The Seven Cardinal Virtues

1 THE Seven Deadly Sins ’ formed the theme of a former volume of this series, and it seems natural to follow up that course with another on ‘The Seven Cardinal Virtues.’ The idea of the seven deadly sins is, that among the innumerable sins of which human beings may be guilty there are seven of peculiar virulence, from which all the rest can be derived; and, in the same way, the idea of the seven cardinal virtues is, that among the countless excellences with which human character may be adorned there are seven which overtop the rest, and from which all the rest are derivable. The adjective ‘cardinal’ refers especially to this latter point: it A signifies that these are the virtues on which all others hinge. For instance, in the one with which this first chapter will be occupied — wisdom — six virtues are included according to one ancient authority, and no fewer than ten according to another.

The idea of cardinal virtues is an exceedingly old one. It occurs in Plato and Aristotle, and from these famous philosophers it descended to the Greek philosophical schools. From the Greeks it passed to the Romans, being prominent in the writings of Cicero; and from them it passed to the Fathers of the Church.

The Greeks, however, only counted four cardinal virtues — wisdom, courage, temperance and justice. According to them, these were the four sides of a perfectly symmetrical character, and the man who possessed them could stand foursquare to all the winds that blow. In the Old Testament Apocrypha these four are also mentioned, and a Jewish writer of the time of our Lord, Philo of Alexandria, compares them to the four rivers that watered the garden of Eden — so do these fertilise and adorn human nature. Christianity, however, introduced a nomenclature as well as a conception of virtue of its own. Many virtues are mentioned in the New Testament, but there are three which occur constantly, as comprehending in themselves the whole of Christian character — namely, faith, hope and charity.

When the Fathers of the Church began to build their systems of dogma, of course they selected the stones out of the quarry of the Bible; but they were also powerfully under the influence of Greek philosophy, especially of Aristotle; and, in constructing an ethical system, what they did was to take the triad of virtues from the New Testament and add to it the quartette derived from philosophy, and thus there emerged the heptad which we are to discuss in the following pages. Perhaps in thus combining things having diverse origins they did not sufficiently consider whether the old virtues were not, to some extent, identical with the new; but, for practical purposes, no great harm is done if a bit of the ground, here and there, is gone over twice; and it is of distinct advantage to be reminded that Christian character has a natural foundation, though, of course, even the heathen virtues are modified when they appear in the mosaic of Christian character.

Sometimes the name of Cardinal Virtues is restricted to the four virtues of the pre-Christian philosophers, whereas the other three are named the Christian or the Theological Virtues; but certainly the latter are cardinal also — that is, hinge-virtues — and it is convenient to have a single adjective for designating the whole seven.

We begin our study of the seven virtues by treating of

Wisdom, and I shall show that it is, first, a Vision of the Ideal; secondly, the Finding of the Way; and thirdly, a Lesson to be Learnt.

I. — A VISION OF THE IDEAL

Wisdom is the foremost of the virtues. It is the lampbearer showing the way to the rest. Its principal business is to descry the goal to which they should all strive, and the point to which the whole course of life should tend.

When Thomas Carlyle was an old man, he said to some one, that he was often pondering the first question of theShorterCatechism, ‘What is the chief end of man? ’ with its wonderful answer, ‘Man’s chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy Him for ever.’ Every Scotsman has known this question and answer ever since he can remember; but few may have reflected on the reason why this should be the first question. It is the first because it is taken for granted that the foremost inquiry of a rational being will be about the purpose of its own existence. In reality, this is often the last question rather than the first. Still it is a sublime fact that the first seed of thought dropped into the mind of a whole nation should be a question like this, which tends to make those to whom it is addressed ponder on the purpose of life. Why have I been born? Why am I alive? Why should I wish to go on living? These are the thoughts suggested to the mind by this first question of the catechism, and it is in thoughts like these that wisdom has its birth.

That which in the old language of the catechism is called ‘the chief end,’ is exactly the same as in modern language we call ’ the ideal ‘; and every modern mind can appreciate the importance of the question, ‘What is man’s ideal?’ for no belief has more complete possession of the modern mind than the necessity of ideals, and the maxim is common that, if you wish to find out a man’s moral worth, you have to find out what his ideal is.

Perhaps it might be said of many men that they have no ideal. And this is their condemnation. They have no object in life; they have never reflected why they are alive; their course is determined, not by their own choice, but by the blind forces of appetite within and of conventionality without. Such may truly be said to be dead whilst they live; for surely in such a vast and perilous enterprise as the voyage of life the first duty of every one who claims to be a man is to be aware where he is going. But, from another point of view, it may be said that every human being has his own ideal, whether he is aware of it or not. In every mind, consciously or unconsciously, there forms itself by degrees some supreme desire to which the thoughts are ever tending and towards the attainment of which the endeavours are ever set. It may be pleasure or success, or some special form of one or other of these. The drunkard is not aware of the hold his vice has on him, but drink is the object to which his reveries and designs are ever bent. The miser does not know himself to be the slave of money, but it absorbs his thoughts by day and his dreams by night. The woman of the world would not confess to herself that social advancement is her idol, but year by year the passion for it burns in her blood and determines her conduct. In this sense ideals are innumerable, and it is by their crossing and clashing, their vehemence and urgency,that the myriad-coloured spectacle of existence is produced. But they are, for the most part, unconscious, or, at least, unavowed.

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