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diff --git a/24372.txt b/24372.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..220b5c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/24372.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6318 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Practical Ethics, by William DeWitt Hyde + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Practical Ethics + +Author: William DeWitt Hyde + +Release Date: January 20, 2008 [EBook #24372] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRACTICAL ETHICS *** + + + + +Produced by Bill Tozier, Barbara Tozier, Lisa Reigel, and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: Text in italics in the original is surrounded by +_underscores_. Text in bold in the original is surrounded by +plus +signs+. A complete set of corrections follows the text. + + + + +PRACTICAL ETHICS + + +BY + +WILLIAM DEWITT HYDE, D. D. +_President of Bowdoin College_ + + +NEW YORK +HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY + + +COPYRIGHT, 1892, +BY +HENRY HOLT & CO. + + +THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS, +RAHWAY, N. J. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +The steady stream of works on ethics during the last ten years, rising +almost to a torrent within the past few months, renders it necessary for +even the tiniest rill to justify its slender contribution to the already +swollen flood. + +On the one hand treatises abound which are exhaustive in their +presentation of ethical theory. On the other hand books are plenty which +give good moral advice with great elaborateness of detail. Each type of +work has its place and function. The one is excellent mental gymnastic +for the mature; the other admirable emotional pabulum for the childish +mind. Neither, however, is adapted both to satisfy the intellect and +quicken the conscience at that critical period when the youth has put +away childish things and is reaching out after manly and womanly ideals. + +The book which shall meet this want must have theory; yet the theory +must not be made obtrusive, nor stated too abstractly. The theory must +be deeply imbedded in the structure of the work; and must commend +itself, not by metaphysical deduction from first principles, but by its +ability to comprehend in a rational and intelligible order the concrete +facts with which conduct has to do. + +Such a book must be direct and practical. It must contain clear-cut +presentation of duties to be done, virtues to be cultivated, temptations +to be overcome, and vices to be shunned: yet this must be done, not by +preaching and exhortation, but by showing the place these things occupy +in a coherent system of reasoned knowledge. + +Such a blending of theory and practice, of faith and works, is the aim +and purpose of this book. + +The only explicit suggestions of theory are in the introduction (which +should not be taken as the first lesson) and in the last two chapters. +Religion is presented as the consummation, rather than the foundation of +ethics; and the brief sketch of religion in the concluding chapter is +confined to those broad outlines which are accepted, with more or less +explicitness, by Jew and Christian, Catholic and Protestant, Orthodox +and Liberal. + WILLIAM DEWITT HYDE. + + BOWDOIN COLLEGE, + BRUNSWICK, ME. May 10, 1892. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + INTRODUCTION, 1 + + I. FOOD AND DRINK, 9 + + II. DRESS, 19 + + III. EXERCISE, 25 + + IV. WORK, 32 + + V. PROPERTY, 40 + + VI. EXCHANGE, 46 + + VII. KNOWLEDGE, 53 + + VIII. TIME, 60 + + IX. SPACE, 65 + + X. FORTUNE, 70 + + XI. NATURE, 81 + + XII. ART, 89 + + XIII. ANIMALS, 98 + + XIV. FELLOW-MEN, 104 + + XV. THE POOR, 117 + + XVI. WRONGDOERS, 127 + + XVII. FRIENDS, 137 + + XVIII. FAMILY, 144 + + XIX. STATE, 157 + + XX. SOCIETY, 167 + + XXI. SELF, 179 + + XXII. GOD, 194 + + + + +OUTLINE OF PRACTICAL ETHICS + +SEE LAST PARAGRAPH OF INTRODUCTION. + + +==================================================================== + | | | | +Object. | Duty. | Virtue. | Reward. | + | | | | +------------+----------------+--------------------+----------------+ + | | | | +Food and | Vigor, | Temperance, | Health, | + drink, | | | | + | | | | +Dress, | Comeliness, | Neatness, | Respectability,| + | | | | +Exercise, | Recreation, | Cheerfulness, | Energy, | + | | | | +Work, | Self-support, | Industry, | Wealth, | + | | | | +Property, | Provision, | Economy, | Prosperity, | + | | | | +Exchange, | Equivalence, | Honesty, | Self-respect, | + | | | | +Sex, | Reproduction, | Purity, | Sweetness, | + | | | | +Knowledge, | Truth, | Veracity, | Confidence, | + | | | | +Time, | Co-ordination, | Prudence, | Harmony, | + | | | | + | | | | +Space, | System, | Orderliness, | Efficiency, | + | | | | +Fortune, | Superiority, | Courage, | Honor, | + | | | | +Nature, | Appreciation, | Sensitiveness, | Inspiration, | + | | | | +Art, | Beauty, | Simplicity, | Refinement, | + | | | | +Animals, | Consideration, | Kindness, | Tenderness, | + | | | | +Fellow-men, | Fellowship, | Love, | Unity, | + | | | | +The Poor, | Help, | Benevolence, | Sympathy, | + | | | | +Wrong-doers,| Justice, | Forgiveness, | Reformation, | + | | | | +Friends, | Devotion, | Fidelity, | Affection, | + | | | | +Family, | Membership, | Loyalty, | Home, | + | | | | +State, | Organization, | Patriotism, | Civilization, | + | | | | +Society, | Co-operation, | Public Spirit, | Freedom, | + | | | | +Self, | Realization, | Conscientiousness, | Character, | + | | | | +God, | Obedience, | Holiness, | Life, | + + +OUTLINE OF PRACTICAL ETHICS (cont.) + +=============================================================================== + | | | | +Object | Temptation | Vice of Defect | Vice of Excess | Penalty + | | | | +------------+---------------+--------------------+----------------+------------ + | | | | +Food and | Appetite, | Asceticism, | Intemperance, | Disease. + drink, | | | | + | | | | +Dress, | Vanity, | Slovenliness, | Fastidiousness,| Contempt. + | | | | +Exercise, | Excitement, | Morbidness, | Frivolity, | Debility. + | | | | +Work, | Ease, | Laziness, | Overwork, | Poverty. + | | | | +Property, | Indulgence, | Wastefulness, | Miserliness, | Want. + | | | | +Exchange, | Gain, | Dishonesty, | Compliance, | Degradation. + | | | | +Sex, | Lust, | Prudery, | Sensuality, | Bitterness. + | | | | +Knowledge, | Ignorance, | Falsehood, | Gossip, | Distrust. + | | | | +Time, | Dissipation, | Procrastination, | Anxiety, | Discord. + | | | | +Space, | Disorder, | Carelessness, | Red Tape, | Obstruction. + | | | | +Fortune, | Risk, | Cowardice, | Gambling, | Shame. + | | | | +Nature, | Utility, | Obtuseness, | Affectation, | Stagnation. + | | | | +Art, | Luxury, | Ugliness, | Ostentation, | Vulgarity. + | | | | +Animals, | Neglect, | Cruelty, | Subjection, | Brutality. + | | | | +Fellow-men, | Indifference, | Selfishness, | Sentimentality,| Strife. + | | | | +The Poor, | Alienation, | Niggardliness, | Indulgence, | Antipathy. + | | | | +Wrong-doers,| Vengeance, | Severity, | Lenity, | Perversity. + | | | | +Friends, | Betrayal, | Exclusiveness, | Effusiveness, | Isolation. + | | | | +Family, | Independence, | Self-sufficiency, | Self- | Loneliness. + | | | obliteration,| + | | | | +State, | Spoils, | Treason, | Ambition, | Anarchy. + | | | | +Society, | Self-interest,| Meanness, | Officiousness, | Constraint. + | | | | +Self, | Pleasure, | Unscrupulousness, | Formalism, | Corruption. + | | | | +God, | Self-will, | Sin, | Hypocrisy, | Death. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +Ethics is the science of conduct, and the art of life. + +Life consists in the maintenance of relations; it requires continual +adjustment; it implies external objects, as well as internal forces. +Conduct must have materials to work with; stuff to build character out +of; resistance to overcome; objects to confront. + +These objects nature has abundantly provided. They are countless as the +sands of the seashore, or the stars of heaven. In order to bring them +within the range of scientific treatment we must classify them, and +select for study those classes of objects which are most essential to +life and conduct. Each chapter of this book presents one of these +fundamental objects with which life and conduct are immediately +concerned. + +A great many different relations are possible between ourselves and each +one of these objects. Of these many possible relations some would be +injurious to ourselves; some would be destructive of the object. Toward +each object there is one relation, and one only, which at the same time +best promotes the development of ourselves and best preserves the +object's proper use and worth. The maintenance of this ideal union of +self and object is our duty with reference to that object. + +Which shall come first and count most in determining this right +relation, self or object, depends on the character of the object. + +In the case of inanimate objects, such as food, drink, dress, and +property, the interests of the self are supreme. Toward these things it +is our right and duty to be sagaciously and supremely selfish. When +persons and mere things meet, persons have absolute right of way. + +When we come to ideal objects, such as knowledge, art, Nature, this cool +selfishness is out of place. The attempt to cram knowledge, appropriate +nature, and "get up" art, defeats itself. These objects have a worth in +themselves, and rights of their own which we must respect. They resent +our attempts to bring them into subjection to ourselves. We must +surrender to them, we must take the attitude of humble and +self-forgetful suitors, if we would win the best gifts they have to +give, and claim them as our own. + +As we rise to personal relations, neither appropriation nor surrender, +neither egoism nor altruism, nor indeed any precisely measured +mechanical mixture of the two, will solve the problem. Here the +recognition of a common good, a commonwealth in which each person has an +equal worth with every other, is the only satisfactory solution. "Be a +person, and respect the personality of others," is the duty in this +sphere. + +As we approach social institutions we enter the presence of objects +which represent interests vastly wider, deeper, more enduring than the +interests of our individual lives. The balance, which was evenly poised +when we weighed ourselves against other individuals, now inclines toward +the side of these social institutions, without which the individual life +would be stripped of all its worth and dignity, apart from which man +would be no longer man. Duty here demands devotion and self-sacrifice. + +Finally, when we draw near to God, who is the author and sustainer of +individuals, of science and art and nature, and of social institutions, +then the true relation becomes one of reverence and worship. + +In each case duty is the fullest realization of self and object. Whether +self or the object shall be the determining factor in the relation +depends on whether the object in question has less, equal, or greater +worth than the individual self. + +If we do our duty repeatedly and perseveringly in any direction, we form +the habit of doing it, learn to enjoy it, and acquire a preference for +it. This habitual preference for a duty is the virtue corresponding to +it. + +Virtue is manliness or womanliness. It is the steadfast assertion of +what we see to be our duty against the solicitations of temptation. +Virtue is mastery; first of self, and through self-mastery, the mastery +of the objects with which we come in contact. + +Since duty is the maintenance of self and its objects in highest +realization, and virtue is constant and joyous fidelity to duty, it +follows that duty and virtue cannot fail of that enlargement and +enrichment of life which is their appropriate reward. + +The reward of virtue will vary according to the duty done and the object +toward which it is directed. The virtues which deal with mere things +will bring as their rewards material prosperity. The virtues which deal +with ideal objects will have their reward in increased capacities, +intensified sensibilities, and elevated tastes. The virtues which deal +with our fellow-men will be rewarded by enlargement of social sympathy, +and deeper tenderness of feeling. The virtues which are directed toward +family, state, and society, have their reward in that exalted sense of +participation in great and glorious aims, which lift one up above the +limitations of his private self, and can make even death sweet and +beautiful--a glad and willing offering to that larger social self of +which it is the individual's highest privilege to count himself a worthy +and honorable member. + +Life, however, is not this steady march to victory, with beating drums +and flying banners, which, for the sake of continuity in description, we +have thus far regarded it. There are hard battles to fight; and mighty +foes to conquer. We must now return to those other possible relations +which we left when we selected for immediate consideration that one +right relation which we call duty. + +Since there is only one right relation between self and an object, all +others must be wrong. These other possible relations are temptations. +Temptation is the appeal of an object to a single side of our nature as +against the well-being of self as a whole. Each object gives rise to +many temptations. "Broad is the way that leadeth to destruction." + +Just as duty performed gives rise to virtue, so temptation, yielded to, +begets vice. Vice is the habitual yielding to temptation. + +Temptations fall into two classes. Either we are tempted to neglect an +object, and so to give it too little influence over us; or else we are +tempted to be carried away by an object, and to give it an excessive and +disproportionate place in our life. Hence the resulting vices fall into +two classes. Vices resulting from the former sort of temptation are +vices of defect. Vices resulting from the latter form of temptation are +vices of excess. As one of these temptations is usually much stronger +than the other, we will discuss simply the strongest and most +characteristic temptation in connection with each object. Yet as both +classes of vice exist with reference to every object, it will be best to +consider both. + +Vice carries its penalty in its own nature. Being a perversion of some +object, it renders impossible that realization of ourselves through the +object, or in the higher relations, that realization of the object +through us, on which the harmony and completeness of our life depends. +In the words of Plato: "Virtue is the health and beauty and well-being +of the soul, and vice is the disease and weakness and deformity of the +soul." + +Each chapter will follow the order here developed. The outline on pp. x, +xi shows the logical framework on which the book is constructed. Under +the limitations of such a table, confined to a single term in every +case, it is of course impossible to avoid the appearance of +artificiality of form and inadequacy of treatment. This collection of +dry bones is offered as the easiest way of exhibiting at a glance the +conception of ethics as an organic whole of interrelated members: a +conception it would be impossible to present in any other form without +entering upon metaphysical inquiries altogether foreign to the practical +purpose of the book. + + + + +PRACTICAL ETHICS. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +Food and Drink. + + +The foundations of life, and therefore the first concerns of conduct, +are food and drink. Other things are essential if we are to live +comfortably and honorably. Food and drink are essential if we are to +live at all. In order that we may not neglect these important objects, +nature has placed on guard over the body two sentinels, hunger and +thirst, to warn us whenever fresh supplies of food and drink are needed. + + +THE DUTY. + ++Body and mind to be kept in good working order.+--In response to these +warnings it is our duty to eat and drink such things, in such +quantities, at such times, and in such ways as will render the body the +most efficient organ and expression of the mind and will. + +Hygiene and physiology, and our own experience and common sense, tell us +in detail what, when, and how much it is best for us to eat and drink. +Ethics presupposes this knowledge, and simply tells us that these laws +of hygiene and physiology are our best friends; and that it is our duty +to heed what they say. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++Temperance is self-control.+--These sentinels tell us when to begin; +but they do not always tell us when to leave off: and if they do, it +sometimes requires special effort to heed the warning that they give. +The appetite for food and drink, if left to itself, would run away with +us. Our liking for what tastes good, if allowed to have its own way, +would lead us to eat and drink such things and in such quantities as to +weaken our stomachs, enfeeble our muscles, muddle our brains, impair our +health, and shorten our lives. Temperance puts bits into the mouth of +appetite; holds a tight rein over it; compels it to go, not where it +pleases to take us, but where we see that it is best for us to go; and +trains it to stop when it has gone far enough. + +Virtue means manliness. Temperance is a virtue because it calls into +play that strong, firm will which is the most manly thing in us. The +temperate man is the strong man. For he is the master, not the slave of +his appetites. He is lord of his own life. + + +THE REWARD. + ++The temperate man has all his powers perpetually at their best.+--Into +work or play or study he enters with the energy and zest which come of +good digestion, strong muscles, steady nerves, and a clear head. He +works hard, plays a strong game, thinks quickly and clearly; because he +has a surplus of vitality to throw into whatever he undertakes. He +prospers in business because he is able to prosecute it with energy. He +makes friends because he has the cheerfulness and vivacity which is the +charm of good-fellowship. He enjoys life because all its powers are at +his command. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++The pleasures of taste an incidental good, but not the ultimate +good.+--Food tastes good to the hungry, and to the thirsty drinking is a +keen delight. This is a kind and wise provision of nature; and as long +as this pleasure accompanies eating and drinking in a normal and natural +way it aids digestion and promotes health and vigor. The more we enjoy +our food the better; and food, well-cooked, well-served, and eaten in a +happy and congenial company, is vastly better for us than the same food +poorly cooked, poorly served, and devoured in solitude and silence. + +Yet it is possible to make this pleasure which accompanies eating and +drinking the end for the sake of which we eat and drink. The temptation +is to eat and drink what we like and as much as we like; instead of what +we know to be best for us. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++The difference between temperance and asceticism.+--Asceticism looks +like temperance. People who practice it often pride themselves upon it. +But it is a hollow sham. And it has done much to bring discredit upon +temperance, for which it tries to pass. What then is the difference +between temperance and asceticism? Both control appetite. Both are +opposed to intemperance. But they differ in the ends at which they aim. +Temperance controls appetite for the sake of greater life and health and +strength. Asceticism is the control of appetite merely for the sake of +controlling it. Asceticism, in shunning the evils to which food and +drink may lead, misses also the best blessings they are able to confer. +The ascetic attempts to regulate by rule and measure everything he eats +and drinks, and to get along with just as little as possible, and so he +misses the good cheer and hearty enjoyment which should be the best part +of every meal. + +Let us be careful not to confound sour, lean, dyspeptic asceticism with +the hale, hearty virtue of temperance. Asceticism sacrifices vigor and +vitality for the sake of keeping its rules and exercising self-control. +Temperance observes the simple rules of hygiene and common sense for the +sake of vigor and vitality; and sacrifices the pleasures of the palate +only in so far as it is necessary in order to secure in their greatest +intensity and permanence the larger and higher interests of life. + + +THE VICES OF EXCESS. + ++Intemperance in eating is gluttony. Intemperance in drinking leads to +drunkenness.+--Instead of sitting in the seat of reason and driving the +appetites before him in obedience to his will, the glutton and the +drunkard harness themselves into the wagon and put reins and whip into +the hands of their appetites. + +The glutton lives to eat; instead of eating to live. This vice is so +odious and contemptible that few persons give themselves up entirely to +gluttony. Yet every time we eat what we know is not good for us, or more +than is good for us, we fall a victim to this loathsome vice. + ++The drunkard is the slave of an unnatural thirst.+--Alcoholic drink +produces as its first effect an excitement and exhilaration much more +intense than any pleasure coming from the normal gratification of +natural appetite. This exhilaration is purchased at the expense of +stimulating the system to abnormal exertion. This excessive action of +the system during intoxication is followed by a corresponding reaction. +The man feels as much worse than usual during the hours and days that +follow his debauch, as he felt better than usual during the brief +moments that he was taking his drinks. This depression and disturbance +of the system which follows indulgence in intoxicating drink begets an +unnatural and incessant craving for a repetition of the stimulus; and so +in place of the even, steady life of the temperate man, the drinking +man's life is a perpetual alternation of brief moments of unnatural +excitement, followed by long days of unnatural craving and depression. +The habit of indulging this unnatural craving steals upon a man +unawares; it occupies more and more of his thought; takes more and more +of his time and money, until he is unable to think or care for anything +else. It becomes more important to him than business, home, wife, +children, reputation, or character; and before he knows it he finds that +his will is undermined, reason is dethroned, affection is dead, appetite +has become his master, and he has become its beastly and degraded slave. + ++Total abstinence the only sure defense.+--This vice of intemperance is +so prevalent in the community, so insidious in its approach, so +degrading in its nature, so terrible in its effects, that the only +absolutely and universally sure defense against it is total abstinence. +A man may think himself strong enough to stop drinking when and where he +pleases; but the peculiar and fatal deception about intoxicating drink +is that it makes those who become its victims weaker to resist it with +every indulgence. It enfeebles their wills directly. The fact that a man +can stop drinking to-day is no sure sign that he can drink moderately +for a year and stop then. At the end of that time he will have a +different body, a different brain, a different mind, a different will +from the body and mind and will he has to-day, and would have after a +year of abstinence. + +As we have seen, with every natural and healthy exercise of our +appetites and faculties moderation is preferable to abstinence. It is +better to direct them toward the ends they are intended to accomplish +that to stifle and suppress them. But the thirst for intoxicating drink +is unnatural. It creates abnormal cravings; it produces diseased +conditions which corrupt and destroy the very powers of nerve and brain +on which the faculties of reason and control depend. "Touch not, taste +not, handle not," is the only rule that can insure one against the +fearful ravages of this beastly and inhuman vice. + ++Responsibility for social influence.+--A strong argument in favor of +abstinence from intoxicating drink is its beneficial social influence. +If there are two bridges across a stream, one safe and sure, the other +so shaky and treacherous that a large proportion of all who try to cross +over it fall into the stream and are drowned; the fact that I happen to +have sufficiently cool head and steady nerves to walk over it in safety +does not make it right for me to do so, when I know that my +companionship and example will lead many to follow who will certainly +perish in the attempt. + +Mild wines and milder climates may render the moderate use of alcoholic +drinks comparatively harmless to races less nervously organized than +ours. And there doubtless are individuals in our midst whose strong +constitution, phlegmatic temperament, or social training enable them to +use wine daily for years without appreciable injury. They can walk with +comparative safety the narrow bridge. There are multitudes who cannot. +There are tens of thousands for whom our distilled liquors, open +saloons, and treating customs, combined with our trying climate and +nervous organizations, render moderate drinking practically impossible. +They must choose between the safe and sure way of total abstinence, or +the fatal plunge into drunkenness and disgrace. And if those who are +endowed with cooler heads and stronger nerves are mindful of their +social duty to these weaker brethren, among whom are some of the most +generous and noble-hearted of our acquaintances and friends, then for +the sake of these more sorely tempted ones, and for the sake of their +mothers, wives, and sisters to whom a drunken son, husband, or brother +is a sorrow worse than death, they will forego a trifling pleasure in +order to avert the ruin that their example would otherwise help to bring +on the lives, fortunes, and families of others. + ++Fatal fascination of the opium habit.+--What has been said of alcoholic +drink is equally true of opium. The habit of using opium is easy to form +and almost impossible to break. The secret workings of this poison upon +the mind and will of its victim are most insidious and fatal. + ++Tobacco a serious injury to growing persons.+--On this point all +teachers are unanimous. Statistics taken at the naval school at +Annapolis, at Yale College, and elsewhere, show that the use of tobacco +is the exception with scholars at the head, and the rule with scholars +at the foot of the class. + +Shortly after we began to take statistics on this point in Bowdoin +College I asked the director of the gymnasium what was the result with +the Freshman class? "Oh," he said, "the list of the smokers is +substantially the same as that which was reported the other day for +deficiencies in scholarship." A prominent educator, who had given +considerable attention to this subject, after spending an hour in my +recitation room with a class of college seniors, indicated with perfect +accuracy the habitual and excessive smokers, simply by noting the eye, +manner, and complexion. + +Tobacco, used in early life, tends to stunt the growth, weaken the eyes, +shatter the nervous system, and impair the powers of physical endurance +and mental application. No candidate for a college athletic team, or +contestant in a race, would think of using tobacco while in training. +Every man who wishes to keep himself in training for the highest prizes +in business and professional life must guard his early years from the +deterioration which this habit invariably brings. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++These vices bring disease and disgrace.+--These vices put in place of +physical well-being the gratification of a particular taste and +appetite. Hence they bring about the abnormal action of some organs at +the expense of all the rest; and this is the essence of disease. + +A diseased body causes a disordered mind and an enfeebled will. The +excessive and over-stimulated activity of one set of organs involves a +corresponding defect in the activity and functions of the other +faculties. The glutton or drunkard neglects his business; loses interest +in reading and study; fails to provide for his family; forfeits +self-respect; and thus brings upon himself poverty and wretchedness and +shame. He sinks lower and lower in the social scale; grows more and more +a burden to others and a disgrace to himself; and at last ends a +worthless and ignominious life in an unwept and dishonored grave. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +Dress. + + +Next in importance to food and drink stand clothing and shelter. Without +substantial and permanent protection against cold and rain, without +decent covering for the body and privacy of life, civilization is +impossible. The clothes we wear express the standing choices of our +will; and as clothes come closer to our bodies than anything else, they +stand as the most immediate and obvious expression of our mind. "The +apparel oft proclaims the man." + + +THE DUTY. + ++Attractive personal appearance.+--Clothes that fit, colors that match, +cosy houses and cheery rooms cost little more, except in thought and +attention, than ill-fitting and unbecoming garments and gloomy and +unsightly dwellings. Attractiveness of dress, surroundings, and personal +appearance is a duty; because it gives free exercise to our higher and +nobler sentiments; elevates and enlarges our lives; while discomfort and +repulsiveness in these things lower our standards, and drive us to the +baser elements of our nature in search of cheap forms of self-indulgence +to take the place of that natural delight in attractive dress and +surroundings which has been repressed. Both to ourselves and to our +friends we owe as much attractiveness of personal surroundings and +personal appearance as a reasonable amount of thought and effort and +expenditure can secure. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++Neatness inexpensive and its absence inexcusable.+--No one is so poor +that he cannot afford to be neat. No one is so rich that he can afford +to be slovenly. Neatness is a virtue, or manly quality; because it keeps +the things we wear and have about us under our control, and compels them +to express our will and purpose. + + +THE REWARD. + ++Dress an indication of the worth of the wearer.+--Neatness of dress and +personal appearance indicates that there is some regard for decency and +propriety, some love of order and beauty, some strength of will and +purpose inside the garments. If dress is the most superficial aspect of +a person, it is at the same time the most obvious one. Our first +impression of people is gained from their general appearance, of which +dress is one of the most important features. + +Consequently dress goes far to determine the estimate people place upon +us. Fuller acquaintance may compel a revision of these original +impressions. First impressions, however, often decide our fate with +people whose respect and good-will is valuable to us. Important +positions are often won or lost through attention or neglect in these +matters. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++Dress has its snares.+--We are tempted to care, not for attractiveness +in itself, but for the satisfaction of thinking, and having others +think, how fine we look. Worse still, we are tempted to try to look not +as well as we can, but better than somebody else; and by this +combination of rivalry with vanity we get the most contemptible and +pitiable level to which perversity in dress can bring us. There is no +end to the ridiculous and injurious absurdities to which this hollow +vanity will lead those who are silly enough to yield to its demands. + ++Cynicism regarding appearance.+--Vanity may take just the opposite +form. We may be just as proud of our bad looks, as of our good looks. +This is the trick of the Cynic. This is the reason why almost every town +has its old codger who seems to delight in wearing the shabbiest coat, +and driving the poorest horse, and living in the most dilapidated shanty +of anyone in town. These persons take as much pride in their mode of +life as the devotee of fashion does in hers. One of these Cynics went to +the baths with Alcibiades, the gayest of Athenian youths. When they came +out Alcibiades put on the Cynic's rags, leaving his own gay and costly +apparel for the Cynic. The Cynic was in a great rage, and protested +that he would not be seen wearing such gaudy things as those. "Ah!" said +Alcibiades; "so you care more what kind of clothes you wear than I do +after all; for I can wear your clothes, but you cannot wear mine." +Another of the Cynics, as he entered the elegant apartments of Plato, +spat upon the rug, exclaiming: "Thus I pour contempt on the pride of +Plato." "Yes," was Plato's reply, "with a greater pride of your own." +Since pride and vanity have these two forms, we need to be on our guard +against them both. For one or the other is pretty sure to assail us. An +eye single to the attractiveness of our personal appearance is the only +thing that will save us from one or the other of these lines of +temptation. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++Too little attention to dress and surroundings is slovenliness.+--The +sloven is known by his dirty hands and face, his disheveled hair, and +tattered garments. His house is in confusion; his grounds are littered +with rubbish; he eats his meals at an untidy table; and sleeps in an +unmade bed. Slovenliness is a vice; for it is an open confession that a +man is too weak to make his surroundings the expression of his tastes +and wishes, and has allowed his surroundings to run over him and drag +him down to their own level. And this subjection of man to the tyranny +of things, when he ought to exercise a strong dominion over them, is the +universal mark of vice. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++Too much attention to dress and appearance is fastidiousness.+--These +things are important; but it is a very petty and empty mind that can +find enough in them to occupy any considerable portion of its total +attention and energy. The fastidious person must have everything "just +so," or the whole happiness of his precious self is utterly ruined. He +spends hours upon toilet and wardrobe where sensible people spend +minutes. Hence he becomes the slave rather than the master of his dress. + ++The sloven and the dude are both slaves; but in different +ways.+--Slovenliness is slavery to the hideous and repulsive. +Fastidiousness is slavery to this or that particular style or fashion. +The freedom and mastery of neatness consists in the ability to make as +attractive as possible just such material as one's means place at his +disposal with the amount of time and effort he can reasonably devote to +them. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++Fastidiousness belittles: slovenliness degrades. Both are +contemptible.+--The man who does not care enough for himself to keep the +dirt off his hands and clothes, when not actually engaged in work that +soils them, cannot complain if other people place no higher estimate +upon him than he by this slovenliness puts upon himself. The woman whose +soul rises and falls the whole distance between ecstasy and despair +with the fit of a glove or the shade of a ribbon must not wonder if +people rate her as of about equal consequence with gloves and ribbons. +These vices make their victims low and petty; and the contempt with +which they are regarded is simply the recognition of the pettiness and +degradation which the vices have begotten. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +Exercise. + + +When the body is well fed and clothed, the next demand is for exercise. +Our powers are given us to be used; and unless they are used they waste +away. Nothing destroys power so surely and completely as disuse. The +only way to keep our powers is to keep them in exercise. We acquire the +power to lift by lifting; to run, by running; to write, by writing; to +talk, by talking; to build houses, by building; to trade, by trading. In +mature life our exercise comes to us chiefly along the lines of our +business, domestic, and social relations. In childhood and youth, before +the pressure of earning a living comes upon us, we must provide for +needed exercise in artificial ways. The play-impulse is nature's +provision for this need. It is by hearty, vigorous play that we first +gain command of those powers on which our future ability to do good work +depends. + + +THE DUTY. + ++The best exercise that of which we are least conscious.+--It is the +duty of every grown person as well as of every child to take time for +recreation. Exercise taken in a systematic way for its own sake is a +great deal better than nothing; and in crowded schools and in sedentary +occupations such gymnastic exercises are the best thing that can be had. +The best exercise, however, is not that which we get when we aim at it +directly; but that which comes incidentally in connection with sport and +recreation. A plunge into the river; a climb over the hills; a hunt +through the woods; a skate on the pond; a wade in the trout brook; a +ride on horseback; a sail on the lake; camping out in the forest;--these +are the best ways to take exercise. For in these ways we have such a +good time that we do not think about the exercise at all; and we put +forth ten times the amount of exertion that we should if we were to stop +and think how much exercise we proposed to take. + +Next in value to these natural outdoor sports come the artificial games; +baseball, football, hare and hounds, lawn tennis, croquet, and hockey. +When neither natural nor artificial sports can be had, then the +dumb-bells, the Indian clubs, and the foils become a necessity. + +Everyone should become proficient in as many of these sports as +possible. These are the resources from which the stores of vitality and +energy must be supplied in youth, and replenished in later life. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++The value of superfluous energy.+--The person whose own life-forces are +at their best cannot help flowing over in exuberant gladness to gladden +all he meets. Herbert Spencer has set this forth so strongly in his +Data of Ethics that I quote his words: "Bounding out of bed after an +unbroken sleep, singing or whistling as he dresses, coming down with +beaming face ready to laugh at the slightest provocation, the healthy +man of high powers enters on the day's business not with repugnance but +with gladness; and from hour to hour experiencing satisfaction from work +effectually done, comes home with an abundant surplus of energy +remaining for hours of relaxation. Full of vivacity, he is ever welcome. +For his wife he has smiles and jocose speeches; for his children stories +of fun and play; for his friends pleasant talk interspersed with the +sallies of wit that come from buoyancy." + + +THE REWARD. + +"Unto everyone that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance." +The reward of exertion is the power to make more exertion the next time. +And the reward of habits of regular exercise and habitual cheerfulness +is the ability to meet the world at every turn in the consciousness of +power to master it, and to meet men with that good cheer which disarms +hostility and wins friends. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++Excitement not to be made an end in itself.+--The exhilaration of sport +may be carried to the point of excitement; and then this excitement may +be made an end in itself. This is the temptation which besets all forms +of recreation and amusement. It is the fear of this danger that has led +many good people to distrust and disparage certain of the more intense +forms of recreation. Their mistake is in supposing that temptation is +peculiar to these forms of amusement. As we shall see before we complete +our study of ethics, everything brings temptation with it; and the best +things bring the severest and subtlest temptations; and if we would +withdraw from temptation, we should have to withdraw from the world. + +We must all recognize that this temptation to seek excitement for its +own sake is a serious one. It is least in the natural outdoor sports +like swimming and sailing and hunting and fishing and climbing and +riding. Hence we should give to these forms of recreation as large a +place as possible in our plans for exercise and amusement. We should see +clearly that the artificial indoor amusements, such as dancing, +card-playing, theater-going, billiard-playing, are especially liable to +give rise to that craving for excitement for excitement's sake which +perverts recreation from its true function as a renewer of our powers +into a ruinous drain upon them. The moment any form of recreation +becomes indispensable to us, the moment we find that it diminishes +instead of heightening our interest and delight in the regular duties of +our daily lives, that instant we should check its encroachment upon our +time and, if need be, cut it off altogether. It is impossible to lay +down hard and fast rules, telling precisely what forms of amusement are +good and what are bad. So much depends on the attitude of the individual +toward them, and the associations which they carry with them in +different localities, that what is right and beneficial for one person +in one set of surroundings would be wrong and disastrous to another +person or to the same person in other circumstances. To enable us to see +clearly the important part recreation must play in every healthy life, +and to see with equal clearness the danger of giving way to a craving +for constant and unnatural excitement, is the most that ethics can do +for us. The application of these principles to concrete cases each +parent must make for his own children, and each individual for himself. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++Neglect of exercise and recreation leads to moroseness.+--Like milk +which is allowed to stand, the spirit of man or woman, if left +unoccupied, turns sour. One secret of sourness and moroseness is the +sense that some side of our nature has been repressed; and this inward +indignation at our own wrongs we vent on others in bitterness and +complainings. Moroseness is first a sign that we ourselves are +miserable; and secondly it is the occasion of making others miserable +too. Having had Spencer's account of the benefits of the cheerfulness +that comes from adequate recreation, let us now see his description of +its opposite. "Far otherwise is it with one who is enfeebled by great +neglect of self. Already deficient, his energies are made more +deficient by constant endeavors to execute tasks that prove beyond his +strength, and by the resulting discouragement. Hours of leisure, which, +rightly passed, bring pleasures that raise the tide of life and renew +the powers of work, cannot be utilized: there is not vigor enough for +enjoyments involving action, and lack of spirits prevents passive +enjoyments from being entered upon with zest. In brief, life becomes a +burden. The irritability resulting now from ailments, now from failures +caused from feebleness, his family has daily to bear. Lacking adequate +energy for joining in them, he has at best but a tepid interest in the +amusements of his children; and he is called a wet blanket by his +friends." + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++Perpetual amusement-seeking: brings ennui, satiety, and disgust.+--"All +play and no work makes Jack a mere toy," is as true as that "All work +and no play makes Jack a dull boy." The constant pursuit of amusement +makes life empty and frivolous. Rightly used recreation increases one's +powers for serious pursuits. Pursued wrongly, pursued as the main +concern of life, amusement makes all serious work seem stale and dull; +and finally makes amusement itself dull and stale too. Ennui, loathing, +disgust, and emptiness are the marks of the amusement-seeker the world +over. "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. All things are full of +weariness. The eye is not satisfied with seeing nor the ear filled with +hearing"--this is the experience of the man who "withheld not his heart +from any joy." It is the experience of everyone who exalts amusement +from the position of an occasional servant to that of abiding master of +his life. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++The penalty of neglected exercise is confirmed debility.+--"Whosoever +hath not, from him shall be taken away even that which he hath." +Enfeebled from lack of exercise a man finds himself unequal to the +demands of his work; and soured by his consequent dissatisfaction with +himself, he becomes alienated from his fellows. The tide of life becomes +low and feeble; and he can neither overcome obstacles in his own +strength nor attract to himself the help of others. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +Work. + + +Food, clothes, shelter, and all the necessities of life are the products +of labor. Even the simplest food, such as fruit and berries, must be +picked before it can be eaten: the coarsest garment of skins must be +stripped from the animal before it can be worn: the rudest shelter of +rock or cave must be seized and defended against intruders before it can +become one's own. And as civilization advances, the element of labor +involved in the production of goods steadily increases. The universal +necessity of human labor to convert the raw materials given us by nature +into articles serviceable to life and enjoyment renders work a +fundamental branch of human conduct. Regular meals, comfortable homes, +knowledge, civilization, all are the fruits of work. And unless we +contribute our part to the production of these goods, we have no moral +right to be partakers of the fruits. "If any will not work, neither let +him eat." "All work," says Thomas Carlyle, "is noble: work alone is +noble. Blessed is he that has found his work; let him ask no other +blessedness. Two men I honor, and no third. First, the toilworn +craftsman who with earth-made implement laboriously conquers the Earth, +and makes her man's. A second man I honor, and still more highly: him +who is seen toiling for the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, +but the bread of life. These two in all their degrees I honor; all else +is chaff and dust, which let the wind blow whither it listeth. We must +all toil, or steal (howsoever we name our stealing), which is worse." + + +THE DUTY. + ++Every man lives either upon the fruit of his own work, or upon the +fruit of the work of others.+--In childhood it is right for us to live +upon the fruits of the toil of our parents and friends. But to continue +this life of dependence on the work of others after one has become an +able-bodied man or woman is to live the life of a perpetual baby. No +life so little justifies itself as that of the idle rich. The idle poor +man suffers the penalty of idleness in his own person. He gives little +to the world; and he gets little in return. The idle rich man gives +nothing, and gets much in return. And while he lives, someone has to +work the harder for his being in the world; and when he dies the world +is left poorer than it would have been had he never been born. He has +simply consumed a portion of the savings of his ancestors, and balanced +the energy and honor of their lives by his own life of worthlessness and +shame. Inherited wealth should bring with it a life of greater +responsibility and harder toil; for the rich man is morally bound to +use his wealth for the common good. And that is a much harder task than +merely to earn one's own living. An able-bodied man who does not +contribute to the world at least as much as he takes out of it is a +beggar and a thief; whether he shirks the duty of work under the pretext +of poverty or riches. + ++Every boy and girl should be taught some trade, business, art, or +profession.+--To neglect this duty is to run the risk of enforced +dependence upon others, than which nothing can be more destructive of +integrity and self-respect. The increasing avenues open to women, and +the fact that a woman is liable at any time to have herself and her +children to support, make it as important for women as for men to have +the ability to earn an honest living. + ++Woman's sphere is chiefly in the home and the social circle.+--Provided +she is able to earn her living whenever it becomes necessary, and in +case her parents are able and willing to support her, a young woman is +justified in remaining in the home until her marriage. Her assistance to +her mother in the domestic and social duties of the home, and her +preparation for similar duties in her own future home, is often the most +valuable service she can render during the years between school and +marriage. In order, however, for such a life to be morally justified she +must realize that it is her duty to do all in her power to help her +mother; to make home more pleasant; and to take part in those forms of +social and philanthropic work which only those who have leisure can +undertake. + +The son or daughter who is to inherit wealth, should be trained in some +line of political, scientific, artistic, charitable, or philanthropic +work, whereby he may use his wealth and leisure in the service of the +public, and justify his existence by rendering to society some +equivalent for that security and enjoyment of wealth which society +permits him to possess without the trouble of earning it. + +All honest work, manual, mental, social, domestic, political and +philanthropic, scientific and literary, is honorable. Any form of life +without hard work of either hand or brain is shameful and disgraceful. +The idler is of necessity a debtor to society; though there are forms of +idleness to which, for reasons of its own, society never presents its +bill. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++Industry conquers the world.+--Industry is a virtue, because it asserts +this fundamental interest of self-support in opposition to the +solicitations of idleness and ease. Industry masters the world, and +makes it man's servant and slave. The industrious man too is master of +his own feelings; and compels the weaker and baser impulses of his +nature to stand back and give the higher interests room. The industrious +man will do thorough work, and produce a good article, cost what it may. +He will not suffer his arm to rest until it has done his bidding; nor +will he let nature go until her resources and forces have been made to +serve his purpose. This mastery over ourselves and over nature is the +mark of virtue and manliness always and everywhere. + + +THE REWARD. + ++Industry works; and the fruit of work is wealth.+--The industrious man +may or may not have great riches. That depends on his talents, +opportunities, and character. Great riches are neither to be sought nor +shunned. With them or without them the highest life is possible; and on +the whole it is easier without than with great riches. A moderate amount +of wealth, however, is essential to the fullest development of one's +powers and the freest enjoyment of life. Of such a moderate competence +the industrious man is assured. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++Soft places and easy kinds of work to be avoided.+--Work costs pain and +effort. Men naturally love ease. Hence arises the temptation to put ease +above self-support. This temptation in its extreme form, if yielded to, +makes a man a beggar and a tramp. More frequently the temptation is to +take an easy kind of work, rather than harder work; or to do our work +shiftlessly rather than thoroughly. + +Young men are tempted to take clerkships where they can dress well and +do light work, instead of learning a trade which requires a long +apprenticeship, and calls for rough, hard work. The result is that the +clerk remains a clerk all his life on low wages, and open to the +competition of everybody who can read and write and cipher. While the +man who has taken time to learn a trade, and has taken off his coat and +accustomed himself to good hard work, has an assured livelihood; and +only the few who have taken the same time to learn the trade, and are as +little afraid of hard work as himself, can compete with him. This +temptation to seek a "soft berth," where the only work required is +sitting in an office, or talking, or writing, or riding around, is the +form of sloth which is taking the strength and independence and +manliness out of young men to-day faster than anything else. It is only +one degree above the loafer and the tramp. The young man who starts in +life by seeking an easy place will never be a success either in business +or in character. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++The slavery of laziness.+--Laziness is a vice because it sacrifices the +permanent interest of self-support to the temporary inclination to +indolence and ease. The lazy man is the slave of his own feelings. His +body is his master; not his servant. He is the slave of circumstances. +What he does depends not on what he knows it is best to do, but on how +he happens to feel. If the work is hard; if it is cold or rainy; if +something breaks; or things do not go to suit him, he gives up and +leaves the work undone. He is always waiting for something to turn up; +and since nothing turns up for our benefit except what we turn up +ourselves, he never finds the opportunity that suits him; he fails in +whatever he undertakes: and accomplishes nothing. Laziness is weakness, +submission, defeat, slavery to feeling and circumstance; and these are +the universal characteristics of vice. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++The folly of overwork.+--Work has for its end self-support. Work wisely +directed makes leisure possible. Overwork is work for its own sake; work +for false and unreal ends; work that exhausts the physical powers. +Overwork makes a man a slave to his work, as laziness makes him a slave +to his ease. The man who makes haste to be rich; who works from morning +until night "on the clean jump"; who drives his business with the fierce +determination to get ahead of his competitors at all hazards, misses the +quiet joys of life to which the wealth he pursues in such hot haste is +merely the means, breaks down in early or middle life, and destroys the +physical basis on which both work and enjoyment depend. To undertake +more than we can do without excessive wear and tear and without +permanent injury to health and strength is wrong. Laziness is the more +ignoble vice; but the folly of overwork is equally apparent, and its +results are equally disastrous. Laziness is a rot that consumes the base +elements of society. Overwork is a tempest that strikes down the bravest +and best. That work alone is wrought in virtue which keeps the powers up +to their normal and healthful activity, and is subordinated to the end +of self-support and harmonious self-development. The ideal attitude +toward work is beautifully presented in Matthew Arnold's sonnet on +"Quiet Work": + + One lesson, Nature, let me learn of thee, + One lesson which in every wind is blown; + One lesson of two duties kept at one + Though the loud world proclaim their enmity-- + + Of toil unsevered from tranquillity; + Of labor, that in lasting fruit outgrows + Far noisier schemes, accomplished in repose, + Too great for haste, too high for rivalry. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++Laziness leads to poverty.+--The lazy man does nothing to produce +wealth. The only way in which he can get it is by inheritance, or by +gift, or by theft. Money received by inheritance does not last long. The +man who is too lazy to earn money, is generally too weak to use it +wisely; and it soon slips through his fingers. When a man's laziness is +once found out people refuse to give to him. And the thief cannot steal +many times without being caught. Industry is the only sure and permanent +title to wealth; and where industry is wanting, there, soon or late, +poverty must come. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +Property. + + +The products of labor, saved up and appropriated to our use, constitute +property. Without property life cannot rise above the hand-to-mouth +existence of the savage. It is as important to save and care for +property after we have earned it, as it is to earn it in the first +place. Property does not stay with us unless we watch it sharply. Left +to itself it takes wings and flies away. Unused land is overgrown by +weeds; unoccupied houses crumble and decay; food left exposed sours and +molds; unused tools rust; and machinery left to stand idle gets out of +order. Everything goes to rack and ruin, unless we take constant care. +Hence the preservation of property is one of the fundamental concerns of +life and conduct. + + +THE DUTY. + ++Provision for family and for old age.+--Childhood and old age ought to +be free from the necessity of earning a living. Childhood should be +devoted to growth and education; old age to enjoyment and repose. In +order to secure this provision for old age, for the proper training of +children and against sickness and accident, it is a duty to save a +portion of one's earnings during the early years of active life. The +man who at this period is not doing more than to support himself and +family, is not providing for their permanent support at all. They are +feasting to-day with the risk of starvation to-morrow. + +In primitive conditions of society this provision for the future +consisted in the common ownership by family or clan of flocks and herds +or lands, whereby the necessities of life were insured to each member of +the clan or family from birth to death. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++The importance of systematic saving.+--In the more complex civilization +of to-day, property assumes ten thousand different forms; is held mostly +by individuals; and has for its universal symbol, money. Hence the +practical duty is to lay aside a certain sum of money out of our regular +earnings each month or week during the entire period of our working +life, or from sixteen to sixty. Persons who acquire a liberal education, +or learn a difficult trade or profession, will not be able to begin to +save until they are twenty or twenty-five. Whenever earning begins, +saving should begin. If earnings are small, savings must be small too. +He who postpones saving until earnings are large and saving is easy, +will postpone saving altogether. The habit of saving like all habits +must be formed early and by conscious and painful effort, or it will not +be formed at all. Saving is as much a duty as earning; and the two +should begin together. Earning provides for the wants of the individual +and the hour. It requires both earning and saving to provide for the +needs of a life-time and the welfare of a family. Savings-banks and +building and loan associations afford the best opportunities for small +savings at regular intervals; and no man has any right to marry until he +has a savings-bank account, or shares in a building and loan +association, or an equally regular and secure method of systematic +saving. In early life, before savings have become sufficient to provide +for his family in case of death, it is also a duty to combine saving +with life-insurance. Both in investment of savings and in +life-insurance, one should make sure that the institution or +organization to which he intrusts his money is on a sound business +basis. All speculative schemes should be strictly avoided. Any company +or form of investment that offers to give back more than you put into +it, plus a fair rate of interest on the money, is not a fit place for a +man to trust the savings on which the future of himself and his family +depends. Security, absolute security, not profits and dividends, is what +one should demand of the institution to which he trusts his savings. + +Economy eats the apple to the core; wears clothes until they are +threadbare; makes things over; gets the entire utility out of a thing; +throws nothing away that can be used again; gets its money's worth for +every cent expended; buys nothing for which it cannot pay cash down and +leave something besides for saving. It is a manly quality, or virtue, +because it masters things, keeps them under our control, compels them to +render all the service there is in them, and insures our lasting +independence. + + +THE REWARD. + ++The savings of early and middle life support old age in honorable rest, +and give to children a fair start in life.+--All men are liable to +misfortune and accident. The improvident man is crushed by them; for +they find him without reserved force to meet them. + +The economical man has in his savings a balance wheel whose momentum +carries him by hard places. His position is independent and his +prosperity is permanent. For it depends not on the fortunes of the day, +which are uncertain and variable; but on the fixed habits and principles +of a life-time, which are changeless and reliable. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++Living beyond one's income: running in debt.+--Income is limited; while +the things we would like to have are infinite. We must draw the line +somewhere. Duty says, draw it well inside of income. Temptation says, +draw it at income, or a trifle outside of income. Yield to this +temptation, and our earnings are gone before we know it, and debt stares +us in the face. Debts are easy to contract, but hard to pay. The debt +must be paid sometime with accumulated interest. And when the day of +reckoning comes it invariably costs more inconvenience and trouble to +pay it than it would have cost to have gone without the thing for the +sake of which we ran in debt. + +Never, on any account, get in debt. Never spend your whole income. These +are rules we are constantly tempted to break. But the man who yields to +this temptation is on the high road to financial ruin. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++Wastefulness.+--The wasteful man buys things he does not need; spends +his money as fast as he can get it; lives beyond his means; throws +things away which are capable of further service; runs in debt; and is +forever behindhand. He lives from hand to mouth; is dependent upon his +neighbors for things which with a little economy he might own himself; +makes no provision for the future, and when sickness or old age comes +upon him, he is without resources. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++Miserliness.+--Economy saves for the sake of future expenditure. +Miserliness saves for the sake of saving. The spendthrift sacrifices the +future to present enjoyment. The miser sacrifices present enjoyment to +an imaginary future which never comes; and so misses enjoyment +altogether. The prudent man harmonizes present with future enjoyment, +and so lives a life of constant enjoyment. The spendthrift spends +recklessly, regardless of consequences. The miser hoards anxiously, +despising the present. The man of prudence and economy spends liberally +for present needs, and saves only as a means to more judicious and +lasting expenditure. The miser is as much the slave of his money as is +the spendthrift the slave of his indulgences. Economy escapes both forms +of slavery and maintains its freedom by making both spending and saving +tributary to the true interests of the self. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++The thing we waste to-day, we want to-morrow.+--The money we spend +foolishly to-day we have to borrow to-morrow, and pay with interest the +day after. Wastefulness destroys the seeds of which prosperity is the +fruit. Wastefulness throws away the pennies, and so must go without the +dollars which the pennies make. Years of health and strength spent in +hand-to-mouth indulgence inevitably bear fruit in a comfortless old age. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +Exchange. + + +The jack-of-all-trades is a bungler in every one of them. The man who +will do anything well must confine himself to doing a very few things. +Yet while the things a man can produce to advantage are few, the things +he wants to consume are many. Exchange makes possible at the same time +concentration in production and diversity of enjoyment. Exchange enables +the shoemaker to produce shoes, the tailor to make coats, the carpenter +to build houses, the farmer to raise grain, the weaver to make cloth, +the doctor to heal disease; and at the same time brings to each one of +them a pair of shoes, a coat, a house, a barrel of flour, a cut of +cloth, and such medical attendance as he needs. Civilization rests on +exchange. + + +THE DUTY. + ++It is the duty of each party in a trade to give a fair and genuine +equivalent for what he expects to receive.+--Articles exchanged always +represent work. And it is our duty to make sure that the article we +offer represents thorough work. Good honest work is the foundation of +all righteousness. Whatever we offer for sale, whether it be our labor +for wages, or goods for a price, ought to be as good and thorough as we +can make it. To sell a day's work for wages, and then to loaf a part of +that day, is giving a man idleness when he pays for work. To sell a man +a shoddy coat when he thinks he is buying good wool, is giving him cold +when he pays for warmth. To give a man defective plumbing in his house +when he hires you for a good workman, is to sell him disease and death, +and take pay for it. Selling adulterated drugs and groceries is giving a +man a stone when he asks for and pays for bread. If, after we have done +our best to make or secure good articles, we are unable to avoid defects +and imperfections, then it is our duty to tell squarely just what the +imperfection is, and sell it for a reduced price. On no other basis than +this of making genuine goods, and representing them just as they are, +can exchange fulfill its function of mutual advantage to all concerned. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++Honesty looks people straight in the eye, tells the plain truth about +its goods, stands on its merits, asks no favors, has nothing to conceal, +fears no investigation.+--This bold, open, self-reliant quality of +honesty is what makes it a manly thing, or a virtue. To do thorough +work; to speak the plain truth; to do exactly as you would be done by; +to put another man's interest on a level with your own; to take under no +pretext or excuse a cent's worth more than you give in any trade you +make, calls out all the strength and forbearance and self-control there +is in a man, and that is why it ranks so high among the virtues. + + +THE REWARD. + ++The honest man is the only man who can respect himself.+--He carries +his head erect, and no man can put him down. Everything about him is +sound and every act will bear examination. This sense of one's own +genuineness and worth is honesty's chief reward. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++Every one-sided transaction dishonest.+--In fair exchange both parties +are benefited. In unfair exchange one party profits by the other's loss. +Any transaction in which either party fails to receive an equivalent for +what he gives is a fraud; and the man who knowingly and willfully makes +such a trade is a thief in disguise. For taking something which belongs +to another, without giving him a return, and without his full, free, and +intelligent consent, is stealing. + +The temptation to take advantage of another's ignorance; to palm off a +poor article for a good one; to get more than we give, is very great in +all forms of business. Cheating is very common, and one is tempted to do +a little cheating himself in order to keep even with the rest. The only +way to resist it is to see clearly that cheating is lying and stealing +put together; that it is an injury to our fellow-men and to society; +that it is playing the part of a knave and a rascal instead of an honest +and honorable man. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++The meanest and most contemptible kind of cheating is quackery.+--The +quack is liar, thief, and murderer all in one. For in undertaking to do +things for which he has no adequate training and skill, he pretends to +be what he is not. He takes money for which he is unable to render a +genuine equivalent. And by inducing people to trust their lives in his +incompetent and unskilled hands he turns them aside from securing +competent treatment, and so confirms disease and hastens death. + ++The dishonest man a public nuisance and a common enemy.+--He gets his +living out of other people. Whatever wealth he gets, some honest man who +has earned it is compelled to go without. Dishonesty is the perversion +of exchange from its noble function as a civilizing agent and a public +benefit, into the ignoble service of making one man rich at the expense +of the many. It is because the dishonest man is living at other people's +expense, profiting by their losses, and fattening himself on the +earnings of those whom he has wronged, that dishonesty is deservedly +ranked as one of the most despicable and abominable of vices. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++It is as important to protect our own interest, as to regard the +interests of others.+--No man has any more right to cheat me than I have +to cheat him; and if he tries to take advantage of me it is my duty to +resist him, and to say a decided "no" to his schemes for enriching +himself at my expense. + +One rule in particular is very important. Never sign a note for another +in order to give him a credit which he could not command without your +name. That is a favor which no man has a right to ask, and which no man +who regards his duty to himself and to his family will grant. If a man +is in a tight place and asks you to lend him money, or to give him +money, that is a proposition to be considered on its merits. But to +assume an indefinite responsibility by signing another man's note, is +accepting the risk of ruining ourselves for his accommodation. We owe it +to ourselves and our families to keep our finances absolutely under our +own control, free from all complication with the risks and uncertainties +of another's enterprises and fortunes. + +Our own rights are as sacred as those of another. There are two sides to +every bargain; and one side is as important as the other. The sacrifice +of a right may be as great an evil as the perpetration of a wrong. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++Dishonesty eats the heart out of a man.+--The habit of looking solely +to one's own interest deadens the social sympathies, dwarfs the generous +affections, weakens self-respect, until at length the dishonest men can +rob the widow of her livelihood; take an exorbitant commission on the +labor of the orphan; charge an extortionate rent to a family of +helpless invalids; sell worthless stocks to an aged couple in exchange +for the hard earnings of a life-time, and still endure to live. +Dishonesty makes men inhuman. The love of gain is a species of moral and +spiritual decay. When it attacks the heart the finer and better feelings +wither and die; and on this decay of sympathy and kindness and +generosity and justice there thrive and flourish meanness and +heartlessness and cruelty and inhumanity. + ++Hereditary effects of dishonesty.+--So deeply does the vice of +dishonesty eat into the moral nature that mental and moral deterioration +is handed down to offspring. The scientific study of heredity shows that +the deterioration resulting from this cause is more sure and fatal than +that following many forms of insanity. The son or daughter of a mean, +dishonest man is handicapped with tendencies toward moral turpitude and +anti-social conduct for which no amount of his ill-gotten gains, +received by inheritance, can be an adequate compensation. Says Maudsley, +"I cannot but think that the extreme passion for getting rich, absorbing +the whole energies of a life, predisposes to mental degeneracy in the +offspring, either to moral defect, or to intellectual deficiency, or to +outbursts of positive insanity." And the same author says elsewhere: +"The anti-social, egoistic development of the individual predisposes to, +if it does not predetermine, the mental degeneracy of his progeny; he, +alien from his kind by excessive egoisms, determines an alienation of +mind in them. If I may trust in that matter my observations, I know no +one who is more likely to breed insanity in his offspring than the +intensely narrow, self-sensitive, suspicious, distrustful, deceitful, +and self-deceiving individual, who never comes into sincere and sound +relations with men and things, who is incapable by nature and habit of +genuinely healthy communion with himself or with his kind. A moral +development of that sort, I believe, is more likely to predetermine +insanity in the next generation than are many forms of actual +derangement in parents: for the whole moral nature is essentially +infected, and that goes deeper down, and is more dangerous, _qua_ +heredity, than a particular derangement. A mental alienation is a +natural pathological evolution of it." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +Knowledge. + + +What food is to the body, that knowledge is to the mind. It is the bread +of intellectual life. Without knowledge of agriculture and the mechanic +arts we should be unable to provide ourselves with food and clothing and +houses and ships and roads and bridges. Without knowledge of natural +science we should be strangers in the world in which we live, the +victims of the grossest superstitions. Without knowledge of history and +political science we could have no permanent tranquility and peace, but +should pass a precarious existence, exposed to war and violence, rapine +and revolution. Knowledge unlocks for us the mysteries of nature; +unfolds for us the treasured wisdom of the world's great men; interprets +to us the longings and aspirations of our hearts. + + Books, we know, + Are a substantial world, both pure and good: + Round these with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, + Our pastime and our happiness will grow. + + +THE DUTY. + ++The severity of truth.+--Things exist in precise and definite +relations. Events take place according to fixed and immutable laws. +Truth is the perception of things just as they are. Between truth and +falsehood there is no middle ground. Either a fact is so, or it is not. +"Truth," says Ruskin, "is the one virtue of which there are no degrees. +There are some faults slight in the sight of love, some errors slight in +the estimation of wisdom; but truth forgives no insult, and endures no +stain." Truth does not always lie upon the surface of things. It +requires hard, patient toil to dig down beneath the superficial crust of +appearance to the solid rock of fact on which truth rests. To discover +and declare truth as it is, and facts as they are, is the vocation of +the scholar. Not what he likes to think, not what other people will be +pleased to hear, not what will be popular or profitable; but what as the +result of careful investigation, painstaking inquiry, prolonged +reflection he has learned to be the fact;--this, nothing less and +nothing more, the scholar must proclaim. Truth is fidelity to fact; it +plants itself upon reality; and hence it speaks with authority. The +truthful man is one whom we can depend upon. His word is as good as his +bond. "He sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not." The truthful man +brings truth and man together. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++Veracity has two foundations: one reverence for truth; the other regard +for one's fellow-men.+--Ordinarily these two motives coincide and +re-enforce each other. The right of truth to be spoken, and the benefit +to men from hearing it, are two sides of the same obligation. Only in +the most rare and exceptional cases can these two motives conflict. To a +healthy, right-minded man the knowledge of the truth is always a good. + ++Apparent exceptions to the duty of truthfulness.+--We owe truth to all +normal people, and under all normal circumstances. We do not necessarily +owe it to the abnormal. In sickness, when the patient cannot bear the +shock of distressing news; in insanity, when the maniac cannot give to +facts their right interpretation; in criminal perversity, when knowledge +would be used in furtherance of crime, the abnormal condition of the +person with whom we have to deal may justify us in withholding from him +facts which he would use to the injury of himself or others. These are +very rare and extreme cases, and are apparent rather than real +exceptions to the universal rule of absolute truthfulness in human +speech. For in these cases it is not from a desire to deceive or mislead +the person, that we withhold the truth. We feel sure that the sick +person, when he recovers; the insane person when he is restored to +reason; the criminal, if he is ever converted to uprightness, will +appreciate the kindness of our motive, and thank us for our deed. To the +person of sound body, sound mind, and sound moral intent, no conceivable +combination of circumstances can ever excuse us from the strict +requirement of absolute veracity, or make a lie anything but base, +cowardly, and contemptible. + + +THE REWARD. + ++Society is founded on trust.+--Without confidence in one another, we +could not live in social relations a single day. We should relapse into +barbarism, strife, and mutual destruction. Since society rests on +confidence, and confidence rests on tried veracity, the rewards of +veracity are all those mutual advantages which a civilized society +confers upon its members. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++The costliness of strict truthfulness.+--Truth is not only hard to +discover, but frequently it is costly to speak. Truth is often opposed +to sacred traditions, inherited prejudices, popular beliefs, and vested +interests. To proclaim truth in the face of these opponents in early +times has cost many a man his life; and to-day it often exposes one to +calumny and abuse. Hence comes the temptation to conceal our real +opinions; to cover up what we know to be true under some phrase which we +believe will be popular; to sacrifice our convictions to what we suppose +to be our interests. + +Especially when we have done wrong the temptation to cover it up with a +lie is very great. Deception seems so easy; it promises to smooth over +our difficulties so neatly; that it is one of the hardest temptations to +resist. Little do we dream, + + What a tangled web we weave + When first we practice to deceive. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++The forms of falsehood are numberless.+--We may lie by our faces; by +our general bearing; by our silence, as well as by our lips. There is +"the glistening and softly spoken lie; the amiable fallacy; the +patriotic lie of the historian; the provident lie of the politician; the +zealous lie of the partisan; the merciful lie of the friend; the +careless lie of each man to himself." The mind of man was made for +truth: truth is the only atmosphere in which the mind of man can breathe +without contamination. No passing benefit which I can secure for myself +or others can compensate for the injury which a falsehood inflicts on +the mind of him who tells it and on the mind of him to whom it is told. +For benefits and advantages, however great and important, are what we +have, and they perish with the using. The mind is what we are; and an +insult to our intelligence, a scar upon ourselves, a blow at that human +confidence which binds us all together, is irremediable. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++The mischievousness of gossip and scandal.+--We are not called upon to +know everything that is going on; nor to tell everything that we cannot +help knowing. Idle curiosity and mischievous gossip result from the +direction of our thirst for knowledge toward trifling and unworthy +objects. There is great virtue in minding one's own business. The +tell-tale is abhorrent even to the least developed moral sensibility. +The gossip, the busybody, the scandalmonger is the worst pest that +infests the average town and village. These mischief-makers take a grain +of circumstantial evidence, mix with it a bushel of fancies, suspicions, +surmises, and inuendoes, and then go from house to house peddling the +product for undoubted fact. The scandalmonger is the murderer of +reputations, the destroyer of domestic peace, the insuperable obstacle +to the mutual friendliness of neighborhoods. This "rejoicing in +iniquity" is the besetting sin of idle people. The man or woman who +delights in this gratuitous and uncalled-for criticism of neighbors +thereby puts himself below the moral level of the ones whose faults he +criticises. Martineau, in his scale of the springs of action, rightly +ranks censoriousness, with vindictiveness and suspiciousness, at the +very bottom of the list. Unless there is some positive good to be gained +by bringing wrong to light and offenders to justice we should know as +little as possible of the failings of our fellow-men, and keep that +little strictly to ourselves. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++Falsehood undermines the foundations of social order.+--Universal +falsehood would bring social chaos. The liar takes advantage of the +opportunity which his position as a member of society gives him to +strike a deadly blow at the heart of the social order on which he +depends for his existence, and without whose aid his arm would be +powerless to strike. + ++The liar likewise loses confidence in himself.+--He cannot distinguish +truth from falsehood, he has so frequently confounded them. He is caught +in his own meshes. A good liar must have a long memory. Having no +recognized standard to go by, he cannot remember whether he said one +thing or another about a given fact; and so he hangs himself by the rope +of his own contradictions. Worse than these outward consequences is the +loss of confidence in his own integrity and manhood. In Kant's words, "A +lie is the abandonment, or, as it were, the annihilation of the dignity +of man." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +Time. + + +Every act we do, every thought we think, every feeling we cherish exists +in time. Our life is a succession of flying moments. Once gone, they can +never be recalled. As they are employed, so our character becomes. To +use time wisely is a good part of the art of living well, for "time is +the stuff life is made of." + + +THE DUTY. + ++The duty of making life a consistent whole.+--Life is not merely a +succession of separate moments. It is an organic whole. The way in which +we spend one moment affects the next, and all that follow; just as the +condition of one part of the body affects the well-being of all the +rest. As we have seen, dissipation to-day means disease to-morrow. Work +to-day means property to-morrow. Wastefulness to-day means want +to-morrow. Hence it should be our aim so to co-ordinate one period of +time with another that our action will promote not merely the immediate +interests of the passing moment, but the interests of the permanent self +throughout the whole of life. What we pursue on one day must not clash +with what we pursue the next; each must contribute its part to our +comprehensive and permanent well-being. + + +THE VIRTUE + ++Prudence is the habit of looking ahead, and seeing present conduct in +its relation to future welfare.+--Prudence is manly and virtuous because +it controls present inclination, instead of being controlled by it. A +burning appetite or passion springs up within us, and demands instant +obedience to its demands. The weak man yields at once and lets the +appetite or passion or inclination lead him whithersoever it listeth. +Not so the strong, the prudent man. He says to the hot, impetuous +passion: "Sit down, and be quiet. I will consider your request. If it +seems best I will do as you wish. If it turns out that what you ask is +not for my interest I shall not do it. You need not think that I am +going to do everything you ask me to, whether it is for my interest to +do it or not. You have fooled me a good many times, and hereafter I +propose to look into the merits of your requests before I grant them." +It takes strength and courage and determination to treat the impulses of +our nature in this haughty and imperious manner. But the strength and +resolution which it takes to do an act is the very essence of its +manliness and virtue. + + +THE REWARD. + ++The life of the prudent man holds together, part plays into part, and +the whole runs smoothly.+--One period of life, one fraction of time, +does not conflict with another. He looks on the past with satisfaction +because he is enjoying the fruit of that past in present well-being. He +looks to the future with confidence because the present contains the +seeds of future well-being. Each step in life is adjusted to every +other, and the result is a happy and harmonious whole. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++Time tempts us to break up our lives into separate parts.+--"Let us eat +and drink, for to-morrow we die." "After us the deluge." These are the +maxims of fools. The reckless seizure of the pleasures of the present +hour, regardless of the days and years to come, is the characteristic +mark of folly. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++"Procrastination is the thief of time."+--The particular impulse which +most frequently leads us to put off the duty of the hour is indolence. +But any appetite or passion which induces us to postpone a recognized +duty for the sake of a present delight is an invitation to +procrastination. + +The fallacy of procrastination, the trick by which it deceives, is in +making one believe that at a different time he will be a different +person. The procrastinator admits, for instance, that a piece of work +must be done. But he argues, "Just now I would rather play or loaf than +do the work. By and by there will come a time when I shall rather do the +work than play or loaf. Let's wait till that time comes." That time +never comes. Our likes and dislikes do not change from one day to +another. To-morrow finds us as lazy as to-day, and with the habit of +procrastination strengthened by the indulgence of yesterday. Putting a +duty off once does not make it easier: it makes it harder to do the next +time. + +Play or rest when we ought to be at work is weakening and demoralizing. +Rest and play after work is bracing and invigorating. The sooner we face +and conquer a difficulty, the less of a difficulty it is. The longer we +put it off the greater it seems, and the less becomes our strength with +which to overcome it. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++Anxiety defeats itself.+--Anxiety sacrifices the present to the future. +When this becomes a habit it defeats its own end. For the future is +nothing but a succession of moments, which, when they are realized, are +present moments. And the man who sacrifices all the present moments to +his conception of a future, sacrifices the very substance out of which +the real future is composed. For when he reaches the time to which he +has been looking forward, and for the sake of which he has sacrificed +all his early days, the habit of anxiety stays by him and compels him to +sacrifice that future, now become present, to another future, still +farther ahead; and so on forever. Thus life becomes an endless round of +fret and worry, full of imaginary ills, destitute of all real and +present satisfaction. It is a good rule never to cross a bridge until we +come to it. Prudence demands that we make reasonable preparation for +crossing it in advance. But when these preparations are made prudence +has done its work, and waits calmly until the time comes to put its +plans into operation. Anxiety fills all the intervening time with +forebodings of all the possible obstacles that may arise when the time +for action comes. + ++Procrastination, anxiety, and prudence.+--Procrastination sacrifices +the future to the present. Anxiety sacrifices the present to the future. +Prudence co-ordinates present and future in a consistent whole, in which +both present and future have their proper place and due consideration. + + +THE PENALTY. + +Imperfect co-ordination, whether by procrastination or by worry, brings +discord. The parts of life are at variance with each other. The +procrastinator looks on past indulgence with remorse and disgust; for +that past indulgence is now loading him down with present disabilities +and pains. He looks on the future with apprehension, for he knows that +his present pleasures are purchased at the cost of misery and +degradation in years to come. + +The man in whom worry and anxiety have become habitual likewise lives a +discordant life. He looks out of a joyless present, back on a past +devoid of interest, and forward into a future full of fears. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +Space. + + +As all thoughts and actions take place in time, so all material things +exist in space. Everything we have must be in some place. To give things +their right relations in space is one of the important aspects of +conduct. + + +THE DUTY. + ++A place for everything, and everything in its place.+--Things that +belong together should be kept together. Dishes belong in the cupboard; +clothes in the closet; boxes on the shelves; loose papers in the waste +basket; tools in the tool-chest; wood in the wood-shed. And it is our +duty to keep them in their proper place, when not in actual use. In +business it is of the utmost importance to have a precise place for +everything connected with it. The carpenter or machinist must have a +place for each tool, and always put it there when he is through using +it. The merchant must have a definite book and page or drawer or +pigeon-hole for every item which he records. The scholar must have a set +of cards or envelopes or drawers or pockets alphabetically arranged in +which he keeps each class of facts where he can turn to it instantly. +This keeping things of a kind together, each kind in a place by itself, +is system. Without system nothing can be managed well, and no great +enterprise can be carried on at all. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++Orderliness is manly and virtuous because it keeps things under our own +control, and makes them the expression of our will.+--The orderly and +systematic man can manage a thousand details with more ease and power +than a man without order and system can manage a dozen. It is not power +to do more work than other men, but power to do the same amount of work +in such an orderly and systematic way that it accomplishes a hundred +times as much as other men's work, which marks the difference between +the statesman who manages the affairs of a nation or the merchant prince +who handles millions of dollars, and the man of merely ordinary +administrative and business ability. + + +THE REWARD. + ++The orderly man has his resources at his disposal at a moment's +notice.+--He can go directly to the thing he wants and be sure of +finding it in its place. When a business is thoroughly systematized it +is as easy to find one thing out of ten thousand as it is to find one +thing out of ten. Hence there is scarcely any limit to the expansion of +business of which the systematic man is capable. A business thus reduced +to system will almost run itself. Thus the heads of great concerns are +able to accept public office, or to spend a year in Europe, in absolute +confidence that the business will be well conducted in their absence, +and that they can take it up when they return just as they left it. For +they know that each man has his part of the work for which he is +responsible; each process has its precise method by which it is to be +performed; each account has its exact place where it is to be kept. +Order and system are the keys to business success. Orderliness keeps +things under our control, and the convenience and efficiency with which +things serve us is the direct and necessary consequence of having them +under control. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++System takes more labor to begin with, but in the long run system is +the greatest labor-saving device in the world.+--It takes ten times as +long to hunt up a thing which we have left lying around the next time we +want it, as it does to put it where it belongs at first. Yet, well as we +know this fact, present and temporary ease seems of more consequence at +the time of action than future and permanent convenience. Until by +repeated exercise and painful discipline we make orderliness and system +habitual and almost instinctive, the temptation to make the quickest and +handiest disposition of things for which we have no immediate use will +continue to beset our minds and betray our wills. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++The careless man lets things run over him.+--They mock him, and make +fun of him; getting in his way and tripping him up at one time; hiding +from him and making him hunt after them at another. Carelessness is a +confession of a weak will that cannot keep things under control. And +weakness is ever the mark of vice. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++The end and aim of system is to expedite business. Red tape is the +idolatry of system. It is system for the sake of system.+--Every rule +admits exceptions. To make exceptions before a habit is fully formed is +dangerous; and while we are learning the habit of orderliness and system +we should put ourselves to very great inconvenience rather than admit an +exception to our systematic and orderly way of doing things. When, +however, the habit has become fixed, it is wise and right to sacrifice +order and system, when some "short cut" will attain our end more quickly +and effectively than the regular and more round-about way of orderly +procedure. The strong and successful business man is he who has his +system so thoroughly under his control that he can use it or dispense +with it on a given occasion; according as it will further or hinder the +end he has in view. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++The careless man is always bothered by things he does not want getting +in his way; and by things that he does want keeping out of his +way.+--Half his time is spent in clearing away accumulated obstructions +and hunting after the things he needs. Where everything is in a heap it +is necessary to haul over a dozen things in order to find the one you +are after. Carelessness suffers things to get the mastery over us; and +the consequence is that we and our business are ever at their mercy. And +as things held in control are faithful and efficient servants, so things +permitted to domineer over us and do as they please become cruel and +arbitrary masters. They waste our time, try our patience, destroy our +business, and scatter our fortunes. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +Fortune. + + +Strictly speaking, there is no such thing as fortune, chance, or +accident. All things are held together by invariable laws. Every event +takes place in accordance with law. Uniformity of law is the condition +and presupposition of all our thinking. The very idea of an event that +has no cause is a contradiction in terms to which no reality can +correspond, like the notion of two mountains without a valley between; +or a yard stick with only one end. + +Relatively to us, and in consequence of the limitation of our knowledge, +an event is a result of chance or fortune when the cause which produced +it lies beyond the range of our knowledge. What we cannot anticipate +beforehand and what we cannot account for afterward, we group together +into a class and ascribe to the fictitious goddess Fortune; as children +attribute gifts at Christmas which come from unknown sources to Santa +Claus. In reality these unexplained and unanticipated events come from +heredity, environment, social institutions, the forces of nature, and +ultimately from God. + +These things which project themselves without warning into our lives, +often have most momentous influence for good or evil over us; and the +proper attitude to take toward this class of objects is worthy of +consideration by itself. + + +THE DUTY. + ++The secret of superiority to fortune.+--Some things are under our +control; others are not. It is the part of wisdom to concentrate our +thought and feeling on the former; working with utmost diligence to make +the best use of those things which are committed to us in the regular +line of daily duty, and treating with comparative indifference those +things which affect us from without. What we are; what we do; what we +strive for;--these are the really important matters; and these are +always in our power. What money comes to us; what people say about us; +what positions we are called to fill; to what parties we are invited; to +what offices we are elected, are matters which concern to some extent +our happiness. We should welcome these good things when they come. But +they affect the accidents rather than the substance of our lives. We +should not be too much bound up in them when they come; and we should +not grieve too deeply when they go. We should never stake our well-being +and our peace of mind on their presence or their absence. We should +remember that "The aids to noble life are all within." + +This lesson of superiority to fortune, by regarding the things she has +to give as comparatively indifferent, is the great lesson of Stoicism. +Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus, and Seneca are the masters of this school. +Their lesson is one we all need to learn thoroughly. It is the secret of +strength to endure the ills of life with serenity and fortitude. And yet +it is by no means a complete account of our duty toward these outward +things. It is closely akin to pride and self-sufficiency. It gives +strength but not sweetness to life. One must be able to do without the +good things of fortune if need be. The really strong man, however, is he +who can use and enjoy them without being made dependent on them or being +enslaved by them. The real mastery of fortune consists not in doing +without the things she brings for fear they will corrupt and enslave us; +but in compelling her to give us all the things we can, and then +refusing to bow down to her in hope of getting more. This just +appreciation of fortune's gifts is doubtless hard to combine with +perfect independence. The Stoic solution of the problem is easier. The +really strong man, however, is he who + + Gathers earth's whole good into his arms; + Marching to fortune, not surprised by her, + +and the secret of this conquest of fortune without being captivated by +her lies in having, as Browning telling us, + + One great aim, like a guiding star above, + Which tasks strength, wisdom, stateliness, to lift + His manhood to the height that takes the prize. + +The shortcoming of the Stoics is not in the superiority to fortune +which they seek; but in the fact that they seek it directly by sheer +effort of naked will, instead of being lifted above subjection to +fortune by the attractive power of generous aims, and high ideals of +social service. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++The virtue which maintains superiority over external things and forces +is courage.+--In primitive times the chief form of fortune was physical +danger, and superiority to fear of physical injury was the original +meaning of courage. Courage involves this physical bravery still; but it +has come to include a great deal more. In a civilized community, +physical danger is comparatively rare. Courage to do right when everyone +around us is doing wrong; courage to say "No" when everyone is trying to +make us say "Yes"; courage to bear uncomplainingly the inevitable ills +of life;--these are the forms of courage most frequently demanded and +most difficult to exercise in the peaceful security of a civilized +community. This courage which presents an unruffled front to trouble, +and bears bravely the steady pressure of untoward circumstance, we call +by the special names of fortitude or patience. Patience and fortitude +are courage exercised in the conditions of modern life. The essence of +courage is superiority to outside forces and influences. When men were +beset by lions and tigers, by Indians and hostile armies, then courage +showed itself by facing and fighting these enemies. Now that we live +with civilized and friendly men and women like ourselves, courage shows +itself chiefly by refusing to surrender our convictions of what is true +and right just because other people will like us better if we pretend to +think as they do; and by enduring without flinching the rubs and bumps +and bruises which this close contact with our fellows brings to us. + ++Moral courage.+--The brave man everywhere is the man who has a firm +purpose in his own breast, and goes forth to carry out that purpose in +spite of all opposition, or solicitation, or influence of any kind that +would tend to make him do otherwise. He does the same, whether men blame +or approve; whether it bring him pain or pleasure, profit or loss. The +purpose that is in him, that he declares, that he maintains, that he +lives to realize; in defense of that he will lay down wealth, +reputation, and, if need be, life itself. He will be himself, if he is +to live at all. Men must approve what he really is, or he will have none +of their praise, but their blame rather. By no pretense of being what he +is not, by no betrayal of what he holds to be true and right, will he +gain their favor. The power to stand alone with truth and right against +the world is the test of moral courage. The brave man plants himself on +the eternal foundations of truth and justice, and bids defiance to all +the forces that would drive him from it. + +Wordsworth, in his character of "The Happy Warrior," has portrayed the +kind of courage demanded of the modern man: + + 'Tis he whose law is reason; who depends + Upon that law as on the best of friends. + Who if he rise to station of command + Rises by open means, and there will stand + On honorable terms, or else retire, + And in himself possess his own desire: + Who comprehends his trust, and to the same + Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim; + And therefore does not stoop nor lie in wait + For wealth, or honors, or for worldly state; + Whom they must follow, on whose head must fall + Like showers of manna, if they come at all. + 'Tis finally the man, who, lifted high, + Conspicuous object in a nation's eye, + Or left unthought of in obscurity, + Who with a toward or untoward lot, + Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not, + Plays in the many games of life, that one + Where what he most doth value must be won: + Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, + Nor thought of tender happiness betray; + Who, not content that former worth stand fast, + Looks forward, persevering to the last, + From well to better, daily self-surpast: + This is the happy warrior; this is he + That every man in arms should wish to be. + + +THE REWARD. + ++Courage universally honored.+--There is something in this strong, +steady power of self-assertion that compels the admiration of everyone +who beholds it. When we see a man standing squarely on his own feet; +speaking plainly the thoughts that are in his mind; doing fearlessly +what he believes to be right; or no matter how widely we may differ from +his views, disapprove his deeds, we cannot withhold our honor from the +man himself. No man was ever held in veneration by his countrymen; no +man ever handed down to history an undying fame, who did not have the +courage to speak and act his real thought and purpose in defiance of the +revilings and persecutions of his fellows. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++To take one's fortune into his own hands and work out, in spite of +opposition and misfortune, a satisfactory career tasks strength and +resolution to the utmost.+--It is so much more easy to give over the +determination of our fate to some outside power that the abject +surrender to fortune is a serious temptation. Air-castles and +day-dreams, and idle waiting for something to turn up, are the feeble +forms of this temptation. The impulse to run away from danger, and the +impulse to plunge recklessly into risks, are the two forms of temptation +which lead to the more pronounced and prevalent vices. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++Yielding to outward pressure, contrary to our own conviction of what is +true and right, is moral cowardice.+--In early times the coward was the +man who turned his back in battle. To-day the coward is the man who does +differently when people are looking at him from what he would do if he +were alone; the man who speaks what he thinks people want to hear, +instead of what he knows to be true; the man who apes other people for +fear they will think him odd if he acts like himself; the man who tries +so hard to suit everybody that he has no mind of his own; the man who +thinks how things will look, instead of thinking how things really are. +Whenever we take the determination of our course of conduct ultimately +from any other source than our own firm conviction of what is right and +true, then we play the coward. We do in the peaceful conditions of +modern life just what we despise a soldier for doing on the field of +battle. We acknowledge that there is something outside us that is +stronger than we are; of which we are afraid; to which we surrender +ourselves as base and abject slaves. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++There are forces in the world that can destroy us; we must protect +ourselves against them.+--To be truly brave, we must be ready to face +these forces when there is a reason for so doing. We must be ready to +face the cannon for our country; to plunge into the swollen stream to +save the drowning child; to expose ourselves to contagious diseases in +order to nurse the sick. + +To do these things without sufficient reason is foolhardiness. To expose +ourselves needlessly to disease; to put ourselves in the range of a +cannon, to jump into the stream, with no worthy end in view, or for the +very shallow reason of showing off how brave we can be, is folly and +madness. Doing such things because someone dares us to do them is not +courage, but cowardice. + ++Gambling, the most fatal form of this fondness for taking needless +risks.+--The gambler is too feeble in will, too empty in mind, too +indolent in body to carve out his destiny with his own right hand. And +so he stakes his well-being on the throw of the dice; the turn of a +wheel; or the speed of a horse. This invocation of fortune is a +confession of the man's incompetence and inability to solve the problem +of his life satisfactorily by his own exertions. It is the most +demoralizing of practices. For it establishes the habit of staking +well-being not on one's own honest efforts, but on outside influences +and forces. It is the dethronement of will and the deposition of +manhood. + +In addition to being degrading to the individual it is injurious to +others. It is anti-social. It makes one man's gain depend on another's +loss: while the social welfare demands that gains shall in all cases be +mutual. It violates the fundamental law of equivalence. + +Since the essence of gambling is the abrogation of the will, every +indulgence weakens the power to resist the temptation. Gambling soon +becomes a mania. Honest ways of earning money seem slow and dull. And +the habit becomes confirmed before the victim is aware of the power over +him that it has gained. Every form of gain which is contingent upon +another's loss partakes of the nature of gambling. Raffling, playing for +stakes, betting, buying lottery tickets, speculation in which there is +no real transfer of goods, but mere winning or losing on the +fluctuations of the market, are all forms of gambling. They are all +animated by the desire to get something for nothing: a desire which we +can respect when a helpless pauper asks for alms; but of which in any +form an able-bodied man ought to be ashamed. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++The shame of cowardice.+--Man is meant to be superior to things outside +him. When we see him bowing down to somebody whom he does not really +believe in; when we see him yielding to forces which he does not himself +respect; when living is more to him than living well; when there is a +threat which can make him cringe, or a bribe that can make his tongue +speak false--then we feel that the manhood has gone out of him, and we +cannot help looking on his fall with sorrow and with shame. The penalty +which follows moral cowardice is nowhere more clearly stated than in +these severe and solemn lines which Whittier wrote when he thought a +great man had sacrificed his convictions to his desire for office and +love of popularity: + + So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn + Which once he wore! + The glory from his gray hairs gone + Forevermore! + + Of all we loved and honored, naught + Save power remains,-- + A fallen angel's pride of thought, + Still strong in chains. + + All else is gone, from those great eyes + The soul has fled: + When faith is lost, when honor dies, + The man is dead! + + Then pay the reverence of old days + To his dead fame; + Walk backward, with averted gaze, + And hide the shame. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +Nature. + + +Thus far we have been considering the uses to which we may put the +particular things which nature places at our disposal. In addition to +these special uses of particular objects, Nature has a meaning as a +whole. The Infinite Reason in whose image our minds are formed and in +whose thought our thinking, so far as it is true, partakes, has +expressed something of his wisdom, truth, and beauty, in the forms and +laws of the world in which we live. In the study of Nature we are +thinking God's thoughts after him. In contemplation of the glory of the +heavens, in admiration of the beauty of field and stream and forest, we +are beholding a loveliness which it was his delight to create, and which +it is elevating and ennobling for us to look upon. Nature is the larger, +fairer, fuller expression of that same intelligence and love which wells +up in the form of consciousness within our own breasts. Nature and the +soul of man are children of the same Father. Nature is the +interpretation of the longings of our hearts. Hence when we are alone +with Nature in the woods and fields, by the seashore or on the moon-lit +lake, we feel at peace with ourselves, and at home in the world. + + +THE DUTY. + ++The love of nature, like all love, cannot be forced.+--It is not +directly under the control of our will. We cannot set about it in +deliberate fashion, as we set about earning a living. Still it can be +cultivated. We can place ourselves in contact with Nature's more +impressive aspects. We can go away by ourselves; stroll through the +woods, watch the clouds; bask in the sunshine; brave the storm; listen +to the notes of birds; find out the haunts of living creatures; learn +the times and places in which to find the flowers; gaze upon the glowing +sunset, and look up into the starry skies. If we thus keep close to +Nature, she will draw us to herself, and whisper to us more and more of +her hidden meaning. + + The eye--it cannot choose but see; + We cannot bid the year be still: + Our bodies feel, where'er they be, + Against or with our will. + + Nor less I deem that there are powers + Which of themselves our minds impress; + That we can feed these minds of ours + In a wise passiveness. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++The more we feel of the beauty and significance of Nature the more we +become capable of feeling.+--And this capacity to feel the influences +which Nature is constantly throwing around us is an indispensable +element in noble and elevated character. Our thoughts, our acts, yes, +our very forms and features reflect the objects which we habitually +welcome to our minds and hearts. And if we will have these expressions +of ourselves noble and pure, we must drink constantly and deeply at +Nature's fountains of beauty and truth. Wordsworth, the greatest +interpreter of Nature, thus describes the effect of Nature's influence +upon a sensitive soul: + + She shall be sportive as the fawn + That wild with glee across the lawn + Or up the mountain springs; + And hers shall be the breathing balm, + And hers the silence and the calm + Of mute, insensate things. + + The floating clouds their state shall lend + To her; for her the willow bend: + Nor shall she fail to see, + Even in the motions of the storm, + Grace that shall mold the maiden's form + By silent sympathy. + + The stars of midnight shall be dear + To her; and she shall lean her ear + In many a secret place + Where rivulets dance their wayward round, + And Beauty born of murmuring sound + Shall pass into her face. + + +THE REWARD. + ++The uplifting and purifying power of nature.+--Through communion with +the grandeur and majesty of Nature, our lives are lifted to loftier and +purer heights than our unaided wills could ever gain. We grow into the +likeness of that we love. We are transformed into the image of that +which we contemplate and adore. We are thus made strong to resist the +base temptations; patient to endure the petty vexations; brave to oppose +the brutal injustices, of daily life. This whole subject of the power of +Nature to uplift and bless has been so exhaustively and beautifully +expressed by Wordsworth, that fidelity to the subject makes continued +quotation necessary: + + Nature never did betray + The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, + Through all the years of this our life, to lead + From joy to joy: for she can so inform + The mind that is within us, so impress + With quietness and beauty, and so feed + With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, + Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, + Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all + The dreary intercourse of daily life, + Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb + Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold + Is full of blessings. + + Therefore am I still + A lover of the meadows and the woods + And mountains; and of all that we behold + From this green earth; well pleased to recognize + In Nature and the language of the sense + The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, + The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul + Of all my moral being. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++The very thoroughness and fidelity with which we fulfill one duty, may +hinder the fulfillment of another.+--We may become so absorbed in +earning a living, and carrying on our business, and getting an +education, that we shall give no time or attention to this communion +with Nature. The fact that business, education, and kindred external and +definite pursuits are directly under the control of our wills, while +this power to appreciate Nature is a slow and gradual growth, only +indirectly under our control, tempts us to give all our time and +strength to these immediate, practical ends, and to neglect that closer +walk with Nature which is essential to a true appreciation of her +loveliness. Someone asks us "What is the use of spending your time with +the birds among the trees, or on the hill-top under the stars?" and we +cannot give him an answer in dollars and cents. And so we are tempted to +take his simple standard of utility in ministering to physical wants as +the standard of all worth. We neglect Nature, and she hides her face +from our preoccupied eyes. In this busy, restless age we need to keep +ever in mind Wordsworth's warning against this fatal temptation: + + The world is too much with us; late and soon, + Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: + Little we see in Nature that is ours; + We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + +This obtuseness does not come upon us suddenly. All children keenly +appreciate the changing moods of Nature. It is from neglect to open our +hearts to Nature, that obtuseness comes. It steals over us +imperceptibly. We can correct it only by giving ourselves more closely +and constantly to Nature, and trusting her to win back to herself our +benumbed and alienated hearts. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++Affectation the attempt to work up by our own efforts an enthusiasm for +Nature.+--True love of Nature must be born within us, by the working of +Nature herself upon our hearts. By faith, rather than by works; by +reception, rather than by conquest; by wise passiveness, rather than by +restless haste; by calm and silence, rather than by noise and talk, our +sensitiveness to Nature's charms is deepened and developed. That +enjoyment of Nature which comes spontaneously and unsought is the only +true enjoyment. That which we work up, and plan for, and talk about, is +a poor and feeble imitation. The real lover of Nature is not the one who +can talk glibly about her to everybody, and on all occasions. It is he +who loves to be alone with her, who steals away from men and things to +find solitude with her the best society, who knows not whence cometh nor +whither goeth his delight in her companionship, who waits patiently in +her presence, and is content whether she gives or withholds her special +favors, who cares more for Nature herself than for this or that striking +sensation she may arouse. Affectation is the craving for sensations +regardless of their source. And if Nature is chary of striking scenes +and startling impressions and thrilling experiences, affectation, with +profane haste, proceeds to amuse itself with artificial feelings, and +pretended raptures. This counterfeited appreciation, like all +counterfeits, by its greater cheapness drives out the real enjoyment; +and the person who indulges in affectation soon finds the power of +genuine appreciation entirely gone. Affectation is worse than +obtuseness, for obtuseness is at least honest: it may mend its ways. But +affectation is self-deception. The affected person does not know what +true appreciation of Nature is: he cannot see his error; and +consequently cannot correct it. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++The life of man can be no deeper and richer than the objects and +thoughts on which it feeds.+--Without appreciation and love for Nature +we can eat and drink and sleep and do our work. The horse and ox, +however, can do as much. Obtuseness to the beauty and meaning of Nature +sinks us to the level of the brutes. Cut off from the springs of +inspiration, our lives stagnate, our souls shrivel, our sensibilities +wither. And just as stagnant water soon becomes impure, and swarms with +low forms of vegetable and animal life, so the stagnant soul, which +refuses to reflect the beauty of sun and star and sky, soon becomes +polluted with sordidness and selfishness and sensuality. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +Art. + + +Nature is incomplete. She leaves man to provide for himself his raiment, +shelter, and surroundings. Nature in her works throws out suggestions of +beauty, rather than its perfect and complete embodiment. Her gold is +imbedded in the rock. Her creations are limited by the particular +material and the narrow conditions which are at her disposal at a given +time and place. To seize the pure ideal of beauty which Nature suggests, +but never quite realizes; to select from the universe of space and the +eternity of time those materials and forms which are perfectly adapted +to portray the ideal beauty; to clothe the abodes and the whole physical +environment of man with that beauty which is suggested to us in sky and +stream and field and flower; to present to us for perpetual +contemplation the form and features of ideal manhood and womanhood; to +hold before our imagination the deeds of brave men, and the devotion of +saintly women; to thrill our hearts with the victorious struggle of the +hero and the death-defying passion of the lover;--this is the mission +and the significance of art. + +Art is creative. The artist is a co-worker with God. To his hands is +committed the portion of the world which God has left unfinished--the +immediate environment of man. We cannot live in the fields, like beasts +and savages. Art has for its purpose to make the rooms and houses and +halls and streets and cities in which civilized men pass their days as +beautiful and fair, as elevating and inspiring, as the fields and +forests in which the primeval savage roamed. More than that, art aims to +fill these rooms and halls and streets of ours with forms and symbols +which shall preserve, for our perpetual admiration and inspiration, all +that is purest and noblest and sweetest in that long struggle of man up +from his savage to his civilized estate. + + +THE DUTY. + ++Beauty is the outward and visible sign of inward perfection, +completeness, and harmony.+--In an object of beauty there is neither too +little nor too much; nothing is out of place; nothing is without its +contribution to the perfect whole. Each part is at once means and end to +every other. Hence its perfect symmetry; its regular proportions; its +strict conformity to law. + +The mind of man can find rest and satisfaction in nothing short of +perfection; and consequently our hearts are never satisfied until they +behold beauty, which is perfection's crown and seal. Without it one of +the deepest and divinest powers of our nature remains dwarfed, stifled, +and repressed. + ++How to cultivate the love of beauty.+--It is our duty to see to it that +everything under our control is as beautiful as we can make it. The +rooms we live in; the desk at which we work; the clothes we wear; the +house we build; the pictures on our walls; the garden and grounds in +which we walk and work; all must have some form or other. That form must +be either beautiful or hideous; attractive or repulsive. It is our duty +to pay attention to these things; to spend thought and labor, and such +money as we can afford upon them, in order to make them minister to our +delight. Not in staring at great works of art which we have not yet +learned to appreciate, but by attention to the beauty or ugliness of the +familiar objects that we have about us and dwell with from day to day, +we shall best cultivate that love of beauty which will ultimately make +intelligible to us the true significance of the masterpieces of art. +Here as everywhere, to him that hath shall more be given. We must serve +beauty humbly and faithfully in the little things of daily life, if we +will enjoy her treasures in the great galleries of the world. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++Beauty is a jealous mistress.+--If we trifle with her; if we fall in +love with pretentious imitations and elaborate ornamentations which have +no beauty in them, but are simply gotten up to sell; then the true and +real beauty will never again suffer us to see her face. She will leave +us to our idols: and our power to appreciate and admire true beauty +will die out. + +Fidelity to beauty requires that we have no more things than we can +either use in our work, or enjoy in our rest. And these things that we +do have must be either perfectly plain; or else the ornamentation about +them must be something that expresses a genuine admiration and affection +of our hearts. A farmer's kitchen is generally a much more attractive +place than his parlor; just because this law of simplicity is perfectly +expressed in the one, and flagrantly violated in the other. The study of +a scholar, the office of the lawyer and the business man, is not +infrequently a more beautiful place, one in which a man feels more at +home, than his costly drawing room. What sort of things we shall have, +and how many, cannot be determined for us by any general rule; still +less by aping somebody else. In our housekeeping, as in everything else, +we should begin with the few things that are absolutely essential; and +then add decoration and ornament only so fast as we can find the means +of gratifying cherished longings for forms of beauty which we have +learned to admire and love. "Simplicity of life," says William Morris, +"even the barest, is not a misery, but the very foundation of +refinement: a sanded floor and whitewashed walls, and the green trees, +and flowery meads, and living waters outside. If you cannot learn to +love real art, at least learn to hate sham art and reject it. If the +real thing is not to be had, learn to do without it. If you want a +golden rule that will fit everybody, this is it: Have nothing in your +houses that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful." + + +THE REWARD. + ++The refining influence of beauty.+--Devotion to art and beauty in +simplicity and sincerity develops an ever increasing capacity for its +enjoyment. As Keats, the master poet of pure beauty, tells us, + + A thing of beauty is a joy forever: + Its loveliness increases; it will never + Pass into nothingness; but still will keep + A bower quiet for us, and a sleep, + Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. + +The refining influence of the love of beauty draws us mysteriously and +imperceptibly, but none the less powerfully, away from what is false in +thought and base in action; and develops a deep and lasting affinity for +all that is true and good. The good, the true, and the beautiful are +branches of a common root; members of a single whole: and if one of +these members suffer, all the members suffer with it; and if one is +honored, all are honored with it. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++Luxury the perversion of beauty.+--Luxury is the pleasure of +possession, instead of pleasure in the thing possessed. Luxury buys +things, not because it likes them, but because it likes to have them. +And so the luxurious man fills his house with all sorts of things, not +because he finds delight in these particular things, and wants to share +that delight with all his friends; but because he supposes these are the +proper things to have, and he wants everybody to know that he has them. + +The man who buys things in this way does not know what he wants. +Consequently he gets cheated. He buys ugly things as readily as +beautiful things, if only the seller is shrewd enough to make him +believe they are fashionable. Others, less intelligent than this man, +see what he has done; take for granted that because he has done it, it +must be the proper thing to do; and go and do likewise. Thus taste +becomes dulled and deadened; the costly and elaborate drives out the +plain and simple; the desire for luxury kills out the love of beauty; +and art expires. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++Ugly surroundings make ugly souls.+--The outward and the inward are +bound fast together. The beauty or ugliness of the objects we have about +us are the standing choices of our wills. As the object, so is the +subject. We grow into the likeness of what we look upon. Without harmony +and beauty to feed upon, the love of beauty starves and dies. Our hearts +become cold and hard. Not being called out in admiration and delight, +our feelings brood over mean and sensual pleasures; they dwell upon +narrow and selfish concerns; they fasten upon the accumulation of wealth +or the vanquishing of a rival, as substitutes for the nobler interests +that have vanished; and the heart becomes sordid, sensual, mean, petty, +spiteful, and ugly. The spirit of man, like nature, abhors a vacuum; and +into the heart from which the love of the beautiful has been suffered to +depart, these hideous and ugly traits of character make haste to enter, +and occupy the vacant space. What Shakspere says of a single art, music, +is true of art and beauty in general: + + The man that hath no music in himself, + Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, + Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils: + The motions of his spirit are dull as night, + And his affections dark as Erebus. + Let no such man be trusted. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++The hollowness of ostentation.+--Man is never proud of what he really +enjoys; never vain of what he truly loves; never anxious to show off the +tastes and interests that are essentially his own. In order to take this +false attitude toward an object, it is necessary to hold it apart from +ourselves: a thing which the true lover can never do. He who loves +beautiful things will indeed wish others to share his joy in them. But +this sharing of our joy in beautiful objects, is a very different thing +from showing off our fine things, simply to let other people know that +we have them. Ostentation is the vice of ignorant wealth and vulgar +luxury. It estimates objects by their expensiveness rather than by their +beauty; it aims to awaken in ourselves pride rather than pleasure; and +to arouse in others astonishment rather than admiration. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++Vulgarity akin to laziness.+--Art, and the beauty which it creates, +costs painstaking labor to produce. And to enjoy it when it is produced, +requires at first thoughtful and discriminating attention. The formation +of a correct taste is a growth, not a gift. Hence the dull, the lazy, +and the indifferent never acquire this cultivated taste for the +beautiful in art. This lack of perception, this incapacity for enjoyment +of the beautiful, is vulgarity. Vulgarity is contentment with what is +common, and to be had on easy terms. The root of it is laziness. The +mark of it is stupidity. + +At great pains the race has worked out beautiful forms of speech, for +communicating our ideas to each other. Vulgarity in speech is too lazy +to observe these precise and beautiful forms of expression; it clips its +words; throws its sentences together without regard to grammar; falls +into slang; draws its figures from the coarse and low and sensual side +of life, instead of from its pure and noble aspects. + +Vulgarity with reference to dress, dwellings, pictures, reading, is of +the same nature. It results from the dull, unmeaning gaze with which one +looks at things; the shiftless, slipshod way of doing work; the "don't +care" habit of mind which calls anything that happens to fall in its way +"good enough." + +From all that is precious and beautiful and lovely the vulgar man is +hopelessly excluded. They are all around him; but he has no eyes to see, +no taste to appreciate, no heart to respond to them. "All things +excellent," so Spinoza tells us, "are as difficult as they are rare." +The vulgar man has no heart for difficulty; and hence the rare +excellence of art and beauty remain forever beyond his reach. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +Animals. + + +Animals stand midway between things and persons. We own them, use them, +kill them, even, for our own purposes. Yet they have feelings, impulses, +and affections in common with ourselves. In some respects they surpass +us. In strength, in speed, in keenness of scent, in fidelity, blind +instinct in the animal is often superior to reason in the man. + +Yet the animal falls short of personality. It is conscious, but not +self-conscious. It knows; but it does not know that it knows. It can +perform astonishing feats of intelligence. But it cannot explain, even +to itself, the way in which it does them. The animal can pass from one +particular experience to another along lines of association in time and +space with marvelous directness and accuracy. To rise from a particular +experience to the universal class to which that experience belongs; and +then, from the known characteristics of the class, to deduce the +characteristics of another particular experience of the same kind, is +beyond the power of the brute. + +The brute likewise has feelings; but it does not recognize these +feelings as parts of a total and permanent self. Pleasure and pain the +animal feels probably as keenly as we do. Of happiness or unhappiness +they probably know nothing. + + They do not sweat and whine about their condition, + They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, + Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth. + +Animals can be trained to do right, but they cannot love righteousness. +They can be trained to avoid acts which are associated with painful +consequences, but they cannot hate iniquity. The life of an animal is a +series of sensations, impulses, thoughts, and actions. These are never +gathered up into unity. The animal is more than a machine, and less than +a person. + + +THE DUTY. + ++We ought to realize that the animal has feelings as keen as our +own.+--We owe to these feelings in the animal the same treatment that we +would wish for the same feelings in ourselves. For animals as for +ourselves we should seek as much pleasure and as little pain as is +consistent with the performance of the work which we think it best to +lay upon them. The horse cannot choose for itself how heavy a load to +draw. We ought to adapt the load to its strength. And in order to do +that we must stop and consider how much strength it has. The horse and +cow and dog cannot select their own food and shelter. We must think for +them in these matters; and in order to do so wisely, we must consider +their nature, habits, and capacities. No person is fit to own an +animal, who is not willing to take the trouble to understand the needs, +capacities, and nature of that animal. And acts which result from +ignorance of such facts as can be readily learned are inexcusable. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++Kindness is the recognition that a feeling of another being is of just +as much consequence as a feeling of my own.+--Now we have seen that in +some respects animals are precisely like ourselves. Kindness recognizes +this bond of the kind, or kinship, as far as it extends. Kindness to +animals does not go so far as kindness to our fellow-men; because the +kinship between animals and man does not extend as far as kinship +between man and man. So far as it does extend, however, kindness to +animals treats them as we should wish to be treated by a person who had +us in his power. Kindness will inflict no needless suffering upon an +animal; make no unreasonable requirement of it; expose it to no needless +privation. + + +THE REWARD. + ++Kindness toward animals reacts upon our hearts, making them tender and +sympathetic.+--Every act we perform leaves its trace in tendency to act +in the same way again. And in its effect upon ourselves it matters +little whether the objects on which our kindness has been bestowed have +been high or low in the scale of being. In any case the effect remains +with us in increased tenderness, not only toward the particular objects +which have called it forth, but toward all sentient beings. Kindness to +animals opens our hearts toward God and our fellow-men. + + He prayeth well, who loveth well + Both man and bird and beast. + + He prayeth best who loveth best + All things both great and small; + For the dear God who loveth us, + He made and loveth all. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++We are tempted to forget this sensitive nature of the animal, and to +treat it as a mere thing.+--We have a perfect right to sacrifice the +pleasure of an animal to the welfare of ourselves. We have no right to +sacrifice the welfare of the animal to our capricious feelings. We have +no right to neglect an animal from sheer unwillingness to give it the +reasonable attention which is necessary to provide it with proper food, +proper care, proper shelter, and proper exercise. A little girl, +reproved for neglecting to feed her rabbits, when asked indignantly by +her father, "Don't you love your rabbits?" replied, "Yes, I love them +better than I love to feed them." This love which doesn't love to feed +is sentimentality, the fundamental vice of all personal relations, of +which we shall hear more later. The temptation arises even here in our +relations to the animal. It is always so much easier to neglect a claim +made upon us from without, than to realize and respect it. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++Ignorant or willful disregard of the nature and welfare of an animal is +cruelty.+--Overloading beasts of burden; driving them when lame; keeping +them on insufficient food, or in dark, cold, and unhealthy quarters; +whipping, goading, and beating them constantly and excessively are the +most common forms of cruelty to animals. Pulling flies to pieces, +stoning frogs, robbing birds' nests are forms of cruelty of which young +children are often guilty before they are old enough to reflect that +their sport is purchased at the cost of frightful pain to these poor +innocent and defenseless creatures. The simple fact that we are strong +and they are weak ought to make evident, to anyone capable of the least +reflection, how mean a thing it is to take advantage of our superior +strength and knowledge to inflict pain on one of these creatures which +nature has placed under the protection of our superior power and +knowledge, and lead us to resolve + + Never to blend our pleasure or our pride + With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++Subjection to animals degrading.+--The animals are vastly inferior to +man in dignity and worth. Many of them have strong wills of their own, +and if we will allow it, will run over us, and have their own way in +spite of us. Such subjection of a man or woman to an animal is a most +shameful sight. To have dominion over them is man's prerogative; and to +surrender that prerogative is to abrogate our humanity. + +This subjection of a person to an animal may come about through a morbid +and sentimental affection for an animal. When a man or a woman makes an +animal so much of a pet that every caprice of the cat or dog is law; +when the whole arrangements of the household are made to yield to its +whims; when affections that are withheld from earnest work and human +service are lavished in profusion on a pug or a canary; there again we +see the order of rank in the scale of dignity and worth inverted, and +the human bowing to the beast. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++Inhumanity to brutes brutalizes humanity.+--If we refuse by +consideration and kindness to lift the brute up into our human sympathy, +and recognize in it the rights and feelings which it has in common with +us, then we sink to the unfeeling and brutal level to which our cruelty +seeks to consign the brutes. Every cruel blow inflicted on an animal +leaves an ugly scar in our own hardened hearts, which mars and destroys +our capacity for the gentlest and sweetest sympathy with our fellow-men. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +Fellow-men. + + +"_Unus homo, nullus homo_" is a Latin proverb which means that one man +alone is no man at all. A man who should be neither son, brother, +husband, father, neighbor, citizen, or friend is inconceivable. To try +to think of such a man is like trying to think of a stone without size, +weight, surface, or color. Man is by nature a social being. Apart from +society man would not be man. "Whosoever is delighted in solitude is +either a wild beast or a god." To take out of a man all that he gets +from his relations to other men would be to take out of him kindness, +compassion, sympathy, love, loyalty, devotion, gratitude, and heroism. +It would reduce him to the level of the brutes. What water is to the +fish, what air is to the bird, that association with his fellow-men is +to a man. It is as necessary to the soul as food and raiment are to the +body. Only as we see ourselves reflected in the praise or blame, the +love or hate of others do we become conscious of ourselves. + + +THE DUTY. + ++Since our fellow-men are so essential to us and we to them, it is our +duty to live in as intimate fellowship with them as possible.+--The +fundamental form of fellowship is hospitality. By the fireside and +around the family table we feel most free, and come nearest to one +another. Without hospitality, such intercourse is impossible. +Hospitality, in order to fulfill its mission of fellowship, must be +genuine, sincere, and simple. True hospitality welcomes the guest to our +hearts as well as to our homes; and the invitation to our homes when our +hearts are withheld is a hollow mockery. It is a dangerous thing to have +our bodies where our hearts are not. For we acquire the habit of +concealing our real selves, and showing only the surface of our natures +to others. We become hollow, unreal, hypocritical. We live and move + + Trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest + Of men and alien to ourselves--and yet + The same heart beats in every human breast. + +Fellowship requires not only that we shall be hospitable and ask others +to our homes, but that we shall go out of our way to meet others in +their homes, and wherever they may be. + ++The deepest fellowship cannot be made to order. It comes of itself +along lines of common interests and common aims.+--The harder we try to +force people together, and to make them like each other, the farther +they fly apart. Give them some interest or enthusiasm in common, whether +it be practical, or scientific, or literary, or artistic, or musical, or +religious, and this interest, which draws both toward itself at the same +time draws them toward each other. Hence a person, who from bashfulness +or any other reason is kept from intimate fellowship with others, will +often find the best way to approach them, not to force himself into +their companionship, against his will and probably against theirs; but +to acquire skill as a musician, or reader, or student of science or +letters, or philanthropy or social problems. Then along these lines of +common interest he will meet men in ways that will be at once helpful +and natural. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++Love is not soft, sentimental self-indulgence. It is going out of +ourselves, and taking others into our hearts and lives.+--Love calls for +hard service and severe self-sacrifice, when the needs of others make +service possible and self-sacrifice necessary. Love binds us to others +and others to ourselves in bonds of mutual fidelity and helpfulness. A +Latin poet sums up the spirit of love in the famous line: + + Homo sum: humani nil a me alienum puto. + [I am a man: and I count nothing human foreign to myself.] + +Kant has expressed the principle of love in the form of a maxim: "Treat +humanity, whether in thyself or in others, always as an end, never as a +means." We have seen that the temptation to treat others merely as tools +to minister to our gratification, or as obstacles to be pushed out of +our pathway, is very strong. What makes us treat people in that way is +our failure to enter into their lives, to see things as they see them, +and to feel things as they feel them. Kant tells us that we should +always act with a view to the way others will be affected by it. We must +treat men as men, not as things. This sympathy and appreciation for +another is the first step in love. If we think of our neighbor as he +thinks of himself we cannot help wishing him well. As Professor Royce +says, "If he is real like thee, then is his life as bright a light, as +warm a fire, to him, as thine to thee; his will is as full of struggling +desires, of hard problems, of fateful decisions; his pains are as +hateful, his joys as dear. Take whatever thou knowest of desire and of +striving, of burning love and of fierce hatred, realize as fully as thou +canst what that means, and then with clear certainty add: Such as that +is for me, so it is for him, nothing less. Then thou hast known what he +truly is, a Self like thy present self." + +The Golden Rule, Do unto others as you would that they should do unto +you, is the best summary of duty. And the keeping of that rule is +possible only in so far as we love others. We must put ourselves in +their place, before we can know how to treat them as we would like to be +treated. And this putting self in the place of another is the very +essence of love. Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself includes all +social law. Love is the fulfilling of the law. + +Love takes different forms in different circumstances and in different +relations. To the hungry love gives food; to the thirsty drink; to the +naked clothes; to the sick nursing; to the ignorant instruction; to the +blind guidance; to the erring reproof; to the penitent forgiveness. +Indeed, the social virtues which will occupy the remainder of this book +are simply applications of love in differing relations and toward +different groups and institutions. + + +THE REWARD. + ++Love the only true bond of union between persons.+--The desire to be in +unity with our fellow-men is, as John Stuart Mill tells us, "already a +powerful principle in human nature, and happily one of those which tend +to become more strong, even without express inculcation, from the +influences of advancing civilization. The deeply rooted conception which +every individual even now has of himself as a social being, tends to +make him feel it one of his natural wants that there should be harmony +between his feelings and aims and those of his fellow-creatures." The +life of love is in itself a constant realization of this deepest and +strongest desire of our nature. Love is the essence of social and +spiritual life; and that life of unity with our fellow-men which love +creates is in itself love's own reward. "Life is energy of love." +Oneness with those we love is the only goal in which love could rest +satisfied. For love is "the greatest thing in the world," and any reward +other than union with its object would be a loss rather than a gain. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++Kant remarks that a dove, realizing that the resistance of the air is +the sole obstacle to its progress, might imagine that if it could only +get away from the air altogether, it would fly with infinite rapidity +and ease.+--But in fact, if the air were withdrawn for an instant it +would fall helpless to the ground. Friction is the only thing the +locomotive has to overcome. And if the locomotive could reason it might +think how fast it could travel if only friction were removed. But +without friction the locomotive could not stir a hair's breadth from the +station. + +In like manner, inasmuch as the greater part of our annoyances and +trials and sufferings come from contact with our fellow-men, it often +seems to us that if we could only get away from them altogether, and +live in utter indifference to them, our lives would move on with utmost +smoothness and serenity. In fact, if these relations were withdrawn, if +we could attain to perfect indifference to our fellows, our life as +human and spiritual beings would that instant cease. + +The temptation to treat our fellow-men with indifference, like all +temptations, is a delusion and leads to our destruction. Yet it is a +very strong temptation to us all at times. When people do not appreciate +us, and do not treat us with due kindness and consideration, it is so +easy to draw into our shell and say, "I don't care a straw for them or +their good opinion anyway." This device is an old one. The Stoics made +much of it; and boasted of the completeness of their indifference. But +it is essentially weak and cowardly. It avoids certain evils, to be +sure. It does so, however, not by overcoming them in brave, manly +fashion; but by running and hiding away from them--an easy and a +disgraceful thing to do. Intimate fellowship and close contact with +others does bring pains as well as pleasures. It is the condition of +completeness and fullness of moral and spiritual life; and the man who +will live at his best must accept these pains with courage and +resolution. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++The outcome of indifference and lack of sympathy and fellowship is +selfishness.+--Unless we first feel another's interests as he feels +them, we cannot help being more interested in our own affairs than we +are in his, and consequently sacrificing his interests to our own when +the two conflict. As George Eliot tells us in "Adam Bede," "Without this +fellow-feeling, how are we to get enough patience and charity toward our +stumbling, falling companions in the long, changeful journey? And there +is but one way in which a strong, determined soul can learn it, by +getting his heart-strings bound round the weak and erring, so that he +must share not only the outward consequence of their error, but their +inward suffering. That is a long and hard lesson." + ++It is impossible to overcome selfishness directly.+--As long as our +poor, private interests are the only objects vividly present to our +imagination and feeling, we must be selfish. The only remedy is the +indirect one of entering into fellowship with others, interesting +ourselves in what interests them, sharing their joys and sorrows, their +hopes and fears. When we have done that, then there is something besides +our petty and narrow personal interests before our minds and thoughts; +and so we are in a way to get something besides mean and selfish actions +from our wills and hands. We act out what is in us. If there is nothing +but ourselves present to our thoughts, we shall be selfish of necessity; +and without even knowing that we are selfish. If our thoughts and +feelings are full of the welfare and interests of others we shall do +loving and unselfish deeds, without ever stopping to think that they are +loving and unselfish. Hence the precept, "Keep thy heart with all +diligence, for out of it are the issues of life." A heart and mind full +of sympathy and fellow-feeling is the secret of a loving life; and an +idle mind and an empty heart, to which no thrill of sympathy with others +is ever admitted, is the barren and desolate region from which loveless +looks and cruel words and selfish deeds come forth. + ++Love is not a virtue which we can cultivate in ourselves by direct +effort of will, and then take credit for afterward.+--Love comes to us +of itself; it springs up spontaneously within our breasts. We can +prepare our hearts for its entrance; we can welcome and cherish it when +it comes. We cannot boast of it, for we could not help it. Love is the +welling up within us of our true social nature; which nothing but our +indifference and lack of sympathy could have kept so long repressed. +"Love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself +unseemly, seeketh not its own." Love "seeketh not its own" because it +has no own to seek. + ++Selfishness on the contrary knows all about itself; has a good opinion +of itself; never gets its own interests mixed up with those of anybody +else; can always give a perfectly satisfactory account of itself.+ + +Hence when we know exactly how we came to do a thing, and appreciate +keenly how good it was of us to do it; and think how very much obliged +the other person ought to be to us for doing it, we may be pretty sure +that it was not love, but some more or less subtle form of selfishness +that prompted it. Love and selfishness may do precisely the same things. +Under the influence of either love or selfishness I may "bestow all my +goods to feed the poor and give my body to be burned," but love alone +profiteth; while all the subtle forms of selfishness and self-seeking +are "sounding brass and clanging cymbal." Selfishness, even when it does +a service, has its eye on its own merit, or the reward it is to gain. In +so doing it forfeits merit and reward both. Selfishness never succeeds +in getting outside of itself. From all the joys and graces of the social +life it remains in perpetual banishment. Love loses itself in the +object loved, and so finds a larger and better self. Selfishness tries +to use the object of its so-called love as a means to its own +gratification, and so remains to the end in loveless isolation. Many +manifestations of selfishness look very much like love. To know the real +difference is the most fundamental moral insight. On it depend the +issues of life and death. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++The most flagrant mockery of love is sentimentality.+--The +sentimentalist is on hand wherever there is a chance either to mourn or +to rejoice. He is never so happy as when he is pouring forth a gush of +feeling; and it matters little whether it be laughter or tears, sorrow +or joy, to which he is permitted to give vent. On the surface he seems +to be overflowing with the milk of human kindness. He strikes us at +first sight as the very incarnation of tenderness and love. + +And yet we soon discover that he cares nothing for us, or for our joys +and sorrows in themselves. Anybody else, or any other occasion, would +serve his purpose as well, and call forth an equal copiousness of +sympathy and tears. Indeed a first rate novel, with its suffering +heroine, or a good play with its pathetic scenes, would answer his +purpose quite as well as any living person or actual situation. What he +cares for is the thrill of emotional excitement and the ravishing +sensation which accompanies all deep and tender feeling. Not love, but +love's delights; not sympathy, but the rapture of the sympathetic mood; +not helpfulness, but the sense of self-importance which comes from being +around when great trials are to be met and fateful decisions are to be +made; not devotion to others, but the complacency with self which +intimate connection with others gives: these are the objects at which +the sentimentalist really aims. + ++The sentimentalist makes himself a nuisance to others and soon becomes +disgusted with himself.+--He cannot be relied upon for any serious +service, for this gush of sentimental feeling is a transient and +fluctuating thing; it gives out just as soon as it meets with difficulty +and occasion for self-sacrifice. And this attempt to live forever on the +topmost wave of emotional excitement defeats itself by the satiety and +ennui which it brings. Whether in courtship, or society, or business, it +behooves us to be on our guard against this insidious sham which cloaks +selfishness in protestations of affection; pays compliments to show off +its own ability to say pretty things; and undertakes responsibilities to +make the impression of being of some consequence in the world. The man +or woman is extremely fortunate who has never fallen a victim to this +hollow mockery of love, either in self or others. The worst effect of +sentimentality is that when we have detected it a few times, either in +ourselves or in others, we are tempted to conclude that fellowship +itself is a farce, love a delusion, and all sympathy and tenderness a +weakness and a sham. Every good thing has its counterfeit. By all means +let this counterfeit be driven from circulation as fast as possible. But +let us not lose faith in human fellowship and human love because this +base imitation is so hollow and disgusting: + + For life, with all it yields of joy and woe, + And hope and fear,--believe the aged friend,-- + Is just our chance o' the prize of learning love, + How love might be, hath been indeed, and is; + And that we hold thenceforth to the uttermost + Such prize despite the envy of the world, + And having gained truth, keep truth, that is all. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++The penalty of selfishness is strife.+--The selfish man can neither +leave men entirely alone, nor can he live at peace and in unity with +them. Hence come strife and division. Being unwilling to make the +interests of others his own, the selfish man's interests must clash with +the interests of others. His hand is against every man; and every man's +hand, unless it is stayed by generosity and pity, is against him. This +clashing of outside interests is reflected in his own consciousness; and +the war of his generous impulses with his selfish instincts makes his +own breast a perpetual battlefield. The lack of harmony with his fellows +in the outward world makes peace within his own soul impossible. The +selfish man, by cutting himself off from his true relations with his +fellow-men, cuts up the roots of the only principles which could give to +his own life dignity and harmony and peace. Selfishness defeats itself. +By refusing to go out of self into the lives of others, the selfish man +renders it impossible for the great life of human sympathy and +fellowship and love to enter his own life, and fill it with its own +largeness and sweetness and serenity. The selfish man remains to the +last an alien, an outcast and an enemy, banished from all that is best +in the life of his fellows by the insuperable obstacle of his own +unwillingness to be one with them in mutual helpfulness and service. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +The Poor. + + +Our fellow-men are so numerous and their conditions are so diverse that +it is necessary to consider some of the classes and conditions of men by +themselves; and to study some of the special forms which fellowship and +love assume under these differing circumstances. + +Of these classes or divisions in which we may group our fellow-men, the +one having the first claim upon us by virtue of its greater need is the +poor. The causes of poverty are accident, sickness, inability to secure +work, laziness, improvidence, intemperance, ignorance, and +shiftlessness. Those whose poverty is due to the first three causes are +commonly called the worthy poor. + + +THE DUTY. + ++Whether worthy or unworthy, the poor are our brothers and sisters; and +on the ground of our common humanity we owe them our help and +sympathy.+--It is easier to sympathize with the worthy than with the +unworthy poor. Yet the poor who are poor as the result of their own +fault are really the more in need of our pity and help. The work of +lifting them up to the level of self-respect and self-support is much +harder than the mere giving them material relief. Yet nothing less than +this is our duty. The mere tossing of pennies to the tramp and the +beggar is not by any means the fulfillment of their claim upon us. +Indeed, such indiscriminate giving does more harm than good. It +increases rather than relieves pauperism. So that the first duty of +charity is to refuse to give in this indiscriminate way. Either we must +give more than food and clothes and money; or else we must give nothing +at all. Indiscriminate giving merely adds fuel to the flame. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++The special form which love takes when its object is the poor is called +benevolence or charity.+--True benevolence, like love, of which it is a +special application, makes the well-being of its object its own. In what +then does the well-being of the poor consist? Is it bread and beef, a +coat on the back, a roof over the head, and a bed to sleep in? These are +conditions of well-being, but not the whole of it. A man cannot be well +off without these things. But it is by no means sure that he will be +well off with them. + +What a man thinks; how he feels; what he loves; what he hopes for; what +he is trying to do; what he means to be;--these are quite as essential +elements in his well-being as what he has to eat and wear. True +benevolence therefore must include these things in its efforts. +Benevolence must aim to improve the man together with his condition or +its gifts will be worse than wasted. + +There are three principles which all wise benevolence must observe. + ++First: Know all that can be known about the man you help.+--Unless we +are willing to find out all we can about a poor man, we have no business +to indulge our sympathy or ease our conscience by giving him money or +food. It is often easier to give than to withhold. But it is far more +harmful. When Bishop Potter says that "It is far better,--better for him +and better for us,--to give a beggar a kick than to give him a +half-dollar," it sounds like a hard saying, yet it is the strict truth. +In a civilized and Christian community any really deserving person can +secure assistance through persons or agencies that either know about his +needs, or will take the trouble to look them up. When a stranger begs +from strangers he thereby confesses that he prefers to present his +claims where their merits are unknown; and the act proclaims him as a +fraud. To the beggar, to ourselves, and to the really deserving poor, we +owe a prompt and stern refusal of all uninvestigated appeals for +charity. "True charity never opens the heart without at the same time +opening the mind." + ++The second principle is: Let the man you help know as much as he can of +you.+--Bureaus and societies are indispensable aids to effective +benevolence; without their aid thorough knowledge of the needs and +merits of the poor would be impossible. Their function, however, should +be to direct and superintend, not to dispense with and supplant direct +personal contact between giver and receiver. The recipient of aid should +know the one who helps him as man or woman, not as secretary or agent. +If all the money, food, and clothing necessary to relieve the wants of +the poor could be deposited at their firesides regularly each Christmas +by Santa Claus, such a Christmas present, with the regular expectation +of its repetition each year, would do these poor families more harm than +good. It might make them temporarily more comfortable; it would make +them permanently less industrious, thrifty, and self-reliant. + +Investigations have proved conclusively that half the persons who are in +want in our cities need no help at all, except help in finding work. +One-sixth are unworthy of any material assistance whatever, since they +would spend it immediately on their vices. One-fifth need only temporary +help and encouragement to get over hard places. Only about one-tenth +need permanent assistance. + +On the other hand all need cheer, comfort, advice, sympathy, and +encouragement, or else reproof, warning, and restraint. They all need +kind, firm, wise, judicious friends. The less professionalism, the more +personal sympathy and friendliness there is in our benevolence, the +better it will be. In the words of Octavia Hill: "It is the families, +the homes of the poor that need to be influenced. Is not she most +sympathetic, most powerful, who nursed her own mother through her long +illness, and knew how to go quietly through the darkened room: who +entered so heartily into her sister's marriage: who obeyed so heartily +her father's command when it was hardest? Better still if she be wife +and mother herself and can enter into the responsibilities of a head of +a household, understands her joys and cares, knows what heroic patience +it needs to keep gentle when the nerves are unhinged and the children +noisy. Depend upon it if we thought of the poor primarily as husbands, +wives, sons, daughters, members of households as we are ourselves, +instead of contemplating them as a different class, we should recognize +better how the home training and the high ideal of home duty was our +best preparation for work among them." + ++The third principle is: Give the man you help no more and no less than +he needs to make his life what you and he together see that it is good +for it to be.+--This principle shows how much to give. Will ten cents +serve as an excuse for idleness? Will five cents be spent in drink? Will +one cent relax his determination to earn an honest living for himself +and family? Then these sums are too much, and should be withheld. On the +other hand, can the man be made hopeful, resolute, determined to +overcome the difficulties of a trying situation? Can you impart to him +your own strong will, your steadfast courage, your high ideal? is he +ready to work, and willing to make any sacrifice that is necessary to +regain the power of self-support? Then you will not count any sum that +you can afford to give too great; even if it be necessary to carry him +and his family right through a winter by sheer force of giving outright +everything they need. + +It is not the amount of the gift, but the spirit in which it is received +that makes it good or bad for the recipient. If received by a man who +clings to all the weakness and wickedness that brought his poverty upon +him, then your gift, whether small or large, does no good and much harm. +If with the gift the man welcomes your counsel, follows your advice, +adopts your ideal, and becomes partaker in your determination that he +shall become as industrious, and prudent, and courageous as a man in his +situation can be, then whether you give him little or much material +assistance, every cent of it goes to the highest work in which wealth +can be employed--the making a man more manlike. + + +THE REWARD. + ++Our attitude toward the poor and unfortunate is the test of our +attitude toward humanity.+--For the poor and unfortunate present +humanity to us in the condition which most strongly appeals to our +fellow-feeling. The way in which I treat this poor man who happens to +cross my path, is the way I should treat my dearest friend, if he were +equally poor and unfortunate, and equally remote from personal +association with my past life. The man who will let a single poor family +suffer, when he is able to afford relief, is capable of being false to +the whole human race. Speaking in the name of our common humanity, the +Son of Man declares, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least +of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." Sympathy "doubles our +joys and halves our sorrows." It increases our range of interest and +affection, making "the world one fair moral whole" in which we share the +joys and sorrows of our brothers. + ++The man who sympathizes with the sufferings of others seeks and finds +the sympathy of others in his own losses and trials when they +come.+--Familiarity and sympathy with the sufferings of others +strengthens us to bear suffering when it comes to us: for we are able to +see that it is no unusual and exceptional evil falling upon us alone, +but accept it as an old and familiar acquaintance, whom we have so often +met in other lives that we do not fear his presence in our own. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++"Am I my brother's keeper?"+--We are comfortable and well cared for. We +are earning our own living. We pay our debts. We work hard for what we +get. Why should we not enjoy ourselves? Why should I share my earnings +with the shiftless vagabond, the good-for-nothing loafer? What is he to +me? In one or another of these forms the murderous question "Am I my +brother's keeper?" is sure to rise to our lips when the needs of the +poor call for our assistance and relief. Or if we do recognize the +claim, we are tempted to hide behind some organization; giving our money +to that; and sending it to do the actual work. We do not like to come +into the real presence of suffering and want. We do not want to visit +the poor man in his tenement; and clasp his hand, and listen with our +own ears to the tale of wretchedness and woe as it falls directly from +his lips. We do not care to take the heavy and oppressive burden of his +life's problem upon our own minds and hearts. We wish him well. But we +do not will his betterment strongly and earnestly enough to take us to +his side, and join our hands with his in lifting off the weight that +keeps him down. Alienation, the desire to hold ourselves aloof from the +real wretchedness of our brother, is our great temptation with reference +to the poor. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++The reluctant doling out of insufficient aid to the poor is +niggardliness.+--The niggard is thinking all the time of himself, and +how he hates to part with what belongs to him. He gives as little as he +can; and that little hurts him terribly. This vice cannot be overcome +directly. It is a phase of selfishness; and like all forms of +selfishness it can be cured only by getting out of self into another's +life. By going among the poor, studying their needs, realizing their +sufferings, we may be drawn out of our niggardliness and find a pleasure +in giving which we could never have cultivated by direct efforts of +will. We cannot make ourselves benevolent by making up our minds that we +will be benevolent. Like all forms of love, benevolence cannot be +forced; but it will come of itself if we give its appropriate objects a +large share of our thoughts and a warm place in our hearts. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++Regard for others as they happen to be, instead of regard for what they +are capable of becoming, leads to soft hearted and mischievous +indulgence.+--The indulgent giver sees the fact of suffering and rushes +to its relief, without stopping to inquire into the cause of the poverty +and the best measures of relief. Indulgence fails to see the ideal of +what the poor man is to become. Indulgence does not look beyond the +immediate fact of poverty; and consequently the indulgent giver does +nothing to lift the poor man out of it. Help in poverty, rather than +help out of poverty, is what indulgent giving amounts to. The indulgent +and indiscriminate giver becomes a partner in the production of poverty. +This indulgent giving is a phase of sentimentality; and the relief of +one's own feelings, rather than the real good of a fellow-man is at the +root of all such mischievous almsgiving. It is the form of benevolence +without the substance. It does too much for the poor man just because it +loves him too little. Indulgence measures benefactions, not by the needs +and capacities of the receiver, but by the sensibilities and emotions of +the giver. What wonder that it always goes astray, and does harm under +the guise of doing good! + + +THE PENALTY. + ++Uncharitable treatment of the poor makes us alien to humanity, and +distrustful of human nature.+--We feel that they have a claim upon us +that we have not fulfilled; and we try to push them off beyond the range +of our sympathy. They are not slow to take the hint. They interpret our +harsh tones and our cold looks, and they look to us for help no more. +But in pushing these poor ones beyond our reach, we unconsciously +acquire hard, unsympathetic ways of thinking, feeling, speaking and +acting, which others not so poor, others whom we would gladly have near +us, also interpret; and they too come to understand that there is no +real kindness and helpfulness to be had from us in time of real need, +and they keep their inmost selves apart, and suffer us to touch them +only on the surface of their lives. When trouble comes to us we +instinctively feel that we have no claim on the sympathy of others; and +so we have to bear our griefs alone. Having never suffered with others, +sorrow is a stranger to us, and we think we are the most miserable +creatures in the world. + +Humanity is one. Action and reaction are equal. Our treatment of the +poorest of our fellows is potentially our treatment of them all. And by +a subtle law of compensation, which runs deeper than our own +consciousness, what our attitude is toward our fellows determines their +attitude toward us. "Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of +these my brethren," says the Representative of our common humanity, "ye +did it not unto me." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +Wrongdoers. + + +Another class of our fellow-men whom it is especially hard to love are +those who willfully do wrong. The men who cheat us, and say hateful +things to us; the men who abuse their wives and neglect their families; +the men who grind the faces of the poor, and contrive to live in ease +and luxury on the earnings of the widow and the orphan; the men who +pervert justice and corrupt legislation in order to make money; these +and all wrongdoers exasperate us, and rouse our righteous indignation. +Yet they are our fellow-men. We meet them everywhere. We suffer for +their misdeeds;--and, what is worse, we have to see others, weaker and +more helpless than ourselves, maltreated, plundered, and beaten by these +wretches and villains. Wrongdoing is a great, hard, terrible fact. We +must face it. We must have some clear and consistent principles of +action with reference to these wrongdoers; or else our wrath and +indignation will betray us into the futile attempt to right one wrong by +another wrong; and so drag us down to the level of the wrongdoers +against whom we contend. + + +THE DUTY. + ++The first thing we owe to the wrongdoer is to give him his just +deserts. Wrongdoing always hurts somebody. Justice demands that it shall +hurt the wrongdoer himself.+--The boy who tells a lie treats us as if we +did not belong to the same society, and have the same claim on truth +that he has. We must make him feel that we do not consider him fit to be +on a level with us. We must make him ashamed of himself. The man who +cheats us shows that he is willing to sacrifice our interests to his. We +must show him that we will have no dealings with such a person. The man +who is mean and stingy shows that he cares nothing for us. We must show +him that we despise his miserliness and meanness. The robber and the +murderer show that they are enemies to society. Society must exclude +them from its privileges. + +It is the function of punishment to bring the offender to a realizing +sense of the nature of his deed, by making him suffer the natural +consequences of it, or an equivalent amount of privation, in his own +person. Punishment is a favor to the wrongdoer, just as bitter medicine +is a favor to the sick. For without it, he would not appreciate the evil +of his wrongdoing with sufficient force to repent of it, and abandon it. +Plato teaches the true value of punishment in the "Gorgias." "The doing +of wrong is the greatest of evils. To suffer punishment is the way to be +released from this evil. Not to suffer is to perpetuate the evil. To do +wrong, then, is second only in the scale of evils; but to do wrong and +not to be punished, is first and greatest of all. He who has done wrong +and has not been punished, is and ought to be the most miserable of all +men; the doer of wrong is more miserable than the sufferer; and he who +escapes punishment more miserable than he who suffers punishment." + ++Punishment is the best thing we can do for one who has done +wrong.+--Punishment is not a good in itself. But it is good relatively +to the wrongdoer. It is the only way out of wrong into right. Punishment +need not be brutal or degrading. The most effectual punishment is often +purely mental; consisting in the sense of shame and sorrow which the +offender is made to feel. In some form or other every wrongdoer should +be made to feel painfully the wrongness of his deed. To "spare the rod," +both literally and metaphorically, is to "spoil the child." The duty of +inflicting punishment, like all duty, is often hard and unwelcome. But +we become partakers in every wrong which we suffer to go unpunished and +unrebuked when punishment and rebuke are within our power. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++Forgiveness is not inconsistent with justice. It does not do away with +punishment. It spiritualizes punishment; substituting mental for bodily +pains.+--The sense of the evil and shame of wrongdoing, which is the +essence and end of punishment, forgiveness, when it is appreciated, +serves to intensify. Indeed it is impossible to inflict punishment +rightly until you have first forgiven the offender. For punishment +should be inflicted for the offender's good. And not until vengeance has +given way to forgiveness are we able to care for the offender's +well-being. + +Forgiveness is a special form of love. It recognizes the humanity of the +offender, and treats him as a brother, even when his deeds are most +unbrotherly. But it cares so much for him that it will not shrink from +inflicting whatever merciful pains may be necessary to deliver him from +his own unbrotherliness. Forgiveness loves not the offense but the man. +It hates the offense chiefly because it injures the man. Its punishment +of the offense is the negative side of its positive devotion to the +person. The command "love your enemies" is not a hard impossibility on +the one hand, nor a soft piece of sentimentalism on the other. It is +possible, because there is a human, loveable side, even to the worst +villain, if we can only bring ourselves to think on that better side, +and the possibilities which it involves. It is practical, because regard +for that better side of his nature demands that we shall make him as +miserable in his wrongdoing as is necessary to lead him to abandon his +wrongdoing, and give the better possibilities of his nature a chance to +develop. The parent who punishes the naughty child loves him not less +but more than the parent who withholds the needed punishment. The state +which suffers crime to go unpunished becomes a nursery of criminals. It +wrongs itself; it wrongs honest citizens; but most of all it wrongs the +criminals themselves whom it encourages in crime by undue lenity. The +object of forgiveness is not to take away punishment, but to make +whatever punishment remains effective for the reformation of the +offender. It is to transfer the seat of suffering from the body, where +its effect is uncertain and indirect, to the mind, where sorrow for +wrongdoing is powerful and efficacious. Every wrong act brings its +penalty with it. In order to induce repentance and reformation that +penalty must in some way be brought home to the one who did the wrong. +Vengeance drives the penalty straight home, refusing to bear any part of +it itself. Forgiveness first takes the penalty upon itself in sorrow for +the wrong, and then invites the wrongdoer to share the sorrow which he +who forgives him has already borne. Vengeance smites the body, and often +drives in deeper the perversity. Forgiveness touches the heart and +gently but firmly draws the heart's affections away from the wrong, into +devotion to the right. + + +THE REWARD. + ++Forgiveness, rightly received, works the reformation of the +offender.+--And to one who ardently loves righteousness there is no joy +comparable to that of seeing a man who has been doing wrong, turn from +it, renounce it, and determine that henceforth he will endeavor to do +right. Contrast heightens our emotions. And there is "joy over one +sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine righteous persons +that need no repentance." Deliverance from wrong is effected by the firm +yet kindly presentation of the right as something still possible for us, +and into which a friend stands ready to welcome us. Reformation is +wrought by that blending of justice and forgiveness which at the same +time holds the wrong abhorrent and the wrongdoer dear. Reformation is +the end at which forgiveness aims, and its accomplishment is its own +reward. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++The sight of heinous offenses and outrageous deeds against ourselves or +others tempts us to wreak our vengeance upon the offender.+--This +impulse of revenge served a useful purpose in the primitive condition of +human society. It still serves as the active support of righteous +indignation. But it is blind and rough; and is not suited to the +conditions of civilized life. Vengeance has no consideration for the +true well-being of the offender. It confounds the person with the deed +in wholesale condemnation. It renders evil for evil; it provokes still +further retaliation; and erects a single fault into the occasion of a +lasting feud. It is irrational, brutal, and inhuman; it is dangerous and +degrading. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++The absence of forgiveness in dealing with wrongdoers leads to undue +severity.+--The end of punishment being to bring the offender to realize +the evil of his deed and to repent of it, punishment should not be +carried beyond the point which is necessary to produce that result. To +continue punishment after genuine penitence is manifested is to commit a +fresh wrong ourselves. "If thy brother sin, rebuke him; and if he +repent, forgive him. And if he sin against thee seven times in a day, +and seven times turn again to thee, saying, I repent, thou shalt forgive +him." To ignore an unrepented wrong, and to continue to punish a +repented wrong, are equally wide of the mark of that love for the +offender which metes out to him both justice and forgiveness according +to his needs. All punishment which is not tempered with forgiveness is +brutal; and brutalizes both punisher and punished. It hardens the heart +of the offender; and itself constitutes a new offense against him. + +These principles apply strictly to relations between individuals. In the +case of punishment by the state, the necessity of self-protection; of +warning others; and of approximate uniformity in procedure; added to the +impossibility of getting at the exact state of mind of the offender by +legal processes, render it necessary to inflict penalties in many cases +which are more severe than the best interest of the individual offenders +requires. To meet such cases, and to mitigate the undue severity of +uniform penalties when they fall too heavily on individuals, all +civilized nations give the power of pardon to the executive. + ++Whether the penalty be in itself light or severe, it should always be +administered in the endeavor to improve and reform the character of the +offender.+--The period of confinement in jail or prison should be made a +period of real privation and suffering; but it should be especially the +privation of opportunity for indulgence in idleness and vice; and the +painfulness of discipline in acquiring the knowledge and skill necessary +to make the convict a self-respecting and self-supporting member of +society, after his term of sentence expires. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++Lenity ignores the wrong; and by ignoring it, becomes responsible for +its repetition.+--Lenity is sentimentality bestowed on criminals. It +treats them in the manner most congenial to its own feelings, instead of +in the way most conducive to their good. Forgiveness is regard for the +offender in view of his ability to renounce the offense and try to do +better in the future. Lenity confounds offender and offense in a +wholesale and promiscuous amnesty. The true attitude toward the +wrongdoer must preserve the balance set forth by the lawgiver of Israel +as characteristic of Israel's God, "full of compassion and gracious, +slow to anger and plenteous in mercy and truth; keeping mercy for +thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin: and _that will +by no means clear the guilty_." Lenity which "clears the guilty" is +neither mercy, nor graciousness, nor compassion, nor forgiveness. Such +lenity obliterates moral distinctions; disintegrates society; corrupts +and weakens the moral nature of the one who indulges in it; and confirms +in perversity him on whom it is bestowed. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++Severity and lenity alike increase the perversity of the +offender.+--Severity drives the offender into fresh determination to do +wrong; and intrenches him behind the conception that he has been treated +unfairly. He is made to think that all the world is against him, and he +sees no reason why he should not set himself against the world. Lenity +leads him to think the world is on his side no matter what he does; and +so he asks himself why he should take the trouble to mend his ways. +Lenity to others leads us to be lenient toward ourselves; and we commit +wrong in expectation of that lenient treatment which we are in the habit +of according to others. Severity to others makes us ashamed to ask for +mercy when we need it for ourselves. Furthermore, knowing there is no +mercy in ourselves, we naturally infer that there is none in others. We +disbelieve in forgiveness; and our disbelief hides from our eyes the +forgiveness, which, if we had more faith in its presence, we might +find. Hence the unforgiving man can find no forgiveness for himself in +time of need; he sinks to that level of despair and confirmed +perversity, to which his own unrelenting spirit has doomed so many of +his erring brothers. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +Friends. + + +In addition to that bond of a common humanity which ought to bind us to +all our fellow-men, there is a tie of special affinity between persons +of congenial tastes, kindred pursuits, common interests, and mutually +cherished ideals. Persons to whom we are drawn, and who are likewise +drawn to us, by these cords of subtle sympathy we call our friends. + +Friendship is regard for what our friend is; not for what he can do for +us. "The perfect friendship," says Aristotle, "is that of good men who +resemble one another in virtue. For they both alike wish well to one +another as good men, and it is their essential character to be good men. +And those who wish well to their friends for the friends' sake are +friends in the truest sense; for they have these sentiments toward each +other as being what they are, and not in an accidental way; their +friendship, therefore, lasts as long as their virtue, and that is a +lasting thing. Such friendships are uncommon, for such people are rare. +Such friendship requires long and familiar intercourse. For they cannot +be friends till each show and approve himself to the other as worthy to +be loved. A wish to be friends may be of rapid growth, but not +friendship. Those whose love for one another is based on the useful, do +not love each other for what they are, but only in so far as each gets +some good from the other. These friendships are accidental; for the +object of affection is loved, not as being the person or character that +he is, but as the source of some good or some pleasure. Friendships of +this kind are easily dissolved, as the persons do not continue +unchanged; for if they cease to be useful or pleasant to one another, +their love ceases. On the disappearance of that which was the motive of +their friendship, their friendship itself is dissolved, since it existed +solely with a view to that. For pleasure then or profit it is possible +even for bad men to be friends with one another; but it is evident that +the friendship in which each loves the other for himself is only +possible between good men; for bad men take no delight in each other +unless some advantage is to be gained. The friendship whose motive is +utility is the friendship of sordid souls. Friendship lies more in +loving than in being loved; so that when people love each other in +proportion to their worth, they are lasting friends, and theirs is +lasting friendship." + + +THE DUTY. + ++The interest of our friend should be our interest; his welfare, our +welfare; his wish, our will; his good, our aim.+--If he prospers we +rejoice; if he is overtaken by adversity, we must stand by him. If he is +in want, we must share our goods with him. If he is unpopular, we must +stand up for him. If he does wrong, we must be the first to tell him of +his fault: and the first to bear with him the penalty of his offense. If +he is unjustly accused we must believe in his innocence to the last. +Friends must have all things in common; not in the sense of legal +ownership, which would be impracticable, and, as Epicurus pointed out, +would imply mutual distrust; but in the sense of a willingness on the +part of each to do for the other all that is in his power. Only on the +high plane of such absolute, whole-souled devotion can pure friendship +be maintained. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++The true friend is one we can rely upon.+--Our deepest secrets, our +tenderest feelings, our frankest confessions, our inmost aspirations, +our most cherished plans, our most sacred ideals are as safe in his +keeping as in our own. Yes, they are safer; for the faithful friend will +not hesitate to prick the bubbles of our conceit; laugh us out of our +sentimentality; expose the root of selfishness beneath our virtuous +pretensions. "Faithful are the wounds of a friend." To be sure the +friend must do all this with due delicacy and tact. If he takes +advantage of his position to exercise his censoriousness upon us we +speedily vote him a bore, and take measures to get rid of him. But when +done with gentleness and good nature, and with an eye single to our real +good, this pruning of the tendrils of our inner life is one of the most +precious offices of friendship. + + +THE REWARD. + ++The chief blessing of friendship is the sense that we are not living +our lives and fighting our battles alone; but that our lives are linked +with the lives of others, and that the joys and sorrows of our united +lives are felt by hearts that beat as one.+--The seer who laid down so +severely the stern conditions which the highest friendship must fulfill, +has also sung its praises so sweetly, that his poem at the beginning of +his essay may serve as our description of the blessings which it is in +the power of friendship to confer: + + A ruddy drop of manly blood + The surging sea outweighs; + The world uncertain comes and goes, + The lover rooted stays. + I fancied he was fled, + And, after many a year, + Glowed unexhausted kindliness + Like daily sunrise there. + My careful heart was free again,-- + Oh, friend, my bosom said, + Through thee alone the sky is arched, + Through thee the rose is red, + All things through thee take nobler form + And look beyond the earth, + The mill-round of our fate appears + A sun-path in thy worth. + Me too thy nobleness has taught + To master my despair; + The fountains of my hidden life + Are through thy friendship fair. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++A relation so intimate as that of friendship offers constant +opportunity for betrayal.+--Friends understand each other perfectly. +Friend utters to friend many things which he would not for all the world +let others know. And more than that, the intimate association of +friendship cannot fail to give the friend an opportunity to perceive the +deep secrets of the other's heart which he would not speak even to a +friend, and which he has scarcely dared to acknowledge even to himself. + +This intimate knowledge of another appeals strangely to our vanity and +pride; and we are often tempted to show it off by disclosing some of +these secrets which have been revealed to us in the confidence of +friendship. This is the meanest thing one person can do to another. The +person who yields to this basest of temptations is utterly unworthy ever +again to have a friend. Betrayal of friends is the unpardonable social +sin. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++We cannot find people who in every respect are exactly to our +liking.+--And, what is more to the point, we never can make ourselves +exactly what we should like to have other people intimately know and +understand. Friendship calls for courage enough to show ourselves in +spite of our frailties and imperfections; and to take others in spite of +the possible shortcomings which close acquaintance may reveal in them. +Friendship requires a readiness to give and take, for better or for +worse; and that exclusiveness which shrinks from the risks involved is +simply a combination of selfishness and cowardice. Refusal to make +friends is a sure sign that a man either is ashamed of himself, or else +lacks faith in his fellow-men. And these two states of mind are not so +different as they might at first appear. For we judge others chiefly by +ourselves. And the man who distrusts his fellow-men, generally bases his +distrust of them on the consciousness that he himself is not worthy of +the trust of others. So that the real root of exclusiveness is the dread +of letting other people get near to us, for fear of what they might +discover. Exclusiveness puts on the airs of pride. But pride is only a +game of bluff, by which a man who is ashamed to have other people get +near enough to see him as he is pretends that he is terribly afraid of +getting near enough to others to see what they are. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++Effusiveness.+--Some people can keep nothing to themselves. As soon as +they get an experience, or feel an emotion, or have an ache or pain, +they must straightway run and pour it into the ear of some sympathetic +listener. The result is that experiences do not gain sufficient hold +upon the nature to make any deep and lasting impression. No +independence, no self-reliance, no strength of character is developed. +Such people are superficial and unreal. They ask everything and have +nothing to give. The stream is so large and constant that there is +nothing left in the reservoir. Friendship must rest on solid +foundations of independence and mutual respect. With great clearness and +force Emerson proclaims this law in his Essay on Friendship: "We must be +our own before we can be another's. Let me be alone to the end of the +world, rather than that my friend should overstep, by a word or a look, +his real sympathy. Let him not cease an instant to be himself. The only +joy I have in his being mine, is that the not mine is mine. I hate where +I looked for a manly furtherance, or at least a manly resistance, to +find a mush of concession. Better be a nettle in the side of your friend +than his echo. The condition which high friendship demands is ability to +do without it. There must be very two, before there can be very one. Let +it be an alliance of two large formidable natures, mutually beheld, +mutually feared, before yet they recognize the deep identity, which, +beneath these disparities, unites them." + + +THE PENALTY. + ++If we refuse to go in company there is nothing left for us but to +trudge along the dreary way alone.+--If we will not bear one another's +burdens, we must bear our own when they are heaviest in our unaided +strength; and fall beneath their weight. Here as everywhere penalty is +simply the inevitable consequence of conduct. The loveless heart is +doomed to drag out its term of years in the cheerless isolation of a +life from which the light of love has been withdrawn. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +The Family. + + +Thus far we have considered our fellow-men as units, with whom it is our +privilege and duty to come into external relations. These external +relations after all do not reach the deepest center of our lives. They +indeed bind man to man in bonds of helpfulness and service. But the two +who are thus united remain two separate selves after all. Even +friendship leaves unsatisfied yearnings, undeveloped possibilities in +human hearts. However subtle and tender the bond may be, it remains to +the last physical rather than chemical; mechanical rather than vital; +the outward attachment of mutually exclusive wholes, rather than the +inner blending of complemental elements which lose their separate +selfhood in the unity of a new and higher life. The beginning of this +true spiritual life, in which the individual loses his separate self to +find a larger and nobler self in a common good in which each individual +shares, and which none may monopolize;--the birthplace of the soul as of +the body is in the family. The nursery of virtue, the inspirer of +devotion, the teacher of self-sacrifice, the institutor of love, the +family is the foundation of all those higher and nobler qualities of +mind and heart which lift man above the level of sagacious brutes. + + +THE DUTY. + ++The family a common good.+--Membership in the family involves the +recognition that the true life of the individual is to be found only in +union with other members; in regard for their rights; in deference to +their wishes; and in devotion to that common interest in which each +member shares. Each member must live for the sake of the whole family. +Children owe to their parents obedience, and such service as they are +able to render. Parents, on the other hand, owe to children support, +training, and an education sufficient to give them a fair start in life. +Brothers and sisters owe to each other mutual helpfulness and +protection. All joys and sorrows, all hopes and fears, all plans and +purposes should be talked over, and carried out in common. No parent +should have a plan or ambition or enthusiasm into which he does not +invite the confidence and sympathy of his child. No child should cherish +a thought or purpose or imagination which he cannot share with father or +mother. It is the duty of the parent to enter sympathetically into the +sports and recreations and studies and curiosities of the child. It is +the duty of the child to interest himself in whatever the father and +mother are doing to support the family and promote its welfare. Between +parent and child, brother and sister, there should be no secrets; no +ground on which one member lives in selfish isolation from the rest. + ++The basis of right marriage.+--These relations come by nature, and we +grow into them so gradually that we are scarcely conscious of their +existence, unless we stop on purpose to think of them. Marriage, or the +foundation of a new family, however, is a step which we take for +ourselves, once for all, in the maturity of our conscious powers. To +know in advance the true from the false, the real from the artificial, +the genuine from the counterfeit, the blessed from the wretched basis of +marriage is the most important piece of information a young man or woman +can acquire. The test is simple but searching. Do you find in another, +one to whose well-being you can devote your life; one to whom you can +confide the deepest interests of your mind and heart; one whose +principles and purposes you can appreciate and respect: one in whose +image you wish your children to be born, and on the model of whose +character you wish their characters to be formed; one whose love will be +the best part of whatever prosperity, and the sufficient shield against +whatever adversity may be your common lot? Then, provided this other +soul sees a like worth in you, and cherishes a like devotion for what +you are and aim to be, marriage is not merely a duty: it is the open +door into the purest and noblest life possible to man and woman. +Complete identification and devotion, entire surrender of each to each +in mutual affection is the condition of true marriage. As "John +Halifax" says in refusing the hand of a nobleman for his daughter, "In +marriage there must be unity--one aim, one faith, one love--or the +marriage is imperfect, unholy, a mere civil contract, and no more." This +necessity of complete, undivided devotion of each to each is, as Hegel +points out, the spiritual necessity on which monogamy rests. There can +be but one complete and perfect and supreme merging of one's whole self +in the life and love of another. Marriage with two would be of necessity +marriage with none. If we apprehend the spiritual essence of marriage we +see that marriage with more than one is a contradiction in terms. It is +possible to cut one's self up into fragments, and bestow a part here and +a part there; but that is not marriage; it is mere alliance. It brings +not love and joy and peace, but hate and wretchedness and strife. + ++A true marriage never can be dissolved.+--If love be present at the +beginning it will grow stronger and richer with every added year of +wedded life. How far a loveless marriage should be enforced upon +unwilling parties by the state for the benefit of society is a question +which it is foreign to our present purpose to discuss. The duty of the +individual who finds himself or herself in this dreadful condition is, +however, clear. There is generally a good deal of self-seeking on both +sides at the basis of such marriages. Getting rather than giving was the +real though often unsuspected hope that brought them together. If either +husband or wife will resolutely strive to correct the fault that is in +him or her, ceasing to demand and beginning to give unselfish affection +and genuine devotion, in almost every case, where the man is not a brute +or a sot, and the woman is not a fashion-plate or a fiend, the life of +mutual love may be awakened, and a true marriage may supersede the empty +form. Not until faithful and prolonged efforts to establish a true +marriage within the legal bonds have proved unavailing; and only where +adultery, desertion, habitual drunkenness, or gross brutality and +cruelty demonstrate the utter impossibility of a true marriage, is +husband or wife justified in seeking to escape the bond, and to revert +to the lower, individualistic type of life. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++In the family we are members one of another.+--The parent shows his +loyalty to the child by protecting him when he gets into trouble. The +loyal brother defends his brothers and sisters against all attacks and +insults. The loyal child refuses to do anything contrary to the known +wishes of father and mother, or anything that will reflect discredit +upon them. The loyal child cares for his parents and kindred in +misfortune and old age; ministering tenderly to their wants, and bearing +patiently their infirmities of body and of mind which are incidental to +declining powers. The loyal husband and wife trust each other implicitly +in everything; and refuse to have any confidences with others more +intimate than they have with each other. Not that the family is narrow +and exclusive. Husband and wife should each have their outside +interests, friendships, and enthusiasms. Each should rejoice in +everything which broadens, deepens, and sweetens the life of the other. +Jealousy of each other is the most deadly poison that can be introduced +into a home. It is sure and instant death to the peace and joy of +married life. + ++Other relations should always be secondary and external to the primary +and inner relation of husband and wife to each other.+--It should be the +married self; the self which includes in its inmost love and confidence +husband or wife; not a detached and independent self, which goes out to +form connections and attachments in the outer world. Where this mutual +trust and confidence are loyally maintained there can be the greatest +social freedom toward other men and women and at the same time perfect +trust and devotion to each other. This, however, is a nice adjustment, +which nothing short of perfect love can make. Love makes it easily, and +as a matter of course. Loyalty is love exposed to strain, and overcoming +strain and temptation by the power which love alone can give. + + +THE REWARD. + ++Loyalty to the family preserves and perpetuates the home.+--Home is a +place where we can rest; where we can breathe freely; where we can have +perfect trust in one another; where we can be perfectly simple, +perfectly natural, perfectly frank; where we can be ourselves; where +peace and love are supreme. "This," says John Ruskin, "is the true +nature of home--it is the place of peace; the shelter, not only from all +injury, but from all terror, doubt, and division. In so far as it is not +this, it is not home; so far as the anxieties of the outer life +penetrate into it, and the unknown, unloved, or hostile society of the +outer world is allowed to cross the threshold, it ceases to be home; it +is then only a part of the outer world which you have roofed over and +lighted fire in. But so far as it is a sacred place, a vestal temple, a +temple of the hearth watched over by household gods, before whose faces +none may come but those whom they can receive with love,--so far as it +is this, and roof and fire are types only of a nobler shade and +light,--shade as of a rock in a weary land, and light as of a Pharos on +a stormy sea; so far it vindicates the name and fulfills the praise of +home." + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++The individual must drop his extreme individualism when he crosses the +threshold of the home.+--The years between youth and marriage are years +of comparative independence. The young man and woman learn in these +years to take their affairs into their own hands; to direct their own +course, to do what seems right in their own eyes, and take the +consequences of wisdom or folly upon their own shoulders. This period +of independence is a valuable discipline. It develops strength and +self-reliance; it compels the youth to face the stern realities of life, +and to measure himself against the world. It helps him to appreciate +what his parents have done for him in the past, and prepares him to +appreciate a home of his own when he comes to have one. The man and +woman who have never known what it is to make their own way in the world +can never be fully confident of their own powers, and are seldom able to +appreciate fully what is done for them. + +Many an exacting husband and complaining wife would have had their +querulousness and ingratitude taken out of them once for all if they +could have had a year or two of single-handed conflict with real +hardship. Independence and self-reliance are the basis of self-respect +and self-control. + +At the same time this habit of independence, especially if it is +ingrained by years of single life, tends to perpetuate itself in ways +that are injurious to the highest domestic and family life. Independence +is a magnificent foundation for marriage; to carry it up above the +foundation, and build the main structure out of it, is fatal. The +insistence on rights, the urging of claims, the enforcement of private +whims and fancies, are the death of love and the destruction of the +family. Unless one is ready to give everything, asking nothing save what +love gives freely in return, marriage will prove a fountain of +bitterness rather than of sweetness; a region of storm and tempest +rather than a haven of repose. Within a bond so close and all-embracing +there is no room for the independent life of separated selves. Each must +lose self in the other; both must merge themselves in devotion to a +common good; or the bond becomes a fetter, and the home a prison. Unless +one is prepared to give all to the object of his love, duty to self, to +the object of his affections, and to the blessed state of marriage +demands that he should offer nothing, and remain outside a relation +which his whole self cannot enter. Independence outside of marriage is +respectable and honorable. Independence and self-assertion in marriage +toward husband or wife is mean and cruel. It is the attempt to partake +of that in which we refuse to participate; to claim the advantages of an +organism in which we refuse to comply with the conditions of membership. +Not admiration, nor fascination, nor sentimentality, nor flattered +vanity can bind two hearts together in life-long married happiness. For +these are all forms of self-seeking in disguise. Love alone, love that +loses self in its object; love that accepts service with gladness and +transmutes sacrifice into a joy; simple, honest, self-forgetful love +must be the light and life of marriage, or else it will speedily go out +in darkness and expire in death. + +Of the deliberate seeking of external ends in marriage, such as money, +position, family connections, and the like, it ought not to be necessary +to say a word to any thoughtful person. It is the basest act of which +man or woman is capable. It is an insult to marriage; it is a mockery of +love; it is treachery and falsehood and robbery toward the person +married. It subordinates the lifelong welfare of a person to the +acquisition of material things. It introduces fraud and injustice into +the inmost center of one's life, and makes respect of self, happiness in +marriage, faith in human nature forever impossible. The deliberate +formation of a loveless marriage is a blasphemy against God, a crime +against society, a wrong to a fellow being, and a bitter and lasting +curse to one's own soul. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++Self-sufficiency fatal to the family.+--The shortcoming which most +frequently keeps individuals outside of the family, and keeps them +incomplete and imperfect members of the family after they enter it, is +the self-sufficiency which is induced by a life of protracted +independence. Marriage is from one point of view a sacrifice, a +giving-up. The bachelor can spend more money on himself than can the +married man who must provide for wife and children. The single woman can +give to study and music and travel an amount of time and attention which +is impossible to the wife and mother. Such a view of marriage is +supremely mean and selfish. Only a very little and sordid soul could +entertain it. There are often the best and noblest of reasons why man or +woman should remain single. It is a duty to do so rather than to marry +from any motive save purest love. Marriage, however, should be regarded +as the ideal state for every man and woman. To refuse to marry for +merely selfish reasons; or to carry over into marriage the selfish +individualistic temper, which clings so tenaciously to the little +individual self that it can never attain the larger self which comes +from real union and devotion to another--this is to sin against human +nature, and to prove one's self unworthy of membership in society's most +fundamental and sacred institution. + +The child who sets his own will against his parent's, the mother who +thrusts her child out of her presence in order to pursue pleasures more +congenial than the nurture of her own offspring, the man who leaves his +family night after night to spend his evenings in the club or the +saloon, the woman who spends on dress and society the money that is +needed to relieve her husband from overwork and anxiety, and to bring up +her children in health and intelligence, do an irreparable wrong to the +family, and deal a death blow to the home. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++Self-obliteration robs the family of the best we have to give it.+--The +man who makes himself a slave; goes beyond his strength; denies himself +needed rest and recreation; grows prematurely old, cuts himself off from +intercourse with his fellow-men in order to secure for his family a +position or a fortune: the woman who works early and late; forgets her +music, and forsakes her favorite books; gives up friends and society; +grows anxious and careworn in order to give her sons and daughters a +better start in life than she had, are making a fatal mistake. In the +effort to provide their children with material things and intellectual +advantages they are depriving them of what even to the children is of +far more consequence--healthy, happy, cheerful, interesting, +enthusiastic parents. To their children as well as to themselves parents +owe it to be the brightest, cheeriest, heartiest, wisest, completest +persons that they are capable of being. Children also when they have +reached maturity, although they owe to their parents a reverent regard +for all reasonable desires and wishes, ought not to sacrifice +opportunities for gaining a desired education or an advantageous start +in business, merely to gratify a capricious whim or groundless +foreboding of an arbitrary and unreasoning parent. Devotion to the +family does not imply withdrawal from the world outside. The larger and +fuller one's relations to the world without, the deeper and richer ought +to be one's contribution to the family of which he is a member. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++To have no one for whom we supremely care, and no one who cares much +for us; to have no place where we can shield ourselves from outward +opposition and inward despair; to have no larger life in which we can +merge the littleness of our solitary selves; to touch other lives only +on the surface, and to take no one to our heart;--this is the sad estate +of the man or woman who refuses to enter with whole-souled devotion into +union with another in the building of a family and a home.+--The sense +that this loneliness is chosen in fidelity to duty makes it endurable +for multitudes of noble men and women. But for the man or woman who +chooses such a life in proud self-sufficiency, for the sake of fancied +freedom and independence, it is hard to conceive what consolation can be +found. Thomas Carlyle, speaking of the joys of living in close union +with those who love us, and whom we love, says: "It is beautiful; it is +human! Man lives not otherwise, nor can live contented, anywhere or +anywhen. Isolation is the sum-total of wretchedness to man. To be cut +off, to be left solitary; to have a world alien, not your world; all a +hostile camp for you; not a home at all, of hearts and faces who are +yours, whose you are! It is the frightfullest enchantment; too truly a +work of the Evil One. To have neither superior, nor inferior, nor equal, +united manlike to you. Without father, without child, without brother. +Man knows no sadder destiny." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +The State. + + +Out of the family grew the state. The primitive state was an enlarged +family, of which the father was the head. Citizenship meant kinship, +real or fictitious. The house or gens was a composite family. Houses +united into tribes, and the authority of the chieftain over his +fellow-tribesmen was still based on the fact that they were, either by +birthright or adoption, his children. The ancient state was the union of +tribes under one priest and king who was regarded as the father of the +whole people. + +Disputes about the right of succession, and the disadvantage and danger +of having a tyrant or a weakling rule, just because he happened to be +the son of the previous ruler, led men to elect their rulers. There are +to-day states like Russia where the hereditary monarch is the ruler: +states like the United States where all rulers are elected by the +people; and states like England where the nominal ruler is an hereditary +monarch, and the real rulers are chosen by the people. + + +THE DUTY. + ++The function of the state is the organization of the life of the +people.+--Men can live together in peace and happiness only on condition +that they assert for themselves and respect in others certain rights to +life, liberty, property, reputation, and opinion. My right it is my +neighbor's duty to observe. His right it is my duty to respect. These +mutual rights and duties are grounded in the nature of things and the +constitution of man. They are the conditions which must be observed if +man is to live in unity with his fellow-men. It is the business of the +state to define, declare, and enforce these rights and duties. And as +citizens it is our duty to the state to do all in our power to frame +just laws; to see that they are impartially and effectively +administered; to obey these laws ourselves; to contribute our share of +the funds necessary to maintain the government; and to render military +service when force is needed to protect the government from overthrow. +To law and government we owe all that makes life endurable or even +possible: the security of property; the sanctity of home; the +opportunity of education; the stability of institutions; the blessings +of peace; protection against violence and bloodshed. Since the state and +its laws are essential to the well-being of all men, and consequently of +ourselves; we owe to it the devotion of our time, our knowledge, our +influence, yes, our life itself if need be. If it comes to a choice +between living but a brief time, and that nobly, in devotion to country, +and living a long time basely, in betrayal of our country's good, no +true, brave man will hesitate to choose the former. In times of war and +revolution that choice has been presented to men in every age and +country: and men have always been found ready to choose the better part; +death for country, rather than life apart from her. So deep was the +conviction in the mind of Socrates that the laws of the state should be +obeyed at all costs, that when he had been sentenced to death unjustly, +and had an opportunity to escape the penalty by running away, he refused +to do it on the ground that it was his duty to obey those laws which had +made him what he was and whose protection he had enjoyed so many years. +To the friend who tried to induce him to escape he replied that he +seemed to hear the laws saying to him, "Our country is more to be valued +and higher and holier far than father or mother. And when we are +punished by her, whether with imprisonment or stripes, the punishment is +to be endured in silence; and if she sends us to wounds or death in +battle, thither we follow as is right; neither may anyone yield or +retreat or leave his rank, but whether in battle or in a court of law, +or in any other place, he must do what his city and his country order +him; or he must change their view of what is just; and if he may do no +violence to his father or mother, much less may he do violence to his +country." To do and bear whatever is necessary to maintain that +organization of life which the state represents is the imperative duty +of every citizen. This duty to serve the country is correlative to the +right to be a citizen. No man can be in truth and spirit a citizen on +any other terms. And not to be a citizen is not to be, in any true and +worthy meaning of the term, a man. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++Love of country, or patriotism, like all love places the object loved +first and self second.+--In all public action the patriot asks not, +"What is best for me?" but, "What is best for my country?" Patriotism +assumes as many forms as there are circumstances and ways in which the +welfare of the country may be promoted. In time of war the patriot +shoulders his gun and marches to fight the enemy. In time of election he +goes to the caucus and the polls, and expresses his opinion and casts +his vote for what he believes to be just measures and honest men. When +taxes are to be levied, he gives the assessor a full account of his +property, and pays his fair share of the expense of government. When one +party proposes measures and nominates men whom he considers better than +those of the opposite party, he votes with that party, whether it is for +his private interest to do so or not. The patriot will not stand apart +from all parties, because none is good enough for him. He will choose +the best, knowing that no political party is perfect. He will act with +that party as long as it continues to seem to him the best; for he must +recognize that one man standing alone can accomplish no practical +political result. The moment he is convinced that the party with which +he has been acting has become more corrupt, and less faithful to the +interests of the country than the opposite party, he will change his +vote. Self first, personal friends second, party third, and country +fourth, is the order of considerations in the mind of the office-seeker, +the wire-puller, the corrupt politician. Country first, party second, +personal friends third, and self last is the order in the mind of the +true citizen, the courageous statesman, the unselfish patriot. + + +THE REWARD. + ++In return for serving our country we receive a country to serve.+--The +state makes possible for us all those pursuits, interests, aims, and +aspirations which lift our lives above the level of the brutes. Through +the institutions which the state maintains, schools, almshouses, courts, +prisons, roads, bridges, harbors, laws, armies, police, there is secured +to the individual the right and opportunity to acquire property, engage +in business, travel wherever he pleases, share in the products of the +whole earth, read the books of all nations, reap the fruits of scholarly +investigation in all countries, take an interest in the welfare and +progress of mankind. This power of the individual to live a universal +life, this participation of each in a common and world-wide good, is the +product of civilization. And civilization is impossible without that +subordination of each to the just claims of all, which law requires and +which it is the business of the state to enforce. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++Organization involves a multitude of offices and public servants. Many +of these offices are less onerous and more lucrative than the average +man can find elsewhere. Many offices give a man an opportunity to +acquire dishonest gains.+--Hence arises the great political temptation +which is to seek office, not as a means of rendering useful and +honorable service to the country, but as a means to getting an easy +living out of the country, and at the public expense. The "spoils +system," which consists in rewarding service to party by opportunity to +plunder the country: which pays public servants first for their service +to party, and secondly for service to the country: which makes +usefulness to party rather than serviceableness to the country the basis +of appointment and promotion, is the worst evil of our political life. +"Public office is a public trust." Men who so regard it are the only men +fit for it. Office so held is one of the most honorable forms of service +which a man can render to his fellow-men. Office secured and held by the +methods of the spoils system is a disgrace to the nation that is corrupt +enough to permit it, and to the man who is base enough to profit by it. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++Betrayal of one's country and disregard of its interests is +treason.+--In time of war and revolution treason consists in giving +information to the enemy, surrendering forts, ships, arms, or +ammunition into his hands; or fighting in such a half-hearted way as to +invite defeat. Treason under such circumstances is the unpardonable sin +against country. The traitor is the most despicable person in the state; +for he takes advantage of the protection the state gives to him and the +confidence it places in him to stab and murder his benefactor and +protector. + +The essential quality of treason is manifested in many forms in time of +peace. Whoever sacrifices the known interests of his country to the +interests of himself, or of his friends, or of his party, is therein +guilty of the essential crime of treason. Whoever votes for an +appropriation in order to secure for another man lucrative employment or +a profitable contract; whoever gives or takes money for a vote; whoever +increases or diminishes a tax with a view to the business interests, not +of the country as a whole, but of a few interested parties; whoever +accepts or bestows a public office on any grounds other than the +efficiency of service which the office-holder is to render to the +country; whoever evades his just taxes; whoever suffers bad men to be +elected and bad measures to become laws through his own negligence to +vote himself and to influence others to vote for better men and better +measures, is guilty of treason. For in these, which are the only ways +possible to him, he has sacrificed the good of his country to the +personal and private interests of himself and of his friends. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++True and false ambition.+--The service of the country in public office +is one of the most interesting and most honorable pursuits in which a +man can engage. Ambition to serve is always noble. Desire for the honors +and emoluments of public office, however, may crowd out the desire to +render public service. Such a substitution of selfish for patriotic +considerations, such an inversion of the proper order of interests in a +man's mind, is the vice of political ambition. The ambitious politician +seeks office, not because he seeks to promote measures which he believes +to be for the public good; not because he believes he can promote those +interests more effectively than any other available candidate: but just +because an office makes him feel big; or because he likes the excitement +of political life; or because he can make money directly or indirectly +out of it. Such political ambition is as hollow and empty an aim as can +possess the mind of man. And yet it deceives and betrays great as well +as little men. It is our old foe of sentimentality, dressed in a new +garb, and displaying itself on a new stage. It is the substitution of +one's own personal feelings, for a direct regard for the object which +makes those feelings possible. It is a very subtle vice: and the only +safeguard against it is a deep and genuine devotion to country for +country's sake. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++A state in which laws were broken, taxes evaded, and corrupt men placed +in authority could not endure.+--With the downfall of the state would +arise the brigand, the thief, the murderer, and the reign of dishonesty, +violence, and terror. + +The individual, it is true, may sin against the state and escape the +full measure of this penalty himself. In that case, however, the penalty +is distributed over the vast multitude of honest citizens, who bear the +common injury which the traitor inflicts upon the state. The man who +betrays his country, may continue to have a country still; but it is no +thanks to him. It is because he reaps the reward of the loyalty and +devotion of citizens nobler than himself. + +Yet even then the country is not in the deepest sense really his. He +cannot enjoy its deepest blessings. He cannot feel in his inmost heart, +"This country is mine. To it I have given myself. Of it I am a true +citizen and loyal member." He knows he is unworthy of his country. He +knows that if his country could find him out, and separate him from the +great mass of his fellow-citizens, she would repudiate him as unworthy +to be called her son. The traitor may continue to receive the gifts of +his country; he may appropriate the blessings she bestows with impartial +hand on the good and on the evil. But the sense that this glorious and +righteous order of which the state is the embodiment and of which our +country is the preserver and protector belongs to him; that it is an +expression of his thought, his will and his affection;--this spiritual +participation in the life and spirit of the state, this supreme devotion +to a beloved country, remains for such an one forever impossible. In his +soul, in his real nature, he is an outcast, an alien, and an enemy. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +Society. + + +Regard for others, merely as individuals, does not satisfy the deepest +yearnings of our social nature. The family is so much more to us than +the closest of ties which we can form on lines of business, charity, or +even friendship; because in place of an aggregate of individuals, each +with his separate interests, the family presents a life in which each +member shares in a good which is common to all. + +The state makes possible a common good on a much wider scale. Still, on +a strict construction of its functions, the state merely insures the +outward form of this wider, common life. The state declares what man +shall not do, rather than what man shall do, in his relations to his +fellow-men. To prevent the violation of mutual rights rather than to +secure the performance of mutual duties, is the fundamental function of +the state. Of course these two sides cannot be kept entirely apart. +There is a strong tendency at the present time to enlarge the province +of the state, and to intrust it with the enforcement of positive duties +which man owes to his fellow-men, and which class owes to class. Whether +this tendency is good or bad, whether it is desirable to enforce social +duties, or to trust them to the unfettered social conscience of +mankind, is a theoretical question which, for our practical purposes, we +need not here discuss. + +No man liveth unto himself. No man ought to be satisfied with a good +which is peculiar to himself, from which mankind as a whole are +excluded. No man can be so satisfied. Ignorance, prejudice, selfishness, +pride, custom, blind men to this common good, and prevent them from +making the efforts and sacrifices necessary to realize it. But the man +who could deliberately prefer to see the world in which he lives going +to destruction would be a monster rather than a man. + ++This common life of humanity in which each individual partakes is +society. Society is the larger self of each individual. Its interests +and ours are fundamentally one and the same.+--If the society in which +we live is elevated and pure and noble we share its nobleness and are +elevated by it. If society is low, corrupt, and degraded, we share its +corruption, and its baseness drags us down. So vital and intimate is +this bond between society and ourselves that it is impossible when +dealing with moral matters to keep them apart. To be a better man, +without at the same time being a better neighbor, citizen, workman, +soldier, scholar, or business man, is a contradiction in terms. For life +consists in these social relations to our fellows. And the better we +are, the better these social duties will be fulfilled. + +Society includes all the objects hitherto considered. Society is the +organic life of man, in which the particular objects and relations of +our individual lives are elements and members. Hence in this chapter, +and throughout the remainder of the book, we shall not be concerned with +new materials, but with the materials with which we are already +familiar, viewed in their broader and more comprehensive relationships. + + +THE DUTY. + ++In each act we should think not merely "How will this act affect me?" +but "How will this act affect all parties concerned, and society as a +whole?"+--The interests of all men are my own, by virtue of that common +society of which they and I are equal members. What is good for others +is good for me, because, in that broader view of my own nature which +society embodies, my good cannot be complete unless, to the extent of my +ability, their good is included in my own. Hence we have the maxims laid +down by Kant: "Act as if the maxim of thy action were to become by thy +will a universal law of nature." "So act as to treat humanity, whether +in thine own person or in that of another, in every case as an end, +never as a means only." Or as Professor Royce puts the same thought; +"Act as a being would act who included thy will and thy neighbor's will +in the unity of one life, and who had therefore to suffer the +consequences for the aims of both that will follow from the act of +either." "In so far as in thee lies, act as if thou wert at once thy +neighbor and thyself. Treat these two lives as one." + ++The realization of the good of all in and through the act of each is +the social ideal.+--In everyday matters this can be brought about by +simply taking account of all the interests of others which will be +affected by our act. In the relations between employer and employee, for +instance, profit sharing is the most practical form of realizing this +community of interest. Such action involves a co-operation of interests +as the motives of the individual act. + +The larger social ends, such as education, philanthropy, reform, public +improvements, require the co-operation of many individuals in the same +enterprise. The readiness to contribute a fair share of our time, money, +and influence to these larger public interests, which no individual can +undertake alone, is an important part of our social duty. Every +beneficent cause, every effort to rouse public sentiment against a +wrong, or to make it effective in the enforcement of a right; every +endeavor to unite men in social intercourse; every plan to extend the +opportunities for education; every measure for the relief of the +deserving poor, and the protection of homeless children; every wise +movement for the prevention of vice, crime, and intemperance, is +entitled to receive from each one of us the same intelligent attention, +the same keenness of interest, the same energy of devotion, the same +sacrifice of inclination and convenience, the same resoluteness and +courage of action that we give to our private affairs. + ++Co-operation, then, is of two kinds, inward and outward: co-operation +between the interests of others and of ourselves in the motive to our +individual action; and co-operation of our action with the action of +others to accomplish objects too vast for private undertaking.+--Both +forms of co-operation are in principle the same; they strengthen and +support each other. The man who is in the habit of considering the +interests of others in his individual acts will be more ready to unite +with others in the promotion of public beneficence. And on the other +hand the man who is accustomed to act with others in large public +movements will be more inclined to act for others in his personal +affairs. The reformer and philanthropist is simply the man of private +generosity and good-will acting out his nature on a larger stage. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++Public spirit is the life of the community in the heart of the +individual.+--This recognition that we belong to society, and that +society belongs to us, that its interests are our interests, that its +wrongs are ours to redress, its rights are ours to maintain, its losses +are ours to bear, its blessings are ours to enjoy, is public spirit. + +A generous regard for the public welfare, a willingness to lend a hand +in any movement for the improvement of social conditions, a readiness +with work and influence and time and money to relieve suffering, +improve sanitary conditions, promote education and morality, remove +temptation from the weak, open reading-rooms and places of harmless +resort for the unoccupied in their evening hours, to bind together +persons of similar tastes and pursuits--these are the marks of public +spirit; these are the manifestations of social virtue. + ++Politeness is love in little things.+--Toward individuals whom we meet +in social ways this recognition of our common nature and mutual rights +takes the form of politeness and courtesy. Politeness is proper respect +for human personality. Rudeness results from thinking exclusively about +ourselves, and caring nothing for the feelings of anybody else. The +sincere and generous desire to bring the greatest pleasure and the least +pain to everyone we meet will go a long way toward making our manners +polite and courteous. + +Still, society has agreed upon certain more or less arbitrary ways for +facilitating social intercourse; it has established rules for conduct on +social occasions, and to a certain extent prescribed the forms of words +that shall be used, the modes of salutation that shall be employed, the +style of dress that shall be worn, and the like. A due respect for +society, and for the persons whom we meet socially, demands that we +shall acquaint ourselves with these rules of etiquette, and observe them +in our social intercourse. Like all forms, social formalities are easily +carried to excess, and frequently kill the spirit they are intended to +express. As a basis, however, for the formation of acquaintances, and +for large social gatherings, a good deal of formality is necessary. + + +THE REWARD. + ++The complete expression and outgo of our nature is freedom.+--Since man +is by nature social, since sympathy, friendship, co-operation and +affection are essential attributes of man, it follows that the exercise +of these social virtues is itself the satisfaction of what is +essentially ourselves. + +The man who fulfills his social duties is free, for he finds an open +field and an unfettered career for the most essential faculties of his +nature. The social man always has friends whom he loves; work which he +feels to be worth doing; interests which occupy his highest powers; +causes which appeal to his deepest sympathies. Such a life of rounded +activity, of arduous endeavor, of full, free self-expression is in +itself the highest possible reward. It is the only form of satisfaction +worthy of man. It is in the deepest sense of the word success. For as +Lowell says: + + All true whole men succeed, for what is worth + Success's name, unless it be the thought, + The inward surety to have carried out + A noble purpose to a noble end. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++Instead of regarding society as a whole, and self as a member of that +whole, it is possible to regard self as distinct and separate from +society, and to make the interests of this separated and detached self +the end and aim of action.+--This temptation is self-interest. It +consists in placing the individual self, with its petty, private, +personal interests, above the social self, with the large, public, +generous interests of the social order. + +From one point of view it is easy to cheat society, and deprive it of +its due. We can shirk our social obligations; we can dodge +subscriptions; we can stay at home when we ought to be at the committee +meeting, or the public gathering; we can decline invitations and refuse +elections to arduous offices, and at the same time escape many of the +worst penalties which would naturally follow from our neglect. For +others, more generous and noble than we, will step in and take upon +themselves our share of the public burdens in addition to their own. We +may flatter ourselves that we have done a very shrewd thing in +contriving to reap the benefits without bearing the burdens of society. +There is, as we shall see, a penalty for negligence of social duty, and +that too most sure and terrible. Self-interest is the seed, of which +meanness is the full-grown plant, and of which social constraint and +slavishness are the final fruits. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++Lack of public spirit is meanness.+--The mean man is he who +acknowledges no interest and recognizes no obligation outside the narrow +range of his strictly private concerns. As long as he is comfortable he +will take no steps to relieve the distress of others. If his own +premises are healthy, he will contribute nothing to improve the sanitary +condition of his village or city. As long as his own property is secure +he cares not how many criminals are growing up in the street, how many +are sent to prison, or how they are treated after they come there. He +favors the cheapest schools, the poorest roads, the plainest public +buildings, because he would rather keep his money in his own pocket than +contribute his share to maintain a thoroughly efficient and creditable +public service. He will give nothing he can help giving, do nothing he +can help doing, to make the town he lives in a healthier, happier, +purer, wiser, nobler place. Meanness is the sacrifice of the great +social whole to the individual. It is selfishness, stinginess, and +ingratitude combined. It is the disposition to receive all that society +contributes to the individual, and to give nothing in return. It is a +willingness to appropriate the fruits of labors in which one refuses to +bear a part. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++The officious person is ready for any and every kind of public service, +providing he can be at the head of it. There is no end to the work he +will do if he can only have his own way.+--He wants to be prime mover in +every enterprise: to be chairman of the committee; to settle every +question that comes up; to "run" things according to his own ideas. Such +people are often very useful. It is generally wisest not to meddle much +with them. The work may not be done in the best way by these officious +people; but without them a great deal of public work would never be done +at all. The vice, however, seriously impairs one's usefulness. The +officious person is hard to work with. Men refuse to have anything to do +with him. And so he is left to do his work for the most part alone. +Officiousness is, in reality, social ambition; and that again as we saw +resolves itself into sentimentality;--the regard for what we and others +think of ourselves, rather than straightforward devotion to the ends +which we pretend to be endeavoring to promote. Officiousness is +self-seeking dressed up in the uniform of service. The officious person, +instead of losing his private self in the larger life of society, tries +to use the larger interests of society in such a way as to make them +gratify his own personal vanity and sense of self-importance. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++All meanness and self-seeking are punished by lack of freedom or +constraint; though frequently the constraint is inward and spiritual +rather than outward and physical.+--We have seen that to the man of +generous public spirit society presents a career for the unfolding and +expansion of his social powers. To such a man society, with its claims +and obligations, is an enlargement of his range of sympathy, a widening +of his spiritual horizon, and on that account a means of larger liberty +and fuller freedom. + +To the mean and selfish man, on the contrary, society presents itself as +an alien force, a hard task-master, making severe requirements upon his +time, imposing cramping limitations on his self-indulgence, levying +heavy taxes upon his substance; prescribing onerous rules and +regulations for his conduct. + +By excluding society from the sphere of interests with which he +identifies himself, the mean man, by his own meanness, makes society +antagonistic to him, and himself its reluctant and unwilling slave. +Serve it to some extent he must; but the selfishness and meanness of his +own attitude toward it, makes social service, not the willing and joyous +offering of a free and devoted heart, but the slavish submission of a +reluctant will, forced to do the little that it cannot help doing by +legal or social compulsion. + +To him society is not a sphere of freedom, in which his own nature is +enlarged, intensified, liberated; and so made richer, happier, nobler, +and freer. To him society is an external power, compelling him to make +sacrifices he does not want to make; to do things he does not want to +do; to contribute money which he grudges, and to conform to requirements +which he hates. By trying to save the life of self-interest and +meanness, he loses the life of generous aims, noble ideals, and heroic +self devotion. + +By refusing the career of noble freedom which social service offers to +each member of the social body, he is constrained to obey a social law +which he has not helped to create, and to serve the interests of a +society of which he has refused to be in spirit and truth a part. + +This living in a world which we do not heartily acknowledge as our own; +this subjection to an authority which we do not in principle recognize +and welcome as the voice of our own better, larger, wiser, social +self,--this is constraint and slavery in its basest and most degrading +form. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +Self. + + +Hitherto we have considered things, relations, persons, and institutions +outside ourselves as the objects which together constitute our +environment. + +The self is not a new object, but rather the bond which binds together +into unity all the experiences of life. It is their relation to this +conscious self which gives to all objects their moral worth. Every act +upon an object reacts upon ourselves. The virtues and vices, the rewards +and penalties that we have been studying are the various reactions of +conduct upon ourselves. This chapter then will be a comprehensive review +and summary of all that has gone before. Instead of taking one by one +the particular reactions which follow particular acts with reference to +particular objects, we shall now look at conduct as a whole; regard our +environment in its totality; and consider duty, virtue, and self in +their unity. + + +THE DUTY. + ++The duty we owe to ourselves is the realization of our capacities and +powers in harmony with each other, and in proportion to their worth as +elements in a complete individual and social life.+--We have within us +the capacity for an ever increasing fullness and richness and intensity +of life. The materials out of which this life is to be developed are +ready to our hands in those objects which we have been considering. One +way of conduct toward these objects, which we have called duty; one +attitude of mind and will toward them which we have called virtue, leads +to those completions and fulfillments of ourselves which we have called +rewards. Duty then to self; duty in its most comprehensive aspect, is +the obligation which the existence of capacity within and material +without imposes on us to bring the two together in harmonious relations, +so as to realize the capacities and powers of ourselves and of others, +and promote society's well being. In simpler terms our fundamental duty +is to make the most of ourselves; and to become as large and genuine a +part of the social world in which we live as it is possible for us to +be. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++The habit of seeking to realize the highest capacities and widest +relationships of our nature in every act is conscientiousness. +Conscience is our consciousness of the ideal in conduct and character. +Conscience is the knowledge of our duty, coupled as that knowledge +always is with the feeling that we ought to do it.+--Knowledge of any +kind calls up some feeling appropriate to the fact known. Knowledge that +a given act would realize my ideal calls up the feeling of +dissatisfaction with myself until that act is performed; because that +is the feeling appropriate to the recognition of an unrealized yet +attainable ideal. Conscience is not a mysterious faculty of our nature. +It is simply thought and feeling, recognizing and responding to the fact +of duty, and reaching out toward virtue and excellence. + +The objective worth of the deliverances and dictates of the conscience +of the individual, depends on the degree of moral enlightenment and +sensitiveness he has attained. The conscience of an educated Christian +has a worth and authority which the conscience of the benighted savage +has not. Since conscience is the recognition of the ideal of conduct and +character, every new appreciation of duty and virtue gives to conscience +added strength and clearness. + ++The absolute authority of conscience.+--Relatively to the individual +himself, at the time of acting, his own individual conscience is the +final and absolute authority. The man who does what his conscience tells +him, does the best that he can do. For he realizes the highest ideal +that is present to his mind. A wiser man than he might do better than +this man, acting according to his conscience, is able to do. But this +man, with the limited knowledge and imperfect ideal which he actually +has, can do no more than obey his conscience which bids him realize the +highest ideal that he knows. The act of the conscientious man may be +right or wrong, judged by objective, social standards. Judged by +subjective standards, seen from within, every conscientious act is, +relatively to the individual himself, a right act. We should spare no +pains to enlighten our conscience, and make it the reflection of the +most exalted ideals which society has reached. Having done this, +conscience becomes to us the authoritative judge for us of what we +shall, and what we shall not do. The light of conscience will be clear +and pure, or dim and clouded, according to the completeness of our moral +environment, training, and insight. But clear or dim, high or low, +sensitive or dull, the light of conscience is the only light we have to +guide us in the path of virtue. In hours of leisure and study it is our +privilege to inform and clarify this consciousness of the ideal. That +has been the purpose of the preceding pages. When the time for action +comes, then, without a murmur, without an instant's hesitation, the +voice of conscience should be implicitly obeyed. Conscientiousness is +the form which all the virtues take, when viewed as determinations of +the self. It is the assertion of the ideal of the self in its every act. + + +THE REWARD. + ++Character the form in which the result of virtuous conduct is +preserved.+--It is neither possible nor desirable to solve each question +of conduct as it arises by conscious and explicit reference to rules and +principles. Were we to attempt to do so it would make us prigs and +prudes. + +What then is the use of studying at such length the temptations and +duties, the virtues and vices, with their rewards and penalties, if all +these things are to be forgotten and ignored when the occasions for +practical action arrive? + +The study of ethics has the same use as the study of writing, grammar, +or piano-playing. In learning to write we have to think precisely how +each letter is formed, how one letter is connected with another, where +to use capitals, where to punctuate and the like. But after we have +become proficient in writing, we do all this without once thinking +explicitly of any of these things. In learning to play the piano we have +to count out loud in order to keep time correctly, and we are obliged to +stop and think just where to put the finger in order to strike each +separate note. But the expert player does all these things without the +slightest conscious effort. + +Still, though the particular rules and principles are not consciously +present in each act of the finished writer or musician, they are not +entirely absent. When the master of these arts makes a mistake, he +recognizes it instantly, and corrects it, or endeavors to avoid its +repetition. This shows that the rule is not lost. It has ceased to be +before the mind as a distinct object of consciousness. It is no longer +needed in that form for ordinary purposes. Instead, it has come to be a +part of the mind itself--a way in which the mind works instinctively. As +long as the mind works in conformity with the principle, it is not +distinctly recognized, because there is no need for such recognition. +The principle comes to consciousness only as a power to check or +restrain acts that are at variance with it. + +It is in this way that the practical man carries with him his ethical +principles. He does not stop to reason out the relation of duty and +virtue to reward, or of temptation and vice to penalty, before he +decides to help the unfortunate, or to be faithful to a friend, or to +vote on election day. This trained, habitual will, causing acts to be +performed in conformity to duty and virtue, yet without conscious +reference to the explicit principles that underlie them, is character. + +It is chiefly in the formation of character that the explicit +recognition of ethical principles has its value. Character is a storage +battery in which the power acquired by our past acts is accumulated and +preserved for future use. + +It is through this power of character, this tendency of acts of a given +nature to repeat and perpetuate themselves, that we give unity and +consistency to our lives. This also is the secret of our power of +growth. As soon as one virtue has become habitual and enters into our +character, we can leave it, trusting it in the hands of this unconscious +power of self-perpetuation; and then we can turn the energy thus freed +toward the acquisition of new virtues. + +Day by day we are turning over more and more of our lives to this domain +of character. Hence it is of the utmost importance to allow nothing to +enter this almost irrevocable state of unconscious, habitual character +that has not first received the approval of conscience, the sanction of +duty, and the stamp of virtue. Character, once formed in a wrong +direction, may be corrected. But it can be done only with the greatest +difficulty, and by a process as hard to resolve upon as the amputation +of a limb or the plucking out of an eye. + +The greater part of the principles of ethics we knew before we undertook +this formal study. We learned them from our parents; we picked them up +in contact with one another in the daily intercourse of life. The value +of our study will not consist so much in new truths learned, as in the +clearer and sharper outlines which it will have given to some of the +features of the moral ideal. The definite results of such a study we +cannot mark or measure. Just as sunshine and rain come to the plants and +trees, and then seem to vanish, leaving no visible or tangible trace +behind; yet the plants and trees are different from what they were +before, and have the heat and moisture stored up within their structure +to burst forth into fresher and larger life; in like manner, though we +should forget every formal statement that we have read, yet we could not +fail to be affected by the incorporation within ourselves in the form of +character of some of these principles of duty and virtue which we have +been considering. It has been said: "Sow an act, and you reap a habit; +sow a habit and you reap a character; sow a character and you reap a +destiny." + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++Pleasure not a reliable guide to conduct.+--The realization of capacity +brings with it pleasure. The harmonious realization of all our powers +would bring harmonious and permanent pleasure or happiness. Pleasure is +always to be welcomed as a sign of health and activity. Other things +being equal, the more pleasure we have the better. It is possible +however to abstract the pleasure from the activity which gives rise to +it, and make pleasure the end for which we act. This pursuit of pleasure +for pleasure's sake is delusive and destructive. It is delusive, because +the direct aim at pleasure turns us aside from the direct aim at +objects. And when we cease to aim directly at objects, we begin to lose +the pleasure and zest which only a direct pursuit of objects can +produce. For instance, we all know that if we go to a picnic or a party +thinking all the while about having a good time, and asking ourselves +every now and then whether we are having a good time or not, we find the +picnic or party a dreadful bore, and ourselves perfectly miserable. We +know that the whole secret of having a good time on such occasions is to +get interested in something else; a game, a boat-ride, anything that +makes us forget ourselves and our pleasures, and helps us to lose +ourselves in the eager, arduous, absorbing pursuit of something outside +ourselves. Then we have a glorious time. + +The direct pursuit of pleasure is destructive of character, because it +judges things by the way they affect our personal feelings; which is a +very shallow and selfish standard of judgment; and because it centers +interest in the merely emotional side of our nature, which is peculiar +to ourselves; instead of in the rational part of our nature which is +common to all men, and unites us to our fellows. + +Duty demands not the hap-hazard realization of this or that side of our +nature. Yet this is what the pursuit of pleasure would lead to. Duty +demands the realization of all our faculties, in harmony with each +other, and in proportion to their worth. And to this proportioned and +harmonious realization, pleasure, pure and simple, is no guide at all. +Hence, as Aristotle remarks, "In all cases we must be specially on our +guard against pleasant things and against pleasure: for we can scarce +judge her impartially." "Again, as the exercises of our faculties differ +in goodness and badness, and some are to be desired and some to be +shunned, so do the several pleasures differ; for each exercise has its +proper pleasure. The pleasure which is proper to a good activity, then, +is good, and that which is proper to one that is not good is bad." "As +the exercises of the faculties vary, so do their respective pleasures." + +To the same effect John Stuart Mill says that the pleasures which result +from the exercise of the higher faculties are to be preferred. "It is +better to be a human being dissatisfied, than a pig satisfied; better to +be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied." Whether it is possible +to stretch, and qualify, and attenuate the conception of pleasure so as +to make it cover the ideal of human life, without having it, like a +soap-bubble, burst in the process, is a question foreign to the +practical purpose of this book. That pleasure, as ordinarily understood +by plain people, is a treacherous, dangerous, and ruinous guide to +conduct, moralists of every school declare. Pleasure is the most subtle +and universal form of temptation. Pleasure is the accompaniment of all +exercise of power. When it comes rightly it is to be accepted with +thankfulness. We must remember however that the quality of the act +determines the worth of the pleasure; and that the amount of pleasure +does not determine the quality of the act. A pleasant act may be right, +and it may be wrong. Whether we ought to do it or not must in every case +be decided on higher grounds. + +To the boy who says, "I should like to be something that would make me a +great man, and very happy besides--something that would not hinder me +from having a great deal of pleasure"--George Eliot represents "Romola" +as replying, "That is not easy, my Lillo. It is only a poor sort of +happiness that could ever come by caring very much about our own narrow +pleasures. We can only have the highest happiness, such as goes along +with being a great man, by having wide thoughts, and much feeling for +the rest of the world as well as for ourselves; and this sort of +happiness often brings so much pain with it that we can only tell it +from pain by its being what we would choose before everything else, +because our souls see it is good. And so, my Lillo, if you mean to act +nobly and seek to know the best things God has put within reach of men, +you must learn to fix your mind on that end, and not on what will happen +to you because of it. And remember, if you were to choose something +lower, and make it the rule of your life to seek your own pleasure and +escape from what is disagreeable, calamity might come just the same; and +it would be calamity falling on a base mind, which is the one form of +sorrow that has no balm in it, and that may well make a man say--It +would have been better for me if I had never been born." + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++The unscrupulous man acts as he happens to feel like acting.+--Whatever +course of conduct presents itself as pleasant, or profitable, or easy, +he adopts. Anything is good enough for him. He seeks to embody no ideal, +aims consistently at no worthy end, acknowledges no duty, but simply +yields himself a passive instrument for lust, or avarice, or cowardice, +or falsehood to play upon. Refusing to be the servant of virtue he +becomes the slave of vice. Disowning the authority of duty and the +ideal, he becomes the tool of appetite, the football of circumstance. +Unscrupulousness is the form of all the vices of defect, when viewed in +relation to that absence of regard for realization of self, which is +their common characteristic. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++The exclusive regard for self, in abstraction from those objects and +social relationships through which alone the self can be truly realized, +leads to formalism.+--Formalism keeps the law simply for the sake of +keeping it. Conscientiousness, if it is wise and well-balanced, +reverences the duties and requirements of the moral life, because these +duties are the essential conditions of individual and social well-being. +The law is a means to well-being, which is the end. Formalism makes the +law an end in itself; and will even sacrifice well-being to law, when +the two squarely conflict. + ++Extreme cases in which moral laws may be suspended.+--The particular +duties, virtues, and laws which society has established and recognized +are the expressions of reason and experience declaring the conditions of +human well-being. As such they deserve our profoundest respect; our +unswerving obedience. Still it is impossible for rules to cover every +case. There are legitimate, though very rare, exceptions, even to moral +laws and duties. For instance it is a duty to respect the property of +others. Yet to save the life of a person who is starving, we are +justified in taking the property of another without asking his consent. +To save a person from drowning, we may seize a boat belonging to +another. To spread the news of a fire, we may take the first horse we +find, without inquiring who is the owner. To save a sick person from a +fatal shock, we may withhold facts in violation of the strict duty of +truthfulness. To promote an important public measure, we may +deliberately break down our health, spend our private fortune, and +reduce ourselves to helpless beggary. Such acts violate particular +duties. They break moral laws. And yet they all are justified in these +extreme cases by the higher law of love; by the greater duty of devotion +to the highest good of our fellow-men. The doctrine that "the end +justifies the means" is a mischievous and dangerous doctrine. Stated in +that unqualified form, it is easily made the excuse for all sorts of +immorality. The true solution of the seeming conflict of duties lies in +the recognition that the larger social good justifies the sacrifice of +the lesser social good when the two conflict. One must remember, +however, that the universal recognition of established duties and laws +is itself the greatest social good; and only the most extreme cases can +justify a departure from the path of generally recognized and +established moral law. + +These extreme cases when they occur, however, must be dealt with +bravely. The form of law and rule must be sacrificed to the substance of +righteousness and love when the two conflict. As Professor Marshall +remarks in the chapter of his "History of Greek Philosophy" which deals +with Socrates, "The highest activity does not always take the form of +conformity to rule. There are critical moments when rules fail, when, in +fact, obedience to rule would mean disobedience to that higher law, of +which rules and formulae are at best only an adumbration." + +There is nothing more contemptible than that timid, self-seeking virtue +which will sacrifice the obvious well-being of others to save itself the +pain of breaking a rule. There is nothing more pitiful than that +self-righteous virtue which does right, not because it loves the right, +still less because it loves the person who is affected by its action, +but simply because it wants to keep its own sweet sense of +self-righteousness unimpaired. Mrs. Browning gives us a clear example of +this "harmless life, she called a virtuous life," in the case of the +frigid aunt of "Aurora Leigh": + + From that day, she did + Her duty to me (I appreciate it + In her own word as spoken to herself), + Her duty, in large measure, well-pressed out, + But measured always. She was generous, bland, + More courteous than was tender, gave me still + The first place,--as if fearful that God's saints + Would look down suddenly and say, 'Herein + You missed a point, I think, through lack of love.' + + +THE PENALTY. + ++Just as continuity in virtue strengthens and unifies character and +makes life a consistent and harmonious whole; so self-indulgence in +vicious pleasures disorganizes a man's life and eats the heart out of +him.+--Corrupt means literally broken. The corrupt man has no soundness, +no solidity, no unity in his life. He cannot respect himself. Others +cannot put confidence in him. There is no principle binding each part of +his life to every other, and holding the whole together. The other words +by which we describe such a life all spring from the same conception. We +call such a person dissolute; and dissolute means literally separated, +loosed, broken apart. We call him dissipated; and dissipated means +literally scattered, torn apart, thrown away. + +These forms of statement all point to the same fact, that the +unscrupulous pleasure-seeker, the selfish, vicious man has no +consistent, continuous, coherent life whatever. "The unity of his +being," as Janet says, "is lost in the multiplicity of his sensations." +His life is a mere series of disconnected fragments. There is no growth, +no development. There is nothing on which he can look with approval; no +consistent career of devotion to worthy objective ends, the fruits of +which can be witnessed in the improvement of the world in which he has +lived, and stored up in the character which he has formed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +God. + + +In the last chapter we saw that the particular objects and duties which +make up our environment and moral life are not so many separate affairs; +but all have a common relation to the self, and its realization. We saw +that this common relation to the self gives unity to the world of +objects, the life of duty, the nature of virtue, and the character which +crowns right living. + +There is, however, a deeper, more comprehensive unity in the moral world +than that which each man constructs for his individual self. The world +of objects is included in a universal order. The several duties are +parts of a comprehensive righteousness, which includes the acts of all +men within its rightful sway. The several virtues are so many aspects of +one all-embracing moral ideal. The rewards and penalties which follow +virtue and vice are the expression of a constitution of things which +makes for righteousness. The Being whose thought includes all objects in +one comprehensive universe of reason; whose will is uttered in the voice +of duty; whose holiness is revealed in the highest ideal of virtue we +can form; and whose authority is declared in those eternal and +indissoluble bonds which bind virtue and reward, vice and penalty, +together, is God. + + +THE DUTY. + ++Communion with God is the safeguard of virtue, the secret of resistance +to temptation, the source of moral and spiritual power.+--Our minds are +too small to carry consciously and in detail; our wills are too frail to +hold in readiness at every moment the principles and motives of moral +conduct. God alone is great enough for this. + +We can make him the keeper of our moral precepts and the guardian of our +lives. And then when we are in need of guidance, help, and strength, we +can go to him, and by devoutly seeking to know and do his will, we can +recover the principles and reinforce the motives of right conduct that +we have intrusted to his keeping; and ofttimes we get, in addition, +larger views of duty and nobler impulses to virtue than we have ever +consciously possessed before. Just as the love of father or mother +clarifies a child's perception of what is right, and intensifies his +will to do it, so the love of God has power to make us strong to resist +temptation, resolute to do our duty, and strenuous in the endeavor to +advance the kingdom of righteousness and love. + +Into the particular doctrines and institutions of religion it is not the +purpose of this book to enter. These are matters which each individual +learns best from his own father and mother, and from the church in which +he has been brought up. Our account of ethics, however, would be +seriously incomplete, were we to omit to point out the immense and +indispensable strength and help we may gain for the moral life, by +approaching it in the religious spirit. + ++Ethics and religion each needs the other.+--They are in reality, one +the detailed and particular, the other the comprehensive and universal +aspect of the same world of duty and virtue. Morality without religion +is a cold, dry, dreary, mass of disconnected rules and requirements. +Religion without morality, is an empty, formal, unsubstantial shadow. +Only when the two are united, only when we bring to the particular +duties of ethics the infinite aspiration and inspiration of religion, +and give to the universal forms of religion the concrete contents of +human and temporal relationships, do we gain a spiritual life which is +at the same time clear and strong, elevated and practical, ideal and +real. + + +THE VIRTUE. + ++Just as God includes all objects in his thought, all duties in his +will, all virtues in his ideal; so the man who communes with him, and +surrenders his will to him in obedience and trust and love, partakes of +this same wholeness and holiness.+--Loving God, he is led to love all +that God loves, to love all good. And holiness is the love of all that +is good and the hatred of all that is evil. + +Complete holiness is not wrought out in its concrete relations all at +once, nor ever in this earthly life, by the religious, any more than by +the moral man. Temptations are frequent all along the way, and the falls +many and grievous to the last. But from all deliberately cherished +identification of his inmost heart and will with evil, the truly +religious man is forevermore set free. From the moment one's will is +entirely surrendered to God, and the divine ideal of life and conduct is +accepted, a new and holy life begins. + +Old temptations may surprise him into unrighteous deeds; old habits may +still assert themselves, old lusts may drift back on the returning tides +of past associations; old vices may continue to crop out. + +In reality, however, they are already dead. They are like the leaves +that continue to look green upon the branches of a tree that has been +cut down; or the momentum of a train after the steam is shut off and the +brakes are on. + +God, who is all-wise, sees that in such a man sin is in principle dead; +and he judges him accordingly. If penitence for past sins and present +falls be genuine; if the desire to do his will be earnest; He takes the +will for the deed, penitence for performance, aspiration for attainment. +Such judgment is not merely merciful. It is just. Or rather, it is the +blending of mercy and justice in love. It is judgment according to the +deeper, internal aspect of a man, instead of judgment according to the +superficial, outward aspect. For the will is the center and core of +personality. What a man desires and strives for with all his heart, +that he is. What he repents of and repudiates with the whole strength of +his frail and imperfect nature, that he has ceased to be. + +Thus religion, or whole-souled devotion to God, gives a sense of +completeness, and attainment, and security, and peace, which mere +ethics, or adjustment to the separate fragmentary objects which +constitute our environment, can never give. The moral life is from its +very nature partial, fragmentary, and finite. The religious life by +penitence and faith and hope and love, rises above the finite with its +limitations, and the temporal with its sins and failings, and lays hold +on the infinite ideal and the eternal goodness, with its boundless +horizon and its perfect peace. The religious life, like the moral, is +progressive. But, as Principal Caird remarks, "It is progress, not +towards, but within, the infinite." Union with God in sincere devotion +to his holy will, is the "promise and potency" of harmonious relations +with that whole ethical and spiritual universe which his thought and +will includes. + + +THE REWARD. + ++The reward of communion with God and comprehensive righteousness of +conduct is spiritual life.+--The righteous man, the man who walks with +God, is in principle and purpose identified with every just cause, with +every step of human progress, with every sphere of man's well-being. To +him property is a sacred trust, time a golden opportunity, truth a +divine revelation, Nature the visible garment of God, humanity a holy +brotherhood, the family, society, and the state are God-ordained +institutions, with God-given laws. Through the one fundamental devotion +of his heart and will to God, the religious man is made a partaker in +all these spheres of life in which the creative will of God is +progressively revealed. All that is God's belong to the religious man. +For he is God's child. And all these things are his inheritance. + +To the religious man, therefore, there is open a boundless career for +service, sacrifice, devotion and appropriation. Every power, every +affection, every aspiration within him has its counterpart in the +outward universe. The universe is his Father's house; and therefore his +own home. All that it contains are so many opportunities for the +development and realization of his God-given nature. + +To dwell in active, friendly, loving relation to all that is without; to +be + + wedded to this goodly universe + In love and holy passion, + +to be heirs with God of the spiritual riches it contains: this is life +indeed. "The gift of God is eternal life." + ++Religion is the crown and consummation of ethics.+--Religion gathers up +into their unity the scattered fragments of duty and virtue which it has +been the aim of our ethical studies to discern apart. Religion presents +as the will of the all-wise, all-loving Father, those duties and virtues +which ethics presents as the conditions of our own self-realization. +Religion is the perfect circle of which the moral virtues are the +constituent arcs. Fullness of life is the reward of righteousness, the +gift of God, the one comprehensive good, of which the several rewards +which follow the practice of particular duties and virtues are the +constituent elements. + + +THE TEMPTATION. + ++The universal will of God, working in conformity with impartial law, +and seeking the equal good of all, often seems to be in sharp conflict +with the interests of the individual self.+--If his working is +irresistible we are tempted to repine and rebel. If his will is simply +declared, and left for us to carry out by the free obedience of our +wills, then we are tempted to sacrifice the universal good to which the +divine will points, and to assert instead some selfish interest of our +own. Self-will is, from the religious point of view, the form of all +temptation. The ends at which God aims when he bids us sacrifice our +immediate private interests are so remote that they seem to us unreal; +and often they are so vast that we fail to comprehend them at all. In +such crises faith alone can save us--faith to believe that God is wiser +than we are, faith to believe that his universal laws are better than +any private exceptions we can make in our own interest, faith to +believe that the universal good is of more consequence than our +individual gain. Such faith is hard to grasp and difficult to maintain; +and consequently the temptation of self-will is exceedingly seductive, +and is never far from any one of us. + + +THE VICE OF DEFECT. + ++Sin is short-coming, missing the mark of our true being, which is to be +found only in union with God.+--Sin is the attempt to live apart from +God, or as if there were no God. It is transgression of his laws. It is +the attempt to make a world of our own, from which in whole or in part +we try to exclude God, and escape the jurisdiction of his laws. All +wrong-doing, all vice, all neglect of duty, is in reality a violation of +the divine will. But not until the individual comes to recognize the +divine will, and in spite of this recognition that all duty is divine, +deliberately turns aside from God and duty together, does vice become +sin. + + +THE VICE OF EXCESS. + ++Devotion to God as distinct from or in opposition to devotion to those +concrete duties and human relationship wherein the divine will is +expressed, is hypocrisy.+--"If a man say I love God and hateth his +brother he is a liar: for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath +seen, cannot love God whom he hath not seen." + +Pure religion begins in faith and ends in works. It draws from God the +inspiration to serve in righteousness and love our fellow-men. If faith +stop short of God, and rest in church, or creed, or priest; if work stop +short of actual service of our fellow-men, and rest in splendor of +ritual or glow of pious feeling, or orthodoxy of belief; then our +religion becomes a vain and hollow thing, and we become Pharisees and +hypocrites. + + +THE PENALTY. + ++The wages of sin is death.+--The penalty of each particular vice we +have seen to be the dwarfing, stunting, decay, and deadening of that +particular side of our nature that is effected by it. Intemperance +brings disease; wastefulness brings want; cruelty brings brutality; +ugliness brings coarseness; exclusiveness brings isolation; treason +brings anarchy. Just in so far as one cuts himself off from the moral +order which is the expression of God's will; just in so far as there is +sin, there is privation, deadening, and decay. As long as we live in +this world it is impossible to live an utterly vicious life; to cut +ourselves off completely from God and his order and his laws. To do that +would be instant death. The man who should embody all the vices and none +of the virtues, would be intolerable to others, unendurable even to +himself. The penalty of an all-round life of vice and sin would be +greater than man could endure and live. This fearful end is seldom +reached in this life. Some redeeming virtues save even the worst of men +from this full and final penalty of sin. The man, however, who +deliberately rejects God as his friend and guide to righteous living; +the man who deliberately makes self-will and sin the ruling principle of +his life, is started on a road, which, if followed to the end, leads +inevitably to death. He is excluding himself from that sphere of good, +that career of service and devotion, wherein alone true life is to be +found. He is banishing himself to that outer darkness which is our +figurative expression for the absence of all those rewards of virtue and +the presence of all those penalties of vice which our previous studies +have brought to our attention. "Sin, when it is full-grown, bringeth +forth death." "The wages of sin is death." + + +THE END. + + + + +INDEX. + + + Abstinence, total, 14-16 + + Adulteration, 47 + + Affectation, 86, 87 + + Alcibiades, on personal appearance, 22 + + Ambition, true and false, 164 + + Amusement, 28; + seeking, 30 + + Animals, 98 + + Anxiety, 63 + + Aristotle, on friendship, 137; + on pleasure, 187 + + Arnold, M., on insincerity, 105; + on "quiet work," 39 + + Art, 89 + + Asceticism, 12 + + + Bashfulness, 106 + + Beauty, 90, 92; + how to cultivate the love of, 91; + ideal of, 89 + + Benevolence, 118 + + Betrayal, 141 + + Betting, a form of gambling, 78 + + Brothers, duties of, 145 + + Browning, Mrs. E. B., on self-centered virtue, 192 + + Browning, Robert, on strength, 72; + on love, 115 + + Building and loan associations, 42 + + + Caird, John, on morality and religion, 198 + + Carelessness, 68, 69 + + Carlyle, Thomas, on human fellowship, 156; + on work, 32 + + Character, 182, 184 + + Charity, 118 + + Cheating, 48 + + Childhood, 40 + + Children, duty of, to their parents, 145 + + Civilization rests on law, 161 + + Coleridge, S. T., on kindness to animals, 101 + + Confidence, 56 + + Conflict of duties, 191 + + Conscience, absolute authority of, 181 + + Conscientiousness, 180, 182 + + Constraint, 176 + + Co-operation, 170; + two kinds of, 171 + + Co-ordination, 60 + + Courage, 73, 75; + moral, 74 + + Cowardice, moral, 76; + the shame of, 79 + + Craik, Mrs. D. M., on marriage, 147 + + Cruelty, 102, 103 + + Cynicism regarding appearance, 21 + + + Death, the wages of sin, 202 + + Debility, the penalty of neglected exercise, 31 + + Debt, 43 + + Devotion of husband and wife, 152 + + Discord, 64 + + Disease, 17, 18 + + Dishonesty, 49 + + Dissipation, 193 + + Dissoluteness, 193 + + Divorce, 148 + + Dress, 19, 20, 21 + + Drink, 9 + + Drunkenness, 13 + + Dude, the, 23 + + Duties, conflict of, 191 + + Duty, 2, 187 + + + Economy, 42 + + Effusiveness, 142 + + Eliot, George, on sympathy, 110; + on happiness, 188 + + Emerson, R. W., on friendship, 140, 143 + + Energy, the value of superfluous, 26 + + Ennui, 30 + + Enjoyment, the only true, 86 + + Epicurus, on the duty of friends, 139 + + Equivalence in trade, 46 + + Ethics, 1 + + Ethics and religion, 196 + + Example, responsibility for, 15 + + Exchange, 46 + + Excitement, 27 + + Exclusiveness, 142 + + Exercise, necessity of, 25 + + + Faith, 200 + + Falsehood, the forms of, 57 + + Family, the, 144 + + Fastidiousness, 23 + + Fellowship, 104 + + Food, 9 + + Foolhardiness, 77 + + Forgiveness, 130 + + Formalism, 190 + + Fortune, 70 + + Freedom is complete self-expression, 173 + + Friendship, 137 + + + Gambling, 78 + + Games, value of, 26 + + Gluttony, 13 + + God, 194 + + Golden Rule, the, 107 + + Gossip, the mischievousness of, 57 + + + Habit, 3 + + Harmony, 90 + + Hegel, on duty in personal relations, 2 + + Heredity, 51 + + Hill, Octavia, on benevolence, 120 + + Holiness, 196 + + Home, 149, 150 + + Honesty, 47 + + Hospitality, 105 + + Husband and wife, 149 + + Hypocrisy, 105, 201 + + + Ideal of Beauty, 89 + + Idleness, 33 + + Independence, 150, 151, 152 + + Indorsing notes, 50 + + Indiscriminate charity, 125 + + Individualism, 150, 153, 154 + + Industry, 35 + + Isolation, 143 + + + Janet, Paul, on dissipation, 193 + + Justice, 128 + + + Kant, on humanity an end, 106; + on importance of social relations, 109; + on a lie, 59; + on universality as test of conduct, 169 + + Keats on beauty, 93 + + Kindness, 100 + + Knowledge, 53 + + + Law, uniformity of, 70 + + Laziness, the slavery of, 37; + leads to poverty, 39 + + Lenity, 134, 135; + its effect on the offender, 135 + + Life insurance, 42 + + Loneliness, 156 + + Love, 106, 107, 108, 111 + + Lowell, J. R., on success, 173 + + Loyalty, 148 + + Luxury, the perversion of beauty, 93 + + Lying, 58, 59 + + + Marriage, 146, 153 + + Marshall, J., on conformity to rule, 191 + + Martineau, on censoriousness, 58 + + Maudsley, on hereditary effects of dishonesty, 51 + + Meanness, 51, 174, 175, 177 + + Mill, John Stuart, on pleasure, 187; + unity with fellow-men, 108 + + Miserliness, 44, 45 + + Moral courage, 74 + + Moroseness, 29 + + Morris, William, on simplicity of life, 92 + + + Nature, 81 + + Neatness, 20 + + Niggardliness, 124 + + Notes, indorsement of, 50 + + + Obtuseness, 86, 87 + + Officiousness, 176 + + Old age, provision for, 40 + + Opium habit, 16 + + Orderliness, 66 + + Organization, the function of the state, 157 + + Overwork, the folly of, 38 + + + Parents, duties of, to children, 145 + + Party, political, 160 + + Patriotism, 160 + + Peace, 198 + + Perfection, 90 + + Place for everything, 65 + + Plato, on virtue and vice, 6; + refutation of the Cynic, 22; + on obedience to laws, 159 + + Pleasure, 71, 186 + + Politeness, 172 + + Politician, and statesman, 161 + + Potter, Bishop, on giving, 119 + + Poverty, the causes of, 117 + + Pride, 142 + + Prigs, 182 + + Procrastination, 62 + + Profit-sharing, 170 + + Property, 40 + + Prudence, 61 + + Public spirit, 171 + + Punishment, the function of, 128; + good for the wrong-doer, 129 + + + Quackery, 49 + + + Raffling, a form of gambling, 78 + + Red-tape, 68 + + Reformation, 131 + + Reformer, 170 + + Religion, 195, 198 + + Religion and ethics, 196, 199 + + Reward of virtue, 4 + + Rich, the idle, 33 + + Rights, our own, 50; + of others, 158 + + Royce, J., on regarding others as persons, 107, 169 + + Rules, 183, 191 + + Ruskin, John, on the home, 150; + on truth, 54 + + + Saving, systematic, 41, 43 + + Savings-banks, 42 + + Scandal, the mischievousness of, 57 + + Scott, Sir Walter, on deceit, 56 + + Selfishness, 112; + the penalty of, 115 + + Self-indulgence, 192 + + Self-interest, 174 + + Self-obliteration for the sake of family, 154, 155 + + Self-realization, 179 + + Self-righteousness, 192 + + Self-will, 200 + + Sentimentality, 113, 114 + + Severity, 133, 135; + effect of, on the offender, 135 + + Shakespeare, on music, 95 + + Simplicity of life, 92 + + Sin, 201 + + Sisters, duties of, 145 + + Slavery, 178 + + Slovenliness, 22, 23 + + Social ideal, 170 + + Society, 167 + + Social responsibility, 15 + + Socrates, on obedience to law, 159 + + Soft places, to be avoided, 36 + + Space, 65 + + Speculation, a form of gambling, 79 + + Spencer, Herbert, on abundant energy, 27; + on deficient energy, 29 + + Spendthrift, the, 45 + + Spinoza, on the difficulty of excellence, 97 + + Spiritual life, the reward of righteousness, 198 + + "Spoils system," 162 + + Sports, value of, 26 + + Stagnation, 87 + + State, developed out of the family, 157 + + Statesman and politician, 161 + + Stealing, 48 + + Stoicism, 71, 110 + + Strength, the secret of, 72 + + Strife, the penalty of selfishness, 115 + + Success, 173 + + Superiority to fortune, the secret of, 71 + + Sympathy, 123 + + System, 66, 67 + + + Temperance, 10-15 + + Temptation, 5 + + Terence, oneness of individual with humanity, 106 + + Time, 60 + + Tobacco, 16, 17 + + Trade, importance of learning a, 34 + + ----, equivalence in, 46 + + Tranquillity, 39 + + Treason, 163 + + Truth, 53, 54 + + + Ugliness, 94 + + Unscrupulousness, 189 + + + Vengeance, 131, 132 + + Veracity, 55 + + Vice, 5 + + Virtue, 3 + + Vulgarity, akin to laziness, 96 + + + Wastefulness, 44, 45 + + Wealth, 36 + + Well-being, the conditions of, 118 + + Whitman, Walt, on the feelings of animals, 99 + + Whittier, J. G., on acting contrary to convictions, 79 + + Wife, and husband, 149 + + Woman's sphere, 34 + + Wordsworth, on books, 53; + on courage, 75; + on the influence of Nature, 82, 83, 84; + on neglecting Nature, 85; + on cruelty to animals, 102 + + Work, 32, 35 + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: + + +The following words appear with and without hyphens. They have been left +as in the original. + + life-long lifelong + Profit-sharing profit sharing + Red-tape red tape + short-coming shortcoming + wrong-doer wrongdoer + wrong-doers wrongdoers + wrong-doing wrongdoing + +The following corrections were made to the text: + + page 13: Alcoholic[original has Alchoholic] drink produces + + page 15: moderate use of alcoholic[original has alchoholic] + drinks + + page 28: form of recreation becomes indispensable[original has + indispensaable] + + page 55: that we withhold[original has withold] the truth + + page 58: the worst pest that infests[original has invests] + + page 62: for to-morrow we die.[original has comma] + + page 70: by invariable laws.[original has comma] Every event + + page 101: give it the reasonable[original has resonable] + attention + + page 106: letters, or philanthropy[original has philanthrophy] + or social problems + + page 113: on hand wherever[original has whereever] there is a + chance + + page 122: THE REWARD.[original has comma] + + page 133: the offender which metes[original has meets] out to + him + + page 148: demonstrate the utter impossibility[original has + impossibilty] + + page 177: with which he identifies[original has indentifies] + himself + + page 191: we may withhold[original has withold] facts in + violation + + page 197: falls many and grievous[original has grevious] to + the last + + page 198: in principle and purpose identified[original has + indentified] with + + page 206: index entry for Gluttony was put in alphabetic + order[original has it listed after Gossip] + + page 206: Hypocrisy, 105, 201[original has 105-201] + + page 206: Marriage, 146, 156[original has viii and ix listed + as well--page viii is blank and page ix does not exist] + + page 207: Obscenity, viii[entry removed because page viii is + blank] + + page 207: Parents, duties of, to children, 145[reference to + page vi removed--page vi is part of the outline] + + page 207: Purity, viii[entry removed because page viii is + blank] + + page 207: index entries for Reformer and Religion separated + and semi-colon removed[original has Reformer, 170; Religion, + 195, 198] + + page 207: Sensuality, ix[entry removed because there is no + page ix] + + page 207: Sexual passions, vii[entry removed--page vii is part + of the outline] + +In the index, there is an entry for "Craik, Mrs. D. M." Her name is not +mentioned in the book, but she is the author of "John Halifax, +Gentleman" which is referenced on page 147. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Practical Ethics, by William DeWitt Hyde + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRACTICAL ETHICS *** + +***** This file should be named 24372.txt or 24372.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/3/7/24372/ + +Produced by Bill Tozier, Barbara Tozier, Lisa Reigel, and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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