Part 14

What happens to thy little self is not important. This is the leading thought which shall also guide us in the discussion of _Anger_. In entering on the subject of anger begin by describing the effects of it. Quote the passage from Seneca's treatise on anger, showing how it disfigures the countenance. Point out that anger provokes anger in return, and is therefore contrary to self-interest. Call to your aid the social motive by showing that under the influence of anger we often overshoot the mark and inflict injuries on others which we had not intended. Finally, show that indulgence in anger is immoral. In what sense is it immoral? Anger is an emotional reaction against injury. When a child hurts its foot against a stone, it is often so unreasonably angry at the stone as to strike it. When an adult person receives a blow, his first impulse is to return it. This desire to return injury for injury is one of the characteristic marks of anger. Another mark is that anger is proportional to the injury received, and not to the fault implied. Every one knows that a slight fault in another may occasion a great injury to ourselves, while, on the other hand, a serious fault may only cause us a slight inconvenience. The angry person measures his resentment by the injury, and not by the fault. Anger is selfish. It is fed and pampered by the delusion that our pleasures and pains are of chief importance. Contrast with anger the moral feeling of indignation. Anger is directed against the injury received, indignation solely against the wrong done. The immoral feeling prompts us to hate wrong because it has been inflicted on us. The moral feeling prompts us to hate wrong because it is wrong. Now, to the extent that we sincerely hate wrong we shall be stirred up to diminish its power over others as well as over ourselves; we shall, for instance, be moved to save the evil doer who has just injured us from the tyranny of his evil nature; we shall aspire to become the moral physicians of those who have hurt us. And precisely because they have hurt us, they have a unique claim on us. We who know better than others the extent of their disease are called upon more than others to labor with a view to their cure. In this connection the rule of returning good for evil should be explained. This rule does not apply alike in all cases, though the spirit of it should always inspire our actions. If a pickpocket should steal our purse, it would be folly to hand him a check for twice the amount he has just stolen. If a hardened criminal should draw his knife and wound us in the back, it would be absurd to request him kindly to stab us in the breast also. We should in this case not be _curing_ him, but simply confirming him in his evil doing. The rule is: Try to free the sinner from the power of sin. In some cases this is best accomplished by holding his hand, as it were, and preventing him from carrying out the intended wrong. In other cases by depriving him of his liberty for a season, subjecting him to wholesome discipline, and teaching him habits of industry. Only in the case of those who have already attained a higher moral plane, and whose conscience is sensitive, does the rule of returning good for evil apply literally. If a brother has acted in an unbrotherly way toward you, do you on the next occasion act wholly in a brotherly way toward him. You will thereby show him how he ought to have acted and awaken the better nature in him.

Certain practical rules for the control of anger may be given to the pupil. Suppress the signs of anger; you will thereby diminish its force. Try to gain time: "When you are angry, count ten before you speak; when you are very angry, count a hundred." Having gained time, examine rigorously into your own conduct. Ask yourself whether you have not been partly to blame. If you find that you have, then, instead of venting your wrath on your enemy, try rather to correct the fault which has provoked hostility. But if, after honest self-scrutiny, you are able to acquit yourself, then you can all the more readily act the part of the moral physician, for it is the innocent who find it easiest to forgive. It is also useful to cite examples of persons who, like Socrates, have exhibited great self-control in moments of anger; and to quote proverbs treating of anger, to explain these proverbs and to cause them to be committed to memory. I advise, indeed, that proverbs be used in connection with all the moral lessons. Of the manner in which they are to be used I shall speak later on.

The last of the present group of duties which we shall discuss relates to the feelings of vanity, pride, humility. Vanity is a feeling of self-complacency based on external advantages. A person is vain of his dress or of his real or supposed personal charms. The peacock is the type of vanity. Though the admiration of others ministers to vanity, yet it is possible to be vain by one's self--before a mirror, for instance. The feeling of pride, on the other hand, depends upon a comparison between self and others. Pride implies a sense of one's own superiority and of the inferiority of others. Both feelings are anti-moral. They spring, like moral cowardice and anger, from the false belief that this little self of ours is of very great importance. There is no such thing as proper pride or honest pride. The word pride used in this connection is a misnomer. Vanity is spurious self-esteem based on external advantages. Pride is spurious self-esteem based on comparison with others. Genuine self-esteem is based on the consciousness of a distinction which we share with all humanity--namely, the capacity and the duty of rational development. This genuine self-esteem has two aspects--the one positive, the other negative. The positive aspect is called dignity, the negative humility. True dignity and true humility always go together. The sense of dignity arises within us when we remember the aims to which as human beings we are pledged; the sense of humility can not fail to arise when we consider how infinitely in practice we all fall below those aims. Thus while pride depends on a comparison of ourselves with others, the genuinely moral feeling is excited when we consider our relation to the common ends of mankind. On the one hand, we are indeed privileged to pursue those ends, and are thereby exalted above all created things and above the whole of the natural world with all its stars and suns. Upon this consideration is founded the sense of dignity. On the other hand, we can not but own how great is the distance which separates even the best of us from the goal, and this gives rise to a deep sense of humility. The rule of conduct which we are considering is a rule of proper self-estimation. Estimate thy worth not by external advantages nor by thy pre-eminence above others, but by the degree of energy with which thou pursuest the moral aims. To mark off the distinction between vanity and pride on the one hand and dignity on the other, the teacher may contrast in detail the lives of Alcibiades and Socrates.

In connection with the discussion of anger and of pride, define such terms as hate, envy, malice. Hatred is anger become chronic. Or we may also say the state of mind which leads to passionate paroxysms in the case of anger is called hate when it has turned into a settled inward disposition. In other respects the characteristic marks of both are the same. Envy is the obverse of pride. Pride is based on real or fancied superiority to others. Envy is due to real or fancied inferiority. Pride is the vice of the strong, envy of the weak. Malice is pleasure in the loss of others irrespective of our gain.

I have observed on a previous occasion that the feelings considered by themselves have no moral value. Nevertheless, we have now repeatedly spoken of moral feelings. The apparent contradiction disappears if we remember that all feelings of the higher order presuppose, and are the echo of complex systems of ideas. The moral feelings are those in which moral ideas have their resonance; and those feelings are valuable in virtue of the ideas which they reflect. The feeling of moral courage depends on the idea that the injuries we receive at the hands of fortune are not important, but that it is important for us to do credit to our rational nature. The feeling of moral indignation depends on the idea that the injuries we receive from our fellow-men are not important, but that it is important that the right be done and the wrong abated. The feelings of moral dignity and humility combined depend on the idea that it does not signify whether the shadow we cast in the world of men be long or short, but only that we live in the light of the moral aims.

FOOTNOTE:

[16] See, e. g., the famous passage in Seneca, De Ira, iii, 15.

XIII.

DUTIES WHICH RELATE TO OTHERS.

FILIAL DUTIES.

We began our course of moral instruction with the self-regarding duties, and assigned the second place to the duties which relate to others. There is an additional reason besides the one already given for keeping to this order.

If we were to begin with the commandments or prohibitions which relate to others--e. g., the sixth, eighth, and ninth commandments of the Decalogue--the pupil might easily get the impression that these things are forbidden solely because they involve injuries to others, but that in cases where the injury is inconsiderable, or not apparent, the transgression of moral commandments is more or less excusable. There are many persons who seem unable to understand that it is really sinful to defraud the custom-house or to neglect paying one's fare in a horse-car. And why? Because the injury inflicted seems so insignificant. Now, it is of the utmost consequence to impress upon the pupil that every action which involves a violation of duty to others at the same time produces a change in the moral quality of the agent, that he suffers as well as the one whom he wrongs. The subjective and objective sides of transgression can not in point of principle and ought not in actual consciousness to be separated. If, therefore, we begin by enforcing such duties as temperance the pupil will at once feel that the violation of the law changes his inward condition, degrades him in his own eyes, lowers him in the scale of being. The true standpoint from which all moral transgression should be regarded will thus be gained at the outset, and it will be comparatively easy to maintain the same point of view when we come to speak of the social duties.

To start discussion on the subject of the filial duties, relate the story of Æneas carrying his aged father, Anchises, out of burning Troy; also the story of Cleobis and Bito (Herodotus, i, 31). Recall the devotion of Telemachus to Ulysses. Tell the story of Lear and his daughters, contrasting the conduct of Regan and Goneril with that of Cordelia. An excellent story to tell, especially to young children, is that of Dama. Æneas and Telemachus illustrate the filial spirit as expressed in services rendered to parents, but opportunity to be of real service to parents is not often offered to the very young. The story of Dama exhibits the filial spirit as displayed in acts of delicacy and consideration, and such acts are within the power of all children. The story is located in Palestine, and is supposed to have occurred at the time when the temple at Jerusalem was still standing. Dama was a dealer in jewels, noted for possessing the rarest and richest collection anywhere to be found. It happened that it became necessary to replace a number of the precious stones on the breastplate of the high priest, and a deputation was sent from Jerusalem to wait on Dama and to select from his stock what was needed. Dama received his distinguished visitors with becoming courtesy, and on learning their mission spread out before them a large number of beautiful stones. But none of these were satisfactory. The stones must needs be of extraordinary size and brilliancy. None but such might be used. When Dama was informed of this he reflected a moment, then said that in a room occupied by his old father there was a cabinet in which he kept his most precious gems, and that among them he was sure he could find what his visitors wanted. He bade them delay a few moments, while he made the necessary search. But presently he returned without the jewels. He expressed the greatest regret, but declared that it was impossible to oblige them. They were astonished, and, believing it to be a mere trader's trick, offered him an immense price for the stones. He answered that he was extremely sorry to miss so profitable a transaction, but that it was indeed beyond his power to oblige them now--if they would return in an hour or two he could probably suit them. They declared that their business admitted of no delay; that the breastplate must be repaired at once, so that the priest might not be prevented from discharging his office. And so he allowed them to depart. It appears that when Dama opened the door of the room he saw his old father asleep on the couch. He tried to enter noiselessly, but the door creaked on its hinges, and the old man started in his sleep. Dama checked himself, and turned back. He said, "I will forego the gain which they offer me, but I will not disturb the slumbers of my father." The sleep of the old father was sacred to Dama. Children are often thoughtless in breaking noisily into a room where father or mother is resting. Such a story tends to instill the lesson of consideration and of reverence.

Reverence is the key-note of filial duty. You will remember that Goethe, in Wilhelm Meister, in those chapters in which he sketches his pedagogical ideal, bases the entire religious and moral education of the young on a threefold reverence. He applies the following symbolism: The pupils of the ideal pedagogical institution are required to take, on different occasions, three different attitudes. Now they fold their arms on their breast, and look with open countenance upward; again they fold their arms on their backs, and their bright glances are directed toward the earth; and again they stand in a row, and their faces are turned to the right, each one looking at his neighbor. These three attitudes are intended to symbolize reverence toward what is above us, toward what is beneath us, and toward our equals. These three originate and culminate in the true self-reverence. In speaking of filial duty, we are concerned with reverence toward what is above us. The parent is the physical, mental, and moral superior of the child. It is his duty to assist the child's physical, mental, and moral growth; to lift it by degrees out of its position of inferiority, so that it may attain the fullness of its powers, and help to carry on the mission of mankind when the older generation shall have retired from the scene. The duty of the superior toward the inferior is to help him to rise above the plane of inferiority. The receptive and appreciative attitude of one who is thus helped is called reverence. But we must approach the nature of parental duty more closely, and the following reflections may put us in the way: No man can attain the intellectual aims of life without assistance. A scientist inhabiting a desert island and limited to his own mental resources could make little headway. The scientist of to-day utilizes the accumulated labors of all the generations of scientists that have preceded him, and depends for the value of his results on the co-operation and the sifting criticism of his contemporaries. And as no one can get much knowledge without the help of others, so no one is justified in seeking knowledge for his own private pleasure, or in seeking the kind of knowledge that happens to pique his vanity. For instance, it is a violation of intellectual duty to spend one's time in acquiring out-of-the way erudition which is useful only for display. The pursuit of knowledge is a public not a private end. Every scholar and man of science is bound to enlarge as far as he can the common stock of truth, to add to the scientific possessions of the human race. But in order to do this he must question himself closely, that he may discover in what direction his special talent lies, and may apply himself sedulously to the cultivation of that. For it is by specializing his efforts that he can best serve the general interests of truth. The same holds good with respect to the pursuit of social ends--e. g., the correction of social abuses and the promotion of social justice. The reformer of to-day stands on the shoulders of all the reformers of the past, and would have little prospect of success in any efforts he may make without the co-operation and criticism of numerous co-workers. Nor, again, is it right for him to take up any and every project of reform that may happen to strike his fancy. He ought rather to consider what particular measures under existing circumstances are most likely to advance the cause of progress, and in what capacity he is specially fitted to promote such measures. Justice and truth are public, not private ends. The highest aim of life for each one is to offer that contribution which he, as an individual, is peculiarly fitted to make toward the attainment of the public ends of mankind. The individual when living only for himself, absorbed in his private pleasures and pains, is a creature of little worth; and his existence is of little more account in the scheme of things than that of the summer insects, who have their day and perish. But the individual become the organ of humanity acquires a lasting worth, and his individuality possesses an inviolable sanctity. The sacredness of individuality in the sense just indicated is a leading idea of ethics--perhaps it would not be too much to say, the leading idea.

And now we can state more exactly the nature of parental duty. It is the duty of the parent, remembering that he is the guardian of the permanent welfare of his child, to respect, to protect, to develop its individuality--above all, to discover its individual bent; for that is often latent, and requires to be persistently searched out. It is the duty and the privilege of the parent to put the child, as it were, in possession of its own soul.

And upon this relationship filial reverence is founded, and from it the principal filial duties may be deduced. Because the child does not know what is best for it, in view of its destiny, as described above, it is bound to obey. Obedience is the first of the filial duties. Secondly, the child is bound to show gratitude for the benefits received at the hands of its parents. The teacher should discuss with his pupils the principal benefits conferred by parents. The parents supply the child with food, shelter, and raiment; they nurse it in sickness, often sacrificing sleep, comfort, and health for its sake. They toil in order that it may want nothing; they give it, in their fond affection, the sweet seasoning of all their other gifts. It is well to bring these facts distinctly before the pupil's mind. The teacher can do it with a better grace than the parent himself. The teacher can strengthen and deepen the home feeling, and it is his office to do so. The pupil should go home from his moral lesson in school and look upon his parents with a new realization of all that he owes them, with a new and deeper tenderness. But the duty of gratitude should be based, above all, upon the greatest gift which the child obtains from his parents, the help which it receives toward attaining the moral aim of its existence.

I do not include the commandment "Love thy parents" among the rules of filial duty, for I do not think that love can be commanded. Love follows of itself if the right attitude of reverence, obedience, gratitude be observed. Love is the sense of union with another. And the peculiarity of filial love, whereby it is distinguished from other kinds of love, is that it springs from union with persons on whom we utterly depend, with moral superiors, to whom we owe the fostering of our spiritual as well as of our physical existence.

But how shall the sentiment of filial gratitude express itself? Gratitude is usually displayed by a return of the kindness received. But the kindness which we receive from parents is such that we can never repay it. It is of the nature of a debt which we can never hope fully to cancel. We can do this much--when our parents grow old, we can care for them, and smooth the last steps that lead to the grave. And when we ourselves have grown to manhood and womanhood, and have in turn become parents, we can bestow upon our own offspring the same studious and intelligent care which our parents, according to the light they had, bestowed on us, and thus ideally repay them by doing for others what they did for us. But this is a point which concerns only adults. As for young children, they can show their gratitude in part by slight services, delicacies of behavior, the chief value of which consists in the sentiment that inspires them, but principally by a willing acceptance of parental guidance, and by earnest efforts in the direction of their own intellectual and moral improvement. There is no love so unselfish as parental love. There is nothing which true parents have more at heart than the highest welfare of their children. There is no way in which a child can please father and mother better than by doing that which is for its own highest good. The child's progress in knowledge and in moral excellence are to every parent the most acceptable tokens of filial gratitude. And this leads me to an important point, to which reference has already been made. It has been stated that each period of life has its distinct set of duties; furthermore, that in each period there is one paramount duty, around which the others may be grouped; and, lastly, that at each successive stage it is important to reach backward and to bring the ethical system of the preceding period into harmony with the new system. Of this last point we are now in a position to give a simple illustration. The paramount duty of the school period is to acquire knowledge; the paramount duty of the previous period is to reverence parents. But, as has just been shown, reverence toward parents at this stage is best exhibited by conscientious study, and thus the two systems are merged into one.[17]

THE FRATERNAL DUTIES.