Today the Vatican announced the canonization of Cardinal John Henry Newman (1801-1890) whose great mind left a goodly body of written work and whose leadership helped shape the Oxford Movement. Since college days, there are few pieces of writing which I have returned to so often , usually to assess my own failings! -- as his
Definition of a Gentleman taken from a lecture series on
The Idea of a University. In case you don't know the work, here it is, and with no further comment from me.
"Hence it is that it is almost a definition of a gentleman to
say that he is one who never inflicts pain. This description is both refined
and, as far as it goes, accurate. He is mainly occupied in merely removing the
obstacles which hinder the free and unembarrassed action of those about him;
and he concurs with their movements rather than takes the initiative himself.
His benefits may be considered as parallel to what are called comforts or
conveniences in arrangements of a personal nature; like an easy chair or a good
fire, which do their part in dispelling cold and fatigue, though nature
provides both means of rest and animal heat without them. The true gentleman in
like manner carefully avoids whatever may cause a jar or a jolt in the minds of
those with whom he is cast --- all clashing of opinion, or collision of
feeling, all restraint, or suspicion, or gloom, or resentment; his great
concern being to make every one at his ease and at home. He has his eyes on all
his company; he is tender towards the bashful, gentle towards the distant, and
merciful towards the absurd; he can recollect to whom he is speaking; he guards
against unseasonable allusions, or topics which may irritate; he is seldom
prominent in conversation, and never wearisome. He makes light of favors while
he does them, and seems to be receiving when he is conferring. He never speaks
of himself except when compelled, never defends himself by a mere retort; he
has no ears for slander or gossip, is scrupulous in imputing motives to those
who interfere with him, and interprets everything for the best. He is never
mean or little in his disputes, never takes unfair advantage, never mistakes
personalities or sharp saying for arguments, or insinuates evil which he dare
not say out. From a long-sighted prudence, he observes the maxim of the ancient
sage, that we should ever conduct ourselves towards our enemy as if he were one
day to be our friend. He has too much good sense to be affronted at insults, he
is too well employed to remember injuries, and too indolent to bear malice. He
is patient, forbearing, and resigned, on philosophical principles; he submits
to pain, because it is inevitable, to bereavement, because it is irreparable,
and to death, because it is his destiny.
If he engages in controversy of any kind, his disciplined
intellect preserves him from the blundering discourtesy of better, perhaps, but
less educated minds; who, like blunt weapons, tear and hack instead of cutting
clean, who mistake the point in argument, waste their strength on trifles,
misconceive their adversary, and leave the question more involved than they
find it. He may be right or wrong in his opinion, but he is too clear-headed to
be unjust; he is as simple as he is forcible, and as brief as he is decisive.
Nowhere shall we find greater candor, consideration, indulgence: he throws
himself into the minds of his opponents, he accounts for their mistakes. He
knows the weakness of human reason as well as its strength, its province and
its limits.
If he be an unbeliever, he will be too profound and
large-minded to ridicule religion or to act against it; he is too wise to be a
dogmatist or fanatic in his infidelity. He respects piety and devotion; he even
supports institutions as venerable, beautiful, or useful, to which he does not
assent; he honors the ministers of religion, and it contents him to decline its
mysteries without assailing or denouncing them. He is a friend of religious
toleration, and that, not only because his philosophy has taught him to look on
all forms of faith with an impartial eye, but also from the gentleness and
effeminacy of feeling, which is the attendant on civilization."
