acts in the way that takes the whole field into
consideration,--so, I say, is such a mind the ideal sort of mind that we
should seek to reproduce in our pupils. Purely impulsive action, or
action that proceeds to extremities regardless of consequences, on the
other hand, is the easiest action in the world, and the lowest in type.
Any one can show energy, when made quite reckless. An Oriental despot
requires but little ability: as long as he lives, he succeeds, for he
has absolutely his own way; and, when the world can no longer endure the
horror of him, he is assassinated. But not to proceed immediately to
extremities, to be still able to act energetically under an array of
inhibitions,--that indeed is rare and difficult. Cavour, when urged to
proclaim martial law in 1859, refused to do so, saying: "Any one can
govern in that way. I will be constitutional." Your parliamentary
rulers, your Lincoln, your Gladstone, are the strongest type of man,
because they accomplish results under the most intricate possible
conditions. We think of Napoleon Bonaparte as a colossal monster of
will-power, and truly enough he was so. But, from the point of view of
the psychological machinery, it would be hard to say whether he or
Gladstone was the larger volitional quantity; for Napoleon disregarded
all the usual inhibitions, and Gladstone, passionate as he was,
scrupulously considered them in his statesmanship.

A familiar example of the paralyzing power of scruples is the inhibitive
effect of conscientiousness upon conversation. Nowhere does conversation
seem to have flourished as brilliantly as in France during the last
century. But, if we read old French memoirs, we see how many brakes of
scrupulosity which tie our tongues to-day were then removed. Where
mendacity, treachery, obscenity, and malignity find unhampered
expression, talk can be brilliant indeed. But its flame waxes dim where
the mind is stitched all over with conscientious fear of violating the
moral and social proprieties.

The teacher often is confronted in the schoolroom with an abnormal type
of will, which we may call the 'balky will.' Certain children, if they
do not succeed in doing a thing immediately, remain completely
inhibited in regard to it: it becomes literally impossible for them to
understand it if it be an intellectual problem, or to do it if it be an
outward operation, as long as this particular inhibited condition lasts.
Such children are usually treated