Chapter 4

"However they must be pitied because their artificial emotion often results in a sorrow which is not lessened by repetition, but whose manifestation is none the less prejudicial to the peace of their being.

"All those who do not harmonize common sense and the emotions of the heart become passive to the investiture of a sentimentality which does not wait to know if the object be worthy of them before it exists in consciousness.

"From this state of mind arise disillusions and their recurrence entails a defect in the conception.

"Men who are often deceived in allowing themselves to feel a sorrow which is only based on the longings of sentimentality become pessimists quickly and deny the existence of deep and enduring affection judged from its superior expression.

"This superior expression of sentiment is freed from all personality and such judgment which differentiates it from other sentiments.

"If we wished to appeal to common sense we should acknowledge, too often, that in the search for expansion we have only recognized the opportunity to satisfy the inclination which urges us to seek for pleasure.

"Sentiment reasons, and is capable of devotion. Sentimentality excludes reflective thought and ignores generosity.

"We are capable of sacrificing ourselves for sentiment.

"Sentimentality exacts the sacrifice of others.

"Therefore, profiting by the principles already developed, he who cultivates common sense will never fail to reason in the following manner:

"Opening the symbolic fan, he will encounter, after perfection, the memory which will suggest to him the recollections of personal and strange experiences and he will record this fact: abegation is rarely encountered.

"The inclination of our thoughts will suggest to us the difficulties there are in searching for it.

"Deduction will acquaint us with the temerity of this exaction, and precaution will attract our thoughts to the possibility of suffering which could proceed from disillusion.

"Following this, reasoning and judgment will intervene in order to hasten the conclusion formulated by common sense.

"It follows then that, abnegation being so rare, common sense indicates to me that it would be imprudent for me to allow my happiness to rest upon the existence of a thing so exceptional.

"For this reason this sentimental defect will find common sense armed against this eventuality.

"There is another form or sentimentality not less common.

"It is that which extends itself to all the circumstances of life and transforms true pity into a false sensibility, the exaggeration of which deteriorates the true value of things.

"Those who give publicity to this form of sentiment are agitated (or imagine themselves to be agitated) as profoundly on the most futile of pretexts as for the most important cause.

"They do not think to ask themselves if their ardor is merited; also every such experience, taking out of them something of their inner selves, leaves them enfeebled and stranded.

"Every excursion into the domain of sentimentality is particularly dangerous, for tourists always fail to carry with them the necessary coinage which one calls common sense."

After having put ourselves on guard against the surprizes of mental exaggeration, Yoritomo warns us of a kind of high respectable sentimentality which we possess, that is none the less censurable because under an exterior of the purest tenderness it conceals a profound egotism.

It concerns paternal love from which reasoning and common sense are excluded.

"Nothing" said he, "seems more noble than the love of parents for their children, and no sentiment is more august when it is comprehended in all its grandeur.

"But how many people are apt to distinguish it from an egotistical sentimentality.

"I have seen some mothers oppose the departure of their sons, preferring to oblige them to lead an obscure existence near to them, rather than impose upon themselves the sorrow of a separation.

"These women do not fail to condemn the action of others, who, filled with a sublime abnegation, allow their children to depart, hiding from them the tears which they shed, because they have the conviction of seeing them depart for the fortune and the happiness which they feel themselves unable to offer them.

"Which of these are worthy of admiration? Those who condemn their children to a life of mediocrity in order to obey an egotistical sentimentality, or those who, with despair in their hearts, renounce the joy of their presence, and think only of their own grief in order to build upon it the happiness of their dear ones.

"The common sense of this latter class inspiring in them this magnificent sentiment, and forcing them to set aside a sentimentality which is, in reality, only the caricature of sentiment, has permitted them to escape that special kind of egotism, which could be defined thus: The translation of a desire for personal contentment.

"Ought we then to blame others so strongly?

"It is necessary, above all, to teach them to reason about the ardor of their emotions, and only to follow them when they find that they are cleansed from all aspiration which is not a pledge of devotion."

Now the Shogun speaks to us with that subtlety of analysis which is characteristic and refers to a kind of sentimentality the most frequent and the least excusable.

"There are," he tells us, "a number of people who, without knowing that they offend common sense in a most indefensible manner, invoke sentimentality in order to dispense with exercising the most vulgar pity, to the profit of their neighbor.

"A prince," he continues, "possest a large? tract of land which he had put under grain.

"For the harvest, a large number of peasants and laborers were employed and each one lived on the products of his labor.

"But a prolonged drought threatened the crop; so the prince's overseer dismissed most of the laborers, who failed to find employment in the parched country.

"Soon hunger threatened the inmates of the miserable dwellings, and sickness, its inseparable companion, did not fail to follow.

"Facing the conditions the prince left, and had it not been for two or three wealthy and charitable people the laborers would have starved to death.

"This pitiful condition was soon changed, abundance replaced famine, and the master returned to live in his domain.

"But amazement followed when he addrest his people as follows: Here I am, back among you, and I hope to remain here a long time; if I left you, it was because I have so great an affection for all my servants and because even the bare thought of seeing them suffer caused me unbearable sorrow.

"I am not among those who are sufficiently hard-hearted to be able to take care of sick and suffering people and to be a witness of their martyrdom. My pity is too keen to permit of my beholding this spectacle; this is why I had to leave to others, less sensitive, the burden of care which my too tender heart was unable to lavish on you."

And that which is more terrible is that this man believed what he said.

He did not understand the monstrous rent which he made in the robe of common sense, by declaring that he had committed the vilest act of cruelty due to excessive sensitiveness since it represented a murderous act of omission.

Examples of this form of sentimentality are more numerous than we think.

There exist people who cover their dogs with caresses, gorging them with dainties, and will take good care not to succor the needy.

Others faint away at sight of an accident and never think of giving aid to the wounded.

One may observe that for people exercising sentimentality at the expense of common sense, the greatest catastrophe in intensity, if it be far away from us, diminishes, while the merest incident, a little out of the ordinary, affects them in a most immoderate manner if it be produced in the circle of their acquaintances.

It is needless to add that, if it touches them directly, it becomes an unparalleled calamity; it seems that the rest of the world must be troubled by it.

This propensity toward pitying oneself unreasonably about little things which relate to one directly and this exaggerated development of a sterile sentimentality are almost always artificial, and the instinct of self-preservation very often aids in their extermination.

"Among my old disciples," pursues the Shogun, "I had a friend whose son was afflicted by this kind of sentimentality, the sight of blood made him faint and he was incapable of aiding any one whomsoever; that which he called his good heart, and which was only a form of egotistical sentimentality, prevented him from looking at the suffering of others.

"One day, a terrible earthquake destroyed his palace; he escaped, making his way through the ruins and roughly pushing aside the wounded who told about it afterward.

"I saw him some days after; instead of reproaching him severely for his conduct, I endeavored to make him see how false was his conception of pity, since, not only had he not fainted at the sight of those who, half-dead, were groaning, but he had found in the egotistical sentiment of self-preservation the strength to struggle against those who clung to him, beseeching him for help.

"I demonstrated to him the evident contradiction of his instinctive cruelty to the sentimentality that it pleased him to make public.

"I made an appeal to common sense, in order to prove to him the attitude which he had, until then, assumed, and I had the joy of seeing myself understood.

"My arguments appealed to his mentality, and always afterward, when he had the opportunity to bring puerile sentimentality and common sense face to face, he forced himself to appeal to that quality, which in revealing to him the artifice of the sentiment which animated him, cured him of false sensibility, which he had displayed up to that time."

Sentimentality is in reality only a conception of egotism, under the different forms which it adopts.

Yoritomo proves it to us again, in speaking of the weakness of certain teachers, who, under the pretext of avoiding trouble, allow their children to follow their defective inclinations.

"It is by an instinctive hatred of effort that parents forbid themselves to make their children cry when reprimanding them," said he.

"If the parents wish to be sincere to themselves, they will perceive that the sorrow in seeing their children's tears flow, plays a very small part in their preconceived idea of indulgence.

"It is in order to economize their own nervous energy or to avoid cleverly the trouble of continued teaching, that they hesitate to provoke these imaginary miseries, the manifestation of which is caused by the great weakness of the teachers.

"Common sense, nevertheless, ought to make them understand that it is preferable to allow the little ones to shed a few tears, which are quickly dried, rather than to tolerate a deplorable propensity for these habits which, later in life, will cause them real anxiety."

And the philosopher concludes:

"A very little reasoning could suffice to convince one of the dangers of sentimentality, if the persons who devote themselves entirely to it consented to reflect, by frankly agreeing to the true cause which produces it.

"They would discover in this false pity the desire not to disturb their own tranquility.

"They would also perceive that, in order to spare themselves a few unpleasant moments in the present they are preparing for themselves great sorrow for the future.

"In parental affection, as in friendship or in the emotions of love, sentimentality is none other than an exaggerated amplification of the ego.

"If it be true that all our acts, even those most worthy of approbation, can react in our personality, at least it is necessary that we should be logical and that, in order to create for ourselves a partial happiness or to avoid a temporary annoyance, we should not prepare for ourselves an existence, outlined by deception and fruitless regrets.

"Sentimentality and its derivatives, puerile pity and false sensitiveness, can create illusion for those who do not practise the art of reasoning, but the friends of common sense do not hesitate to condemn them for it.

"In spite of the glitter in which it parades itself, sentimentality will never be anything but the dross of true sentiment."

LESSON VI

THE UTILITY OF COMMON SENSE IN DAILY LIFE

As our philosopher explains, the influence of common sense is above all appreciation of daily events. "We have," he continues, "very rarely in life the opportunity of making grave decisions, but we are called upon daily to resolve unimportant problems, and we can only do it in a judicious way, if we are allowed to devote ourselves to certain kinds of investigation.

"This is what may be called to judge with discrimination, otherwise, with common sense.

"Without this faculty, it is in vain that our memory amasses the materials, which must serve us in the comparative examination of facts.

"And this examination can only be spoiled by decrepitude, if common sense did not succeed in dictating its conclusions to us.

"Thanks to this faculty, we possess this accuracy of mind which permits us to discern truth from falsehood.

"It is this power which aids us in distinguishing what we should consider as a duty, as a right, or as a thing conforming to equity, established by the laws of intelligence.

"Without common sense we should be like an inexperienced gardener, who, for want of knowledge, would allow the tares to grow and would neglect the plants whose function is to nourish man.

"In order to conform to the habit of judging with common sense, one ought first to lay down the following principle:

"No fact can exist, unless there is a sufficient motive to determine its nature.

"It is when operating on the elements furnished us by common sense that we are able to discern the quality of the object of our attention.

"One day, a sage, whom people gladly consulted, was asked by what means he had learned to know so well the exact proportion of things, so that he never failed to attribute to them their real value.

"'Why' they added, 'can you foresee so exactly the evil and direct us to that which is right and just?'

"And the superstitious people added:

"'Are you not in communication with the spirits, which float in space, which come from the other world?

"Would you not be counseled by voices which we have not the power to hear, and do you not see things which are visible to you alone?'

"'You are right,' replied the saintly man, smiling:

"'I have indeed the power to hear and to see that which you do not perceive; but sorcery has no relation to the power which is attributed to me.

"If you wish, you will be able to possess it in your turn, for my means are not a secret.

"'I keep my eyes and ears open.'

"And as every one burst out laughing, believing it a joke, the sage began again:

"'But this is not all; after having seen and heard, I call to my aid all the qualities which constitute common sense and, thanks to this faculty, I draw my conclusions from my experience, from which enthusiasm, fancy, as well as personal interest are totally excluded.

"'This done, and my judgment being formulated in my thought, I adapt it to the circumstances, and especially to the material situation and to the mentality of those who consult me.'

"From these counsels," thinks the Shogun, "we must draw a precious lesson.

"It is true that an exigency, physical or moral, can determine, in different individuals, a very different resolution.

"According to the manner of life adopted, or the direction given to one's duties, different resolutions can be made without lacking common sense. It is indisputable that what represents social obligations does not demand the same conduct from the peasant as from the prince.

"We should outrage common sense in presenting a workman with a gorgeous robe suitable for great ceremonies, in which to do his work, but reason would be equally outraged if one put on a shabby costume to go to the palace of the Mikado."

The nature of resolutions inspired by common sense varies according to environment, the time, and the state of mind in which one is.

These conditions make of this quality a virtue really worth acquiring, for it is more difficult to conquer than many others and its effects are of infinite variety.

But as always, Yoritomo, after having signaled the danger, and indicated the remedy, gives us the manner of its application.

That which follows is marked by that simplicity of conception and facility of execution which render the doctrine of the Nippon philosopher absolutely efficacious.

Instead of losing himself by digressing from his subject and by placing himself on the summits of psychology, he remains with us, puts himself on the level of the most humble among us, and says to us all:

"The best way to use common sense in daily life consists in declaring one's honest intentions.

"What should I do if I were in the place of the person with whom I am discussing?

"I found myself one day on the slope of a hill named Yung-Tshi, and I remarked that the majority of the trees were stript of their foliage.

"The season seeming to me not sufficiently advanced for this condition of vegetation, I exprest my astonishment to a passer-by, who replied to me:

"'Alas! This occurs every year at the same time, and it is not well to cultivate trees on the height of Yung-Tshi, for the sun, being too hot, dries them up before the time when the foliage ought to fall.'

"A few days afterward my steps lead me on the opposite slope of the same hill.

"There the trees were covered with foliage, still green but uncommon, and their appearance indicated an unhealthy condition of growth.

"'Alas!' said a man who was working in the hedges to me, 'it is not well to cultivate trees on the height of Tung-Tshi, for the sun never shines there, and they can only acquire the vigor they would possess if they were planted in another country.'

"And, altho recognizing the truth of these two opinions, so contradictory, I could not help thinking that they were the reproduction of those which men, deprived of common sense, express every day.

"The same hill produced a vegetation, affected in different ways, by reason of different causes; and the people, instead of taking into consideration how carelessly they had chosen the location of their plantation, preferred to attribute the defect to the site itself, rather than to their lack of precaution.

"Both of them were suffering from a hurtful exaggeration, but each one explained it in a way arbitrarily exclusive.

"He of the north made out that the sun never shone on the summit of Yung-Tshi, and the inhabitant of the south affirmed that the health-giving shade was unknown there."

This is why it is indispensable to the successful resolution of the thousand and one problems of daily life, both those whose sole importance is derived from their multiplicity and those whose seriousness justly demands our attention, to employ the very simple method which prescribes that we place ourselves mentally in the position and circumstances of the person with whom we are discussing.

If each one of the inhabitants of Yung-Tshi had followed this precept, instead of declaring that the hill never received the sun or that shade never fell upon it, they would each one have thought for himself.

"At what conclusions should I arrive, if I had planted my trees on the opposite side?"

From the reasoning which would have ensued, the following truth would most certainly have been revealed.

"If I were in the other man's place, I should certainly think as he does."

This premise once laid down, the conclusion would be reached; all the more exact, because, without abandoning their arguments, each one would present those which it is easy to turn against an adversary.

Before solving a problem, he who desires to avoid making a mistake must never fail to ask himself this question:

What should I do if my interests were those of the opposite party?

Or, yet again:

What should I reply if my adversaries used the same language to me as I purpose using when addressing them?

This method is valuable in that it raises unexpected objections, which the mind would not consider if one had simply studied the question from one's own point of view.

It is a self-evident fact that, according to the state of mind in which we are, things assume different proportions in the rendering of judgment on them.

We must not argue as children do, who, not having the sense of calculating distances, ask how the man standing near to them will be able to enter his house, which they see far away, and which seems to them of microscopic dimensions.

One departs from common sense when one attributes to insignificant things a fundamental value.

We neglect to consider it in a most serious way when we adopt principles contrary to the general consensus of opinion accredited in the environment in which we are living.

"A high dignitary of the court," says Yoritomo, "would be lacking in common sense if he wished to conduct himself as a peasant and, on the other hand, a peasant would give a proof of great folly were he to attempt the remodeling of his life on the principles adopted by courtiers.

"He who, passing his life in camps, wished to think and to act like the philosopher, whose books are his principal society, would cause people to doubt his wisdom; and the thinker who should adopt publicly the methods of a swashbuckler would only inspire contempt."

In ordinary life, one ought to consider this faculty of common sense as the ruling principle of conduct.

One can be lacking in thought, in audacity, in brilliant qualities, if only one possesses common sense.

It takes the place of intelligence in many people, whose minds, unaccustomed to subtle argument, only lend themselves to very simple reasoning.

A versatile mentality rarely belongs to such minds, because it is not their forte to unfold hidden truths.

It walks in the light and keeps in the very middle of the road, far from the ambushes which may be concealed by the hedges of the cross-roads.

Many people gifted with common sense but deprived of ordinary intelligence have amassed a fortune, but never, no matter how clever he may be, has a man known success, if he has not strictly observed the laws of common sense.

It is not only in debates that the presence of this virtue should make itself felt, but every act of our life should be impregnated with it.

There are no circumstances, no matter how insignificant they may appear, where the intervention of common sense would be undesirable.

It is only common sense which will indicate the course of conduct to be pursued, so as not to hurt the feelings or offend the prejudices of other people.

There are great savants, whose science, freed from all puerile beliefs, rises above current superstition.

They would consider it a great lack of common sense if they expounded their theories before the humble-minded, whose blind faith would be injured thereby.

Of two things one is certain: either they would refuse to believe such theories and this display of learning would be fruitless, or their habitual credulity would be troubled and they would lose their tranquility without acquiring a conviction sufficiently strong to give them perfect peace of mind.

Even in things which concern health, common sense is applicable to daily life.

It is common sense which will preserve us from excesses, by establishing the equilibrium of the annoyances which result from them, with reference to the doubtful pleasure which they procure.

Thanks to common sense, we shall avoid the weariness of late nights and the danger of giving oneself up to the delights of dissipation.

"It is common sense," says the philosopher, "which forces us at a banquet to raise our eyes to the hour-glass to find out how late it is.