

BY DECISION

W E should not confuse the virtue of decision

with that tendency which certain persons dis-

play to decide any question whatsoever without

having studied it and too often without having

understood it.

Like all qualities, decision is only acquired

after repeated acts of reflection, determining

the coordination of ideas and rendering those

who devote themselves to it habitually ready to

understand in a moment the advantages, at the

same time as they perceive the disadvantages,

of the acts which they purpose to perform.

To attain this, we must take into account all

the reasons indispensable for evolving decision.

These reasons, said Yoritomo, are always

dependent on circumstances which constantly

assume a new character; for it is rarely indeed

that in a man's life the necessity for the self-

same resolution makes itself felt on several occa-

sions; even in the case in which the present

emergency seems to reproduce exactly a former

event, we shall find in the manner of viewing

it, in the forecasting of the consequences, even

in the gradual change of our feelings, a number

of fine distinctions, which do not allow us to

form the same opinion about it that we have in

the past.

In order to be able to discern and under-

stand quickly to which side our decision ought

to incline, in order above all to be able to sus-

tain it, several qualities are necessary, at the

head of which we should name:

Reflection or concentration.

Presence of mind.

Will.

Energy.

Impartiality.

Desire of justice.

Forethought.

Reflection, or rather concentration, is the

faculty of self-recollection, of shutting ourselves

far away from every thought that is not the

one that should engage our attention.

It is force that we bear within ourselves,

but which we develop to its highest degree by

cultivation and application.

It is by the habit of reflection that we suc-

ceed in reviewing very rapidly every side of a

question and in weighing the pros and cons of

the resolutions to be taken.

This habit, when it is constant, becomes a

kind of mental gymnastics and allows us to

range together in the twinkling of an eye the

reasons which militate in favor of the conclu-

sion, or those which should decide the abandon-

ment of the project which is proposed to us.

When the balance carries it strongly to one

side or the other, the decision is plainly indi-

cated, but many eases arise in which the reasons

in favor are quite as important and as numer-

ous as those against, so that the undecided man

stops to weigh them interminably.

The man whom the regular practice of re-

flection has perfected, after having rapidly es-

tablished this equilibrium, will withdraw his

mind from these motives in order to summon

others of a different order.

He will bring in questions of family, of con-

venience, of surroundings, he will weigh the

consequences of acceptance against the incon-

venience of refusal, and he will make up his

mind in a clear fashion and one devoid of any

regret.

Now comes in the second factor—Will.

It is sometimes very hard to reply by a

refusal to something which, in the midst of

dangerous advantages, presents seductive as-

pects; it is painful also to undertake certain

responsibilities and to bind oneself to onerous

conditions.

But the man who is gifted with Will ac-

cepts this task with a light heart, for he knows

that he is worthy of discharging it.

However, this faculty, that admirable origin

of the forces that govern life, does not always

suffice to fortify decisions. It needs, in order

to sustain them, to call to its aid Energy, which,

by continuousness of effort, comes to prevent the

faintness which might affect these decisions as

time goes on.

Is there need to insist on Impartiality, the

exercise of which is indispensable when consider-

ing one's innermost self?

The majority of the irresolute love to de-

ceive themselves by the delusions which their

imagination creates, and thus become only too

often the architects of their own misfortune.

Or again the decision, sometimes too sudden,

is dictated to them by one reason alone, which,

with their tacit participation, takes on such

gigantic proportions that it hides all the dis-

advantages, which they embellish, if they are

forced to perceive them, with colors which they

know to be fictitious.

Sincerity is also necessary with ourselves

as with others, and those who do not practise

it regret sooner or later having disregarded it.

It is from the same principle that the Desire

of justice proceeds, which should predominate

in all our decisions, if we wish that they bring

us no remorse.

Blundering selfishness can only dictate re-

solutions which have no foundation in rectitude,

for, sooner or later, regrets will arise for the

acts that inevitably follow, and the concate-

nation of events will become the punishment of

those who have neglected the laws of the love

of their neighbor.

The principal condition of decisions that

leave no bitterness behind is the foreseeing of

the events which these decisions may elicit.

To foresee is to prevent, says an ancient

maxim, and for want of foresight we often en-

trust ourselves to a quicksand where, in spite

of every effort, we are miserably engulfed.

We should not confound forethought with

the art of divination, although, in the eyes of the

vulgar, it sometimes takes on the appearance

of it.

Such persons, adepts in rational reflection,

are so advanced in this science that deduction

takes the place of second sight, and they succeed

in formulating predictions which might pass

for prophecies, if they did not themselves take

care to explain in what manner they have come

to form their judgment.

It is related that an ancient Mikado, pur-

sued by ill fortune, assembled his soothsayers in

order to obtain from them the means of avert-

ing the anger of the malignant spirits.

After much discussion, they agreed that the

only means of attaining this was to build a

temple consecrated to the gods of Evil, in order

to appease them by paying them honor; this

temple was to be built on a spot indicated by

the magicians.

However, a preliminary sacrifice was de-

manded by the merciless gods; a child was to

be slain and the temple to be erected on the

place crimsoned by its blood.

After lengthy cabalistic incantations, it was

decided that this child should be the first whom

chance led them to meet at daybreak in the

neighboring forest.

So the Mikado set out with the sorcerers

and a numerous retinue.

The sun had just risen over the horizon,

when they saw through the branches a child

walking and making a way for himself through

the denseness of the thicket.

To seize him and lead him to the Mikado was

the work of a moment; the poor child was im-

mediately subjected to an examination by the

magicians who all agreed in declaring that his

blood would be agreeable to the evil gods, and

he was committed to the men-at-arms, who

dragged him after them, cruelly divulging to

him what would be the tragic end of his cap-

tivity.

Neither prayers nor supplications availed

to move any of these fanatics, and the party

pursued its course as far as the foot of a hill

that overlooked the sea.

Arrived at this point, the Mikado and his

retinue stopped, for it had been decided to choose

the flat land covering this hill for the building

of the temple.

The soldiers began to convey thither an

enormous stone which, after serving as an altar

of human sacrifice was to be the foundation of

the edifice.

The child, seized with an anguish quite com-

prehensible, followed with attention all these

preparations; but in proportion as he formed an

Explanation of the work of the men, his coun-

tenance cleared, an expression of hope lit up

his face, and in a little while he asked permis-

sion to speak. Permission being granted him, he

bowed three times before the Mikado and cried:

'0 great prince, do not allow the work

undertaken to proceed, for the gods of the forest

are opposed to it.'

The Mikado who was superstitious, but not

wicked, looked at him sadly.

'Child,' said he, 'our soothsayers have de-

cided it thus; it is the only means of appeasing

the anger of the malignant spirits whose evil

influences threaten the safety of the throne; it

is painful to me to sacrifice so young a life, but

the welfare of my empire depends on it; resign

thyself and die bravely, in order to enter the

realm reserved for valorous men.'

During this address, the child followed at-

tentively the movements of the soldiers and all

at once uttered a cry:

'Command them to stop, great prince, for

a few steps farther and the gods of the forest

will destroy them.'

And turning toward the densely wooded

forest:

'Gods of my childhood,' he entreated, 'ye

who have ever protected me, give me a fresh

proof of your beneficent protection by engulf-

ing up my tormentors together with the altar

on which they would sacrifice me.'

Hardly had he uttered these words than, as

if by magic, the soldiers who were pushing for-

ward the heavy stone disappeared—stone and all

had been drawn into the bowels of the earth by

an invisible power.

The assemblage cried out at the miracle and

hastened to cut the bonds of the captive, who

was lost forthwith in the depths of the forest.

It had sufficed him, for saving his life, to

remember that, when pasturing his goats, he had

been stopped by quicksands, which, had it not

been for his nimbleness and lightness, would

have made him their prey.

To foresee that men rolling a heavy block of

stone could not avoid being swallowed up, was

thus easy for him, and this child accustomed to

the devices of the simple, which at every moment

must protect their lives, had contracted, in the

solitudes of the forests, the habit of rapid de-

cision in all that concerns this instinct of self-

preservation, so highly developed in all primi-

tive minds.

Threatened with immolation by men who

wished to appease barbarous gods, his astute-

ness had forced on him the quick decision to

strike awe into their minds by prophesying an

event which foresight caused him to view as in-

evitable.

This is the case of many soothsayers, but it

is above all that of wise men, who only under-

take an enterprise after they have foreseen its

difficulties.

Cells formed spontaneously as the result of

chance are too often produced by circumstances.

If it is difficult to foresee their nature, it is

absolutely necessary to recognize them under

the vague name of bad luck and to take into

account their happening, in order not to be

taken by surprise when they burst upon us.

In turning over a few more page_news, we come

upon a definition of decision, couched in brief

and concise phraseology, such as the Nippon

philosophy knows how to employ when it would

sum up a thought in such a manner as to im-

press the mind.

Decision, he said, is not a spontaneous

movement of the mind or of the intelligence,

it is the coherent and rational choice of per-

forming an act to the exclusion of all others

which might bear a relation to the idea expressed.

And he adds:

Between the moment when the reason for

the decision appears and that in which it is a

question of making the resolve, all the psychic

states which separate these two periods find

place.

We have just enumerated them rapidly, but

in order to grasp them in their integrity and to

make them serve for the accomplishment of our

projects maturely conceived and rapidly in-

augurated, a kind of mental gymnastics is not

unprofitable.

For example, it is well to place ourselves in

face of imaginary resolutions and to make up

our minds while striving to do so as speedily

and wisely as possible.

It will be easy for us to measure the wisdom

of our resolutions, if we take as our end the

events which surround us and if we study the

delicate cases which are within reach of our

knowledge.

It is well, on seeing arise among our friends

circumstances of which we have no experience,

to make use of them as a subject for our exer-

cises and to say to ourselves: 'What decision

should I make if I were in his place ?'

I do not say, mind you, that all the details

of the facts would become known to you in such

a way that it would be possible to reason from

them with certainty.

This method has the advantage of a check,

for it allows you to verify the success of the

decisions which you have made in imaginary

cases.

You can thus instruct yourself in this art,

so difficult and nevertheless so important, for

the influence which he who is accustomed to

wise and prompt decisions exerts over others

is always considerable.

Further, when some time you devote your-

self to this study, you will come to make it

naturally and without any effort.

Clearness of mental vision will develop

within you to such a point that, without giving

it a thought, you will come to pass a sound

judgment on everything and to discern quickly

what is the solution proper to each.

Soon the fame of your wisdom will spread

abroad and the weak-willed ones will come to

gather around you to ask your counsel.

For they are numerous who dare not ven-

ture alone in the paths of will—the creator of

responsibilities.

Their craven souls fear the regrets arising

from a resolution of which they would have to

bear the consequences, and they are like that

man of whom the wise Hao-Va relates the alle-

gorical adventure:

A man, he said, had to pass through a

forest in order to reach a village where he hoped

to meet Fortune.

He set out very early in the morning and

hastened to reach as quickly as possible the

outskirts of the forest.

But when he had walked for some hours,

he stopped and looked around him in indecision;

the road laid out was long and monotonous; by

taking a by-path across the wood he had perhaps

a chance to shorten it ... and he lost his way

under the great trees.

He walked on for an hour and found him-

self in a glade. He tried to get his bearings,

but, not knowing what to do, he took a road by

chance. He went more slowly, for he began to

feel fatigue and became quite dejected, when he

perceived that the road had brought him back

quite near the point whence he had set out.

He then took the opposite road, but he could

not keep count of the windings that it made, so

that after a long course he saw the glade again.

That was for him the moment of a great

resolution, he gave up definitely the side roads

and set out on the first road which he had fol-

lowed and which led directly to the village.

But the sun set behind the trees; night

covered the forest with its veil, and the dis-

tracted man was obliged to interrupt his jour-

ney, now useless, for Fortune had failed to

wait for him.

Do not laugh at this man, cried the

Shogun, you are for the most part like him;

you wander in the labyrinths of indecision in-

stead of following the way pointed out by the

will; you lose your presence of mind at the

first objection; you avoid being sincere with

yourselves by avowing that you heedlessly lose

your way in unknown roads, and when at length

you pause before a definite course, opportunity

has wearied of waiting for you.

Despise these irresolute ones, ye who aspire

to become those whose influence radiates over

the souls of others.

Be counselors with well-weighed and prompt

decisions; do not stray in the by-paths of which

you do not know the windings, and learn to be-

come safe and enlightened guides for yourselves

before pointing out the way to those of whom

your influence has made attentive and devoted

disciples.

It seems that to add any comment to these

teachings would be to risk weakening them, for

these appeals burning with energy, as well as

the luminous illustrations that accompany them,

can serve as a rule of conduct for the people of

this day as well as for the far-distant disciples

of Yoritomo.

BY RATIONAL AMBITION

A MBITION is accessible only to the brave;

they alone can discover the treasure hidden

within it, by breaking up the sham gems of

illusion and intrigue.

These words of Yoritomo should be known

to all those who set out for the conquest of life.

They should be inscribed in letters of gold on

the frontals of schools where the young make the

initial start which, in most cases, decides their

future.

Ambition, again says the old philosopher,

should, equally with goodness or any other

virtue, form the object of rational teaching.

But for that it would be necessary to dis-

engage ourselves from prejudices which brand

it as a fault which we ought to dissemble.

He is an ambitious one,' say the vulgar,

when they wish to discredit the achievements of

a man whose aspirations raise him above the

commonplace things of life.

They do not dream that, in order to form

a genuine and productive ambitious man, it is

necessary to possess a great number of qualities

which people who pride themselves on their

modesty will always ignore.

What is understood generally by modesty?

Is it the shrewd reserve of any ambitious

man who fears to display his appetites in order

not to be liable to restrain them before having

found the means of satisfying them?

Is it not too often the sham virtue which,

under the borrowed lineaments of humility,

hides the terrible defect of weakness?

Would it not rather be the tinsel in which

idleness likes to dress itself up in order to

abandon itself with ease to its favorite vice?

Modesty can serve as a standard for all the

vices which we have just mentioned; it is the

enemy of courageous undertakings, of acts that

require a display of energy that ambition or

boldness alone can decide on. It is besides

nearly always the sign of a want of

confidence in oneself. It is again the

safeguard of the self-respect of the incapable.

Many weak mortals, irresolute, idle, or in-

competent, instead of seeking to acquire the

qualities which they lack, prefer to declare

loudly: 'Oh, as for me, I shall never succeed

in attaining this end, for the good reason that I

shall not undertake it. I am a modest person,

I am. I have a hatred of fame and renown sur-

rounding my name; I desire only obscurity, and

I pity keenly all those who are tormented by a

desire to shine!

They say all this without thinking that the

first condition of the being of modesty consists

in ignorance of its existence.

He who prides himself on modesty will never

be a modest man, for the moment he sets out

to establish his virtue he acts like a braggart.

If he is really convinced of his unimport-

ance, if the diffidence of himself which he has

is sincere, we should pity him very keenly, for

he will suffer in feeling himself so insignificant,

and this feeling will lead him, little by little, to

hypochondria, unless he inclines to the side of

jealousy.

Such is almost without exception the pun-

ishment of the weak; they have not themselves

courage to undertake great things and they do

not forgive those who achieve them.

There is, however, a kind of modesty before

which we ought to bow; it is that of the learned

man who, finding his happiness in the quest of

knowledge and truth, makes no attempt to gain

glory, and waits in the midst of his apparatus

and his parchments for it to come to him, while

preparing himself to welcome it with no more

emotion than an ordinary visitant.

This sentiment would be worthy of admi-

ration if it were not so often mingled with an

inveterate selfishness, behind which is hidden

an indifference toward others, carried to the

point of excluding anxiety to cause others to

share in the benefit of one's discoveries.

This kind of modest man who ignores thus

his duty toward others is less useful to human-

ity than an ambitious man, who, eager to in-

crease his fame, will make known the result of

his work to the sound of the trumpet.

For in order to be fruitful, everything in

our life must bear relation to others.

It is by developing ambition in their breasts

that the leaders of the multitude have succeeded

first in gaining a hearing and then in carrying

conviction.

What generous impulse can we expect from

a man who has only one desire; to shut himself

up in the selfish quiet of a life the works of

which he jealously keeps to himself?

These facts, already true enough in the days

of the Shogun, assume a fresh significance in

our time, when they might become the text-

book of those whom we designate by the name

of those who have arrived and who are in the

majority of cases nothing if not ambitious ones

—I was almost going to say the rightfully am-

bitious.

And why? Ambition, when it excludes un-

worthy means and spurns intrigue, is it not one

of the noblest passions that could be conceived?

National ambition furnishes our projects with

wings which allow them to mount above com-

monplace ideas; it is thanks to ambition that we

experience emulation which carries us along the

Better way.

Without ambition should we have knowledge

of those marvelous discoveries which make our

age that of progress par excellence? And it

might be said that Yoritomo set forth the splen-

did incentives given to the ambitious of our

time by benefactors keen beyond measure on

improvement, when he says:

It is a crime to destroy in the breasts of

children, under the pretense of modesty, that

self-confidence which should shine like a star in

the hearts of all.

It would be more useful, on the contrary,

to found rewards for distribution to those who,

with a noble end in view, devote themselves to

undertakings sometimes called rash.

Such are the veritable handmaids of destiny,

since, by their desire for the better, they some-

times succeed in discovering an improvement

which ameliorates the lot in life of other men.

Besides, it is well that every effort should

be rewarded by an increase in the possessions of

the man who has made the attempt and who, by

bis special qualifications, has promoted a suc-

cess the good results of which are never limited

to himself.

Justice demands that inventors should de-

rive profit from their inventions, this will allow

them to devote more of their time to the pursuit

of another discovery.

It will perhaps be objected that there are

some ambitious men who produce nothing.

Those whose success profits only themselves and

who can not spread around them the joy which

arises from generous benefactions.

The world is certainly peopled with a large

number of selfish persons and it will assuredly

be difficult to prevent this state of things, but

it would be a serious mistake to believe that

these people are altogether useless.

Ambition is never without the great desire of

attaining everything which gratifies it, and

what better means is there of proclaiming its

success than to command a large retinue, to give

banquets, and to build palaces, or plant spacious

gardens?

Even granting that the ambitious man who

has attained satisfaction is hard-hearted and

neglects works of charity, do not the workmen

who labor in providing the trappings of his

vanity profit largely by an ambition which pro-

cures for them the means of subsistence ?

By the law of human evolution, the money

obtained by the ambitious will come of necessity

to ameliorate the condition of the humble, in

the same way as their works and their discoveries

will always succeed in increasing the fund of

public knowledge, for only the modest man is

able to keep to himself the result of his labors.

He who would master fame or fortune, on the

other hand, hastens to make public the most

trifling success; true, he sometimes exaggerates

it, but the fault is not his alone; it may be im-

puted to the habit of disparaging those on whom

Fortune seems to smile.

I heard one day, said the Shogun, a man

whom I knew to be of a serious turn of mind

relate that he had spent three years in com-

pleting a work.

Now I had followed his studies with in-

terest, and I knew that this task had required of

him in all a hundred and fifty days.

I was, therefore, astonished, and questioned

him on the reason of a falsehood which puzzled

me the more that I knew his habitual truthful-

ness.

'Child,' replied he, do you not understand

that if I were to admit spending so little time

in perfecting my work people would not fail to

find it incomplete or too lightly thought out?

It is not sufficient to be capable, we must not

shock any one in proving overmuch this capa-

bility. For this assertion of a quality which

they do not possess causes suffering in the en-

vious who do not fail to revenge themselves for

it by belittling it to others. It is their method

of succeeding in placing themselves in the same

class; unable to rise to the level of people of

merit, they try to bring the latter down to their

level.

The ambitious man escapes these cheap de-

vices; he is from the first too full of his pro-

jects to give time to insignificant jealousies.

In short, he rarely resents the sentiment of

envy, for he is always convinced that he will

succeed in surpassing the success of those who

are competing for the same goal as himself.

Moreover, ambition is a sure and swift means

of influence.

This is, in the first place, because men have al-

ways a tendency to follow the man who draws

them in the direction of light and progress.

Again, because it is almost always from the

following of the ambitious that those are chosen

to attain honors and fortune.

It forms no part of the program of the suc-

cessful ones to drag after them the incapable

or weak; this is why their influence over their

pupils extends the more in proportion as the

latter imitate and follow them.

For the ambitious man is not displeased to see

raise himself near to him one who will step into

his vacant place when he shall have advanced

some degrees further.

And here is one of the primary reasons for the

influence which rational ambition can exert on

men's minds.

The lure of gain or distinction binds men to

the train of him who is in a position to give such

away to them.

It is in his power to be able to employ this

influence profitably for disseminating good and

the love of the Better around him; it is in his

power to instill into the hearts of his devotees

aspirations toward a noble end; it is in his

power always to put them on their guard against

intrigues which would have the effect of dimin-

ishing the beauty of their ambition.

There is between the ambitious man and the

intriguer all the difference that separates beauty

from ugliness.

The first proceeds, with head erect, toward a

definite goal that he has long and maturely de-

cided to choose; he disdains paltry methods; he

seeks only to attain the end that he has set be-

fore himself.

He goes, without concerning himself with the

stones on the road, his heart full of confidence,

sustained by faith in his star which he never

loses from view, notwithstanding the clouds that

hide it from time to time.

He lifts his eyes too high to recognize the

vulgar herd of the envious who swarm around

his feet, he is content to spurn them with the

tip of his shoe; unless, overmuch beset or tor-

mented by their incessant attacks, he crushes

them under foot, as we do with an importunate

insect, which we try at first to drive away and

which we destroy, without ill feeling, simply to

rid ourselves of its repeated and irritating stings.

The intriguer, on the other hand, rarely raises

himself above the horde of mean desires and

paltry jealousies.

Unlike the ambitious man, he acts with no

other end in view than the procuring for him-

self of money or pleasure.

No lofty thought ever enters his head longer

than the time necessary to turn it to account,

while he considers it only under its mercenary

aspect, and this accomplished, he passes to a class

of ideas the burden of which is ever the same.

The desire of distinction never haunts the

dreams of the intriguer; he reduces everything

to the narrowness of his aspirations and enter-

tains no project that does not lend itself to his

base sentiments.

Is that to say that we should despise money

and seek after poverty?

Not so, said Yoritomo, for the poor man

exercises little influence over the multitude.

Again, most achievements demand consider-

able application and loss of time, and we could

not lavish it in this way if we were obliged to

take thought for the earning of our daily bread.

It is, therefore, well to find resources which

will allow the pursuit of an end without being

compelled to give it up in order to provide for

the necessities of daily life, and which will also

save us from compromises of conscience which

the greatest leaders of men must sometimes en-

dure, when they do not possess that advantage,

indispensable to him who does not wish to di-

verge from his course: assurance as to the

primary needs of life.

This should be the first aim of the man who

wishes to win honor, fortune, or distinction.

Before rushing forth on toilsome paths on

the chance of meeting such, we should be sure

of the possibility of pursuing them and not

risk missing them because the necessity of pro-

viding for our daily wants compels us to pause

just when we had hoped to attain them.

We can not but admire once again the wisdom

of Yoritomo, who once more is found in agree-

ment with the greatest thinkers.

Theognis said: The man who is broken down

by poverty can neither speak nor act; his tongue

is tied and his feet are chained.

It is only too true; downright poverty is a

disadvantage, for it often compels those who

suffer to pay court to the fortunate ones of this

world.

In any case, it is a hindrance to all under-

takings which require sustained effort and peace

of mind, which can only be obtained by those

certain of the morrow.

But, you will say, everybody can not be rich,

and many, becoming so, have known poverty;

is it not then an insuperable obstacle?

Again the Shogun will reply to us:

Poverty, said he, is a hindrance only if

it consists in absolute want, and in this case it is

usually the result of idleness or of mismanage-

ment of our affairs.

We should not reckon as poor the man who

earns a scanty livelihood but whose peace of

mind can not be changed by the suffering re-

sulting from the lack of necessaries.

Such a one can, when he has fulfilled the

duties of his station in life, devote himself to

the aspirations of a lawful ambition.

But the really poor man is he who lacks

assured means, however small.

Rarely does he enjoy independence, for in

order to live he has to accept many humiliations

or spend a considerable portion of his time in

quests which have as their object the insurance

of his livelihood.

If he is sincere in these efforts, he will not

long remain poor, for he will soon find employ-

ment, no matter what, and if he is endowed with

ambition he will quickly succeed in distinguish-

ing himself in it.

From that time, poverty will be for him

nothing but a specter of the past, for he will

work to better his position and he will soon be-

come one to be envied.

Poverty is only allowable if it is voluntary,

that is to say, if it is the result of a decision

which prefers that condition to another more

brilliant but less independent.

Nevertheless, riches are the key of many

marvels and they are above all the key of many

influences.

Not only is the man of great possessions

in a better position to make those whom he pat-

ronizes listen to his words, but the prestige of

his success surrounds him with a halo of in-

fluence, which, if he is wise, he will use to better

the lot of his neighbor.

We do not receive kindnesses from an empty

hand; we have nothing to expect from a man

tormented by care for the morrow.

What words can fall from a mouth sealed by

hunger?

It is true that fortune, considered simply from

the point of view of riches, is not an exalted

ideal, but we must nevertheless welcome it as the

consecration of success and as a power of which

the wise man knows how to dispose for the good

of his fellows.

It is a means of exciting interest and of in-

fluencing the multitude, for the people will al-

ways be disposed to listen to the advice of a man

who has had the ability to acquire great posses-

sions.

It is then in the power of the man who has

been able to acquire this power of money to

make use of it for establishing his beneficent

influence over the minds of those who are dis-

posed to trust in him.

After his other successes, this last will not

be a matter of indifference to the man who,

while monopolizing the empire of the purse, will

be proud to endeavor after the authority of the

empire of the mind.

Thanks to the prestige which his riches confer

on him he will be able to spread the rays of

influence as far as the boundaries of the attrac-

tion of thought, and as it displays itself above

all in action he will gather around him a band

of brave and intelligent men, ready to imitate

him in spreading abroad the ideas which he has

inculcated in them and to speak as he has taught

them.

Do not wait for the desired object to come to

you, but rise up and set out to look for it; when

you have found it you will undertake its con-

quest, and when it becomes your possession you

will gather together your friends to make them

share in your good fortune and to tell them by

what means it has befallen you.

In acting thus, he will follow the teaching of

Yoritomo who said:

Ambition is a gate opening on magnificent

gardens, but the fortunate ones who have en-

tered it should not pause there; they will pass

beyond the entrance in order to survey the road

and to make a sign to passers-by, pointing out

to them the way.

And this profound psychologist adds:

A discovery brings no real joy to its finder

until he can announce it, and we should rejoice

at this almost universal law, for it is the cause

of an improvement evolved by ambition, the

happy influence of which awakens the instinct

of conquest dormant in the breast of every man

worthy of the name.

BY PERSEVERANCE

L IKE persuasion, like good example, persever-

ance is among, if not the most brilliant, at least

the most active agents of influence.

It is a faculty borne within them by men con-

scious of their power, those who, by virtue of

faith in their own merit, advance to achievement

with that confidence which gives birth to all

notable successes and all productive achieve-

ments.

Perseverance is the triumph, of will-power

over the weakness of the will; it is the result

of a profound study of the determining causes,

the combination of which is bound to end in

success; it is, in short, the slow but sure ascent

toward a goal that assumes a more definite shape

the nearer we approach it.

Few persons are born with a silver spoon in

their mouths, but everybody can aim at con-

quering fortune by a series of continual and

rational efforts.

The man who would spring up thirty cubita

at a single leap would spend his life in ridiculous

attempts, but if he wishes steadily to mount

the steps that lead him to that height, he will

attain it, sooner or later, according to the dex-

terity, the agility, and the perseverance which

he displays.

The steps, it is true, are often made of shaky

stones, they have gaps between them that make

one dizzy, where they are so uncertain that it

is difficult to keep a foothold on them.

This is the point where tnose who possess the

virtue of perseverance make themselves known;

by their unshakable will they can ward off every

danger; they balance themselves on the Shaky

stones almost on tiptoe and advance onto the

next step; they feel fascinated by the giddy

depths beneath them, quickly they raise their

heads, they proceed gazing on their star, and

they guard themselves against possible slips

by making sure of one foot before lifting the

other from the ground.

For perseverance is the mother of many

gifts; from her is born circumspection which

clasps hands with application and patience.

It is incredible to what degree the man who

is gifted with patience is proof against the pit-

falls of Fate; hope and cheerfulness are two

unanswerable arguments under most circum-

stances; application comes to hold up their

hands, and few undertakings can resist their

combined influence.

It is related that the great scholar Yuan-Shi,

plagued by the sour temper of his wife, who was

jealous of his knowledge, could find no way of

working at home, for this termagant went so

far as to throw his manuscripts about and burn

the sheets of vellum on which he set down his

thoughts.

He therefore resolved, when he was at home

to divide his time between gardening and con-

temptation.

But from the time that he got into the palan-

quin which conveyed him daily from his country

house to the town where he was employed, he

recouped himself for his enforced inactivity; in

this way he produced, after some months, a work

of great value, which was universally com-

mended and admired.

News of this reached his wife, who asked him

astoundedly how he found the time to write,

considering that outside his professorship he was

not engaged in any intellectual occupation.

Yuan-Shi was a simple soul; he related to

her how he had managed to reconcile his work

with her unreasonableness.

She was so affected by this proof of his de-

sire not to annoy her, and so imprest by the

calm and indomitable will of her husband, that

from that day she ceased to forbid him to engage

in work which brought him distinction, which

shed its rays upon her in the form of caresses

that saved her wifely self-respect.

Our modern civilization boasts many examples

of this assiduous application:

Doctor Good translated Lucrece while visiting

his patients; he had in his carriage all the

material necessary for the translation of the

book and in this way he made use of the minutes

between each visit.

Doctor Darwin did the same; he wrote his

notes while going his rounds, and on returning

home he had only to classify them.

One may also mention a man named White,

who was employed in a law office, who learned

Greek while journeying from the office to his

home.

We know the instance at Aguesseau who em-

ployed the time that elapsed between the an-

nouncement of meals and the moment when the

company took their places at the table to write

an excellent book which he smilingly presented to

his wife, as a practical lesson in method and

perseverance.

History is rich in similar anecdotes, and this

proves incontestably that saying of Bossuet's:

A little suffices for each day, if each day

acquires a little.

Do we reckon what might be the production

of one hour a day won from frivolous pursuits

to which we give so many precious minutes,

which are so many drops of our life fallen into

the gulf of eternity?

He, said the Shogun, who should cut

down a branch every day would end by clearing

a way through the densest forest.

And he adds judiciously:

But he should not think of going back, for

the branches grow again and he would find the

way closed.

That is to say that perseverance must never

slacken; return is not allowed to those who

should widen the road for their disciples to fol-

low, and we can not repeat too often:

It is by the power of personal effort and of

application that the most brilliant and solid

reputations are slowly formed.

Experience, says G. A. Mann, tells us

that we must have, in order to succeed, method

in everything that we do and also perseverance;

if we do not possess these two qualities we should

develop them, and that by thinking constantly

of them and by contemplating the idea which

represents them.

Persevere then! To what end, do you say?

Simply because by persevering you form your

will and besides have the chance of attaining

your end.

Persevere like a brute? Not at all. It is

necessary that, in continuing what you have

begun, your will, your intelligence, your sensi-

bilities be ever on the alert.

It is this unceasing activity in yourself that

is the reward of your effort.

The road on which you walk may, perhaps,

not lead you where you wished to go. But prob-

ably it will lead you to a better place. And for

your walk you will become a good walker, which

will be certainly due to the impulse which you

needed to be able to attain the goal, that is to

say, success.

Will without perseverance and without

method could not exist.

Perseverance admits of a combination of

active qualities and of virtues that might be

called passive, for they demand no apparent

effort.

Nevertheless, they are rarer than one might

think, for they are not often the endowment

of weak minds.

The latter can only with difficulty concentrate

themselves on a task that requires a little

application; they are the slaves of the instability

of their impressions; beginnings, however ardu-

ous, always find them full of enthusiasm, but this

fervor soon grows cold, and if success does not

present itself immediately they will hasten to

give up their project and devote themselves to

another which will soon have a like ending.

Unremitting action can also be reckoned in

the number of these virtues, passive indeed but

indispensable, of which we have just spoken.

The practise of bending the will to listen to

some purpose is sometimes a talent of a high

order, for it is one of the best means of win-

ning the sympathies of those who are speaking

with us.

I hate, said Yoritomo, the sort of people

who let their thoughts wander blindly instead

of seeking to glean profit from what they hear.

Nothing is more disconcerting than to feel the

attention of one to whom one is speaking drifting

away and wandering after his thoughts, while

you would like to convince him by your words.

This lack of attention is always the mark

of a vacillating will which can not bring itself

to follow an idea by concentrating its mental

powers on an examination of the various aspects

which it presents.

When dealing with inferiors, this frivolous

inattention may pass as a sign of contempt,

besides, it is always in opposition to the influence

which we might exercise over them.

What should we think of a chief whom a

poor man comes to consult and who, instead of

listening to him kindly, should busy himself, as

I have known them, in giving orders to his

servants and arranging the hangings of his house

and should let his musicians go on playing?

The unfortunate man would go out of the

lord's house with a bad impression, and if ever

he had to seek help or advice he would take care

not to betake himself a second time to the man

who treated his request with studied disdain.

Influence over others is acquired especially

by perseverance of the will and concentration

of thought, the undulations of which, projected

around us, come to reach the minds which we

wish to impress.

And, entering once more into the domain of

psychology, the Shogun speaks to us of this

fascinating mystery of the contagion of thought,

which according to him is a primary cause of

influence and can not fail by persevering deter-

mination to produce it:

There is no doubt, he said, that thought

is a contagious factor of influence, good or bad.

Who has not had occasion to remark this

in the case of fear?

In an assemblage composed of the bravest

people that it is possible to meet, taken indi-

vidually, one man stricken with fear, if he can

express his feelings in a forcible manner, will

succeed in imparting to each of the rest, in

different degrees it may be, the disquietude and

uneasiness which he experiences.

There are few doughty warriors who at the

recital of something concerning the mysteries

of the world beyond have not felt a slight shiver

which the sight of wholesale carnage, together

with the consciousness of the gravest perils,

could not have caused them to experience.

This phenomenon, caused by the irradiation

of thought, is an undeniable proof of the in-

fluence which it can exercise, for not only is it

possible to penetrate the minds touched by the

undulations of our own thought, but the thought

of others, elicited by ourselves, comes back to

us on the same undulations that are spread out

from our brain.

This is why we often see one who wished to

shed fear around him feel that same fear by

receiving the waves of thought that he has

produced in his audience.

It is the same with laughter.

Very few are they who can resist the in-

fection of a burst of laughter; even with those

least inclined to merriment laughter is infec-

tious in a high degree; for at first involuntary,

in a way mechanical, it ends by becoming natu-

ral, so that, at the moment it breaks out, the

simplest expressions, the most sedate words as-

sume in the imagination so comical an aspect

that merriment increases to the point of not

being able to utter them without provoking a

fresh outburst.

But what happens if the next day we wish

to relate this incident?

No longer submitted to the attractive in-

fluence of the thought of others, no longer re-

ceiving from them the undulations, the vibra-

tions of which had reached us on the previous

day, our state of mind is completely different,

we perceive the inanity (sometimes we should

say the foolishness) of what had amused us so

highly on the preceding day, and no longer

laughing over it ourselves it is impossible for

us to entertain others with it.

On the other hand, if the story-teller—

either of set purpose or spontaneously—begins

by laughing himself at the remembrance of

what he is about to relate, it is seldom that this

merriment, if it appears genuine, does not

spread to others, who will laugh at first by in-

fection, afterward of necessity, because merri-

ment is the pervading thought.

What we have just said on the subject of

fear or of laughter applies to everything else.

With perseverance, you succeed in causing

effectively to penetrate the minds of your hear-

ers the thoughts the emission of which will at-

tract similar thoughts, and their undulations

returning to affect you will increase your con-

viction, giving you thus the more power to

spread it around you.

It is from this standpoint that the Shogun

sets out to oppose the emission of evil thoughts.

It is. said he, a weapon which always re-

coils on the man who would make use of it.

The evil thought traverses the same cycle

as the other and returns to us strengthened with

hatred for others.

What can we expect from those in whose

minds we cause to germinate wickedness and

the desire of evil?

As soon as they believe themselves capable,

it is against us first of all that they will seek

to exert themselves, and they will do it involun-

tarily by bringing back to us our thought, mag-

nified and disfigured, so that we shall endure it

without recognizing it.

You see why perseverance should only be

applied to the gaining of good, and as soon as

we think we have come into association with it,

it will be our duty to inculcate its principles

into those who, living around us, are subjected

to our influence.

But we must not limit our efforts to this;

we must aim farther and higher; it will not

suffice to initiate them into good things, we

must also give them the taste to cultivate them,

and to that end arouse in them the desire of

perseverance, which makes possible the most

difficult undertakings and gives us a power

that we can not limit.

Like some steel implement, the drop of

water perforates the rock, wears away the hard-

est stone, and, without slacking, pursues this

work which the implement would have begun

more successfully perhaps, but the breaking or

wearing out of the tool would have interrupted,

perforce, the work which the eternal drop of

water accomplishes by the tenacity and perse-

verance of its action.

Do not then seek to force slow-moving

minds, but surround them, penetrate them by

your perseverance, and its influence, sometimes

obscure but always certain, will spread itself

abroad in beneficent undulations, the continu-

ance of which will create power.

BY THE PRESTIGE GAINED FROM

CONCENTRATION

C ONCENTRATION is one of the most marvelous

forces that can be conceived.

Without concentration, no success is possible;

if it is present, we must consider it as the work

of chance, not reckon too much on its duration,

and remember the popular proverb which says:

He who comes to the sound of the flute goes

back to the sound of the drum.

In other words, what a chance circumstance

has brought may depart on the wings of an un-

foreseen happening.

Far different is the success which we acquire

by reason that, having sought it and willed it

with all our powers, we have strained every ef-

fort to evoke it and no longer hug it to our-

selves for fear that it should leave us.

Fidelity to an idea is always the initial step

to all successes.

For if an idea has no time to become at home

with us, if what is rightly called the crystalli-

zation of thought does not form the foundation

of every decision, we shall find it impossible to

give it definite shape, and it will fade away like

impalpable smoke.

If, on the other hand, we know how to exer-

cise concentration, this idea will soon become a

focus of organization around which the asso-

ciation of ideas will come to marshal the rea-

sons that determine the action which we have

in mind.

Thoughts are things, said Prentice Mul-

ford. Without wishing to follow him in his

abstruse explanation of this statement, it is easy

to imagine how true the saving is, seeing that

in thinking deeply on a subject we succeed in

picturing it to ourselves in an almost tangible

fashion.

There is no doubt, said Yoritomo, that

concentration develops all our senses and brings

them to a degree of remarkable acuteness.

It stands to us in the stead of knowledge,

for by its means we acquire the facility, that is

to say the gift, of realizing readily and easily

the things of which we have formed a concep-

tion.

There is no work, even manual, that con-

centration does not lighten for us.

If a man has to lift a heavy mass, do you

think that he will do it as well if he is occupied

with some other thought as if he said simply

and solely:

'I wish to lift this mass'?

Then his nerves are at tension, all his facul-

ties bend themselves to the act with a force

necessary to perform it; his brain strives after

the means to assist the physical effort, for the

muscles are the slaves of the will; he, therefore,

who succeeds in concentrating himself on a

manual labor is certain to perform it with a

minimum of fatigue, for he will be able to hus-

band his strength, he will save himself from dis-

sipating them in useless exertions, and he will

concentrate all his faculties of attention, of cal-

culation, of ingenuity, and of muscular power

in order to succeed.

This is how so many jugglers achieve per-

fection in their art; by concentration they have

reached such a point of self-absorption that for

them nothing exists outside their own particular

performance.

But if one day they, in a fit of passion, allow

their thoughts to wander toward the object of

their anger or of their love, they find that they

are no longer themselves; their actions become

less sure, they make bungles and end by being

unable to regain their nerve, except with a

violent effort that drives away the fancy and

allows them to recall their thoughts to the one

point where they should keep them.

To think of the act which we are perform-

ing, to think of it alone, to concentrate every-

thing, and forget everything outside of it, there

Is the secret of so many successes, the explana-

tion of so many good fortunes, that also of the

immense influence which certain men exert over

their fellows.

We must, said the Shogun, be able to

concentrate ourselves on one act at a time and

to force our attention to the fullest degree to

the manner in which we can attract others to

imitate us.

We are the shapers of our destiny, and we

should aspire to become those of the destiny of

others.

To gain this end, nothing should appear

insignificant to us, and if we think sensibly we

shall see that every one of our acts, however

commonplace it may seem to us, is, if it is per-

formed with the desire of good, a step toward

a realization, sometimes imposing, the fate of

which, however, depends on a series of similar

acts, equally paltry taken separately, but essen-

tial, for the inadequacy of one of them might

mar the perfection of the whole, if not jeopardize

success altogether.

And in his flowery language the Shogun adds:

What is one link more or less in a chain

several meters long? So trifling a thing that

its absence would not be noticed. Nevertheless,

if this link is badly riveted, this insignificant

detail will suffice to break the chain.

Every work is made up of a chain of acts

more or less infinitesimal; the perfection of

each of them contributes to that of the whole

and it sometimes suffices for a slight slackness

in the performance of one of these acts to

jeopardize the success of an undertaking.

In fact, which of us has not had to regret a

negligence which has come to hinder the success

of a project?

In our age of electricity and of strenuous life,

these remarks are still more true than they

would be at any other time.

Does it not happen every day that a missed

train causes us the loss of the benefit of some

business which because of the delay escapes

us?

Now, if we wish to be perfectly sincere with

ourselves, we shall admit that on most occasions

this delay is due only to our own carelessness;

we were too late for meals, or we wasted time

in talk which it would have been quite easy for

us to curtail.

All the trouble arose from want of concen-

tration which allowed us to lose sight of the one

thing that should have been for us of the first

importance.

If we will reflect well on it, we shall see that

most of our troubles can be set down to care-

lessness.

Take, if you wish, the case which we have just

mentioned: A missed train prevents the settle-

ment of an important business.

Thoughtless people will get out of this by

saying: I have not had a chance; others,

those whose thoughts are directed by a master

mind, which is an adept at concentration, will

recollect themselves, will mentally review all the

passing events of the day, and will thereby con-

clude that they are responsible for that happen-

ing so deplorable for their interest?

What then should they do?

Simply devote themselves to one of the exer-

cises most recommended by thinkers; concen-

trate their faculties on the principal act of the

day which was the settlement of the business

which called them out, and, once well persuaded

of its importance, suit all their acts to it.

They would thus have avoided losing the few

minutes or the hour which caused them to fail,

for, filled with their determination, they would

have cut short any business that it was not

indispensable to conclude, or cut off some mo-

ments from talk the continuance of which was

less important for them than the journey which

they had to make.

Each day, said Yoritomo, brings with it

a round of duties of unequal importance; we

must know how to distinguish that which should

take precedence, and subordinate to it our mode

of life for that day.

Everything that we do should bear a rela-

tion to it; even if certain things should seem

mutually exclusive, we must not avoid them,

inasmuch as they form part of the whole of

those things which go to make up realization.

By being willing to sacrifice nothing we suc-

ceed too often in accomplishing nothing.

We know the story of the man who one day

found two robbers in his garden and set out to

pursue them.

He ran after them at first for a time, then

at a fork of the road one of the two turned

off to the right, while the other pursued his

way.

The man, undecided for a moment, rushed

down the byroad, saying to himself that he

would catch more easily the one that took the

hard road, but after a time, out of breath, he

perceived that he was not as quick as the robber,

and bethought himself that the other was big-

ger and stouter and on that account easier to

overtake.

He, therefore, retraced his steps and rushed

along the main road; but the man whom he

was pursuing had had the time, in spite of his

want of agility, to gain ground, and the pursuer

puffed and blew in vain. He soon had the mor-

tification of seeing him disappear, and his

neighbors made fun of him.

How many times do we act likewise, without

perceiving it, when we pursue two different ends

and give them up, first one, then the other, ac-

cording to the inclination of our idleness or of

our whims?

This fault will never be committed by those

who practise concentration. They will never risk

making themselves a laughing-stock like the men

of whom Yoritomo speaks, for they will set out in

pursuit of an undertaking only after reflecting

deeply on the possibilities of success, and they

will take every precaution against giving it up

before they have brought it to a successful issue.

They who would be adequately prepared for

this kind of reflection ought to bring themselves

to it by the habitual contemplation of a thought.

It is well to maintain the attention on the

alert, and to keep oneself from every distrac-

tion by the repetition of one or several sayings

bearing a relation to this thought, giving it

concrete and definite form and persuading our-

selves of the necessity of concentration.

Other methods also are employed with suc-

cess; they make up those exercises which should

be practised by all those who wish to acquire

any science, whatever it may be.

Of these methods, several were already known

in the time of Yoritomo, and it is he who recom-

mends us that called of the collar:

Have, said he, a collar containing about

200 beads of jade or of any other stone, if your

means do not allow you to make use of jewels;

take care to string them not too close together

in order to be able to take them off easily and

make them slide slowly one over the other,

counting ten between each bead.

Your mind during this time should be occu-

pied with only one thing: to allow between the

beads the same space of time, that is to say, not

to say the numbers too fast or too slowly, and

do it in such a way, all the time that this exercise

lasts, as to think thus regularly of nothing but

GOOD.

When you find it impossible to keep up

your thought, revive it as soon as you can and

begin again.

At first, it will be well not to extend the

experiment farther than five or six beads.

Afterward you can increase it, and some

thinkers are mentioned who had such a mastery

over their imaginations that they went right to

the end of the beads without slackening.

With the same collar the Shogun shows us

yet another exercise.

You will take off, said he, a handful of

the beads (without counting them), in such a

way that you are ignorant of the exact num-

ber, and, having fastened the collar together

again, letting the place of joining be in sight,

which will serve you as a starting-point, you

will count aloud each bead that you take off with

your finger-tip.

That done, you will begin again three times ?

if you find the same number each time it means

that your power of concentration has been suf-

ficient to keep your attention without letting it

wander.

Where you find a different number, you

should begin again until you obtain the same

result three times in succession.

We might smile at the simplicity of these

methods, nevertheless those who are devoted

adepts in concentration know how difficult these

results are to realize, if they wish to be sincere

with themselves; before obtaining the same

count of beads three times, they must oftea be-

gin the experiment over again twenty times,

for thought escapes easily when one can no

longer keep it in subjection.

The Shogun recommends us yet other exer-

cises :

Sit down, said he, comfortably on a seat

soft enough to prevent your feeling any dis-

comfort; this is very essential, for the least

physical discomfort distracts the attention by

directing it to the feeling of uneasiness which

you experience.

That done you will rest your hands on your

breast, the palms well open, the fingers spread

out.

The left hand will be placed near the girdle

and the other near the throat; you will slowly

pass the left hand down to the waist while you

lift the other as far as the neck, taking great

care, when the two hands meet, to touch lightly

the tip of the middle finger of the left hand with

the tip of the middle finger of the right hand.

During the few minutes that this exercise

lasts, you will do it in such a way as to think

of nothing except the care of letting the fin-

gers touch one another toward the middle of

the breast, and in consequence of accelerating

or retarding the movement in order to arrive

at this result.

During all this time force yourself to think

of nothing else.

This is what our modern philosophers recom-

mend under the name of devitalization.

Devitalization is the act of shutting oneself

out from external impressions and moral sen-

sations; it is a kind of arrest of thought, or

rather of rupture of thought, which one con-

centrates on something so plainly commonplace

that it gives birth to a sensible rest for us.

This is the first step which leads to one of

the most satisfactory forms of concentration:

isolation.

Without isolation, no meditation is possible,

and consequently there is great difficulty in con-

centration.

Now we have just seen what part this faculty

plays in training the mind.

It is that which allows us to rally our scat-

tered psychical powers and to unite them on

the same point, localizing them alone on the

phases of the subject that engages our atten-

tion.

Atkinson recommends us to devote ourselves

to the study of any object whatsoever and to

force ourselves to limit the effort of our thoughts

to that object alone.

But this meditation may form the excuse for

many mental vagaries.

He advises us to take a piece of paper and to

concentrate our attention solely on the thought

of this scrap; but is not this on the other hand

a dangerous excuse for fancy to come into play?

Contemplate it: this piece of paper once form-

ed part of some material. What material ? Was

it the white muslin of bridal veils? Was it, on

the other hand, the flimsy fabric in which a

courtesan arrays herself? Whose hands tore

it? In what religious processions or in what

wretched dens was it used?

Later by what changes did it come to this

condition of a scrap of paper?

The imagination takes fire afresh. We con-

jure up the atmosphere of a factory, we think of

the processes of manufacture, etc.

You see that we are already far removed from

concentration.

Doubtless Yoritomo also believes this when he

says:

If you wish to devote yourself sincerely to

the practise of concentration, guard yourself

against allowing your thoughts to wander from

the corolla to the stalk of the flower.

This means that one object alone, and that

strictly limited, should engage our attention, if

we wish to succeed in controlling our attention

to the point at which it responds to our first

call like an obedient servant.

Many feather-brained people think it a good

excuse when they say:

It is not my fault, I forgot.

Not suspecting that forgetfulness is itself the

fault with which they do not wish to be charged.

It is an excuse glibly assigned by those whose

moral infirmity is so evident that they are un-

able on their own account to make any effort

worth the while.

It is the excuse of the weak and of people

lacking courage.

It is a certificate of psychical incapacity

awarded to those who have not in them the

energy to practise self-recollection.

Meditation, which is closely allied to concen-

tration, is a state of inward contemplation which

allows us to shut ourselves in from external

things so as to engage our thoughts solely on the

subject which we have set before ourselves.

The difference between meditation and con-

centration lies in the greater freedom allowed

to thought in the former state.

Meditation, said Yoritomo, is like a target

of which concentration is the bull's-eye.

Every arrow which hits the target has cer-

tainly attained its end, but those which quiver

at its center are the only ones which, in case of

defense, would have sufficed to make our enemy

bite the dust.

And he adds:

Meditation is valuable above all because

it is a rest; it is a kind of mental anesthesia

which allows us to have faith in our liberty of

thought, even when, nevertheless, we still confine

it but less closely than in concentration.

We could not devote ourselves to a fruitful

meditation without being prepared for it by self-

absorption.

We must then allow ourselves to be slowly

permeated by the idea which we wish to fathom

and all the influences of which we wish to receive.

But we ought to fear one redoubtable enemy

—distraction. Nothing is more difficult for

those who do not habitually practise this lesson

than to meditate successfully, without letting

the thoughts wander after ideas which are con-

nected with one another but which end, by

reason of their number and diversity, by being

completely removed from the initial point.

In fact, we have all experienced the impression

of which the Shogun speaks; it has happened

to all of us, after long periods of reflection, to

find ourselves a hundred leagues from the sub-

ject which we desired to conjure up, and when

we wish to take account of the road traversed

we find ourselves altogether amazed at the im-

perceptible concatenation of thoughts, which,

without seeming to be foreign to the subject of

our meditation, have drawn us in the direction

of ideas completely dissimilar.

This is one of the familiar phases of distrac-

tion, that foe of concentration.

This is why Yoritomo puts us on our guard

against meditation, of which day-dreaming is,

he says, the mischievous sister.

Let us beware, says he, of allowing our-

selves to give way to day-dreaming, for thus

we should contract the undesirable habit of al-

lowing our attention to drowse; day-dreaming

is a woof on which fancy embroiders shapeless

flowers, it scatters them without method or sys-

tem at its own sweet will; these flowers are un-

real and their colors soon fade.

Day-dreaming is a dissipation of energy, it

carries us away and we can not direct it.

For this reason it is particularly dangerous,

for it destroys our psychic forces and injures

the development of strong mental powers.

It was with this in view, it is said, that about

the twelfth century St. Dominic invented the

rosary.

He thought, like our Japanese philosopher,

that meditation is so close akin to day-dreaming

that one should seek to control it by removing

the temptations arising from the volatility of

the imagination by means of a physical rally-

ing of the idea.

The telling of the beads has no other object;

all the decades end in a different prayer from

the ten preceding it and, granting that the at-

tention has wandered during the repetition of

the ten Hail Marys, the eleventh bead, sepa-

rate from the others and appreciatively larger,

comes to remind us of the change of the formula

and brings back the most wandering minds to

the subject of the meditation.

In short, such a director of souls as the Castil-

ian friar knew well that day-dreaming always

possesses a pernicious charm which it is well to

nip in the bud.

A great thinker, nearer to our times, Con-

dillac, says further:

Attention is like a light which is reflected

from one body onto another, in order to illumi-

nate both of them, and I call it reflection.

... Sensible ideas represent to us the ob-

jects which actually impress themselves on our

senses; intellectual ideas represent to us those

which disappear after making their impres-

sion. ...

He says also:

Intellectual ideas, if they are familiar to

us, recur to us at will.''

This was also the teaching of Yoritomo who

writes:

It suffices for those who practise concen-

tration to will for the objects on which they

wish to meditate to be recalled clearly before

their eyes.

Adepts in this art can, with very little effort

and after placing themselves in a condition of

self-absorption, transport themselves in imagine-

tion to the sphere where the phases of the oc-

currence which forms the subject of their

thought unfold themselves before them.

They will succeed in picturing to themselves

places and persons in living movement, in so

realistic a manner that they will even be sensible

of the odors or the climate of the place that

witnesses these happenings.

What marvel that, finding themselves in this

mental condition, it is easy for them to decide

on sound resolutions and to thrust aside attempts

to counsel for them a less studied decision ?''

And he concludes:

He who would influence others should above

all things know how to influence himself in

order to acquire the faculty of self-concentration

which will allow of his reaching the highest de-

gree of discernment.

Many soothsayers have owed their influence

over the multitude only to that spirit of con-

centrations that passed for prophecies.

It is wrong and delusive to give credence to

magic which is trickery, but we bear within us

a power equal to that of the sorcerers whose

deeds are related; this is the magic of the influ-

ence which the prudent and self-possest man al-

ways exercises over his fellows, when his inten-

tions are pure and when his ideal is nothing

else than the amelioration of the condition of

others, by the wholesome influence of his ex-

ample and his discourse.

BY CONFIDENCE

C ONFIDENCE is the mental impulse that all

those who wish to influence others should seek to

elicit.

For most of them, it is the means of replacing

the vacillating and ever-faltering will with their

own will, which they impose according to circum-

stances and according to the character of their

followers.

With some, gentle persuasion is a means, even

if slow, yet almost sure of success.

But we must guard the future adept from a

diversity of influences, otherwise his mind will

always retain the most recent impression, and

before following the course of initiation we must

give our attention to doing away with contra-

dictory ideas which he can not completely

eradicate except with great difficulty.

This is one of the characteristics of feeble

folk; their stubbornness has always to be com-

batted and we can not succeed in teaching them

confidence except after prolonged effort.

The best way left to us is not to hit them too

hard, for their obstinacy—which they sometimes

take for will-power—would form a troublesome

obstacle to their conversion.

It is therefore better to seem to pay attention

to their opinions, however baseless they may be,

and to put before them objections which appear

rather involuntary than otherwise and which

to all appearances we regret the necessity of

formulating.

This is what Yoritomo teaches us in the fol-

lowing anecdote:

My master Lang-Ho, said he, had among

his disciples a chief who had great influence in

the senate, not on account of his personal quali-

fications but rather of his wealth which was

considerable.

He had estates the extent of which gave him

the privileges of a little king, and my master

thought rightly that such a man should be gained

over to the beauty of the Good, in order that his

discourse should not be like the tares of the field

but on the contrary should resemble good seed

the sprouting of which brings forth a whole

course of bountiful harvest.

But this nobleman suffered from a weakness

of will that hindered him from profiting by any

lesson.

He would say 'yes' one day and the next

day, after listening to the talk of those who had

no other idea except to get money out of him,

he would profess an opposite opinion and set

himself obstinately to follow the most pernicious

counsels.

Lang-Ho, as I have already told you, was a

profound psychologist; no recess of the human

heart was hidden from him; so, after subjecting

the chief to a lengthy scrutiny, he adopted the

method which seemed likely to succeed.

He did not dissuade him from acts which

under evil influences this man had made up his

mind to perform, but at first he, so to speak,

canalized his infatuation toward things of less

importance, the plan of which he seemed at first

to entertain kindly.

He was careful thus not to awaken the spirit

of obstinacy which he knew was dormant in the

chief's heart. But after putting him to the test

and at the time when the latter was no longer in

a suspicious mood, Lang-Ho enumerated to him

the errors of his ways and did not fail to declare

what mischief would accrue from them.

This done, he let him follow his own devices

or rather those of his evil counselors.

This policy had the result of allowing the

troubles which he had foretold to arise, so that

by degrees the chief began to regard Lang-Ho

with a kind of superstitious fear blended, with

a deep veneration.

The philosopher waited no longer; he then

took in hand the freeing of his disciple from his

self-interested friends, and after some months

of initiation the latter, imbued with the knowl-

edge and wisdom of the master, ceased all re-

sistance and gloried in showing to those who

depended on him that he shared the opinions of

the sage.

From that to conversion was only one step,

and that step was taken so successfully that,

under the influence of Lang-Ho, the chief be-

came a genuine benefactor to all who lived on

his estates and who looked up to him as a master

whose word has the force of an oracle.

But certain natures are restive under per-

suasion or two malleable for any impression to

leave its marks on them.

In such, therefore, it is well to inspire con-

fidence, somewhat in spite of themselves, by

having recourse to suggestion.

All modern thinkers are of this opinion; all

those also who are engaged with mental in-

firmities :

A suggestion of any kind being implanted

in the mind, says P. E. Levy, the organism

is the better adapted to bring about realization.

We too readily give an idea of magic to the

suggestion.

Suggestion, as the writer understands it,

might be denned as follows:

The development of confidence.

It is, in a way, the imposing of one's belief

on the mind of others; it is not a quack method

of enthralling a person and of compelling him

to carry out tasks which we feel ourselves with-

out the courage to perform; it is a noble faculty

which choice spirits alone possess, that of im-

planting their belief in those whom they con-

sider worthy of being persuaded.

Be it remembered that there is suggestion in

everything; in the book which fascinates us

and the theories of which gain possession of us

in spite of ourselves; in the conversation to

which we listen of our own accord, in the dis-

cussions of which only one side seems to us to

express the truth.

But it happens too frequently that if after-

ward we recollect ourselves in order to judge

our thoughts with the same impartiality as we

should those of others, we are altogether amazed

to see the fine enthusiasm that had animated us

fail; the principles of the book, script of the

magic of style, seem to us highly debatable; the

conversation which we enjoyed, when the illusion

of eloquence no longer illumines it, seems to us

insipid, and the object of discussion which had

interested us deeply becomes a matter of in-

difference to us when we examine it calmly.

To what then is this sudden change to be

ascribed?

Does it arise from ourselves ? From our over-

susceptibility to enthusiasm or from our exces-

sive propensity to fleeting impressions?

In most cases regarding these suggestions we

should accuse only their authors, who, not being

convinced themselves, have been unable to imbue

us with a lasting confidence.

To inspire confidence, without which no in-

fluence is possible, several qualities are indis-

pensable :

Sincerity with ourselves;

Hatred of injustice;

Certainty in our decisions;

Absolute truth in our predictions;

Confidence in our own merits.

Sincerity with ourselves consists especially

in the conviction of the necessity which exists

of making others share in a belief the good

effects of which we experience so deeply, that

the failure to diffuse it abroad should seem to

us a dereliction of all our duties.

You see why the appeal of missionaries is

generally so powerful; the success of the apos-

tolate is always subordinated to the sincerity

of the convictions of him who expounds them

and to his certainty that he is performing a

duty in inculcating them on those for whom

they may prove a support and a consolation.

If the speaker doubts his own statements, his

voice will be less firm, the effulgence of his

thought will less easily spread over his audience,

and enthusiasm, the parent of absolute faith, will

not lift them to carry them on their way.

But how different a reception will be accorded

to the apostle who is himself convinced; let us

listen to Yoritomo in this matter:

Like a refreshing stream, said he, the

words of him who 'believes' spread into the

minds of his hearers and quench their thirst

of moral support and lofty convictions.

Like moths attracted by the light of tapers,

they will all flock around him who is for them

the light and knows how to envelop them with

its life-giving rays.

As long as he speaks, vistas of brightness

are spread before them; if he vanishes, they

seem again to pass into darkness only brightened

by the remembrance of the words of confidence

and faith.

He who knows not hatred of injustice will

never be able to exercise a salutary influence

on others.

How could he attract to himself confidence,

the mother of conversion, if, by the unfairness

of his judgments, he is subjected to that of

others?

No partiality, said Yoritomo, should

animate him who would win souls.

It is by allowing himself to fall into such

lapses that he will lose all the authority which

he would fain acquire.

Strict justice alone should direct his words

and preside over his acts.

Where he is himself quite in the dark and

does not see on which side justice is ranged,

he should refrain himself until the time when

a close concentration permits him to see clearly

before him.

If doubt continues, let him be very careful

not to utter a decision the injustice of which

events might demonstrate, thus weakening the

trust which his disciples are pleased to place in

him.

It is more honorable to confess one's ignor-

ance than to risk committing an injustice.

To secure certainty in our judgments, it is

prudent sometimes to use artifice, like the sage

of whose shrewdness Yoritomo tells us.

It should never happen, said he, that men

who wish to inspire confidence should risk seeing

it destroyed by an assertion that is not borne

out by facts.

In this matter it is wise to imitate the old

philosopher Hong-Yi who would never say,

that will happen, but, you have acted in such

a way as to bring on yourself such or such a

misfortune, or, you are acting with so much

prudence as to deserve to be rewarded.

So that when events happened to confirm his

learned forecasts, he did not fail to recall his

sayings and his authority thereby increased more

and more.

It should be added that the events foreseen

always came to pass, for the deductive powers

of Hong-Yi were great and it was easy for him

to presume the acts which his disciples might

be expected to perform.

But foreseeing and even prophesying are not

sufficient to gain confidence and especially to

communicate it.

In order to implant it in the hearts of others,

it is necessary to possess it—this splendid con-

fidence in ourselves which works wonders.

Then it is that all those to whom thinking for

themselves is a labor, those whose powers of

resistance are fitful and ill-balanced, those whose

moral idleness rises up against all individual

initiative, will lift their heads and feel a new

strength, relying on the feeling of confidence

which they will experience first in the master and

afterward in themselves.

The healing balm of faith will by its good

qualities impregnate them in the gentlest fashion

and, despising the faint-heartedness which hith-

erto had marked their most trivial resolutions,

they will advance fearlessly toward the goal

which has become plainly visible to their sight.

It is a well-known fact that an imagined sup-

port often serves as well as the support itself.

We know the instance of the child who can

not bring himself to walk without stumbling

but who, as soon as we stretch out a finger to

him, pretending thus to support him, steadies

his steps in such a way that he can accomplish

a walk of several yards without tottering.

If, however, we draw back the finger which,

as it seems to them, is the support that must

guard them from falling, they advance a few

steps with difficulty and can not avoid tumbling

down.

It is the same with timid souls; the person

who thinks he will die of fear in the solitude

of an empty house will feel quite reassured if he

imagines that the adjacent rooms are occupied.

The presence of others, creating a feeling of

confidence in possible protection, suffices to save

them from the fear which they would not fail

to experience if they thought that in case of

need there was no one to help them.

This protection, even when they know it to be

illusory, suffices to allay their apprehensions.

Thus, altho they are quite sure that they can

expect nothing from the intervention of a child;

timid persons almost always seek such company

rather than remain alone, and they experience

from it a real relief.

Every impression, says Yoritomo, which

is not our own and which comes from outside is

an influence which we perforce put up with.

It is especially in cases of sickness that this

influence can make its presence felt in the high-

est degree, for at such a time the subject being

very weak is best disposed to submit himself

to any suggestion whatsoever.

There is a vague solidarity between mind

and body which allows of the latter becoming

as easy prey to affective conditions brought

about by suffering.

It would be idle to deny the connection be-

tween our physical ills and our mental suffer-

ings.

Some under the domination of weighty

anxieties, become the victims of severe headache.

Others again, after repeated emotional dis-

turbances, contract heart troubles.

It is therefore sometimes wiser to cure the

mind before considering how to care for the

body, or rather it is well to effect both cures at

the same time.

Now it is that influence makes itself felt,

triumphant, radiant; it stamps on the nerve-

centers an impression which reverberates

through one's whole being.

Considering that our troubles are due to

pain, to anxiety, to hypochondria, we should

cultivate confidence and cheerfulness which take

from our conceptions their somber coloring.

If we have been able to inspire the invalid

with confidence, we shall be glad to tell him

that he is getting better, for he will not doubt

the truth of the assertion and that assurance

will cause him to experience a real improvement.

Then it will be in order gradually to try

suggestion on him, making clear to him the de-

velopment of his cure up to the moment when he

is told, 'You are cured.'

Miracles have no other basis than this.

And the Shogun proceeds:

But the grandest means of effecting these

cures is to implant in the mind of self-imagined

invalids the idea of devotion to a noble cause; to

plunge them into a tide of ambition that will

make them gradually forget their everlasting

'Ego.' For this over coddled 'Ego' is the real

cause of most of these disorders from which all

persons suffer whom a surfeit of 'Ego' so domi-

nates that their most trivial ailments command

their whole attention and seem to them to be en-

titled to command that of everybody else to the

exclusion of all other things.

On such influence should be exercised in

quite different a manner.

It will suffice to create about them an atmos-

phere of activity in which their personality will

play a dominating part; they will thus forget

to spend their time in looking out for the attacks

of an illness which exists only in their own brain,

and he who assists them to a cure may con-

gratulate himself doubly, for he will have made

his beneficial influence felt in the case of both

mind and body.

Assuredly the best of suggestions is that

which lies in, as it were, devitalizing the self-

centered man, by substituting for the worshiper

of his 'Ego' an altruist who, thoroughly im-

bued with faith in himself and strong in the

mission with which he believes himself entrusted,

will seek to impart to others the benefits of that

confidence from which he has derived so much

consolation.

Thus will the advice of Yoritomo be proved

right when he says:

Let him who feels himself to be in the right

and has confidence in himself rise up and pro-

claim this faith, so that the weak, the vacillating,

and all those who suffer from doubt may flock

around him to warm themselves at the genial

blaze that issues from the fire of contentment

of which his mind is full.

ACQUISITION OF DOMINATING

POWER

There is, says Durville, an intercommuni-

cation between ourselves and others of such a

nature that perpetually, night and day, we are

receiving and giving forth again influences

which model us, change us, and gradually alter

our mode of life.

It is, therefore, through instigation from

without that we end by making ourselves what

we are: good or bad, happy or miserable.

Again Atkinson says: Thought plays a de-

cisive part in human life.

It encompasses the individual. It is the

cord which binds him to his fellows and by

means of which are gathered together, to join

and mingle in a single current, all surrounding

energies.

This is likewise the opinion of Turnbull, who

recommends this method of acquiring the power

necessary to first subdue those whom we wish

afterward to influence:

Lay well to heart, says he, that this per-

son is an instrument through which pass mental

currents and that you yourself are an instru-

ment which not only produces but also receives

and retains strongly such currents as you desire

to receive and retain.

You can then begin without hesitation to

make him speak, while making a judicious use

of a fixed, unwavering look.

Employ all your tact and finesse in doing

so discreetly; at the same time you retain un-

moved your own power, as if you were concen-

trating yourself on yourself.

By causing mental currents to pass before

your interlocutor under the form of timely ques-

tions and suggestions, you awaken in him re-

sponsive currents; you find out his likes and

dislikes, and, by encouraging his confidence,

through the current derived from an approval

delicately expressed, you will soon succeed in

making him vibrate in unison with yourself.

He who would acquire the power of domina-

tion which allows him to subdue to the action of

his beneficent force the minds which he wishes

to direct must, above all, compel himself to create

between him and his disciple a kind of intel-

lectual level which will be of infinite service to

him in his apostolate.

It is by creating sympathy that these vibra-

tions in unison, so indispensable in the formation

of influence, will be obtained.

Sympathy begets confidence and paves the

way for beneficent suggestion.

He who knows how to attract sympathy,

said Yoritomo, is like a kindly light toward

which turn all those whose minds are covered

with moral darkness.

Their development is rarely very speedy,

and that is preferable, otherwise they would be

dazzled before being enlightened; it is better

to attract them slowly but irresistibly.

Then, already imbued with the distant

radiance, they will already have come out of

darkness when they approach quite near to

him who is to give them clear light and, grown

familiar with the brilliant rays, they will endure

its utmost intensity without flinching.''

It is, in fact, one of the powers of sympathy

to attract slowly but to retain surely those who

feel themselves drawn to a sympathetic person

by an attraction at first vague and ill-defined,

later justified by a thousand reasons, the princi-

pal of which, and soon the only one, will be the

attraction which he who possesses dominating

power exerts over others.

It is better, as Yoritomo says, for this power

to assert itself less roughly to have more chances

of permanency.

It is preferable to illumine slowly people's

minds with a well-defined gleam than to dazzle

them to the extent of causing them a discomfort

which will make them seek the darkness as a

relief.

One of the secrets of dominating power lies

in exciting similarity of feelings by adopting

for the time being those which are within the

compass of the person whom we wish to influ-

ence.

The feeling of condescension should be given

up by strong minds; he who believes that he is

lowering himself with regard to his disciple, by

instilling in him principles which he regards as

too elementary, will never succeed as a director

of men.

The master who would use the power of sug-

gestion in earnest should for a moment give

up his own mind to adopt that of the man whom

he is teaching; this is the only way of creating

a bond of mutual confidence.

He who would teach the first characters in

writing should be able to create a child's mind in

himself, said the Shogun.

We must admit that, to fulfill this condition, it

is necessary to be already in possession of a rare

self-mastery.

Now he who can master himself is already

qualified to master others.

If ambition and confidence in one's own worth

are the attributes of dominating power, self-

sufficiency is always the stumbling-block over

which he trips whom pride prevents from look-

ing down at his feet.

Self-sufficiency almost always begets arro-

gance which is of no use for producing sym-

pathy and confidence.

This exaggerated idea of Ego is never

dictated by the consciousness of real merit,

but rather by the imaginary swelling of virtues

that we ascribe too freely to ourselves, as though

to divert our minds with the noise of our own

words.

If we wish to be sincere, we shall recognize

very quickly that these virtues are imaginary,

and that the parade which we make of them arises

only from a great desire to possess them; but,

the power having failed for assuring the gain-

ing of them, we prefer, by proclaiming loudly

that we possess them, to shirk the effort of ac-

quiring them.

This is why self-sufficient persons, in the cate-

gory of whom we must place those out of whom

an empty pride beats out nobility of character,

will never have the aptitude for exerting an in-

fluence over the minds of others.

Unable to derive from themselves the energy

necessary to become what they would like to be,

they can not emit around themselves than power

which fails them, and their domination over

others will never be established.

Melancholy persons, those who are the victims

of hypochondria, are by no means destined to

become shepherds of the multitude.

Melancholy almost always begets a mental

condition bordering on indifference; it sup-

presses the desire for life, the key of all good

resolutions and continual perseverance.

Every effort of the melancholy is quickly

halted by that terrible, What is the good?

which proclaims the end of everything and the

vanity of life.

What influence can a man exercise whose

powers of energy are destroyed by indifference

and apathy?

He has hardly the strength to live himself;

where will he find the strength to teach others ?

Cheerfulness is one of the requisite conditions

for controlling others; not that boisterous mirth

which is made up of bursts of laughter, the

reasons for which are not always of the most

refined nature, but that inward peace which we

define as cheerfulness and which is the mark

of highly developed minds.

A man of fine character will never be melan-

choly; hypochondria is the trade-mark of the

incapable; it is the commencement of manias

and of all crazes that desolate humanity and

abase its moral level.

The philosophers of ill omen whose teaching

has clouded so many young brains have defined

enjoyment as follows: Cessation of suffering.

Ah, well! but is not that worth an effort, to

suffer no longer, and can we regard as a madman

the man who labors to end this suffering, by

substituting for it the joy of living, which opens

men's minds to the cult of beauty?

The art of happiness lies especially in the

great wish to live.

If Yoritomo was not willing to raise the burn-

ing question of free will, he none the less admits

the unquestionable influence of each one of us

on our own destiny.

Men, said he, are for the most part like

the fool who shivered, cowering in a snow-drift,

while around him the sun bathed the mountain

with its burning rays.

He curst the snow, the cold, the hateful

country where he dwelt, and the misery of his

existence which had to be spent in suffering and

barrenness.

In vain people signaled to him of nearby

paths, in vain they showed him from afar

flowers gathered on the way; he was obstinately

bent on doing nothing to free himself from his

sufferings and continued to curse the place

which it would have been so easy to leave and

deplored the unhappiness of the fate which had

caused him to be born in that inclement coun-

try.

Have we not here in very truth the picture

of the pessimist who denies the existence of hap-

piness and beauty while pretending to turn away

when they pass his door?

Such persons may perchance exercise a per-

nicious influence over weak minds, but it will

always be limited, for—we can not repeat it too

often—real influence over others is only acquired

at the price of complete mastery of oneself.

This mastery should be the aim of the efforts

of the man who wishes to possess this faculty

and to make use of it for his own happiness and

that of those with whom he comes in contact.

Again, said the Nippon philosopher, we

should keep ourselves from too commonplace

associations, for, granting this truth that the

thought which we emit about us is taken in by

those around, we ought to beware of the imbibing

of commonplace thought which, when repeated

too often, will end by occupying, unknown to

ourselves, a place in our brain and will weaken

the quality of the power.

The higher type of man should never harbor

a medley of ideas.

He who frames thoughts the waves of which

spread themselves around him succeeds, by a

succession of undulatory movements which may

be compared with those of sound, in striking the

intelligence of others by setting their brains in

vibration, in other words, in a state to receive the

floating thought.

But the really forceful man, one whose secret

energies are concentrated on the gaining of in-

fluence, one whose aim is to acquire dominating

power, will harbor no ignoble thoughts, for he

will not barter away the first to arrive of these

flowers of the mind; if he finds himself among

people of small intellectual caliber he will sur-

pass them with all the mighty power that his

knowledge and his strength of will confer on

him.

He will know how to listen to them, then

to talk to them, perhaps to convince them, but

not for a moment will he submit himself to im-

bibing their commonplace thoughts, for having

come among them in the spirit of an apostle he

is too conscious of his own excellence, he knows

too well his own superiority, he is, in a word,

on too lofty a pedestal to allow himself to be

affected by things beneath him.

Does the granite stoop to the ivy that twines

itself about it while mounting toward the towers

in its need of protection and support?

The Shogun remarks also that this plant,

which, without the support of the granite, would

trail miserably on the ground, ends, when it has

covered the surface at every point, by forming

an essential part of the building, to such a degree

that its frail tendrils effect more for the dura-

bility of the works of man than the hardest

marbles chiseled by the most skilful workmen.

And he adds:

How many ancient towers, that seemed of

unquestionable solidity, crumble to pieces when

deprived of the parasites that seemed to over-

run them?

So it is with all those who possess power;

they maintain themselves only because they

create disciples whose devotion serves to con-

solidate their work.

But if they can not retain the influence

which at first they had sent forth around them,

their followers fall away one by one, and the

man left alone soon sees the edifice of his su-

periority crumble to pieces.

Dominating power, Yoritomo proceeds,

is developed especially by an apostolate the

exercise of which, by creating a mental current

between the master and those whom he is teach-

ing, wards off opposing currents.

In the cant of modern science it is said in fact

that material builders, drawn by the attractive

force of thought, are always displaced in feeble

minds by a stronger influence, but that the con-

verse does not hold good.

Such is the comment of the Japanese philos-

opher when he tells us:

Do not rub shoulders with a commonplace

mind except with the intention of raising him to

your own level, but do not think of entering into

mental communion with such before making it

worthy of it.

This luminous sentence may serve as a com-

mentary on Yoritomo's entire teaching, for

every line of his writings is an appeal to energy,

an invitation to the practise of the cult of moral

beauty, and an encouragement to that advance

toward the Better, which should guide our steps

toward the enchanted temple on the facade of

which are emblazoned these eternal words:

Truth, Courage, and Cheerfulness.