Reputation is not Character.

WHA

PROF. N. L. ANDREWS, LL.D., Dean of Colgate University.

HAT is reputation? Etymology answers that it is an estimate, a repeated and so an established judgment. As computation gives arithmetical values, so reputation is an estimate of human values.

The word character is even more luminous in suggestion. It signified first a graving-tool for marking upon stone or metal. Next it was a mark thus made, then a symbolic or alphabetic sign, and again some distinguishing feature of an object. Most naturally, then, it has come to denote that combination of qualities and traits, both intellectual and moral, which marks a personality. Who has impressed them upon us? First of all, our ancestors. No one may deny the effect of heredity. There is a race-character, and a family-character. "If you wish to reform a man, begin with his grandfather." Environment, also, is potent. By conduct, by speech, even by look or by gesture, the people with whom we associate impress us continually. But let us not exaggerate these hereditary and external forces. The sharpest graving-tool, most constantly in use, most efficient to form character, is in our own hands.

What is attributed to us makes our reputation; what we are, constitutes our character. Is not the latter obviously more important? Yet reputation has more votaries. Witness on every hand the straining to gain public attention and to make a name. But men cannot escape the world's daily testings. On some wall or other is ever appearing the handwriting, "Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting." Many are the true and good, who often, without public notice, endure

life's tests. But how frequently in public relations, in business, and in society, reputations fall like trees before the blast. Usually character failed long before. The stock of the tree was decayed within. Any moral standing, and any estimation for ability, untrue to fact, are disappointing.

Let us suppose that one's character is overrated. An adventitious reputation, due to happy accident, or the favor of unwise friends, is singularly insecure. Socrates illustrated this by supposing an incompetent man desirous to be reputed a flute player. He purchases a beautiful instrument, and procures persons to praise his skill. But what a calamity befalls him if a good judge of such music invites him to play! His only safety, and that a ridiculous one, is in declining. And if one has not the kind of ability that answers to his reputation, his capacity in any other line is likely to be distrusted, and so an overrated man may become underrated.

A thoughtful preacher once said to some college students, What belongs to a man will come to him." Most of them challenged the proposition, but not a few have lived to see in it a large measure of truth. Given rightly directed effort, and good work is sure of recognition. Without effort, nothing belongs to us. Marked efficiency in any line needs no selfblown trumpet to proclaim it. Successful men have earned success. If a great business passes to a second generation without the training which adapts them to maintain it, prosperity is rarely continued. Our only safe rule of self-judgment, with all allowance for exceptions, is that men get what is due them. It is a sorry sight when one is found complaining that he is not appreciated. The trouble probably is that he is not taken at his own estimate, but measured at his real value. In fact, he is appreciated. Let us leave it to an Iago to say that "reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving." Believe rather that the estimate of our fellows is usually just.

Reputation has undue emphasis ever as the reward of virtue. Plato marvelously portrays two opposite characters, the one

completely just, and the other completely unjust, but each esteemed the contrary, and so receiving rewards exactly transposed. Which would one rather be? He insists that the good man thus misjudged is better off than the bad man enjoying the social advantages of a supposed virtue. His goodness is an internal harmony, preferable to every external benefit. Surely the consciousness of moral integrity is a fountain of abiding self-respect. Fortunately for human weakness, actual life does not apply a test so severe. Misconception and passion may inflict temporary loss of popularity, but, in the end, reputation vindicates character. Not desire for a great name, but selfrespect, fidelity to principle, and loyalty to duty most need cultivation. A gentleman giving his idea of dress said that he would have the best goods nearest his person; that if any must be coarser and cheaper, it should be his outer garments. So self-respect, and the respect of those nearest to us, should stand first. A reputation in keeping with these is an added but secondary good. The thing of prime consequence is what a man is to himself, for he cannot escape his own company.

Moral worth will pretty surely be made manifest, and reputation correspond some day to character. Not simply in a future life, but usually in this, "There is nothing covered that shall not be revealed, and hid that shall not be known." In such disclosures that startle society, how painful the contrast between what men have seemed to be and what it is now found they are! Those who have been nearest to them are not always so much surprised, for some slight indication of real character has already impaired confidence. Morally sound men and women of experience often feel the character of others in subtle, indefinable ways. Quite commonly it impresses its unmistakable marks upon the countenance.

The wise man will desire the reputation which comes without the seeking. Let the methods of architects instruct us. The old-time builder was likely to decide the exterior form of a house, and then to divide the space within as conveniently as this general shape permitted. The architect of to-day sits

down with the family for whom the house is to be built, and studies internal convenience and comfort. This done, he conforms the exterior of the house to its inner plan. Such is the true relation of character and reputation. We have seen children blowing soap-bubbles, and have noticed how likely they are to collapse, if one blows too hard. Apart from reality, "the bubble reputation" is unsubstantial and transient. The man of genius, ability, honest attainments, and sterling character need not concern himself about his name. He will be content to think with old Richard Bentley that "no man was ever written out of reputation but by himself."