{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_24372/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_24372","id":"gutenberg_24372","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/24372","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Conduct of life","Ethics"],"text":"Produced by Bill Tozier, Barbara Tozier, Lisa Reigel, and\nthe Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttp://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Notes: Text in italics in the original is surrounded by\n_underscores_. Text in bold in the original is surrounded by +plus\nsigns+. A complete set of corrections follows the text.\n\n\n\n\nPRACTICAL ETHICS\n\n\nBY\n\nWILLIAM DEWITT HYDE, D. D.\n_President of Bowdoin College_\n\n\nNEW YORK\nHENRY HOLT AND COMPANY\n\n\nCOPYRIGHT, 1892,\nBY\nHENRY HOLT & CO.\n\n\nTHE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS,\nRAHWAY, N. J.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThe steady stream of works on ethics during the last ten years, rising\nalmost to a torrent within the past few months, renders it necessary for\neven the tiniest rill to justify its slender contribution to the already\nswollen flood.\n\nOn the one hand treatises abound which are exhaustive in their\npresentation of ethical theory. On the other hand books are plenty which\ngive good moral advice with great elaborateness of detail. Each type of\nwork has its place and function. The one is excellent mental gymnastic\nfor the mature; the other admirable emotional pabulum for the childish\nmind. Neither, however, is adapted both to satisfy the intellect and\nquicken the conscience at that critical period when the youth has put\naway childish things and is reaching out after manly and womanly ideals.\n\nThe book which shall meet this want must have theory; yet the theory\nmust not be made obtrusive, nor stated too abstractly. The theory must\nbe deeply imbedded in the structure of the work; and must commend\nitself, not by metaphysical deduction from first principles, but by its\nability to comprehend in a rational and intelligible order the concrete\nfacts with which conduct has to do.\n\nSuch a book must be direct and practical. It must contain clear-cut\npresentation of duties to be done, virtues to be cultivated, temptations\nto be overcome, and vices to be shunned: yet this must be done, not by\npreaching and exhortation, but by showing the place these things occupy\nin a coherent system of reasoned knowledge.\n\nSuch a blending of theory and practice, of faith and works, is the aim\nand purpose of this book.\n\nThe only explicit suggestions of theory are in the introduction (which\nshould not be taken as the first lesson) and in the last two chapters.\nReligion is presented as the consummation, rather than the foundation of\nethics; and the brief sketch of religion in the concluding chapter is\nconfined to those broad outlines which are accepted, with more or less\nexplicitness, by Jew and Christian, Catholic and Protestant, Orthodox\nand Liberal.\n WILLIAM DEWITT HYDE.\n\n BOWDOIN COLLEGE,\n BRUNSWICK, ME. May 10, 1892.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n CHAPTER PAGE\n\n INTRODUCTION, 1\n\n I. FOOD AND DRINK, 9\n\n II. DRESS, 19\n\n III. EXERCISE, 25\n\n IV. WORK, 32\n\n V. PROPERTY, 40\n\n VI. EXCHANGE, 46\n\n VII. KNOWLEDGE, 53\n\n VIII. TIME, 60\n\n IX. SPACE, 65\n\n X. FORTUNE, 70\n\n XI. NATURE, 81\n\n XII. ART, 89\n\n XIII. ANIMALS, 98\n\n XIV. FELLOW-MEN, 104\n\n XV. THE POOR, 117\n\n XVI. WRONGDOERS, 127\n\n XVII. FRIENDS, 137\n\n XVIII. FAMILY, 144\n\n XIX. STATE, 157\n\n XX. SOCIETY, 167\n\n XXI. SELF, 179\n\n XXII. GOD, 194\n\n\n\n\nOUTLINE OF PRACTICAL ETHICS\n\nSEE LAST PARAGRAPH OF INTRODUCTION.\n\n\n====================================================================\n | | | |\nObject. | Duty. | Virtue. | Reward. |\n | | | |\n------------+----------------+--------------------+----------------+\n | | | |\nFood and | Vigor, | Temperance, | Health, |\n drink, | | | |\n | | | |\nDress, | Comeliness, | Neatness, | Respectability,|\n | | | |\nExercise, | Recreation, | Cheerfulness, | Energy, |\n | | | |\nWork, | Self-support, | Industry, | Wealth, |\n | | | |\nProperty, | Provision, | Economy, | Prosperity, |\n | | | |\nExchange, | Equivalence, | Honesty, | Self-respect, |\n | | | |\nSex, | Reproduction, | Purity, | Sweetness, |\n | | | |\nKnowledge, | Truth, | Veracity, | Confidence, |\n | | | |\nTime, | Co-ordination, | Prudence, | Harmony, |\n | | | |\n | | | |\nSpace, | System, | Orderliness, | Efficiency, |\n | | | |\nFortune, | Superiority, | Courage, | Honor, |\n | | | |\nNature, | Appreciation, | Sensitiveness, | Inspiration, |\n | | | |\nArt, | Beauty, | Simplicity, | Refinement, |\n | | | |\nAnimals, | Consideration, | Kindness, | Tenderness, |\n | | | |\nFellow-men, | Fellowship, | Love, | Unity, |\n | | | |\nThe Poor, | Help, | Benevolence, | Sympathy, |\n | | | |\nWrong-doers,| Justice, | Forgiveness, | Reformation, |\n | | | |\nFriends, | Devotion, | Fidelity, | Affection, |\n | | | |\nFamily, | Membership, | Loyalty, | Home, |\n | | | |\nState, | Organization, | Patriotism, | Civilization, |\n | | | |\nSociety, | Co-operation, | Public Spirit, | Freedom, |\n | | | |\nSelf, | Realization, | Conscientiousness, | Character, |\n | | | |\nGod, | Obedience, | Holiness, | Life, |\n\n\nOUTLINE OF PRACTICAL ETHICS (cont.)\n\n===============================================================================\n | | | |\nObject | Temptation | Vice of Defect | Vice of Excess | Penalty\n | | | |\n------------+---------------+--------------------+----------------+------------\n | | | |\nFood and | Appetite, | Asceticism, | Intemperance, | Disease.\n drink, | | | |\n | | | |\nDress, | Vanity, | Slovenliness, | Fastidiousness,| Contempt.\n | | | |\nExercise, | Excitement, | Morbidness, | Frivolity, | Debility.\n | | | |\nWork, | Ease, | Laziness, | Overwork, | Poverty.\n | | | |\nProperty, | Indulgence, | Wastefulness, | Miserliness, | Want.\n | | | |\nExchange, | Gain, | Dishonesty, | Compliance, | Degradation.\n | | | |\nSex, | Lust, | Prudery, | Sensuality, | Bitterness.\n | | | |\nKnowledge, | Ignorance, | Falsehood, | Gossip, | Distrust.\n | | | |\nTime, | Dissipation, | Procrastination, | Anxiety, | Discord.\n | | | |\nSpace, | Disorder, | Carelessness, | Red Tape, | Obstruction.\n | | | |\nFortune, | Risk, | Cowardice, | Gambling, | Shame.\n | | | |\nNature, | Utility, | Obtuseness, | Affectation, | Stagnation.\n | | | |\nArt, | Luxury, | Ugliness, | Ostentation, | Vulgarity.\n | | | |\nAnimals, | Neglect, | Cruelty, | Subjection, | Brutality.\n | | | |\nFellow-men, | Indifference, | Selfishness, | Sentimentality,| Strife.\n | | | |\nThe Poor, | Alienation, | Niggardliness, | Indulgence, | Antipathy.\n | | | |\nWrong-doers,| Vengeance, | Severity, | Lenity, | Perversity.\n | | | |\nFriends, | Betrayal, | Exclusiveness, | Effusiveness, | Isolation.\n | | | |\nFamily, | Independence, | Self-sufficiency, | Self- | Loneliness.\n | | | obliteration,|\n | | | |\nState, | Spoils, | Treason, | Ambition, | Anarchy.\n | | | |\nSociety, | Self-interest,| Meanness, | Officiousness, | Constraint.\n | | | |\nSelf, | Pleasure, | Unscrupulousness, | Formalism, | Corruption.\n | | | |\nGod, | Self-will, | Sin, | Hypocrisy, | Death.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n\nEthics is the science of conduct, and the art of life.\n\nLife consists in the maintenance of relations; it requires continual\nadjustment; it implies external objects, as well as internal forces.\nConduct must have materials to work with; stuff to build character out\nof; resistance to overcome; objects to confront.\n\nThese objects nature has abundantly provided. They are countless as the\nsands of the seashore, or the stars of heaven. In order to bring them\nwithin the range of scientific treatment we must classify them, and\nselect for study those classes of objects which are most essential to\nlife and conduct. Each chapter of this book presents one of these\nfundamental objects with which life and conduct are immediately\nconcerned.\n\nA great many different relations are possible between ourselves and each\none of these objects. Of these many possible relations some would be\ninjurious to ourselves; some would be destructive of the object. Toward\neach object there is one relation, and one only, which at the same time\nbest promotes the development of ourselves and best preserves the\nobject's proper use and worth. The maintenance of this ideal union of\nself and object is our duty with reference to that object.\n\nWhich shall come first and count most in determining this right\nrelation, self or object, depends on the character of the object.\n\nIn the case of inanimate objects, such as food, drink, dress, and\nproperty, the interests of the self are supreme. Toward these things it\nis our right and duty to be sagaciously and supremely selfish. When\npersons and mere things meet, persons have absolute right of way.\n\nWhen we come to ideal objects, such as knowledge, art, Nature, this cool\nselfishness is out of place. The attempt to cram knowledge, appropriate\nnature, and \"get up\" art, defeats itself. These objects have a worth in\nthemselves, and rights of their own which we must respect. They resent\nour attempts to bring them into subjection to ourselves. We must\nsurrender to them, we must take the attitude of humble and\nself-forgetful suitors, if we would win the best gifts they have to\ngive, and claim them as our own.\n\nAs we rise to personal relations, neither appropriation nor surrender,\nneither egoism nor altruism, nor indeed any precisely measured\nmechanical mixture of the two, will solve the problem. Here the\nrecognition of a common good, a commonwealth in which each person has an\nequal worth with every other, is the only satisfactory solution. \"Be a\nperson, and respect the personality of others,\" is the duty in this\nsphere.\n\nAs we approach social institutions we enter the presence of objects\nwhich represent interests vastly wider, deeper, more enduring than the\ninterests of our individual lives. The balance, which was evenly poised\nwhen we weighed ourselves against other individuals, now inclines toward\nthe side of these social institutions, without which the individual life\nwould be stripped of all its worth and dignity, apart from which man\nwould be no longer man. Duty here demands devotion and self-sacrifice.\n\nFinally, when we draw near to God, who is the author and sustainer of\nindividuals, of science and art and nature, and of social institutions,\nthen the true relation becomes one of reverence and worship.\n\nIn each case duty is the fullest realization of self and object. Whether\nself or the object shall be the determining factor in the relation\ndepends on whether the object in question has less, equal, or greater\nworth than the individual self.\n\nIf we do our duty repeatedly and perseveringly in any direction, we form\nthe habit of doing it, learn to enjoy it, and acquire a preference for\nit. This habitual preference for a duty is the virtue corresponding to\nit.\n\nVirtue is manliness or womanliness. It is the steadfast assertion of\nwhat we see to be our duty against the solicitations of temptation.\nVirtue is mastery; first of self, and through self-mastery, the mastery\nof the objects with which we come in contact.\n\nSince duty is the maintenance of self and its objects in highest\nrealization, and virtue is constant and joyous fidelity to duty, it\nfollows that duty and virtue cannot fail of that enlargement and\nenrichment of life which is their appropriate reward.\n\nThe reward of virtue will vary according to the duty done and the object\ntoward which it is directed. The virtues which deal with mere things\nwill bring as their rewards material prosperity. The virtues which deal\nwith ideal objects will have their reward in increased capacities,\nintensified sensibilities, and elevated tastes. The virtues which deal\nwith our fellow-men will be rewarded by enlargement of social sympathy,\nand deeper tenderness of feeling. The virtues which are directed toward\nfamily, state, and society, have their reward in that exalted sense of\nparticipation in great and glorious aims, which lift one up above the\nlimitations of his private self, and can make even death sweet and\nbeautiful--a glad and willing offering to that larger social self of\nwhich it is the individual's highest privilege to count himself a worthy\nand honorable member.\n\nLife, however, is not this steady march to victory, with beating drums\nand flying banners, which, for the sake of continuity in description, we\nhave thus far regarded it. There are hard battles to fight; and mighty\nfoes to conquer. We must now return to those other possible relations\nwhich we left when we selected for immediate consideration that one\nright relation which we call duty.\n\nSince there is only one right relation between self and an object, all\nothers must be wrong. These other possible relations are temptations.\nTemptation is the appeal of an object to a single side of our nature as\nagainst the well-being of self as a whole. Each object gives rise to\nmany temptations. \"Broad is the way that leadeth to destruction.\"\n\nJust as duty performed gives rise to virtue, so temptation, yielded to,\nbegets vice. Vice is the habitual yielding to temptation.\n\nTemptations fall into two classes. Either we are tempted to neglect an\nobject, and so to give it too little influence over us; or else we are\ntempted to be carried away by an object, and to give it an excessive and\ndisproportionate place in our life. Hence the resulting vices fall into\ntwo classes. Vices resulting from the former sort of temptation are\nvices of defect. Vices resulting from the latter form of temptation are\nvices of excess. As one of these temptations is usually much stronger\nthan the other, we will discuss simply the strongest and most\ncharacteristic temptation in connection with each object. Yet as both\nclasses of vice exist with reference to every object, it will be best to\nconsider both.\n\nVice carries its penalty in its own nature. Being a perversion of some\nobject, it renders impossible that realization of ourselves through the\nobject, or in the higher relations, that realization of the object\nthrough us, on which the harmony and completeness of our life depends.\nIn the words of Plato: \"Virtue is the health and beauty and well-being\nof the soul, and vice is the disease and weakness and deformity of the\nsoul.\"\n\nEach chapter will follow the order here developed. The outline on pp. x,\nxi shows the logical framework on which the book is constructed. Under\nthe limitations of such a table, confined to a single term in every\ncase, it is of course impossible to avoid the appearance of\nartificiality of form and inadequacy of treatment. This collection of\ndry bones is offered as the easiest way of exhibiting at a glance the\nconception of ethics as an organic whole of interrelated members: a\nconception it would be impossible to present in any other form without\nentering upon metaphysical inquiries altogether foreign to the practical\npurpose of the book.\n\n\n\n\nPRACTICAL ETHICS.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nFood and Drink.\n\n\nThe foundations of life, and therefore the first concerns of conduct,\nare food and drink. Other things are essential if we are to live\ncomfortably and honorably. Food and drink are essential if we are to\nlive at all. In order that we may not neglect these important objects,\nnature has placed on guard over the body two sentinels, hunger and\nthirst, to warn us whenever fresh supplies of food and drink are needed.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+Body and mind to be kept in good working order.+--In response to these\nwarnings it is our duty to eat and drink such things, in such\nquantities, at such times, and in such ways as will render the body the\nmost efficient organ and expression of the mind and will.\n\nHygiene and physiology, and our own experience and common sense, tell us\nin detail what, when, and how much it is best for us to eat and drink.\nEthics presupposes this knowledge, and simply tells us that these laws\nof hygiene and physiology are our best friends; and that it is our duty\nto heed what they say.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+Temperance is self-control.+--These sentinels tell us when to begin;\nbut they do not always tell us when to leave off: and if they do, it\nsometimes requires special effort to heed the warning that they give.\nThe appetite for food and drink, if left to itself, would run away with\nus. Our liking for what tastes good, if allowed to have its own way,\nwould lead us to eat and drink such things and in such quantities as to\nweaken our stomachs, enfeeble our muscles, muddle our brains, impair our\nhealth, and shorten our lives. Temperance puts bits into the mouth of\nappetite; holds a tight rein over it; compels it to go, not where it\npleases to take us, but where we see that it is best for us to go; and\ntrains it to stop when it has gone far enough.\n\nVirtue means manliness. Temperance is a virtue because it calls into\nplay that strong, firm will which is the most manly thing in us. The\ntemperate man is the strong man. For he is the master, not the slave of\nhis appetites. He is lord of his own life.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+The temperate man has all his powers perpetually at their best.+--Into\nwork or play or study he enters with the energy and zest which come of\ngood digestion, strong muscles, steady nerves, and a clear head. He\nworks hard, plays a strong game, thinks quickly and clearly; because he\nhas a surplus of vitality to throw into whatever he undertakes. He\nprospers in business because he is able to prosecute it with energy. He\nmakes friends because he has the cheerfulness and vivacity which is the\ncharm of good-fellowship. He enjoys life because all its powers are at\nhis command.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+The pleasures of taste an incidental good, but not the ultimate\ngood.+--Food tastes good to the hungry, and to the thirsty drinking is a\nkeen delight. This is a kind and wise provision of nature; and as long\nas this pleasure accompanies eating and drinking in a normal and natural\nway it aids digestion and promotes health and vigor. The more we enjoy\nour food the better; and food, well-cooked, well-served, and eaten in a\nhappy and congenial company, is vastly better for us than the same food\npoorly cooked, poorly served, and devoured in solitude and silence.\n\nYet it is possible to make this pleasure which accompanies eating and\ndrinking the end for the sake of which we eat and drink. The temptation\nis to eat and drink what we like and as much as we like; instead of what\nwe know to be best for us.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+The difference between temperance and asceticism.+--Asceticism looks\nlike temperance. People who practice it often pride themselves upon it.\nBut it is a hollow sham. And it has done much to bring discredit upon\ntemperance, for which it tries to pass. What then is the difference\nbetween temperance and asceticism? Both control appetite. Both are\nopposed to intemperance. But they differ in the ends at which they aim.\nTemperance controls appetite for the sake of greater life and health and\nstrength. Asceticism is the control of appetite merely for the sake of\ncontrolling it. Asceticism, in shunning the evils to which food and\ndrink may lead, misses also the best blessings they are able to confer.\nThe ascetic attempts to regulate by rule and measure everything he eats\nand drinks, and to get along with just as little as possible, and so he\nmisses the good cheer and hearty enjoyment which should be the best part\nof every meal.\n\nLet us be careful not to confound sour, lean, dyspeptic asceticism with\nthe hale, hearty virtue of temperance. Asceticism sacrifices vigor and\nvitality for the sake of keeping its rules and exercising self-control.\nTemperance observes the simple rules of hygiene and common sense for the\nsake of vigor and vitality; and sacrifices the pleasures of the palate\nonly in so far as it is necessary in order to secure in their greatest\nintensity and permanence the larger and higher interests of life.\n\n\nTHE VICES OF EXCESS.\n\n+Intemperance in eating is gluttony. Intemperance in drinking leads to\ndrunkenness.+--Instead of sitting in the seat of reason and driving the\nappetites before him in obedience to his will, the glutton and the\ndrunkard harness themselves into the wagon and put reins and whip into\nthe hands of their appetites.\n\nThe glutton lives to eat; instead of eating to live. This vice is so\nodious and contemptible that few persons give themselves up entirely to\ngluttony. Yet every time we eat what we know is not good for us, or more\nthan is good for us, we fall a victim to this loathsome vice.\n\n+The drunkard is the slave of an unnatural thirst.+--Alcoholic drink\nproduces as its first effect an excitement and exhilaration much more\nintense than any pleasure coming from the normal gratification of\nnatural appetite. This exhilaration is purchased at the expense of\nstimulating the system to abnormal exertion. This excessive action of\nthe system during intoxication is followed by a corresponding reaction.\nThe man feels as much worse than usual during the hours and days that\nfollow his debauch, as he felt better than usual during the brief\nmoments that he was taking his drinks. This depression and disturbance\nof the system which follows indulgence in intoxicating drink begets an\nunnatural and incessant craving for a repetition of the stimulus; and so\nin place of the even, steady life of the temperate man, the drinking\nman's life is a perpetual alternation of brief moments of unnatural\nexcitement, followed by long days of unnatural craving and depression.\nThe habit of indulging this unnatural craving steals upon a man\nunawares; it occupies more and more of his thought; takes more and more\nof his time and money, until he is unable to think or care for anything\nelse. It becomes more important to him than business, home, wife,\nchildren, reputation, or character; and before he knows it he finds that\nhis will is undermined, reason is dethroned, affection is dead, appetite\nhas become his master, and he has become its beastly and degraded slave.\n\n+Total abstinence the only sure defense.+--This vice of intemperance is\nso prevalent in the community, so insidious in its approach, so\ndegrading in its nature, so terrible in its effects, that the only\nabsolutely and universally sure defense against it is total abstinence.\nA man may think himself strong enough to stop drinking when and where he\npleases; but the peculiar and fatal deception about intoxicating drink\nis that it makes those who become its victims weaker to resist it with\nevery indulgence. It enfeebles their wills directly. The fact that a man\ncan stop drinking to-day is no sure sign that he can drink moderately\nfor a year and stop then. At the end of that time he will have a\ndifferent body, a different brain, a different mind, a different will\nfrom the body and mind and will he has to-day, and would have after a\nyear of abstinence.\n\nAs we have seen, with every natural and healthy exercise of our\nappetites and faculties moderation is preferable to abstinence. It is\nbetter to direct them toward the ends they are intended to accomplish\nthat to stifle and suppress them. But the thirst for intoxicating drink\nis unnatural. It creates abnormal cravings; it produces diseased\nconditions which corrupt and destroy the very powers of nerve and brain\non which the faculties of reason and control depend. \"Touch not, taste\nnot, handle not,\" is the only rule that can insure one against the\nfearful ravages of this beastly and inhuman vice.\n\n+Responsibility for social influence.+--A strong argument in favor of\nabstinence from intoxicating drink is its beneficial social influence.\nIf there are two bridges across a stream, one safe and sure, the other\nso shaky and treacherous that a large proportion of all who try to cross\nover it fall into the stream and are drowned; the fact that I happen to\nhave sufficiently cool head and steady nerves to walk over it in safety\ndoes not make it right for me to do so, when I know that my\ncompanionship and example will lead many to follow who will certainly\nperish in the attempt.\n\nMild wines and milder climates may render the moderate use of alcoholic\ndrinks comparatively harmless to races less nervously organized than\nours. And there doubtless are individuals in our midst whose strong\nconstitution, phlegmatic temperament, or social training enable them to\nuse wine daily for years without appreciable injury. They can walk with\ncomparative safety the narrow bridge. There are multitudes who cannot.\nThere are tens of thousands for whom our distilled liquors, open\nsaloons, and treating customs, combined with our trying climate and\nnervous organizations, render moderate drinking practically impossible.\nThey must choose between the safe and sure way of total abstinence, or\nthe fatal plunge into drunkenness and disgrace. And if those who are\nendowed with cooler heads and stronger nerves are mindful of their\nsocial duty to these weaker brethren, among whom are some of the most\ngenerous and noble-hearted of our acquaintances and friends, then for\nthe sake of these more sorely tempted ones, and for the sake of their\nmothers, wives, and sisters to whom a drunken son, husband, or brother\nis a sorrow worse than death, they will forego a trifling pleasure in\norder to avert the ruin that their example would otherwise help to bring\non the lives, fortunes, and families of others.\n\n+Fatal fascination of the opium habit.+--What has been said of alcoholic\ndrink is equally true of opium. The habit of using opium is easy to form\nand almost impossible to break. The secret workings of this poison upon\nthe mind and will of its victim are most insidious and fatal.\n\n+Tobacco a serious injury to growing persons.+--On this point all\nteachers are unanimous. Statistics taken at the naval school at\nAnnapolis, at Yale College, and elsewhere, show that the use of tobacco\nis the exception with scholars at the head, and the rule with scholars\nat the foot of the class.\n\nShortly after we began to take statistics on this point in Bowdoin\nCollege I asked the director of the gymnasium what was the result with\nthe Freshman class? \"Oh,\" he said, \"the list of the smokers is\nsubstantially the same as that which was reported the other day for\ndeficiencies in scholarship.\" A prominent educator, who had given\nconsiderable attention to this subject, after spending an hour in my\nrecitation room with a class of college seniors, indicated with perfect\naccuracy the habitual and excessive smokers, simply by noting the eye,\nmanner, and complexion.\n\nTobacco, used in early life, tends to stunt the growth, weaken the eyes,\nshatter the nervous system, and impair the powers of physical endurance\nand mental application. No candidate for a college athletic team, or\ncontestant in a race, would think of using tobacco while in training.\nEvery man who wishes to keep himself in training for the highest prizes\nin business and professional life must guard his early years from the\ndeterioration which this habit invariably brings.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+These vices bring disease and disgrace.+--These vices put in place of\nphysical well-being the gratification of a particular taste and\nappetite. Hence they bring about the abnormal action of some organs at\nthe expense of all the rest; and this is the essence of disease.\n\nA diseased body causes a disordered mind and an enfeebled will. The\nexcessive and over-stimulated activity of one set of organs involves a\ncorresponding defect in the activity and functions of the other\nfaculties. The glutton or drunkard neglects his business; loses interest\nin reading and study; fails to provide for his family; forfeits\nself-respect; and thus brings upon himself poverty and wretchedness and\nshame. He sinks lower and lower in the social scale; grows more and more\na burden to others and a disgrace to himself; and at last ends a\nworthless and ignominious life in an unwept and dishonored grave.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nDress.\n\n\nNext in importance to food and drink stand clothing and shelter. Without\nsubstantial and permanent protection against cold and rain, without\ndecent covering for the body and privacy of life, civilization is\nimpossible. The clothes we wear express the standing choices of our\nwill; and as clothes come closer to our bodies than anything else, they\nstand as the most immediate and obvious expression of our mind. \"The\napparel oft proclaims the man.\"\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+Attractive personal appearance.+--Clothes that fit, colors that match,\ncosy houses and cheery rooms cost little more, except in thought and\nattention, than ill-fitting and unbecoming garments and gloomy and\nunsightly dwellings. Attractiveness of dress, surroundings, and personal\nappearance is a duty; because it gives free exercise to our higher and\nnobler sentiments; elevates and enlarges our lives; while discomfort and\nrepulsiveness in these things lower our standards, and drive us to the\nbaser elements of our nature in search of cheap forms of self-indulgence\nto take the place of that natural delight in attractive dress and\nsurroundings which has been repressed. Both to ourselves and to our\nfriends we owe as much attractiveness of personal surroundings and\npersonal appearance as a reasonable amount of thought and effort and\nexpenditure can secure.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+Neatness inexpensive and its absence inexcusable.+--No one is so poor\nthat he cannot afford to be neat. No one is so rich that he can afford\nto be slovenly. Neatness is a virtue, or manly quality; because it keeps\nthe things we wear and have about us under our control, and compels them\nto express our will and purpose.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+Dress an indication of the worth of the wearer.+--Neatness of dress and\npersonal appearance indicates that there is some regard for decency and\npropriety, some love of order and beauty, some strength of will and\npurpose inside the garments. If dress is the most superficial aspect of\na person, it is at the same time the most obvious one. Our first\nimpression of people is gained from their general appearance, of which\ndress is one of the most important features.\n\nConsequently dress goes far to determine the estimate people place upon\nus. Fuller acquaintance may compel a revision of these original\nimpressions. First impressions, however, often decide our fate with\npeople whose respect and good-will is valuable to us. Important\npositions are often won or lost through attention or neglect in these\nmatters.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+Dress has its snares.+--We are tempted to care, not for attractiveness\nin itself, but for the satisfaction of thinking, and having others\nthink, how fine we look. Worse still, we are tempted to try to look not\nas well as we can, but better than somebody else; and by this\ncombination of rivalry with vanity we get the most contemptible and\npitiable level to which perversity in dress can bring us. There is no\nend to the ridiculous and injurious absurdities to which this hollow\nvanity will lead those who are silly enough to yield to its demands.\n\n+Cynicism regarding appearance.+--Vanity may take just the opposite\nform. We may be just as proud of our bad looks, as of our good looks.\nThis is the trick of the Cynic. This is the reason why almost every town\nhas its old codger who seems to delight in wearing the shabbiest coat,\nand driving the poorest horse, and living in the most dilapidated shanty\nof anyone in town. These persons take as much pride in their mode of\nlife as the devotee of fashion does in hers. One of these Cynics went to\nthe baths with Alcibiades, the gayest of Athenian youths. When they came\nout Alcibiades put on the Cynic's rags, leaving his own gay and costly\napparel for the Cynic. The Cynic was in a great rage, and protested\nthat he would not be seen wearing such gaudy things as those. \"Ah!\" said\nAlcibiades; \"so you care more what kind of clothes you wear than I do\nafter all; for I can wear your clothes, but you cannot wear mine.\"\nAnother of the Cynics, as he entered the elegant apartments of Plato,\nspat upon the rug, exclaiming: \"Thus I pour contempt on the pride of\nPlato.\" \"Yes,\" was Plato's reply, \"with a greater pride of your own.\"\nSince pride and vanity have these two forms, we need to be on our guard\nagainst them both. For one or the other is pretty sure to assail us. An\neye single to the attractiveness of our personal appearance is the only\nthing that will save us from one or the other of these lines of\ntemptation.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+Too little attention to dress and surroundings is slovenliness.+--The\nsloven is known by his dirty hands and face, his disheveled hair, and\ntattered garments. His house is in confusion; his grounds are littered\nwith rubbish; he eats his meals at an untidy table; and sleeps in an\nunmade bed. Slovenliness is a vice; for it is an open confession that a\nman is too weak to make his surroundings the expression of his tastes\nand wishes, and has allowed his surroundings to run over him and drag\nhim down to their own level. And this subjection of man to the tyranny\nof things, when he ought to exercise a strong dominion over them, is the\nuniversal mark of vice.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+Too much attention to dress and appearance is fastidiousness.+--These\nthings are important; but it is a very petty and empty mind that can\nfind enough in them to occupy any considerable portion of its total\nattention and energy. The fastidious person must have everything \"just\nso,\" or the whole happiness of his precious self is utterly ruined. He\nspends hours upon toilet and wardrobe where sensible people spend\nminutes. Hence he becomes the slave rather than the master of his dress.\n\n+The sloven and the dude are both slaves; but in different\nways.+--Slovenliness is slavery to the hideous and repulsive.\nFastidiousness is slavery to this or that particular style or fashion.\nThe freedom and mastery of neatness consists in the ability to make as\nattractive as possible just such material as one's means place at his\ndisposal with the amount of time and effort he can reasonably devote to\nthem.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+Fastidiousness belittles: slovenliness degrades. Both are\ncontemptible.+--The man who does not care enough for himself to keep the\ndirt off his hands and clothes, when not actually engaged in work that\nsoils them, cannot complain if other people place no higher estimate\nupon him than he by this slovenliness puts upon himself. The woman whose\nsoul rises and falls the whole distance between ecstasy and despair\nwith the fit of a glove or the shade of a ribbon must not wonder if\npeople rate her as of about equal consequence with gloves and ribbons.\nThese vices make their victims low and petty; and the contempt with\nwhich they are regarded is simply the recognition of the pettiness and\ndegradation which the vices have begotten.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nExercise.\n\n\nWhen the body is well fed and clothed, the next demand is for exercise.\nOur powers are given us to be used; and unless they are used they waste\naway. Nothing destroys power so surely and completely as disuse. The\nonly way to keep our powers is to keep them in exercise. We acquire the\npower to lift by lifting; to run, by running; to write, by writing; to\ntalk, by talking; to build houses, by building; to trade, by trading. In\nmature life our exercise comes to us chiefly along the lines of our\nbusiness, domestic, and social relations. In childhood and youth, before\nthe pressure of earning a living comes upon us, we must provide for\nneeded exercise in artificial ways. The play-impulse is nature's\nprovision for this need. It is by hearty, vigorous play that we first\ngain command of those powers on which our future ability to do good work\ndepends.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+The best exercise that of which we are least conscious.+--It is the\nduty of every grown person as well as of every child to take time for\nrecreation. Exercise taken in a systematic way for its own sake is a\ngreat deal better than nothing; and in crowded schools and in sedentary\noccupations such gymnastic exercises are the best thing that can be had.\nThe best exercise, however, is not that which we get when we aim at it\ndirectly; but that which comes incidentally in connection with sport and\nrecreation. A plunge into the river; a climb over the hills; a hunt\nthrough the woods; a skate on the pond; a wade in the trout brook; a\nride on horseback; a sail on the lake; camping out in the forest;--these\nare the best ways to take exercise. For in these ways we have such a\ngood time that we do not think about the exercise at all; and we put\nforth ten times the amount of exertion that we should if we were to stop\nand think how much exercise we proposed to take.\n\nNext in value to these natural outdoor sports come the artificial games;\nbaseball, football, hare and hounds, lawn tennis, croquet, and hockey.\nWhen neither natural nor artificial sports can be had, then the\ndumb-bells, the Indian clubs, and the foils become a necessity.\n\nEveryone should become proficient in as many of these sports as\npossible. These are the resources from which the stores of vitality and\nenergy must be supplied in youth, and replenished in later life.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+The value of superfluous energy.+--The person whose own life-forces are\nat their best cannot help flowing over in exuberant gladness to gladden\nall he meets. Herbert Spencer has set this forth so strongly in his\nData of Ethics that I quote his words: \"Bounding out of bed after an\nunbroken sleep, singing or whistling as he dresses, coming down with\nbeaming face ready to laugh at the slightest provocation, the healthy\nman of high powers enters on the day's business not with repugnance but\nwith gladness; and from hour to hour experiencing satisfaction from work\neffectually done, comes home with an abundant surplus of energy\nremaining for hours of relaxation. Full of vivacity, he is ever welcome.\nFor his wife he has smiles and jocose speeches; for his children stories\nof fun and play; for his friends pleasant talk interspersed with the\nsallies of wit that come from buoyancy.\"\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n\"Unto everyone that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance.\"\nThe reward of exertion is the power to make more exertion the next time.\nAnd the reward of habits of regular exercise and habitual cheerfulness\nis the ability to meet the world at every turn in the consciousness of\npower to master it, and to meet men with that good cheer which disarms\nhostility and wins friends.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+Excitement not to be made an end in itself.+--The exhilaration of sport\nmay be carried to the point of excitement; and then this excitement may\nbe made an end in itself. This is the temptation which besets all forms\nof recreation and amusement. It is the fear of this danger that has led\nmany good people to distrust and disparage certain of the more intense\nforms of recreation. Their mistake is in supposing that temptation is\npeculiar to these forms of amusement. As we shall see before we complete\nour study of ethics, everything brings temptation with it; and the best\nthings bring the severest and subtlest temptations; and if we would\nwithdraw from temptation, we should have to withdraw from the world.\n\nWe must all recognize that this temptation to seek excitement for its\nown sake is a serious one. It is least in the natural outdoor sports\nlike swimming and sailing and hunting and fishing and climbing and\nriding. Hence we should give to these forms of recreation as large a\nplace as possible in our plans for exercise and amusement. We should see\nclearly that the artificial indoor amusements, such as dancing,\ncard-playing, theater-going, billiard-playing, are especially liable to\ngive rise to that craving for excitement for excitement's sake which\nperverts recreation from its true function as a renewer of our powers\ninto a ruinous drain upon them. The moment any form of recreation\nbecomes indispensable to us, the moment we find that it diminishes\ninstead of heightening our interest and delight in the regular duties of\nour daily lives, that instant we should check its encroachment upon our\ntime and, if need be, cut it off altogether. It is impossible to lay\ndown hard and fast rules, telling precisely what forms of amusement are\ngood and what are bad. So much depends on the attitude of the individual\ntoward them, and the associations which they carry with them in\ndifferent localities, that what is right and beneficial for one person\nin one set of surroundings would be wrong and disastrous to another\nperson or to the same person in other circumstances. To enable us to see\nclearly the important part recreation must play in every healthy life,\nand to see with equal clearness the danger of giving way to a craving\nfor constant and unnatural excitement, is the most that ethics can do\nfor us. The application of these principles to concrete cases each\nparent must make for his own children, and each individual for himself.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+Neglect of exercise and recreation leads to moroseness.+--Like milk\nwhich is allowed to stand, the spirit of man or woman, if left\nunoccupied, turns sour. One secret of sourness and moroseness is the\nsense that some side of our nature has been repressed; and this inward\nindignation at our own wrongs we vent on others in bitterness and\ncomplainings. Moroseness is first a sign that we ourselves are\nmiserable; and secondly it is the occasion of making others miserable\ntoo. Having had Spencer's account of the benefits of the cheerfulness\nthat comes from adequate recreation, let us now see his description of\nits opposite. \"Far otherwise is it with one who is enfeebled by great\nneglect of self. Already deficient, his energies are made more\ndeficient by constant endeavors to execute tasks that prove beyond his\nstrength, and by the resulting discouragement. Hours of leisure, which,\nrightly passed, bring pleasures that raise the tide of life and renew\nthe powers of work, cannot be utilized: there is not vigor enough for\nenjoyments involving action, and lack of spirits prevents passive\nenjoyments from being entered upon with zest. In brief, life becomes a\nburden. The irritability resulting now from ailments, now from failures\ncaused from feebleness, his family has daily to bear. Lacking adequate\nenergy for joining in them, he has at best but a tepid interest in the\namusements of his children; and he is called a wet blanket by his\nfriends.\"\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+Perpetual amusement-seeking: brings ennui, satiety, and disgust.+--\"All\nplay and no work makes Jack a mere toy,\" is as true as that \"All work\nand no play makes Jack a dull boy.\" The constant pursuit of amusement\nmakes life empty and frivolous. Rightly used recreation increases one's\npowers for serious pursuits. Pursued wrongly, pursued as the main\nconcern of life, amusement makes all serious work seem stale and dull;\nand finally makes amusement itself dull and stale too. Ennui, loathing,\ndisgust, and emptiness are the marks of the amusement-seeker the world\nover. \"Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. All things are full of\nweariness. The eye is not satisfied with seeing nor the ear filled with\nhearing\"--this is the experience of the man who \"withheld not his heart\nfrom any joy.\" It is the experience of everyone who exalts amusement\nfrom the position of an occasional servant to that of abiding master of\nhis life.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+The penalty of neglected exercise is confirmed debility.+--\"Whosoever\nhath not, from him shall be taken away even that which he hath.\"\nEnfeebled from lack of exercise a man finds himself unequal to the\ndemands of his work; and soured by his consequent dissatisfaction with\nhimself, he becomes alienated from his fellows. The tide of life becomes\nlow and feeble; and he can neither overcome obstacles in his own\nstrength nor attract to himself the help of others.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nWork.\n\n\nFood, clothes, shelter, and all the necessities of life are the products\nof labor. Even the simplest food, such as fruit and berries, must be\npicked before it can be eaten: the coarsest garment of skins must be\nstripped from the animal before it can be worn: the rudest shelter of\nrock or cave must be seized and defended against intruders before it can\nbecome one's own. And as civilization advances, the element of labor\ninvolved in the production of goods steadily increases. The universal\nnecessity of human labor to convert the raw materials given us by nature\ninto articles serviceable to life and enjoyment renders work a\nfundamental branch of human conduct. Regular meals, comfortable homes,\nknowledge, civilization, all are the fruits of work. And unless we\ncontribute our part to the production of these goods, we have no moral\nright to be partakers of the fruits. \"If any will not work, neither let\nhim eat.\" \"All work,\" says Thomas Carlyle, \"is noble: work alone is\nnoble. Blessed is he that has found his work; let him ask no other\nblessedness. Two men I honor, and no third. First, the toilworn\ncraftsman who with earth-made implement laboriously conquers the Earth,\nand makes her man's. A second man I honor, and still more highly: him\nwho is seen toiling for the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread,\nbut the bread of life. These two in all their degrees I honor; all else\nis chaff and dust, which let the wind blow whither it listeth. We must\nall toil, or steal (howsoever we name our stealing), which is worse.\"\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+Every man lives either upon the fruit of his own work, or upon the\nfruit of the work of others.+--In childhood it is right for us to live\nupon the fruits of the toil of our parents and friends. But to continue\nthis life of dependence on the work of others after one has become an\nable-bodied man or woman is to live the life of a perpetual baby. No\nlife so little justifies itself as that of the idle rich. The idle poor\nman suffers the penalty of idleness in his own person. He gives little\nto the world; and he gets little in return. The idle rich man gives\nnothing, and gets much in return. And while he lives, someone has to\nwork the harder for his being in the world; and when he dies the world\nis left poorer than it would have been had he never been born. He has\nsimply consumed a portion of the savings of his ancestors, and balanced\nthe energy and honor of their lives by his own life of worthlessness and\nshame. Inherited wealth should bring with it a life of greater\nresponsibility and harder toil; for the rich man is morally bound to\nuse his wealth for the common good. And that is a much harder task than\nmerely to earn one's own living. An able-bodied man who does not\ncontribute to the world at least as much as he takes out of it is a\nbeggar and a thief; whether he shirks the duty of work under the pretext\nof poverty or riches.\n\n+Every boy and girl should be taught some trade, business, art, or\nprofession.+--To neglect this duty is to run the risk of enforced\ndependence upon others, than which nothing can be more destructive of\nintegrity and self-respect. The increasing avenues open to women, and\nthe fact that a woman is liable at any time to have herself and her\nchildren to support, make it as important for women as for men to have\nthe ability to earn an honest living.\n\n+Woman's sphere is chiefly in the home and the social circle.+--Provided\nshe is able to earn her living whenever it becomes necessary, and in\ncase her parents are able and willing to support her, a young woman is\njustified in remaining in the home until her marriage. Her assistance to\nher mother in the domestic and social duties of the home, and her\npreparation for similar duties in her own future home, is often the most\nvaluable service she can render during the years between school and\nmarriage. In order, however, for such a life to be morally justified she\nmust realize that it is her duty to do all in her power to help her\nmother; to make home more pleasant; and to take part in those forms of\nsocial and philanthropic work which only those who have leisure can\nundertake.\n\nThe son or daughter who is to inherit wealth, should be trained in some\nline of political, scientific, artistic, charitable, or philanthropic\nwork, whereby he may use his wealth and leisure in the service of the\npublic, and justify his existence by rendering to society some\nequivalent for that security and enjoyment of wealth which society\npermits him to possess without the trouble of earning it.\n\nAll honest work, manual, mental, social, domestic, political and\nphilanthropic, scientific and literary, is honorable. Any form of life\nwithout hard work of either hand or brain is shameful and disgraceful.\nThe idler is of necessity a debtor to society; though there are forms of\nidleness to which, for reasons of its own, society never presents its\nbill.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+Industry conquers the world.+--Industry is a virtue, because it asserts\nthis fundamental interest of self-support in opposition to the\nsolicitations of idleness and ease. Industry masters the world, and\nmakes it man's servant and slave. The industrious man too is master of\nhis own feelings; and compels the weaker and baser impulses of his\nnature to stand back and give the higher interests room. The industrious\nman will do thorough work, and produce a good article, cost what it may.\nHe will not suffer his arm to rest until it has done his bidding; nor\nwill he let nature go until her resources and forces have been made to\nserve his purpose. This mastery over ourselves and over nature is the\nmark of virtue and manliness always and everywhere.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+Industry works; and the fruit of work is wealth.+--The industrious man\nmay or may not have great riches. That depends on his talents,\nopportunities, and character. Great riches are neither to be sought nor\nshunned. With them or without them the highest life is possible; and on\nthe whole it is easier without than with great riches. A moderate amount\nof wealth, however, is essential to the fullest development of one's\npowers and the freest enjoyment of life. Of such a moderate competence\nthe industrious man is assured.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+Soft places and easy kinds of work to be avoided.+--Work costs pain and\neffort. Men naturally love ease. Hence arises the temptation to put ease\nabove self-support. This temptation in its extreme form, if yielded to,\nmakes a man a beggar and a tramp. More frequently the temptation is to\ntake an easy kind of work, rather than harder work; or to do our work\nshiftlessly rather than thoroughly.\n\nYoung men are tempted to take clerkships where they can dress well and\ndo light work, instead of learning a trade which requires a long\napprenticeship, and calls for rough, hard work. The result is that the\nclerk remains a clerk all his life on low wages, and open to the\ncompetition of everybody who can read and write and cipher. While the\nman who has taken time to learn a trade, and has taken off his coat and\naccustomed himself to good hard work, has an assured livelihood; and\nonly the few who have taken the same time to learn the trade, and are as\nlittle afraid of hard work as himself, can compete with him. This\ntemptation to seek a \"soft berth,\" where the only work required is\nsitting in an office, or talking, or writing, or riding around, is the\nform of sloth which is taking the strength and independence and\nmanliness out of young men to-day faster than anything else. It is only\none degree above the loafer and the tramp. The young man who starts in\nlife by seeking an easy place will never be a success either in business\nor in character.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+The slavery of laziness.+--Laziness is a vice because it sacrifices the\npermanent interest of self-support to the temporary inclination to\nindolence and ease. The lazy man is the slave of his own feelings. His\nbody is his master; not his servant. He is the slave of circumstances.\nWhat he does depends not on what he knows it is best to do, but on how\nhe happens to feel. If the work is hard; if it is cold or rainy; if\nsomething breaks; or things do not go to suit him, he gives up and\nleaves the work undone. He is always waiting for something to turn up;\nand since nothing turns up for our benefit except what we turn up\nourselves, he never finds the opportunity that suits him; he fails in\nwhatever he undertakes: and accomplishes nothing. Laziness is weakness,\nsubmission, defeat, slavery to feeling and circumstance; and these are\nthe universal characteristics of vice.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+The folly of overwork.+--Work has for its end self-support. Work wisely\ndirected makes leisure possible. Overwork is work for its own sake; work\nfor false and unreal ends; work that exhausts the physical powers.\nOverwork makes a man a slave to his work, as laziness makes him a slave\nto his ease. The man who makes haste to be rich; who works from morning\nuntil night \"on the clean jump\"; who drives his business with the fierce\ndetermination to get ahead of his competitors at all hazards, misses the\nquiet joys of life to which the wealth he pursues in such hot haste is\nmerely the means, breaks down in early or middle life, and destroys the\nphysical basis on which both work and enjoyment depend. To undertake\nmore than we can do without excessive wear and tear and without\npermanent injury to health and strength is wrong. Laziness is the more\nignoble vice; but the folly of overwork is equally apparent, and its\nresults are equally disastrous. Laziness is a rot that consumes the base\nelements of society. Overwork is a tempest that strikes down the bravest\nand best. That work alone is wrought in virtue which keeps the powers up\nto their normal and healthful activity, and is subordinated to the end\nof self-support and harmonious self-development. The ideal attitude\ntoward work is beautifully presented in Matthew Arnold's sonnet on\n\"Quiet Work\":\n\n One lesson, Nature, let me learn of thee,\n One lesson which in every wind is blown;\n One lesson of two duties kept at one\n Though the loud world proclaim their enmity--\n\n Of toil unsevered from tranquillity;\n Of labor, that in lasting fruit outgrows\n Far noisier schemes, accomplished in repose,\n Too great for haste, too high for rivalry.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+Laziness leads to poverty.+--The lazy man does nothing to produce\nwealth. The only way in which he can get it is by inheritance, or by\ngift, or by theft. Money received by inheritance does not last long. The\nman who is too lazy to earn money, is generally too weak to use it\nwisely; and it soon slips through his fingers. When a man's laziness is\nonce found out people refuse to give to him. And the thief cannot steal\nmany times without being caught. Industry is the only sure and permanent\ntitle to wealth; and where industry is wanting, there, soon or late,\npoverty must come.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nProperty.\n\n\nThe products of labor, saved up and appropriated to our use, constitute\nproperty. Without property life cannot rise above the hand-to-mouth\nexistence of the savage. It is as important to save and care for\nproperty after we have earned it, as it is to earn it in the first\nplace. Property does not stay with us unless we watch it sharply. Left\nto itself it takes wings and flies away. Unused land is overgrown by\nweeds; unoccupied houses crumble and decay; food left exposed sours and\nmolds; unused tools rust; and machinery left to stand idle gets out of\norder. Everything goes to rack and ruin, unless we take constant care.\nHence the preservation of property is one of the fundamental concerns of\nlife and conduct.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+Provision for family and for old age.+--Childhood and old age ought to\nbe free from the necessity of earning a living. Childhood should be\ndevoted to growth and education; old age to enjoyment and repose. In\norder to secure this provision for old age, for the proper training of\nchildren and against sickness and accident, it is a duty to save a\nportion of one's earnings during the early years of active life. The\nman who at this period is not doing more than to support himself and\nfamily, is not providing for their permanent support at all. They are\nfeasting to-day with the risk of starvation to-morrow.\n\nIn primitive conditions of society this provision for the future\nconsisted in the common ownership by family or clan of flocks and herds\nor lands, whereby the necessities of life were insured to each member of\nthe clan or family from birth to death.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+The importance of systematic saving.+--In the more complex civilization\nof to-day, property assumes ten thousand different forms; is held mostly\nby individuals; and has for its universal symbol, money. Hence the\npractical duty is to lay aside a certain sum of money out of our regular\nearnings each month or week during the entire period of our working\nlife, or from sixteen to sixty. Persons who acquire a liberal education,\nor learn a difficult trade or profession, will not be able to begin to\nsave until they are twenty or twenty-five. Whenever earning begins,\nsaving should begin. If earnings are small, savings must be small too.\nHe who postpones saving until earnings are large and saving is easy,\nwill postpone saving altogether. The habit of saving like all habits\nmust be formed early and by conscious and painful effort, or it will not\nbe formed at all. Saving is as much a duty as earning; and the two\nshould begin together. Earning provides for the wants of the individual\nand the hour. It requires both earning and saving to provide for the\nneeds of a life-time and the welfare of a family. Savings-banks and\nbuilding and loan associations afford the best opportunities for small\nsavings at regular intervals; and no man has any right to marry until he\nhas a savings-bank account, or shares in a building and loan\nassociation, or an equally regular and secure method of systematic\nsaving. In early life, before savings have become sufficient to provide\nfor his family in case of death, it is also a duty to combine saving\nwith life-insurance. Both in investment of savings and in\nlife-insurance, one should make sure that the institution or\norganization to which he intrusts his money is on a sound business\nbasis. All speculative schemes should be strictly avoided. Any company\nor form of investment that offers to give back more than you put into\nit, plus a fair rate of interest on the money, is not a fit place for a\nman to trust the savings on which the future of himself and his family\ndepends. Security, absolute security, not profits and dividends, is what\none should demand of the institution to which he trusts his savings.\n\nEconomy eats the apple to the core; wears clothes until they are\nthreadbare; makes things over; gets the entire utility out of a thing;\nthrows nothing away that can be used again; gets its money's worth for\nevery cent expended; buys nothing for which it cannot pay cash down and\nleave something besides for saving. It is a manly quality, or virtue,\nbecause it masters things, keeps them under our control, compels them to\nrender all the service there is in them, and insures our lasting\nindependence.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+The savings of early and middle life support old age in honorable rest,\nand give to children a fair start in life.+--All men are liable to\nmisfortune and accident. The improvident man is crushed by them; for\nthey find him without reserved force to meet them.\n\nThe economical man has in his savings a balance wheel whose momentum\ncarries him by hard places. His position is independent and his\nprosperity is permanent. For it depends not on the fortunes of the day,\nwhich are uncertain and variable; but on the fixed habits and principles\nof a life-time, which are changeless and reliable.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+Living beyond one's income: running in debt.+--Income is limited; while\nthe things we would like to have are infinite. We must draw the line\nsomewhere. Duty says, draw it well inside of income. Temptation says,\ndraw it at income, or a trifle outside of income. Yield to this\ntemptation, and our earnings are gone before we know it, and debt stares\nus in the face. Debts are easy to contract, but hard to pay. The debt\nmust be paid sometime with accumulated interest. And when the day of\nreckoning comes it invariably costs more inconvenience and trouble to\npay it than it would have cost to have gone without the thing for the\nsake of which we ran in debt.\n\nNever, on any account, get in debt. Never spend your whole income. These\nare rules we are constantly tempted to break. But the man who yields to\nthis temptation is on the high road to financial ruin.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+Wastefulness.+--The wasteful man buys things he does not need; spends\nhis money as fast as he can get it; lives beyond his means; throws\nthings away which are capable of further service; runs in debt; and is\nforever behindhand. He lives from hand to mouth; is dependent upon his\nneighbors for things which with a little economy he might own himself;\nmakes no provision for the future, and when sickness or old age comes\nupon him, he is without resources.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+Miserliness.+--Economy saves for the sake of future expenditure.\nMiserliness saves for the sake of saving. The spendthrift sacrifices the\nfuture to present enjoyment. The miser sacrifices present enjoyment to\nan imaginary future which never comes; and so misses enjoyment\naltogether. The prudent man harmonizes present with future enjoyment,\nand so lives a life of constant enjoyment. The spendthrift spends\nrecklessly, regardless of consequences. The miser hoards anxiously,\ndespising the present. The man of prudence and economy spends liberally\nfor present needs, and saves only as a means to more judicious and\nlasting expenditure. The miser is as much the slave of his money as is\nthe spendthrift the slave of his indulgences. Economy escapes both forms\nof slavery and maintains its freedom by making both spending and saving\ntributary to the true interests of the self.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+The thing we waste to-day, we want to-morrow.+--The money we spend\nfoolishly to-day we have to borrow to-morrow, and pay with interest the\nday after. Wastefulness destroys the seeds of which prosperity is the\nfruit. Wastefulness throws away the pennies, and so must go without the\ndollars which the pennies make. Years of health and strength spent in\nhand-to-mouth indulgence inevitably bear fruit in a comfortless old age.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nExchange.\n\n\nThe jack-of-all-trades is a bungler in every one of them. The man who\nwill do anything well must confine himself to doing a very few things.\nYet while the things a man can produce to advantage are few, the things\nhe wants to consume are many. Exchange makes possible at the same time\nconcentration in production and diversity of enjoyment. Exchange enables\nthe shoemaker to produce shoes, the tailor to make coats, the carpenter\nto build houses, the farmer to raise grain, the weaver to make cloth,\nthe doctor to heal disease; and at the same time brings to each one of\nthem a pair of shoes, a coat, a house, a barrel of flour, a cut of\ncloth, and such medical attendance as he needs. Civilization rests on\nexchange.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+It is the duty of each party in a trade to give a fair and genuine\nequivalent for what he expects to receive.+--Articles exchanged always\nrepresent work. And it is our duty to make sure that the article we\noffer represents thorough work. Good honest work is the foundation of\nall righteousness. Whatever we offer for sale, whether it be our labor\nfor wages, or goods for a price, ought to be as good and thorough as we\ncan make it. To sell a day's work for wages, and then to loaf a part of\nthat day, is giving a man idleness when he pays for work. To sell a man\na shoddy coat when he thinks he is buying good wool, is giving him cold\nwhen he pays for warmth. To give a man defective plumbing in his house\nwhen he hires you for a good workman, is to sell him disease and death,\nand take pay for it. Selling adulterated drugs and groceries is giving a\nman a stone when he asks for and pays for bread. If, after we have done\nour best to make or secure good articles, we are unable to avoid defects\nand imperfections, then it is our duty to tell squarely just what the\nimperfection is, and sell it for a reduced price. On no other basis than\nthis of making genuine goods, and representing them just as they are,\ncan exchange fulfill its function of mutual advantage to all concerned.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+Honesty looks people straight in the eye, tells the plain truth about\nits goods, stands on its merits, asks no favors, has nothing to conceal,\nfears no investigation.+--This bold, open, self-reliant quality of\nhonesty is what makes it a manly thing, or a virtue. To do thorough\nwork; to speak the plain truth; to do exactly as you would be done by;\nto put another man's interest on a level with your own; to take under no\npretext or excuse a cent's worth more than you give in any trade you\nmake, calls out all the strength and forbearance and self-control there\nis in a man, and that is why it ranks so high among the virtues.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+The honest man is the only man who can respect himself.+--He carries\nhis head erect, and no man can put him down. Everything about him is\nsound and every act will bear examination. This sense of one's own\ngenuineness and worth is honesty's chief reward.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+Every one-sided transaction dishonest.+--In fair exchange both parties\nare benefited. In unfair exchange one party profits by the other's loss.\nAny transaction in which either party fails to receive an equivalent for\nwhat he gives is a fraud; and the man who knowingly and willfully makes\nsuch a trade is a thief in disguise. For taking something which belongs\nto another, without giving him a return, and without his full, free, and\nintelligent consent, is stealing.\n\nThe temptation to take advantage of another's ignorance; to palm off a\npoor article for a good one; to get more than we give, is very great in\nall forms of business. Cheating is very common, and one is tempted to do\na little cheating himself in order to keep even with the rest. The only\nway to resist it is to see clearly that cheating is lying and stealing\nput together; that it is an injury to our fellow-men and to society;\nthat it is playing the part of a knave and a rascal instead of an honest\nand honorable man.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+The meanest and most contemptible kind of cheating is quackery.+--The\nquack is liar, thief, and murderer all in one. For in undertaking to do\nthings for which he has no adequate training and skill, he pretends to\nbe what he is not. He takes money for which he is unable to render a\ngenuine equivalent. And by inducing people to trust their lives in his\nincompetent and unskilled hands he turns them aside from securing\ncompetent treatment, and so confirms disease and hastens death.\n\n+The dishonest man a public nuisance and a common enemy.+--He gets his\nliving out of other people. Whatever wealth he gets, some honest man who\nhas earned it is compelled to go without. Dishonesty is the perversion\nof exchange from its noble function as a civilizing agent and a public\nbenefit, into the ignoble service of making one man rich at the expense\nof the many. It is because the dishonest man is living at other people's\nexpense, profiting by their losses, and fattening himself on the\nearnings of those whom he has wronged, that dishonesty is deservedly\nranked as one of the most despicable and abominable of vices.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+It is as important to protect our own interest, as to regard the\ninterests of others.+--No man has any more right to cheat me than I have\nto cheat him; and if he tries to take advantage of me it is my duty to\nresist him, and to say a decided \"no\" to his schemes for enriching\nhimself at my expense.\n\nOne rule in particular is very important. Never sign a note for another\nin order to give him a credit which he could not command without your\nname. That is a favor which no man has a right to ask, and which no man\nwho regards his duty to himself and to his family will grant. If a man\nis in a tight place and asks you to lend him money, or to give him\nmoney, that is a proposition to be considered on its merits. But to\nassume an indefinite responsibility by signing another man's note, is\naccepting the risk of ruining ourselves for his accommodation. We owe it\nto ourselves and our families to keep our finances absolutely under our\nown control, free from all complication with the risks and uncertainties\nof another's enterprises and fortunes.\n\nOur own rights are as sacred as those of another. There are two sides to\nevery bargain; and one side is as important as the other. The sacrifice\nof a right may be as great an evil as the perpetration of a wrong.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+Dishonesty eats the heart out of a man.+--The habit of looking solely\nto one's own interest deadens the social sympathies, dwarfs the generous\naffections, weakens self-respect, until at length the dishonest men can\nrob the widow of her livelihood; take an exorbitant commission on the\nlabor of the orphan; charge an extortionate rent to a family of\nhelpless invalids; sell worthless stocks to an aged couple in exchange\nfor the hard earnings of a life-time, and still endure to live.\nDishonesty makes men inhuman. The love of gain is a species of moral and\nspiritual decay. When it attacks the heart the finer and better feelings\nwither and die; and on this decay of sympathy and kindness and\ngenerosity and justice there thrive and flourish meanness and\nheartlessness and cruelty and inhumanity.\n\n+Hereditary effects of dishonesty.+--So deeply does the vice of\ndishonesty eat into the moral nature that mental and moral deterioration\nis handed down to offspring. The scientific study of heredity shows that\nthe deterioration resulting from this cause is more sure and fatal than\nthat following many forms of insanity. The son or daughter of a mean,\ndishonest man is handicapped with tendencies toward moral turpitude and\nanti-social conduct for which no amount of his ill-gotten gains,\nreceived by inheritance, can be an adequate compensation. Says Maudsley,\n\"I cannot but think that the extreme passion for getting rich, absorbing\nthe whole energies of a life, predisposes to mental degeneracy in the\noffspring, either to moral defect, or to intellectual deficiency, or to\noutbursts of positive insanity.\" And the same author says elsewhere:\n\"The anti-social, egoistic development of the individual predisposes to,\nif it does not predetermine, the mental degeneracy of his progeny; he,\nalien from his kind by excessive egoisms, determines an alienation of\nmind in them. If I may trust in that matter my observations, I know no\none who is more likely to breed insanity in his offspring than the\nintensely narrow, self-sensitive, suspicious, distrustful, deceitful,\nand self-deceiving individual, who never comes into sincere and sound\nrelations with men and things, who is incapable by nature and habit of\ngenuinely healthy communion with himself or with his kind. A moral\ndevelopment of that sort, I believe, is more likely to predetermine\ninsanity in the next generation than are many forms of actual\nderangement in parents: for the whole moral nature is essentially\ninfected, and that goes deeper down, and is more dangerous, _qua_\nheredity, than a particular derangement. A mental alienation is a\nnatural pathological evolution of it.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nKnowledge.\n\n\nWhat food is to the body, that knowledge is to the mind. It is the bread\nof intellectual life. Without knowledge of agriculture and the mechanic\narts we should be unable to provide ourselves with food and clothing and\nhouses and ships and roads and bridges. Without knowledge of natural\nscience we should be strangers in the world in which we live, the\nvictims of the grossest superstitions. Without knowledge of history and\npolitical science we could have no permanent tranquility and peace, but\nshould pass a precarious existence, exposed to war and violence, rapine\nand revolution. Knowledge unlocks for us the mysteries of nature;\nunfolds for us the treasured wisdom of the world's great men; interprets\nto us the longings and aspirations of our hearts.\n\n Books, we know,\n Are a substantial world, both pure and good:\n Round these with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,\n Our pastime and our happiness will grow.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+The severity of truth.+--Things exist in precise and definite\nrelations. Events take place according to fixed and immutable laws.\nTruth is the perception of things just as they are. Between truth and\nfalsehood there is no middle ground. Either a fact is so, or it is not.\n\"Truth,\" says Ruskin, \"is the one virtue of which there are no degrees.\nThere are some faults slight in the sight of love, some errors slight in\nthe estimation of wisdom; but truth forgives no insult, and endures no\nstain.\" Truth does not always lie upon the surface of things. It\nrequires hard, patient toil to dig down beneath the superficial crust of\nappearance to the solid rock of fact on which truth rests. To discover\nand declare truth as it is, and facts as they are, is the vocation of\nthe scholar. Not what he likes to think, not what other people will be\npleased to hear, not what will be popular or profitable; but what as the\nresult of careful investigation, painstaking inquiry, prolonged\nreflection he has learned to be the fact;--this, nothing less and\nnothing more, the scholar must proclaim. Truth is fidelity to fact; it\nplants itself upon reality; and hence it speaks with authority. The\ntruthful man is one whom we can depend upon. His word is as good as his\nbond. \"He sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not.\" The truthful man\nbrings truth and man together.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+Veracity has two foundations: one reverence for truth; the other regard\nfor one's fellow-men.+--Ordinarily these two motives coincide and\nre-enforce each other. The right of truth to be spoken, and the benefit\nto men from hearing it, are two sides of the same obligation. Only in\nthe most rare and exceptional cases can these two motives conflict. To a\nhealthy, right-minded man the knowledge of the truth is always a good.\n\n+Apparent exceptions to the duty of truthfulness.+--We owe truth to all\nnormal people, and under all normal circumstances. We do not necessarily\nowe it to the abnormal. In sickness, when the patient cannot bear the\nshock of distressing news; in insanity, when the maniac cannot give to\nfacts their right interpretation; in criminal perversity, when knowledge\nwould be used in furtherance of crime, the abnormal condition of the\nperson with whom we have to deal may justify us in withholding from him\nfacts which he would use to the injury of himself or others. These are\nvery rare and extreme cases, and are apparent rather than real\nexceptions to the universal rule of absolute truthfulness in human\nspeech. For in these cases it is not from a desire to deceive or mislead\nthe person, that we withhold the truth. We feel sure that the sick\nperson, when he recovers; the insane person when he is restored to\nreason; the criminal, if he is ever converted to uprightness, will\nappreciate the kindness of our motive, and thank us for our deed. To the\nperson of sound body, sound mind, and sound moral intent, no conceivable\ncombination of circumstances can ever excuse us from the strict\nrequirement of absolute veracity, or make a lie anything but base,\ncowardly, and contemptible.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+Society is founded on trust.+--Without confidence in one another, we\ncould not live in social relations a single day. We should relapse into\nbarbarism, strife, and mutual destruction. Since society rests on\nconfidence, and confidence rests on tried veracity, the rewards of\nveracity are all those mutual advantages which a civilized society\nconfers upon its members.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+The costliness of strict truthfulness.+--Truth is not only hard to\ndiscover, but frequently it is costly to speak. Truth is often opposed\nto sacred traditions, inherited prejudices, popular beliefs, and vested\ninterests. To proclaim truth in the face of these opponents in early\ntimes has cost many a man his life; and to-day it often exposes one to\ncalumny and abuse. Hence comes the temptation to conceal our real\nopinions; to cover up what we know to be true under some phrase which we\nbelieve will be popular; to sacrifice our convictions to what we suppose\nto be our interests.\n\nEspecially when we have done wrong the temptation to cover it up with a\nlie is very great. Deception seems so easy; it promises to smooth over\nour difficulties so neatly; that it is one of the hardest temptations to\nresist. Little do we dream,\n\n What a tangled web we weave\n When first we practice to deceive.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+The forms of falsehood are numberless.+--We may lie by our faces; by\nour general bearing; by our silence, as well as by our lips. There is\n\"the glistening and softly spoken lie; the amiable fallacy; the\npatriotic lie of the historian; the provident lie of the politician; the\nzealous lie of the partisan; the merciful lie of the friend; the\ncareless lie of each man to himself.\" The mind of man was made for\ntruth: truth is the only atmosphere in which the mind of man can breathe\nwithout contamination. No passing benefit which I can secure for myself\nor others can compensate for the injury which a falsehood inflicts on\nthe mind of him who tells it and on the mind of him to whom it is told.\nFor benefits and advantages, however great and important, are what we\nhave, and they perish with the using. The mind is what we are; and an\ninsult to our intelligence, a scar upon ourselves, a blow at that human\nconfidence which binds us all together, is irremediable.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+The mischievousness of gossip and scandal.+--We are not called upon to\nknow everything that is going on; nor to tell everything that we cannot\nhelp knowing. Idle curiosity and mischievous gossip result from the\ndirection of our thirst for knowledge toward trifling and unworthy\nobjects. There is great virtue in minding one's own business. The\ntell-tale is abhorrent even to the least developed moral sensibility.\nThe gossip, the busybody, the scandalmonger is the worst pest that\ninfests the average town and village. These mischief-makers take a grain\nof circumstantial evidence, mix with it a bushel of fancies, suspicions,\nsurmises, and inuendoes, and then go from house to house peddling the\nproduct for undoubted fact. The scandalmonger is the murderer of\nreputations, the destroyer of domestic peace, the insuperable obstacle\nto the mutual friendliness of neighborhoods. This \"rejoicing in\niniquity\" is the besetting sin of idle people. The man or woman who\ndelights in this gratuitous and uncalled-for criticism of neighbors\nthereby puts himself below the moral level of the ones whose faults he\ncriticises. Martineau, in his scale of the springs of action, rightly\nranks censoriousness, with vindictiveness and suspiciousness, at the\nvery bottom of the list. Unless there is some positive good to be gained\nby bringing wrong to light and offenders to justice we should know as\nlittle as possible of the failings of our fellow-men, and keep that\nlittle strictly to ourselves.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+Falsehood undermines the foundations of social order.+--Universal\nfalsehood would bring social chaos. The liar takes advantage of the\nopportunity which his position as a member of society gives him to\nstrike a deadly blow at the heart of the social order on which he\ndepends for his existence, and without whose aid his arm would be\npowerless to strike.\n\n+The liar likewise loses confidence in himself.+--He cannot distinguish\ntruth from falsehood, he has so frequently confounded them. He is caught\nin his own meshes. A good liar must have a long memory. Having no\nrecognized standard to go by, he cannot remember whether he said one\nthing or another about a given fact; and so he hangs himself by the rope\nof his own contradictions. Worse than these outward consequences is the\nloss of confidence in his own integrity and manhood. In Kant's words, \"A\nlie is the abandonment, or, as it were, the annihilation of the dignity\nof man.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nTime.\n\n\nEvery act we do, every thought we think, every feeling we cherish exists\nin time. Our life is a succession of flying moments. Once gone, they can\nnever be recalled. As they are employed, so our character becomes. To\nuse time wisely is a good part of the art of living well, for \"time is\nthe stuff life is made of.\"\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+The duty of making life a consistent whole.+--Life is not merely a\nsuccession of separate moments. It is an organic whole. The way in which\nwe spend one moment affects the next, and all that follow; just as the\ncondition of one part of the body affects the well-being of all the\nrest. As we have seen, dissipation to-day means disease to-morrow. Work\nto-day means property to-morrow. Wastefulness to-day means want\nto-morrow. Hence it should be our aim so to co-ordinate one period of\ntime with another that our action will promote not merely the immediate\ninterests of the passing moment, but the interests of the permanent self\nthroughout the whole of life. What we pursue on one day must not clash\nwith what we pursue the next; each must contribute its part to our\ncomprehensive and permanent well-being.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE\n\n+Prudence is the habit of looking ahead, and seeing present conduct in\nits relation to future welfare.+--Prudence is manly and virtuous because\nit controls present inclination, instead of being controlled by it. A\nburning appetite or passion springs up within us, and demands instant\nobedience to its demands. The weak man yields at once and lets the\nappetite or passion or inclination lead him whithersoever it listeth.\nNot so the strong, the prudent man. He says to the hot, impetuous\npassion: \"Sit down, and be quiet. I will consider your request. If it\nseems best I will do as you wish. If it turns out that what you ask is\nnot for my interest I shall not do it. You need not think that I am\ngoing to do everything you ask me to, whether it is for my interest to\ndo it or not. You have fooled me a good many times, and hereafter I\npropose to look into the merits of your requests before I grant them.\"\nIt takes strength and courage and determination to treat the impulses of\nour nature in this haughty and imperious manner. But the strength and\nresolution which it takes to do an act is the very essence of its\nmanliness and virtue.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+The life of the prudent man holds together, part plays into part, and\nthe whole runs smoothly.+--One period of life, one fraction of time,\ndoes not conflict with another. He looks on the past with satisfaction\nbecause he is enjoying the fruit of that past in present well-being. He\nlooks to the future with confidence because the present contains the\nseeds of future well-being. Each step in life is adjusted to every\nother, and the result is a happy and harmonious whole.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+Time tempts us to break up our lives into separate parts.+--\"Let us eat\nand drink, for to-morrow we die.\" \"After us the deluge.\" These are the\nmaxims of fools. The reckless seizure of the pleasures of the present\nhour, regardless of the days and years to come, is the characteristic\nmark of folly.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+\"Procrastination is the thief of time.\"+--The particular impulse which\nmost frequently leads us to put off the duty of the hour is indolence.\nBut any appetite or passion which induces us to postpone a recognized\nduty for the sake of a present delight is an invitation to\nprocrastination.\n\nThe fallacy of procrastination, the trick by which it deceives, is in\nmaking one believe that at a different time he will be a different\nperson. The procrastinator admits, for instance, that a piece of work\nmust be done. But he argues, \"Just now I would rather play or loaf than\ndo the work. By and by there will come a time when I shall rather do the\nwork than play or loaf. Let's wait till that time comes.\" That time\nnever comes. Our likes and dislikes do not change from one day to\nanother. To-morrow finds us as lazy as to-day, and with the habit of\nprocrastination strengthened by the indulgence of yesterday. Putting a\nduty off once does not make it easier: it makes it harder to do the next\ntime.\n\nPlay or rest when we ought to be at work is weakening and demoralizing.\nRest and play after work is bracing and invigorating. The sooner we face\nand conquer a difficulty, the less of a difficulty it is. The longer we\nput it off the greater it seems, and the less becomes our strength with\nwhich to overcome it.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+Anxiety defeats itself.+--Anxiety sacrifices the present to the future.\nWhen this becomes a habit it defeats its own end. For the future is\nnothing but a succession of moments, which, when they are realized, are\npresent moments. And the man who sacrifices all the present moments to\nhis conception of a future, sacrifices the very substance out of which\nthe real future is composed. For when he reaches the time to which he\nhas been looking forward, and for the sake of which he has sacrificed\nall his early days, the habit of anxiety stays by him and compels him to\nsacrifice that future, now become present, to another future, still\nfarther ahead; and so on forever. Thus life becomes an endless round of\nfret and worry, full of imaginary ills, destitute of all real and\npresent satisfaction. It is a good rule never to cross a bridge until we\ncome to it. Prudence demands that we make reasonable preparation for\ncrossing it in advance. But when these preparations are made prudence\nhas done its work, and waits calmly until the time comes to put its\nplans into operation. Anxiety fills all the intervening time with\nforebodings of all the possible obstacles that may arise when the time\nfor action comes.\n\n+Procrastination, anxiety, and prudence.+--Procrastination sacrifices\nthe future to the present. Anxiety sacrifices the present to the future.\nPrudence co-ordinates present and future in a consistent whole, in which\nboth present and future have their proper place and due consideration.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\nImperfect co-ordination, whether by procrastination or by worry, brings\ndiscord. The parts of life are at variance with each other. The\nprocrastinator looks on past indulgence with remorse and disgust; for\nthat past indulgence is now loading him down with present disabilities\nand pains. He looks on the future with apprehension, for he knows that\nhis present pleasures are purchased at the cost of misery and\ndegradation in years to come.\n\nThe man in whom worry and anxiety have become habitual likewise lives a\ndiscordant life. He looks out of a joyless present, back on a past\ndevoid of interest, and forward into a future full of fears.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nSpace.\n\n\nAs all thoughts and actions take place in time, so all material things\nexist in space. Everything we have must be in some place. To give things\ntheir right relations in space is one of the important aspects of\nconduct.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+A place for everything, and everything in its place.+--Things that\nbelong together should be kept together. Dishes belong in the cupboard;\nclothes in the closet; boxes on the shelves; loose papers in the waste\nbasket; tools in the tool-chest; wood in the wood-shed. And it is our\nduty to keep them in their proper place, when not in actual use. In\nbusiness it is of the utmost importance to have a precise place for\neverything connected with it. The carpenter or machinist must have a\nplace for each tool, and always put it there when he is through using\nit. The merchant must have a definite book and page or drawer or\npigeon-hole for every item which he records. The scholar must have a set\nof cards or envelopes or drawers or pockets alphabetically arranged in\nwhich he keeps each class of facts where he can turn to it instantly.\nThis keeping things of a kind together, each kind in a place by itself,\nis system. Without system nothing can be managed well, and no great\nenterprise can be carried on at all.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+Orderliness is manly and virtuous because it keeps things under our own\ncontrol, and makes them the expression of our will.+--The orderly and\nsystematic man can manage a thousand details with more ease and power\nthan a man without order and system can manage a dozen. It is not power\nto do more work than other men, but power to do the same amount of work\nin such an orderly and systematic way that it accomplishes a hundred\ntimes as much as other men's work, which marks the difference between\nthe statesman who manages the affairs of a nation or the merchant prince\nwho handles millions of dollars, and the man of merely ordinary\nadministrative and business ability.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+The orderly man has his resources at his disposal at a moment's\nnotice.+--He can go directly to the thing he wants and be sure of\nfinding it in its place. When a business is thoroughly systematized it\nis as easy to find one thing out of ten thousand as it is to find one\nthing out of ten. Hence there is scarcely any limit to the expansion of\nbusiness of which the systematic man is capable. A business thus reduced\nto system will almost run itself. Thus the heads of great concerns are\nable to accept public office, or to spend a year in Europe, in absolute\nconfidence that the business will be well conducted in their absence,\nand that they can take it up when they return just as they left it. For\nthey know that each man has his part of the work for which he is\nresponsible; each process has its precise method by which it is to be\nperformed; each account has its exact place where it is to be kept.\nOrder and system are the keys to business success. Orderliness keeps\nthings under our control, and the convenience and efficiency with which\nthings serve us is the direct and necessary consequence of having them\nunder control.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+System takes more labor to begin with, but in the long run system is\nthe greatest labor-saving device in the world.+--It takes ten times as\nlong to hunt up a thing which we have left lying around the next time we\nwant it, as it does to put it where it belongs at first. Yet, well as we\nknow this fact, present and temporary ease seems of more consequence at\nthe time of action than future and permanent convenience. Until by\nrepeated exercise and painful discipline we make orderliness and system\nhabitual and almost instinctive, the temptation to make the quickest and\nhandiest disposition of things for which we have no immediate use will\ncontinue to beset our minds and betray our wills.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+The careless man lets things run over him.+--They mock him, and make\nfun of him; getting in his way and tripping him up at one time; hiding\nfrom him and making him hunt after them at another. Carelessness is a\nconfession of a weak will that cannot keep things under control. And\nweakness is ever the mark of vice.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+The end and aim of system is to expedite business. Red tape is the\nidolatry of system. It is system for the sake of system.+--Every rule\nadmits exceptions. To make exceptions before a habit is fully formed is\ndangerous; and while we are learning the habit of orderliness and system\nwe should put ourselves to very great inconvenience rather than admit an\nexception to our systematic and orderly way of doing things. When,\nhowever, the habit has become fixed, it is wise and right to sacrifice\norder and system, when some \"short cut\" will attain our end more quickly\nand effectively than the regular and more round-about way of orderly\nprocedure. The strong and successful business man is he who has his\nsystem so thoroughly under his control that he can use it or dispense\nwith it on a given occasion; according as it will further or hinder the\nend he has in view.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+The careless man is always bothered by things he does not want getting\nin his way; and by things that he does want keeping out of his\nway.+--Half his time is spent in clearing away accumulated obstructions\nand hunting after the things he needs. Where everything is in a heap it\nis necessary to haul over a dozen things in order to find the one you\nare after. Carelessness suffers things to get the mastery over us; and\nthe consequence is that we and our business are ever at their mercy. And\nas things held in control are faithful and efficient servants, so things\npermitted to domineer over us and do as they please become cruel and\narbitrary masters. They waste our time, try our patience, destroy our\nbusiness, and scatter our fortunes.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nFortune.\n\n\nStrictly speaking, there is no such thing as fortune, chance, or\naccident. All things are held together by invariable laws. Every event\ntakes place in accordance with law. Uniformity of law is the condition\nand presupposition of all our thinking. The very idea of an event that\nhas no cause is a contradiction in terms to which no reality can\ncorrespond, like the notion of two mountains without a valley between;\nor a yard stick with only one end.\n\nRelatively to us, and in consequence of the limitation of our knowledge,\nan event is a result of chance or fortune when the cause which produced\nit lies beyond the range of our knowledge. What we cannot anticipate\nbeforehand and what we cannot account for afterward, we group together\ninto a class and ascribe to the fictitious goddess Fortune; as children\nattribute gifts at Christmas which come from unknown sources to Santa\nClaus. In reality these unexplained and unanticipated events come from\nheredity, environment, social institutions, the forces of nature, and\nultimately from God.\n\nThese things which project themselves without warning into our lives,\noften have most momentous influence for good or evil over us; and the\nproper attitude to take toward this class of objects is worthy of\nconsideration by itself.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+The secret of superiority to fortune.+--Some things are under our\ncontrol; others are not. It is the part of wisdom to concentrate our\nthought and feeling on the former; working with utmost diligence to make\nthe best use of those things which are committed to us in the regular\nline of daily duty, and treating with comparative indifference those\nthings which affect us from without. What we are; what we do; what we\nstrive for;--these are the really important matters; and these are\nalways in our power. What money comes to us; what people say about us;\nwhat positions we are called to fill; to what parties we are invited; to\nwhat offices we are elected, are matters which concern to some extent\nour happiness. We should welcome these good things when they come. But\nthey affect the accidents rather than the substance of our lives. We\nshould not be too much bound up in them when they come; and we should\nnot grieve too deeply when they go. We should never stake our well-being\nand our peace of mind on their presence or their absence. We should\nremember that \"The aids to noble life are all within.\"\n\nThis lesson of superiority to fortune, by regarding the things she has\nto give as comparatively indifferent, is the great lesson of Stoicism.\nMarcus Aurelius, Epictetus, and Seneca are the masters of this school.\nTheir lesson is one we all need to learn thoroughly. It is the secret of\nstrength to endure the ills of life with serenity and fortitude. And yet\nit is by no means a complete account of our duty toward these outward\nthings. It is closely akin to pride and self-sufficiency. It gives\nstrength but not sweetness to life. One must be able to do without the\ngood things of fortune if need be. The really strong man, however, is he\nwho can use and enjoy them without being made dependent on them or being\nenslaved by them. The real mastery of fortune consists not in doing\nwithout the things she brings for fear they will corrupt and enslave us;\nbut in compelling her to give us all the things we can, and then\nrefusing to bow down to her in hope of getting more. This just\nappreciation of fortune's gifts is doubtless hard to combine with\nperfect independence. The Stoic solution of the problem is easier. The\nreally strong man, however, is he who\n\n Gathers earth's whole good into his arms;\n Marching to fortune, not surprised by her,\n\nand the secret of this conquest of fortune without being captivated by\nher lies in having, as Browning telling us,\n\n One great aim, like a guiding star above,\n Which tasks strength, wisdom, stateliness, to lift\n His manhood to the height that takes the prize.\n\nThe shortcoming of the Stoics is not in the superiority to fortune\nwhich they seek; but in the fact that they seek it directly by sheer\neffort of naked will, instead of being lifted above subjection to\nfortune by the attractive power of generous aims, and high ideals of\nsocial service.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+The virtue which maintains superiority over external things and forces\nis courage.+--In primitive times the chief form of fortune was physical\ndanger, and superiority to fear of physical injury was the original\nmeaning of courage. Courage involves this physical bravery still; but it\nhas come to include a great deal more. In a civilized community,\nphysical danger is comparatively rare. Courage to do right when everyone\naround us is doing wrong; courage to say \"No\" when everyone is trying to\nmake us say \"Yes\"; courage to bear uncomplainingly the inevitable ills\nof life;--these are the forms of courage most frequently demanded and\nmost difficult to exercise in the peaceful security of a civilized\ncommunity. This courage which presents an unruffled front to trouble,\nand bears bravely the steady pressure of untoward circumstance, we call\nby the special names of fortitude or patience. Patience and fortitude\nare courage exercised in the conditions of modern life. The essence of\ncourage is superiority to outside forces and influences. When men were\nbeset by lions and tigers, by Indians and hostile armies, then courage\nshowed itself by facing and fighting these enemies. Now that we live\nwith civilized and friendly men and women like ourselves, courage shows\nitself chiefly by refusing to surrender our convictions of what is true\nand right just because other people will like us better if we pretend to\nthink as they do; and by enduring without flinching the rubs and bumps\nand bruises which this close contact with our fellows brings to us.\n\n+Moral courage.+--The brave man everywhere is the man who has a firm\npurpose in his own breast, and goes forth to carry out that purpose in\nspite of all opposition, or solicitation, or influence of any kind that\nwould tend to make him do otherwise. He does the same, whether men blame\nor approve; whether it bring him pain or pleasure, profit or loss. The\npurpose that is in him, that he declares, that he maintains, that he\nlives to realize; in defense of that he will lay down wealth,\nreputation, and, if need be, life itself. He will be himself, if he is\nto live at all. Men must approve what he really is, or he will have none\nof their praise, but their blame rather. By no pretense of being what he\nis not, by no betrayal of what he holds to be true and right, will he\ngain their favor. The power to stand alone with truth and right against\nthe world is the test of moral courage. The brave man plants himself on\nthe eternal foundations of truth and justice, and bids defiance to all\nthe forces that would drive him from it.\n\nWordsworth, in his character of \"The Happy Warrior,\" has portrayed the\nkind of courage demanded of the modern man:\n\n 'Tis he whose law is reason; who depends\n Upon that law as on the best of friends.\n Who if he rise to station of command\n Rises by open means, and there will stand\n On honorable terms, or else retire,\n And in himself possess his own desire:\n Who comprehends his trust, and to the same\n Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim;\n And therefore does not stoop nor lie in wait\n For wealth, or honors, or for worldly state;\n Whom they must follow, on whose head must fall\n Like showers of manna, if they come at all.\n 'Tis finally the man, who, lifted high,\n Conspicuous object in a nation's eye,\n Or left unthought of in obscurity,\n Who with a toward or untoward lot,\n Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not,\n Plays in the many games of life, that one\n Where what he most doth value must be won:\n Whom neither shape of danger can dismay,\n Nor thought of tender happiness betray;\n Who, not content that former worth stand fast,\n Looks forward, persevering to the last,\n From well to better, daily self-surpast:\n This is the happy warrior; this is he\n That every man in arms should wish to be.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+Courage universally honored.+--There is something in this strong,\nsteady power of self-assertion that compels the admiration of everyone\nwho beholds it. When we see a man standing squarely on his own feet;\nspeaking plainly the thoughts that are in his mind; doing fearlessly\nwhat he believes to be right; or no matter how widely we may differ from\nhis views, disapprove his deeds, we cannot withhold our honor from the\nman himself. No man was ever held in veneration by his countrymen; no\nman ever handed down to history an undying fame, who did not have the\ncourage to speak and act his real thought and purpose in defiance of the\nrevilings and persecutions of his fellows.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+To take one's fortune into his own hands and work out, in spite of\nopposition and misfortune, a satisfactory career tasks strength and\nresolution to the utmost.+--It is so much more easy to give over the\ndetermination of our fate to some outside power that the abject\nsurrender to fortune is a serious temptation. Air-castles and\nday-dreams, and idle waiting for something to turn up, are the feeble\nforms of this temptation. The impulse to run away from danger, and the\nimpulse to plunge recklessly into risks, are the two forms of temptation\nwhich lead to the more pronounced and prevalent vices.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+Yielding to outward pressure, contrary to our own conviction of what is\ntrue and right, is moral cowardice.+--In early times the coward was the\nman who turned his back in battle. To-day the coward is the man who does\ndifferently when people are looking at him from what he would do if he\nwere alone; the man who speaks what he thinks people want to hear,\ninstead of what he knows to be true; the man who apes other people for\nfear they will think him odd if he acts like himself; the man who tries\nso hard to suit everybody that he has no mind of his own; the man who\nthinks how things will look, instead of thinking how things really are.\nWhenever we take the determination of our course of conduct ultimately\nfrom any other source than our own firm conviction of what is right and\ntrue, then we play the coward. We do in the peaceful conditions of\nmodern life just what we despise a soldier for doing on the field of\nbattle. We acknowledge that there is something outside us that is\nstronger than we are; of which we are afraid; to which we surrender\nourselves as base and abject slaves.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+There are forces in the world that can destroy us; we must protect\nourselves against them.+--To be truly brave, we must be ready to face\nthese forces when there is a reason for so doing. We must be ready to\nface the cannon for our country; to plunge into the swollen stream to\nsave the drowning child; to expose ourselves to contagious diseases in\norder to nurse the sick.\n\nTo do these things without sufficient reason is foolhardiness. To expose\nourselves needlessly to disease; to put ourselves in the range of a\ncannon, to jump into the stream, with no worthy end in view, or for the\nvery shallow reason of showing off how brave we can be, is folly and\nmadness. Doing such things because someone dares us to do them is not\ncourage, but cowardice.\n\n+Gambling, the most fatal form of this fondness for taking needless\nrisks.+--The gambler is too feeble in will, too empty in mind, too\nindolent in body to carve out his destiny with his own right hand. And\nso he stakes his well-being on the throw of the dice; the turn of a\nwheel; or the speed of a horse. This invocation of fortune is a\nconfession of the man's incompetence and inability to solve the problem\nof his life satisfactorily by his own exertions. It is the most\ndemoralizing of practices. For it establishes the habit of staking\nwell-being not on one's own honest efforts, but on outside influences\nand forces. It is the dethronement of will and the deposition of\nmanhood.\n\nIn addition to being degrading to the individual it is injurious to\nothers. It is anti-social. It makes one man's gain depend on another's\nloss: while the social welfare demands that gains shall in all cases be\nmutual. It violates the fundamental law of equivalence.\n\nSince the essence of gambling is the abrogation of the will, every\nindulgence weakens the power to resist the temptation. Gambling soon\nbecomes a mania. Honest ways of earning money seem slow and dull. And\nthe habit becomes confirmed before the victim is aware of the power over\nhim that it has gained. Every form of gain which is contingent upon\nanother's loss partakes of the nature of gambling. Raffling, playing for\nstakes, betting, buying lottery tickets, speculation in which there is\nno real transfer of goods, but mere winning or losing on the\nfluctuations of the market, are all forms of gambling. They are all\nanimated by the desire to get something for nothing: a desire which we\ncan respect when a helpless pauper asks for alms; but of which in any\nform an able-bodied man ought to be ashamed.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+The shame of cowardice.+--Man is meant to be superior to things outside\nhim. When we see him bowing down to somebody whom he does not really\nbelieve in; when we see him yielding to forces which he does not himself\nrespect; when living is more to him than living well; when there is a\nthreat which can make him cringe, or a bribe that can make his tongue\nspeak false--then we feel that the manhood has gone out of him, and we\ncannot help looking on his fall with sorrow and with shame. The penalty\nwhich follows moral cowardice is nowhere more clearly stated than in\nthese severe and solemn lines which Whittier wrote when he thought a\ngreat man had sacrificed his convictions to his desire for office and\nlove of popularity:\n\n So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn\n Which once he wore!\n The glory from his gray hairs gone\n Forevermore!\n\n Of all we loved and honored, naught\n Save power remains,--\n A fallen angel's pride of thought,\n Still strong in chains.\n\n All else is gone, from those great eyes\n The soul has fled:\n When faith is lost, when honor dies,\n The man is dead!\n\n Then pay the reverence of old days\n To his dead fame;\n Walk backward, with averted gaze,\n And hide the shame.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nNature.\n\n\nThus far we have been considering the uses to which we may put the\nparticular things which nature places at our disposal. In addition to\nthese special uses of particular objects, Nature has a meaning as a\nwhole. The Infinite Reason in whose image our minds are formed and in\nwhose thought our thinking, so far as it is true, partakes, has\nexpressed something of his wisdom, truth, and beauty, in the forms and\nlaws of the world in which we live. In the study of Nature we are\nthinking God's thoughts after him. In contemplation of the glory of the\nheavens, in admiration of the beauty of field and stream and forest, we\nare beholding a loveliness which it was his delight to create, and which\nit is elevating and ennobling for us to look upon. Nature is the larger,\nfairer, fuller expression of that same intelligence and love which wells\nup in the form of consciousness within our own breasts. Nature and the\nsoul of man are children of the same Father. Nature is the\ninterpretation of the longings of our hearts. Hence when we are alone\nwith Nature in the woods and fields, by the seashore or on the moon-lit\nlake, we feel at peace with ourselves, and at home in the world.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+The love of nature, like all love, cannot be forced.+--It is not\ndirectly under the control of our will. We cannot set about it in\ndeliberate fashion, as we set about earning a living. Still it can be\ncultivated. We can place ourselves in contact with Nature's more\nimpressive aspects. We can go away by ourselves; stroll through the\nwoods, watch the clouds; bask in the sunshine; brave the storm; listen\nto the notes of birds; find out the haunts of living creatures; learn\nthe times and places in which to find the flowers; gaze upon the glowing\nsunset, and look up into the starry skies. If we thus keep close to\nNature, she will draw us to herself, and whisper to us more and more of\nher hidden meaning.\n\n The eye--it cannot choose but see;\n We cannot bid the year be still:\n Our bodies feel, where'er they be,\n Against or with our will.\n\n Nor less I deem that there are powers\n Which of themselves our minds impress;\n That we can feed these minds of ours\n In a wise passiveness.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+The more we feel of the beauty and significance of Nature the more we\nbecome capable of feeling.+--And this capacity to feel the influences\nwhich Nature is constantly throwing around us is an indispensable\nelement in noble and elevated character. Our thoughts, our acts, yes,\nour very forms and features reflect the objects which we habitually\nwelcome to our minds and hearts. And if we will have these expressions\nof ourselves noble and pure, we must drink constantly and deeply at\nNature's fountains of beauty and truth. Wordsworth, the greatest\ninterpreter of Nature, thus describes the effect of Nature's influence\nupon a sensitive soul:\n\n She shall be sportive as the fawn\n That wild with glee across the lawn\n Or up the mountain springs;\n And hers shall be the breathing balm,\n And hers the silence and the calm\n Of mute, insensate things.\n\n The floating clouds their state shall lend\n To her; for her the willow bend:\n Nor shall she fail to see,\n Even in the motions of the storm,\n Grace that shall mold the maiden's form\n By silent sympathy.\n\n The stars of midnight shall be dear\n To her; and she shall lean her ear\n In many a secret place\n Where rivulets dance their wayward round,\n And Beauty born of murmuring sound\n Shall pass into her face.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+The uplifting and purifying power of nature.+--Through communion with\nthe grandeur and majesty of Nature, our lives are lifted to loftier and\npurer heights than our unaided wills could ever gain. We grow into the\nlikeness of that we love. We are transformed into the image of that\nwhich we contemplate and adore. We are thus made strong to resist the\nbase temptations; patient to endure the petty vexations; brave to oppose\nthe brutal injustices, of daily life. This whole subject of the power of\nNature to uplift and bless has been so exhaustively and beautifully\nexpressed by Wordsworth, that fidelity to the subject makes continued\nquotation necessary:\n\n Nature never did betray\n The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,\n Through all the years of this our life, to lead\n From joy to joy: for she can so inform\n The mind that is within us, so impress\n With quietness and beauty, and so feed\n With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,\n Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,\n Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all\n The dreary intercourse of daily life,\n Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb\n Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold\n Is full of blessings.\n\n Therefore am I still\n A lover of the meadows and the woods\n And mountains; and of all that we behold\n From this green earth; well pleased to recognize\n In Nature and the language of the sense\n The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,\n The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul\n Of all my moral being.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+The very thoroughness and fidelity with which we fulfill one duty, may\nhinder the fulfillment of another.+--We may become so absorbed in\nearning a living, and carrying on our business, and getting an\neducation, that we shall give no time or attention to this communion\nwith Nature. The fact that business, education, and kindred external and\ndefinite pursuits are directly under the control of our wills, while\nthis power to appreciate Nature is a slow and gradual growth, only\nindirectly under our control, tempts us to give all our time and\nstrength to these immediate, practical ends, and to neglect that closer\nwalk with Nature which is essential to a true appreciation of her\nloveliness. Someone asks us \"What is the use of spending your time with\nthe birds among the trees, or on the hill-top under the stars?\" and we\ncannot give him an answer in dollars and cents. And so we are tempted to\ntake his simple standard of utility in ministering to physical wants as\nthe standard of all worth. We neglect Nature, and she hides her face\nfrom our preoccupied eyes. In this busy, restless age we need to keep\never in mind Wordsworth's warning against this fatal temptation:\n\n The world is too much with us; late and soon,\n Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:\n Little we see in Nature that is ours;\n We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\nThis obtuseness does not come upon us suddenly. All children keenly\nappreciate the changing moods of Nature. It is from neglect to open our\nhearts to Nature, that obtuseness comes. It steals over us\nimperceptibly. We can correct it only by giving ourselves more closely\nand constantly to Nature, and trusting her to win back to herself our\nbenumbed and alienated hearts.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+Affectation the attempt to work up by our own efforts an enthusiasm for\nNature.+--True love of Nature must be born within us, by the working of\nNature herself upon our hearts. By faith, rather than by works; by\nreception, rather than by conquest; by wise passiveness, rather than by\nrestless haste; by calm and silence, rather than by noise and talk, our\nsensitiveness to Nature's charms is deepened and developed. That\nenjoyment of Nature which comes spontaneously and unsought is the only\ntrue enjoyment. That which we work up, and plan for, and talk about, is\na poor and feeble imitation. The real lover of Nature is not the one who\ncan talk glibly about her to everybody, and on all occasions. It is he\nwho loves to be alone with her, who steals away from men and things to\nfind solitude with her the best society, who knows not whence cometh nor\nwhither goeth his delight in her companionship, who waits patiently in\nher presence, and is content whether she gives or withholds her special\nfavors, who cares more for Nature herself than for this or that striking\nsensation she may arouse. Affectation is the craving for sensations\nregardless of their source. And if Nature is chary of striking scenes\nand startling impressions and thrilling experiences, affectation, with\nprofane haste, proceeds to amuse itself with artificial feelings, and\npretended raptures. This counterfeited appreciation, like all\ncounterfeits, by its greater cheapness drives out the real enjoyment;\nand the person who indulges in affectation soon finds the power of\ngenuine appreciation entirely gone. Affectation is worse than\nobtuseness, for obtuseness is at least honest: it may mend its ways. But\naffectation is self-deception. The affected person does not know what\ntrue appreciation of Nature is: he cannot see his error; and\nconsequently cannot correct it.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+The life of man can be no deeper and richer than the objects and\nthoughts on which it feeds.+--Without appreciation and love for Nature\nwe can eat and drink and sleep and do our work. The horse and ox,\nhowever, can do as much. Obtuseness to the beauty and meaning of Nature\nsinks us to the level of the brutes. Cut off from the springs of\ninspiration, our lives stagnate, our souls shrivel, our sensibilities\nwither. And just as stagnant water soon becomes impure, and swarms with\nlow forms of vegetable and animal life, so the stagnant soul, which\nrefuses to reflect the beauty of sun and star and sky, soon becomes\npolluted with sordidness and selfishness and sensuality.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nArt.\n\n\nNature is incomplete. She leaves man to provide for himself his raiment,\nshelter, and surroundings. Nature in her works throws out suggestions of\nbeauty, rather than its perfect and complete embodiment. Her gold is\nimbedded in the rock. Her creations are limited by the particular\nmaterial and the narrow conditions which are at her disposal at a given\ntime and place. To seize the pure ideal of beauty which Nature suggests,\nbut never quite realizes; to select from the universe of space and the\neternity of time those materials and forms which are perfectly adapted\nto portray the ideal beauty; to clothe the abodes and the whole physical\nenvironment of man with that beauty which is suggested to us in sky and\nstream and field and flower; to present to us for perpetual\ncontemplation the form and features of ideal manhood and womanhood; to\nhold before our imagination the deeds of brave men, and the devotion of\nsaintly women; to thrill our hearts with the victorious struggle of the\nhero and the death-defying passion of the lover;--this is the mission\nand the significance of art.\n\nArt is creative. The artist is a co-worker with God. To his hands is\ncommitted the portion of the world which God has left unfinished--the\nimmediate environment of man. We cannot live in the fields, like beasts\nand savages. Art has for its purpose to make the rooms and houses and\nhalls and streets and cities in which civilized men pass their days as\nbeautiful and fair, as elevating and inspiring, as the fields and\nforests in which the primeval savage roamed. More than that, art aims to\nfill these rooms and halls and streets of ours with forms and symbols\nwhich shall preserve, for our perpetual admiration and inspiration, all\nthat is purest and noblest and sweetest in that long struggle of man up\nfrom his savage to his civilized estate.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+Beauty is the outward and visible sign of inward perfection,\ncompleteness, and harmony.+--In an object of beauty there is neither too\nlittle nor too much; nothing is out of place; nothing is without its\ncontribution to the perfect whole. Each part is at once means and end to\nevery other. Hence its perfect symmetry; its regular proportions; its\nstrict conformity to law.\n\nThe mind of man can find rest and satisfaction in nothing short of\nperfection; and consequently our hearts are never satisfied until they\nbehold beauty, which is perfection's crown and seal. Without it one of\nthe deepest and divinest powers of our nature remains dwarfed, stifled,\nand repressed.\n\n+How to cultivate the love of beauty.+--It is our duty to see to it that\neverything under our control is as beautiful as we can make it. The\nrooms we live in; the desk at which we work; the clothes we wear; the\nhouse we build; the pictures on our walls; the garden and grounds in\nwhich we walk and work; all must have some form or other. That form must\nbe either beautiful or hideous; attractive or repulsive. It is our duty\nto pay attention to these things; to spend thought and labor, and such\nmoney as we can afford upon them, in order to make them minister to our\ndelight. Not in staring at great works of art which we have not yet\nlearned to appreciate, but by attention to the beauty or ugliness of the\nfamiliar objects that we have about us and dwell with from day to day,\nwe shall best cultivate that love of beauty which will ultimately make\nintelligible to us the true significance of the masterpieces of art.\nHere as everywhere, to him that hath shall more be given. We must serve\nbeauty humbly and faithfully in the little things of daily life, if we\nwill enjoy her treasures in the great galleries of the world.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+Beauty is a jealous mistress.+--If we trifle with her; if we fall in\nlove with pretentious imitations and elaborate ornamentations which have\nno beauty in them, but are simply gotten up to sell; then the true and\nreal beauty will never again suffer us to see her face. She will leave\nus to our idols: and our power to appreciate and admire true beauty\nwill die out.\n\nFidelity to beauty requires that we have no more things than we can\neither use in our work, or enjoy in our rest. And these things that we\ndo have must be either perfectly plain; or else the ornamentation about\nthem must be something that expresses a genuine admiration and affection\nof our hearts. A farmer's kitchen is generally a much more attractive\nplace than his parlor; just because this law of simplicity is perfectly\nexpressed in the one, and flagrantly violated in the other. The study of\na scholar, the office of the lawyer and the business man, is not\ninfrequently a more beautiful place, one in which a man feels more at\nhome, than his costly drawing room. What sort of things we shall have,\nand how many, cannot be determined for us by any general rule; still\nless by aping somebody else. In our housekeeping, as in everything else,\nwe should begin with the few things that are absolutely essential; and\nthen add decoration and ornament only so fast as we can find the means\nof gratifying cherished longings for forms of beauty which we have\nlearned to admire and love. \"Simplicity of life,\" says William Morris,\n\"even the barest, is not a misery, but the very foundation of\nrefinement: a sanded floor and whitewashed walls, and the green trees,\nand flowery meads, and living waters outside. If you cannot learn to\nlove real art, at least learn to hate sham art and reject it. If the\nreal thing is not to be had, learn to do without it. If you want a\ngolden rule that will fit everybody, this is it: Have nothing in your\nhouses that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.\"\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+The refining influence of beauty.+--Devotion to art and beauty in\nsimplicity and sincerity develops an ever increasing capacity for its\nenjoyment. As Keats, the master poet of pure beauty, tells us,\n\n A thing of beauty is a joy forever:\n Its loveliness increases; it will never\n Pass into nothingness; but still will keep\n A bower quiet for us, and a sleep,\n Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.\n\nThe refining influence of the love of beauty draws us mysteriously and\nimperceptibly, but none the less powerfully, away from what is false in\nthought and base in action; and develops a deep and lasting affinity for\nall that is true and good. The good, the true, and the beautiful are\nbranches of a common root; members of a single whole: and if one of\nthese members suffer, all the members suffer with it; and if one is\nhonored, all are honored with it.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+Luxury the perversion of beauty.+--Luxury is the pleasure of\npossession, instead of pleasure in the thing possessed. Luxury buys\nthings, not because it likes them, but because it likes to have them.\nAnd so the luxurious man fills his house with all sorts of things, not\nbecause he finds delight in these particular things, and wants to share\nthat delight with all his friends; but because he supposes these are the\nproper things to have, and he wants everybody to know that he has them.\n\nThe man who buys things in this way does not know what he wants.\nConsequently he gets cheated. He buys ugly things as readily as\nbeautiful things, if only the seller is shrewd enough to make him\nbelieve they are fashionable. Others, less intelligent than this man,\nsee what he has done; take for granted that because he has done it, it\nmust be the proper thing to do; and go and do likewise. Thus taste\nbecomes dulled and deadened; the costly and elaborate drives out the\nplain and simple; the desire for luxury kills out the love of beauty;\nand art expires.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+Ugly surroundings make ugly souls.+--The outward and the inward are\nbound fast together. The beauty or ugliness of the objects we have about\nus are the standing choices of our wills. As the object, so is the\nsubject. We grow into the likeness of what we look upon. Without harmony\nand beauty to feed upon, the love of beauty starves and dies. Our hearts\nbecome cold and hard. Not being called out in admiration and delight,\nour feelings brood over mean and sensual pleasures; they dwell upon\nnarrow and selfish concerns; they fasten upon the accumulation of wealth\nor the vanquishing of a rival, as substitutes for the nobler interests\nthat have vanished; and the heart becomes sordid, sensual, mean, petty,\nspiteful, and ugly. The spirit of man, like nature, abhors a vacuum; and\ninto the heart from which the love of the beautiful has been suffered to\ndepart, these hideous and ugly traits of character make haste to enter,\nand occupy the vacant space. What Shakspere says of a single art, music,\nis true of art and beauty in general:\n\n The man that hath no music in himself,\n Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,\n Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils:\n The motions of his spirit are dull as night,\n And his affections dark as Erebus.\n Let no such man be trusted.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+The hollowness of ostentation.+--Man is never proud of what he really\nenjoys; never vain of what he truly loves; never anxious to show off the\ntastes and interests that are essentially his own. In order to take this\nfalse attitude toward an object, it is necessary to hold it apart from\nourselves: a thing which the true lover can never do. He who loves\nbeautiful things will indeed wish others to share his joy in them. But\nthis sharing of our joy in beautiful objects, is a very different thing\nfrom showing off our fine things, simply to let other people know that\nwe have them. Ostentation is the vice of ignorant wealth and vulgar\nluxury. It estimates objects by their expensiveness rather than by their\nbeauty; it aims to awaken in ourselves pride rather than pleasure; and\nto arouse in others astonishment rather than admiration.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+Vulgarity akin to laziness.+--Art, and the beauty which it creates,\ncosts painstaking labor to produce. And to enjoy it when it is produced,\nrequires at first thoughtful and discriminating attention. The formation\nof a correct taste is a growth, not a gift. Hence the dull, the lazy,\nand the indifferent never acquire this cultivated taste for the\nbeautiful in art. This lack of perception, this incapacity for enjoyment\nof the beautiful, is vulgarity. Vulgarity is contentment with what is\ncommon, and to be had on easy terms. The root of it is laziness. The\nmark of it is stupidity.\n\nAt great pains the race has worked out beautiful forms of speech, for\ncommunicating our ideas to each other. Vulgarity in speech is too lazy\nto observe these precise and beautiful forms of expression; it clips its\nwords; throws its sentences together without regard to grammar; falls\ninto slang; draws its figures from the coarse and low and sensual side\nof life, instead of from its pure and noble aspects.\n\nVulgarity with reference to dress, dwellings, pictures, reading, is of\nthe same nature. It results from the dull, unmeaning gaze with which one\nlooks at things; the shiftless, slipshod way of doing work; the \"don't\ncare\" habit of mind which calls anything that happens to fall in its way\n\"good enough.\"\n\nFrom all that is precious and beautiful and lovely the vulgar man is\nhopelessly excluded. They are all around him; but he has no eyes to see,\nno taste to appreciate, no heart to respond to them. \"All things\nexcellent,\" so Spinoza tells us, \"are as difficult as they are rare.\"\nThe vulgar man has no heart for difficulty; and hence the rare\nexcellence of art and beauty remain forever beyond his reach.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nAnimals.\n\n\nAnimals stand midway between things and persons. We own them, use them,\nkill them, even, for our own purposes. Yet they have feelings, impulses,\nand affections in common with ourselves. In some respects they surpass\nus. In strength, in speed, in keenness of scent, in fidelity, blind\ninstinct in the animal is often superior to reason in the man.\n\nYet the animal falls short of personality. It is conscious, but not\nself-conscious. It knows; but it does not know that it knows. It can\nperform astonishing feats of intelligence. But it cannot explain, even\nto itself, the way in which it does them. The animal can pass from one\nparticular experience to another along lines of association in time and\nspace with marvelous directness and accuracy. To rise from a particular\nexperience to the universal class to which that experience belongs; and\nthen, from the known characteristics of the class, to deduce the\ncharacteristics of another particular experience of the same kind, is\nbeyond the power of the brute.\n\nThe brute likewise has feelings; but it does not recognize these\nfeelings as parts of a total and permanent self. Pleasure and pain the\nanimal feels probably as keenly as we do. Of happiness or unhappiness\nthey probably know nothing.\n\n They do not sweat and whine about their condition,\n They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,\n Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.\n\nAnimals can be trained to do right, but they cannot love righteousness.\nThey can be trained to avoid acts which are associated with painful\nconsequences, but they cannot hate iniquity. The life of an animal is a\nseries of sensations, impulses, thoughts, and actions. These are never\ngathered up into unity. The animal is more than a machine, and less than\na person.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+We ought to realize that the animal has feelings as keen as our\nown.+--We owe to these feelings in the animal the same treatment that we\nwould wish for the same feelings in ourselves. For animals as for\nourselves we should seek as much pleasure and as little pain as is\nconsistent with the performance of the work which we think it best to\nlay upon them. The horse cannot choose for itself how heavy a load to\ndraw. We ought to adapt the load to its strength. And in order to do\nthat we must stop and consider how much strength it has. The horse and\ncow and dog cannot select their own food and shelter. We must think for\nthem in these matters; and in order to do so wisely, we must consider\ntheir nature, habits, and capacities. No person is fit to own an\nanimal, who is not willing to take the trouble to understand the needs,\ncapacities, and nature of that animal. And acts which result from\nignorance of such facts as can be readily learned are inexcusable.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+Kindness is the recognition that a feeling of another being is of just\nas much consequence as a feeling of my own.+--Now we have seen that in\nsome respects animals are precisely like ourselves. Kindness recognizes\nthis bond of the kind, or kinship, as far as it extends. Kindness to\nanimals does not go so far as kindness to our fellow-men; because the\nkinship between animals and man does not extend as far as kinship\nbetween man and man. So far as it does extend, however, kindness to\nanimals treats them as we should wish to be treated by a person who had\nus in his power. Kindness will inflict no needless suffering upon an\nanimal; make no unreasonable requirement of it; expose it to no needless\nprivation.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+Kindness toward animals reacts upon our hearts, making them tender and\nsympathetic.+--Every act we perform leaves its trace in tendency to act\nin the same way again. And in its effect upon ourselves it matters\nlittle whether the objects on which our kindness has been bestowed have\nbeen high or low in the scale of being. In any case the effect remains\nwith us in increased tenderness, not only toward the particular objects\nwhich have called it forth, but toward all sentient beings. Kindness to\nanimals opens our hearts toward God and our fellow-men.\n\n He prayeth well, who loveth well\n Both man and bird and beast.\n\n He prayeth best who loveth best\n All things both great and small;\n For the dear God who loveth us,\n He made and loveth all.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+We are tempted to forget this sensitive nature of the animal, and to\ntreat it as a mere thing.+--We have a perfect right to sacrifice the\npleasure of an animal to the welfare of ourselves. We have no right to\nsacrifice the welfare of the animal to our capricious feelings. We have\nno right to neglect an animal from sheer unwillingness to give it the\nreasonable attention which is necessary to provide it with proper food,\nproper care, proper shelter, and proper exercise. A little girl,\nreproved for neglecting to feed her rabbits, when asked indignantly by\nher father, \"Don't you love your rabbits?\" replied, \"Yes, I love them\nbetter than I love to feed them.\" This love which doesn't love to feed\nis sentimentality, the fundamental vice of all personal relations, of\nwhich we shall hear more later. The temptation arises even here in our\nrelations to the animal. It is always so much easier to neglect a claim\nmade upon us from without, than to realize and respect it.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+Ignorant or willful disregard of the nature and welfare of an animal is\ncruelty.+--Overloading beasts of burden; driving them when lame; keeping\nthem on insufficient food, or in dark, cold, and unhealthy quarters;\nwhipping, goading, and beating them constantly and excessively are the\nmost common forms of cruelty to animals. Pulling flies to pieces,\nstoning frogs, robbing birds' nests are forms of cruelty of which young\nchildren are often guilty before they are old enough to reflect that\ntheir sport is purchased at the cost of frightful pain to these poor\ninnocent and defenseless creatures. The simple fact that we are strong\nand they are weak ought to make evident, to anyone capable of the least\nreflection, how mean a thing it is to take advantage of our superior\nstrength and knowledge to inflict pain on one of these creatures which\nnature has placed under the protection of our superior power and\nknowledge, and lead us to resolve\n\n Never to blend our pleasure or our pride\n With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+Subjection to animals degrading.+--The animals are vastly inferior to\nman in dignity and worth. Many of them have strong wills of their own,\nand if we will allow it, will run over us, and have their own way in\nspite of us. Such subjection of a man or woman to an animal is a most\nshameful sight. To have dominion over them is man's prerogative; and to\nsurrender that prerogative is to abrogate our humanity.\n\nThis subjection of a person to an animal may come about through a morbid\nand sentimental affection for an animal. When a man or a woman makes an\nanimal so much of a pet that every caprice of the cat or dog is law;\nwhen the whole arrangements of the household are made to yield to its\nwhims; when affections that are withheld from earnest work and human\nservice are lavished in profusion on a pug or a canary; there again we\nsee the order of rank in the scale of dignity and worth inverted, and\nthe human bowing to the beast.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+Inhumanity to brutes brutalizes humanity.+--If we refuse by\nconsideration and kindness to lift the brute up into our human sympathy,\nand recognize in it the rights and feelings which it has in common with\nus, then we sink to the unfeeling and brutal level to which our cruelty\nseeks to consign the brutes. Every cruel blow inflicted on an animal\nleaves an ugly scar in our own hardened hearts, which mars and destroys\nour capacity for the gentlest and sweetest sympathy with our fellow-men.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nFellow-men.\n\n\n\"_Unus homo, nullus homo_\" is a Latin proverb which means that one man\nalone is no man at all. A man who should be neither son, brother,\nhusband, father, neighbor, citizen, or friend is inconceivable. To try\nto think of such a man is like trying to think of a stone without size,\nweight, surface, or color. Man is by nature a social being. Apart from\nsociety man would not be man. \"Whosoever is delighted in solitude is\neither a wild beast or a god.\" To take out of a man all that he gets\nfrom his relations to other men would be to take out of him kindness,\ncompassion, sympathy, love, loyalty, devotion, gratitude, and heroism.\nIt would reduce him to the level of the brutes. What water is to the\nfish, what air is to the bird, that association with his fellow-men is\nto a man. It is as necessary to the soul as food and raiment are to the\nbody. Only as we see ourselves reflected in the praise or blame, the\nlove or hate of others do we become conscious of ourselves.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+Since our fellow-men are so essential to us and we to them, it is our\nduty to live in as intimate fellowship with them as possible.+--The\nfundamental form of fellowship is hospitality. By the fireside and\naround the family table we feel most free, and come nearest to one\nanother. Without hospitality, such intercourse is impossible.\nHospitality, in order to fulfill its mission of fellowship, must be\ngenuine, sincere, and simple. True hospitality welcomes the guest to our\nhearts as well as to our homes; and the invitation to our homes when our\nhearts are withheld is a hollow mockery. It is a dangerous thing to have\nour bodies where our hearts are not. For we acquire the habit of\nconcealing our real selves, and showing only the surface of our natures\nto others. We become hollow, unreal, hypocritical. We live and move\n\n Trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest\n Of men and alien to ourselves--and yet\n The same heart beats in every human breast.\n\nFellowship requires not only that we shall be hospitable and ask others\nto our homes, but that we shall go out of our way to meet others in\ntheir homes, and wherever they may be.\n\n+The deepest fellowship cannot be made to order. It comes of itself\nalong lines of common interests and common aims.+--The harder we try to\nforce people together, and to make them like each other, the farther\nthey fly apart. Give them some interest or enthusiasm in common, whether\nit be practical, or scientific, or literary, or artistic, or musical, or\nreligious, and this interest, which draws both toward itself at the same\ntime draws them toward each other. Hence a person, who from bashfulness\nor any other reason is kept from intimate fellowship with others, will\noften find the best way to approach them, not to force himself into\ntheir companionship, against his will and probably against theirs; but\nto acquire skill as a musician, or reader, or student of science or\nletters, or philanthropy or social problems. Then along these lines of\ncommon interest he will meet men in ways that will be at once helpful\nand natural.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+Love is not soft, sentimental self-indulgence. It is going out of\nourselves, and taking others into our hearts and lives.+--Love calls for\nhard service and severe self-sacrifice, when the needs of others make\nservice possible and self-sacrifice necessary. Love binds us to others\nand others to ourselves in bonds of mutual fidelity and helpfulness. A\nLatin poet sums up the spirit of love in the famous line:\n\n Homo sum: humani nil a me alienum puto.\n [I am a man: and I count nothing human foreign to myself.]\n\nKant has expressed the principle of love in the form of a maxim: \"Treat\nhumanity, whether in thyself or in others, always as an end, never as a\nmeans.\" We have seen that the temptation to treat others merely as tools\nto minister to our gratification, or as obstacles to be pushed out of\nour pathway, is very strong. What makes us treat people in that way is\nour failure to enter into their lives, to see things as they see them,\nand to feel things as they feel them. Kant tells us that we should\nalways act with a view to the way others will be affected by it. We must\ntreat men as men, not as things. This sympathy and appreciation for\nanother is the first step in love. If we think of our neighbor as he\nthinks of himself we cannot help wishing him well. As Professor Royce\nsays, \"If he is real like thee, then is his life as bright a light, as\nwarm a fire, to him, as thine to thee; his will is as full of struggling\ndesires, of hard problems, of fateful decisions; his pains are as\nhateful, his joys as dear. Take whatever thou knowest of desire and of\nstriving, of burning love and of fierce hatred, realize as fully as thou\ncanst what that means, and then with clear certainty add: Such as that\nis for me, so it is for him, nothing less. Then thou hast known what he\ntruly is, a Self like thy present self.\"\n\nThe Golden Rule, Do unto others as you would that they should do unto\nyou, is the best summary of duty. And the keeping of that rule is\npossible only in so far as we love others. We must put ourselves in\ntheir place, before we can know how to treat them as we would like to be\ntreated. And this putting self in the place of another is the very\nessence of love. Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself includes all\nsocial law. Love is the fulfilling of the law.\n\nLove takes different forms in different circumstances and in different\nrelations. To the hungry love gives food; to the thirsty drink; to the\nnaked clothes; to the sick nursing; to the ignorant instruction; to the\nblind guidance; to the erring reproof; to the penitent forgiveness.\nIndeed, the social virtues which will occupy the remainder of this book\nare simply applications of love in differing relations and toward\ndifferent groups and institutions.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+Love the only true bond of union between persons.+--The desire to be in\nunity with our fellow-men is, as John Stuart Mill tells us, \"already a\npowerful principle in human nature, and happily one of those which tend\nto become more strong, even without express inculcation, from the\ninfluences of advancing civilization. The deeply rooted conception which\nevery individual even now has of himself as a social being, tends to\nmake him feel it one of his natural wants that there should be harmony\nbetween his feelings and aims and those of his fellow-creatures.\" The\nlife of love is in itself a constant realization of this deepest and\nstrongest desire of our nature. Love is the essence of social and\nspiritual life; and that life of unity with our fellow-men which love\ncreates is in itself love's own reward. \"Life is energy of love.\"\nOneness with those we love is the only goal in which love could rest\nsatisfied. For love is \"the greatest thing in the world,\" and any reward\nother than union with its object would be a loss rather than a gain.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+Kant remarks that a dove, realizing that the resistance of the air is\nthe sole obstacle to its progress, might imagine that if it could only\nget away from the air altogether, it would fly with infinite rapidity\nand ease.+--But in fact, if the air were withdrawn for an instant it\nwould fall helpless to the ground. Friction is the only thing the\nlocomotive has to overcome. And if the locomotive could reason it might\nthink how fast it could travel if only friction were removed. But\nwithout friction the locomotive could not stir a hair's breadth from the\nstation.\n\nIn like manner, inasmuch as the greater part of our annoyances and\ntrials and sufferings come from contact with our fellow-men, it often\nseems to us that if we could only get away from them altogether, and\nlive in utter indifference to them, our lives would move on with utmost\nsmoothness and serenity. In fact, if these relations were withdrawn, if\nwe could attain to perfect indifference to our fellows, our life as\nhuman and spiritual beings would that instant cease.\n\nThe temptation to treat our fellow-men with indifference, like all\ntemptations, is a delusion and leads to our destruction. Yet it is a\nvery strong temptation to us all at times. When people do not appreciate\nus, and do not treat us with due kindness and consideration, it is so\neasy to draw into our shell and say, \"I don't care a straw for them or\ntheir good opinion anyway.\" This device is an old one. The Stoics made\nmuch of it; and boasted of the completeness of their indifference. But\nit is essentially weak and cowardly. It avoids certain evils, to be\nsure. It does so, however, not by overcoming them in brave, manly\nfashion; but by running and hiding away from them--an easy and a\ndisgraceful thing to do. Intimate fellowship and close contact with\nothers does bring pains as well as pleasures. It is the condition of\ncompleteness and fullness of moral and spiritual life; and the man who\nwill live at his best must accept these pains with courage and\nresolution.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+The outcome of indifference and lack of sympathy and fellowship is\nselfishness.+--Unless we first feel another's interests as he feels\nthem, we cannot help being more interested in our own affairs than we\nare in his, and consequently sacrificing his interests to our own when\nthe two conflict. As George Eliot tells us in \"Adam Bede,\" \"Without this\nfellow-feeling, how are we to get enough patience and charity toward our\nstumbling, falling companions in the long, changeful journey? And there\nis but one way in which a strong, determined soul can learn it, by\ngetting his heart-strings bound round the weak and erring, so that he\nmust share not only the outward consequence of their error, but their\ninward suffering. That is a long and hard lesson.\"\n\n+It is impossible to overcome selfishness directly.+--As long as our\npoor, private interests are the only objects vividly present to our\nimagination and feeling, we must be selfish. The only remedy is the\nindirect one of entering into fellowship with others, interesting\nourselves in what interests them, sharing their joys and sorrows, their\nhopes and fears. When we have done that, then there is something besides\nour petty and narrow personal interests before our minds and thoughts;\nand so we are in a way to get something besides mean and selfish actions\nfrom our wills and hands. We act out what is in us. If there is nothing\nbut ourselves present to our thoughts, we shall be selfish of necessity;\nand without even knowing that we are selfish. If our thoughts and\nfeelings are full of the welfare and interests of others we shall do\nloving and unselfish deeds, without ever stopping to think that they are\nloving and unselfish. Hence the precept, \"Keep thy heart with all\ndiligence, for out of it are the issues of life.\" A heart and mind full\nof sympathy and fellow-feeling is the secret of a loving life; and an\nidle mind and an empty heart, to which no thrill of sympathy with others\nis ever admitted, is the barren and desolate region from which loveless\nlooks and cruel words and selfish deeds come forth.\n\n+Love is not a virtue which we can cultivate in ourselves by direct\neffort of will, and then take credit for afterward.+--Love comes to us\nof itself; it springs up spontaneously within our breasts. We can\nprepare our hearts for its entrance; we can welcome and cherish it when\nit comes. We cannot boast of it, for we could not help it. Love is the\nwelling up within us of our true social nature; which nothing but our\nindifference and lack of sympathy could have kept so long repressed.\n\"Love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself\nunseemly, seeketh not its own.\" Love \"seeketh not its own\" because it\nhas no own to seek.\n\n+Selfishness on the contrary knows all about itself; has a good opinion\nof itself; never gets its own interests mixed up with those of anybody\nelse; can always give a perfectly satisfactory account of itself.+\n\nHence when we know exactly how we came to do a thing, and appreciate\nkeenly how good it was of us to do it; and think how very much obliged\nthe other person ought to be to us for doing it, we may be pretty sure\nthat it was not love, but some more or less subtle form of selfishness\nthat prompted it. Love and selfishness may do precisely the same things.\nUnder the influence of either love or selfishness I may \"bestow all my\ngoods to feed the poor and give my body to be burned,\" but love alone\nprofiteth; while all the subtle forms of selfishness and self-seeking\nare \"sounding brass and clanging cymbal.\" Selfishness, even when it does\na service, has its eye on its own merit, or the reward it is to gain. In\nso doing it forfeits merit and reward both. Selfishness never succeeds\nin getting outside of itself. From all the joys and graces of the social\nlife it remains in perpetual banishment. Love loses itself in the\nobject loved, and so finds a larger and better self. Selfishness tries\nto use the object of its so-called love as a means to its own\ngratification, and so remains to the end in loveless isolation. Many\nmanifestations of selfishness look very much like love. To know the real\ndifference is the most fundamental moral insight. On it depend the\nissues of life and death.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+The most flagrant mockery of love is sentimentality.+--The\nsentimentalist is on hand wherever there is a chance either to mourn or\nto rejoice. He is never so happy as when he is pouring forth a gush of\nfeeling; and it matters little whether it be laughter or tears, sorrow\nor joy, to which he is permitted to give vent. On the surface he seems\nto be overflowing with the milk of human kindness. He strikes us at\nfirst sight as the very incarnation of tenderness and love.\n\nAnd yet we soon discover that he cares nothing for us, or for our joys\nand sorrows in themselves. Anybody else, or any other occasion, would\nserve his purpose as well, and call forth an equal copiousness of\nsympathy and tears. Indeed a first rate novel, with its suffering\nheroine, or a good play with its pathetic scenes, would answer his\npurpose quite as well as any living person or actual situation. What he\ncares for is the thrill of emotional excitement and the ravishing\nsensation which accompanies all deep and tender feeling. Not love, but\nlove's delights; not sympathy, but the rapture of the sympathetic mood;\nnot helpfulness, but the sense of self-importance which comes from being\naround when great trials are to be met and fateful decisions are to be\nmade; not devotion to others, but the complacency with self which\nintimate connection with others gives: these are the objects at which\nthe sentimentalist really aims.\n\n+The sentimentalist makes himself a nuisance to others and soon becomes\ndisgusted with himself.+--He cannot be relied upon for any serious\nservice, for this gush of sentimental feeling is a transient and\nfluctuating thing; it gives out just as soon as it meets with difficulty\nand occasion for self-sacrifice. And this attempt to live forever on the\ntopmost wave of emotional excitement defeats itself by the satiety and\nennui which it brings. Whether in courtship, or society, or business, it\nbehooves us to be on our guard against this insidious sham which cloaks\nselfishness in protestations of affection; pays compliments to show off\nits own ability to say pretty things; and undertakes responsibilities to\nmake the impression of being of some consequence in the world. The man\nor woman is extremely fortunate who has never fallen a victim to this\nhollow mockery of love, either in self or others. The worst effect of\nsentimentality is that when we have detected it a few times, either in\nourselves or in others, we are tempted to conclude that fellowship\nitself is a farce, love a delusion, and all sympathy and tenderness a\nweakness and a sham. Every good thing has its counterfeit. By all means\nlet this counterfeit be driven from circulation as fast as possible. But\nlet us not lose faith in human fellowship and human love because this\nbase imitation is so hollow and disgusting:\n\n For life, with all it yields of joy and woe,\n And hope and fear,--believe the aged friend,--\n Is just our chance o' the prize of learning love,\n How love might be, hath been indeed, and is;\n And that we hold thenceforth to the uttermost\n Such prize despite the envy of the world,\n And having gained truth, keep truth, that is all.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+The penalty of selfishness is strife.+--The selfish man can neither\nleave men entirely alone, nor can he live at peace and in unity with\nthem. Hence come strife and division. Being unwilling to make the\ninterests of others his own, the selfish man's interests must clash with\nthe interests of others. His hand is against every man; and every man's\nhand, unless it is stayed by generosity and pity, is against him. This\nclashing of outside interests is reflected in his own consciousness; and\nthe war of his generous impulses with his selfish instincts makes his\nown breast a perpetual battlefield. The lack of harmony with his fellows\nin the outward world makes peace within his own soul impossible. The\nselfish man, by cutting himself off from his true relations with his\nfellow-men, cuts up the roots of the only principles which could give to\nhis own life dignity and harmony and peace. Selfishness defeats itself.\nBy refusing to go out of self into the lives of others, the selfish man\nrenders it impossible for the great life of human sympathy and\nfellowship and love to enter his own life, and fill it with its own\nlargeness and sweetness and serenity. The selfish man remains to the\nlast an alien, an outcast and an enemy, banished from all that is best\nin the life of his fellows by the insuperable obstacle of his own\nunwillingness to be one with them in mutual helpfulness and service.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nThe Poor.\n\n\nOur fellow-men are so numerous and their conditions are so diverse that\nit is necessary to consider some of the classes and conditions of men by\nthemselves; and to study some of the special forms which fellowship and\nlove assume under these differing circumstances.\n\nOf these classes or divisions in which we may group our fellow-men, the\none having the first claim upon us by virtue of its greater need is the\npoor. The causes of poverty are accident, sickness, inability to secure\nwork, laziness, improvidence, intemperance, ignorance, and\nshiftlessness. Those whose poverty is due to the first three causes are\ncommonly called the worthy poor.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+Whether worthy or unworthy, the poor are our brothers and sisters; and\non the ground of our common humanity we owe them our help and\nsympathy.+--It is easier to sympathize with the worthy than with the\nunworthy poor. Yet the poor who are poor as the result of their own\nfault are really the more in need of our pity and help. The work of\nlifting them up to the level of self-respect and self-support is much\nharder than the mere giving them material relief. Yet nothing less than\nthis is our duty. The mere tossing of pennies to the tramp and the\nbeggar is not by any means the fulfillment of their claim upon us.\nIndeed, such indiscriminate giving does more harm than good. It\nincreases rather than relieves pauperism. So that the first duty of\ncharity is to refuse to give in this indiscriminate way. Either we must\ngive more than food and clothes and money; or else we must give nothing\nat all. Indiscriminate giving merely adds fuel to the flame.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+The special form which love takes when its object is the poor is called\nbenevolence or charity.+--True benevolence, like love, of which it is a\nspecial application, makes the well-being of its object its own. In what\nthen does the well-being of the poor consist? Is it bread and beef, a\ncoat on the back, a roof over the head, and a bed to sleep in? These are\nconditions of well-being, but not the whole of it. A man cannot be well\noff without these things. But it is by no means sure that he will be\nwell off with them.\n\nWhat a man thinks; how he feels; what he loves; what he hopes for; what\nhe is trying to do; what he means to be;--these are quite as essential\nelements in his well-being as what he has to eat and wear. True\nbenevolence therefore must include these things in its efforts.\nBenevolence must aim to improve the man together with his condition or\nits gifts will be worse than wasted.\n\nThere are three principles which all wise benevolence must observe.\n\n+First: Know all that can be known about the man you help.+--Unless we\nare willing to find out all we can about a poor man, we have no business\nto indulge our sympathy or ease our conscience by giving him money or\nfood. It is often easier to give than to withhold. But it is far more\nharmful. When Bishop Potter says that \"It is far better,--better for him\nand better for us,--to give a beggar a kick than to give him a\nhalf-dollar,\" it sounds like a hard saying, yet it is the strict truth.\nIn a civilized and Christian community any really deserving person can\nsecure assistance through persons or agencies that either know about his\nneeds, or will take the trouble to look them up. When a stranger begs\nfrom strangers he thereby confesses that he prefers to present his\nclaims where their merits are unknown; and the act proclaims him as a\nfraud. To the beggar, to ourselves, and to the really deserving poor, we\nowe a prompt and stern refusal of all uninvestigated appeals for\ncharity. \"True charity never opens the heart without at the same time\nopening the mind.\"\n\n+The second principle is: Let the man you help know as much as he can of\nyou.+--Bureaus and societies are indispensable aids to effective\nbenevolence; without their aid thorough knowledge of the needs and\nmerits of the poor would be impossible. Their function, however, should\nbe to direct and superintend, not to dispense with and supplant direct\npersonal contact between giver and receiver. The recipient of aid should\nknow the one who helps him as man or woman, not as secretary or agent.\nIf all the money, food, and clothing necessary to relieve the wants of\nthe poor could be deposited at their firesides regularly each Christmas\nby Santa Claus, such a Christmas present, with the regular expectation\nof its repetition each year, would do these poor families more harm than\ngood. It might make them temporarily more comfortable; it would make\nthem permanently less industrious, thrifty, and self-reliant.\n\nInvestigations have proved conclusively that half the persons who are in\nwant in our cities need no help at all, except help in finding work.\nOne-sixth are unworthy of any material assistance whatever, since they\nwould spend it immediately on their vices. One-fifth need only temporary\nhelp and encouragement to get over hard places. Only about one-tenth\nneed permanent assistance.\n\nOn the other hand all need cheer, comfort, advice, sympathy, and\nencouragement, or else reproof, warning, and restraint. They all need\nkind, firm, wise, judicious friends. The less professionalism, the more\npersonal sympathy and friendliness there is in our benevolence, the\nbetter it will be. In the words of Octavia Hill: \"It is the families,\nthe homes of the poor that need to be influenced. Is not she most\nsympathetic, most powerful, who nursed her own mother through her long\nillness, and knew how to go quietly through the darkened room: who\nentered so heartily into her sister's marriage: who obeyed so heartily\nher father's command when it was hardest? Better still if she be wife\nand mother herself and can enter into the responsibilities of a head of\na household, understands her joys and cares, knows what heroic patience\nit needs to keep gentle when the nerves are unhinged and the children\nnoisy. Depend upon it if we thought of the poor primarily as husbands,\nwives, sons, daughters, members of households as we are ourselves,\ninstead of contemplating them as a different class, we should recognize\nbetter how the home training and the high ideal of home duty was our\nbest preparation for work among them.\"\n\n+The third principle is: Give the man you help no more and no less than\nhe needs to make his life what you and he together see that it is good\nfor it to be.+--This principle shows how much to give. Will ten cents\nserve as an excuse for idleness? Will five cents be spent in drink? Will\none cent relax his determination to earn an honest living for himself\nand family? Then these sums are too much, and should be withheld. On the\nother hand, can the man be made hopeful, resolute, determined to\novercome the difficulties of a trying situation? Can you impart to him\nyour own strong will, your steadfast courage, your high ideal? is he\nready to work, and willing to make any sacrifice that is necessary to\nregain the power of self-support? Then you will not count any sum that\nyou can afford to give too great; even if it be necessary to carry him\nand his family right through a winter by sheer force of giving outright\neverything they need.\n\nIt is not the amount of the gift, but the spirit in which it is received\nthat makes it good or bad for the recipient. If received by a man who\nclings to all the weakness and wickedness that brought his poverty upon\nhim, then your gift, whether small or large, does no good and much harm.\nIf with the gift the man welcomes your counsel, follows your advice,\nadopts your ideal, and becomes partaker in your determination that he\nshall become as industrious, and prudent, and courageous as a man in his\nsituation can be, then whether you give him little or much material\nassistance, every cent of it goes to the highest work in which wealth\ncan be employed--the making a man more manlike.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+Our attitude toward the poor and unfortunate is the test of our\nattitude toward humanity.+--For the poor and unfortunate present\nhumanity to us in the condition which most strongly appeals to our\nfellow-feeling. The way in which I treat this poor man who happens to\ncross my path, is the way I should treat my dearest friend, if he were\nequally poor and unfortunate, and equally remote from personal\nassociation with my past life. The man who will let a single poor family\nsuffer, when he is able to afford relief, is capable of being false to\nthe whole human race. Speaking in the name of our common humanity, the\nSon of Man declares, \"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least\nof these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.\" Sympathy \"doubles our\njoys and halves our sorrows.\" It increases our range of interest and\naffection, making \"the world one fair moral whole\" in which we share the\njoys and sorrows of our brothers.\n\n+The man who sympathizes with the sufferings of others seeks and finds\nthe sympathy of others in his own losses and trials when they\ncome.+--Familiarity and sympathy with the sufferings of others\nstrengthens us to bear suffering when it comes to us: for we are able to\nsee that it is no unusual and exceptional evil falling upon us alone,\nbut accept it as an old and familiar acquaintance, whom we have so often\nmet in other lives that we do not fear his presence in our own.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+\"Am I my brother's keeper?\"+--We are comfortable and well cared for. We\nare earning our own living. We pay our debts. We work hard for what we\nget. Why should we not enjoy ourselves? Why should I share my earnings\nwith the shiftless vagabond, the good-for-nothing loafer? What is he to\nme? In one or another of these forms the murderous question \"Am I my\nbrother's keeper?\" is sure to rise to our lips when the needs of the\npoor call for our assistance and relief. Or if we do recognize the\nclaim, we are tempted to hide behind some organization; giving our money\nto that; and sending it to do the actual work. We do not like to come\ninto the real presence of suffering and want. We do not want to visit\nthe poor man in his tenement; and clasp his hand, and listen with our\nown ears to the tale of wretchedness and woe as it falls directly from\nhis lips. We do not care to take the heavy and oppressive burden of his\nlife's problem upon our own minds and hearts. We wish him well. But we\ndo not will his betterment strongly and earnestly enough to take us to\nhis side, and join our hands with his in lifting off the weight that\nkeeps him down. Alienation, the desire to hold ourselves aloof from the\nreal wretchedness of our brother, is our great temptation with reference\nto the poor.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+The reluctant doling out of insufficient aid to the poor is\nniggardliness.+--The niggard is thinking all the time of himself, and\nhow he hates to part with what belongs to him. He gives as little as he\ncan; and that little hurts him terribly. This vice cannot be overcome\ndirectly. It is a phase of selfishness; and like all forms of\nselfishness it can be cured only by getting out of self into another's\nlife. By going among the poor, studying their needs, realizing their\nsufferings, we may be drawn out of our niggardliness and find a pleasure\nin giving which we could never have cultivated by direct efforts of\nwill. We cannot make ourselves benevolent by making up our minds that we\nwill be benevolent. Like all forms of love, benevolence cannot be\nforced; but it will come of itself if we give its appropriate objects a\nlarge share of our thoughts and a warm place in our hearts.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+Regard for others as they happen to be, instead of regard for what they\nare capable of becoming, leads to soft hearted and mischievous\nindulgence.+--The indulgent giver sees the fact of suffering and rushes\nto its relief, without stopping to inquire into the cause of the poverty\nand the best measures of relief. Indulgence fails to see the ideal of\nwhat the poor man is to become. Indulgence does not look beyond the\nimmediate fact of poverty; and consequently the indulgent giver does\nnothing to lift the poor man out of it. Help in poverty, rather than\nhelp out of poverty, is what indulgent giving amounts to. The indulgent\nand indiscriminate giver becomes a partner in the production of poverty.\nThis indulgent giving is a phase of sentimentality; and the relief of\none's own feelings, rather than the real good of a fellow-man is at the\nroot of all such mischievous almsgiving. It is the form of benevolence\nwithout the substance. It does too much for the poor man just because it\nloves him too little. Indulgence measures benefactions, not by the needs\nand capacities of the receiver, but by the sensibilities and emotions of\nthe giver. What wonder that it always goes astray, and does harm under\nthe guise of doing good!\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+Uncharitable treatment of the poor makes us alien to humanity, and\ndistrustful of human nature.+--We feel that they have a claim upon us\nthat we have not fulfilled; and we try to push them off beyond the range\nof our sympathy. They are not slow to take the hint. They interpret our\nharsh tones and our cold looks, and they look to us for help no more.\nBut in pushing these poor ones beyond our reach, we unconsciously\nacquire hard, unsympathetic ways of thinking, feeling, speaking and\nacting, which others not so poor, others whom we would gladly have near\nus, also interpret; and they too come to understand that there is no\nreal kindness and helpfulness to be had from us in time of real need,\nand they keep their inmost selves apart, and suffer us to touch them\nonly on the surface of their lives. When trouble comes to us we\ninstinctively feel that we have no claim on the sympathy of others; and\nso we have to bear our griefs alone. Having never suffered with others,\nsorrow is a stranger to us, and we think we are the most miserable\ncreatures in the world.\n\nHumanity is one. Action and reaction are equal. Our treatment of the\npoorest of our fellows is potentially our treatment of them all. And by\na subtle law of compensation, which runs deeper than our own\nconsciousness, what our attitude is toward our fellows determines their\nattitude toward us. \"Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of\nthese my brethren,\" says the Representative of our common humanity, \"ye\ndid it not unto me.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nWrongdoers.\n\n\nAnother class of our fellow-men whom it is especially hard to love are\nthose who willfully do wrong. The men who cheat us, and say hateful\nthings to us; the men who abuse their wives and neglect their families;\nthe men who grind the faces of the poor, and contrive to live in ease\nand luxury on the earnings of the widow and the orphan; the men who\npervert justice and corrupt legislation in order to make money; these\nand all wrongdoers exasperate us, and rouse our righteous indignation.\nYet they are our fellow-men. We meet them everywhere. We suffer for\ntheir misdeeds;--and, what is worse, we have to see others, weaker and\nmore helpless than ourselves, maltreated, plundered, and beaten by these\nwretches and villains. Wrongdoing is a great, hard, terrible fact. We\nmust face it. We must have some clear and consistent principles of\naction with reference to these wrongdoers; or else our wrath and\nindignation will betray us into the futile attempt to right one wrong by\nanother wrong; and so drag us down to the level of the wrongdoers\nagainst whom we contend.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+The first thing we owe to the wrongdoer is to give him his just\ndeserts. Wrongdoing always hurts somebody. Justice demands that it shall\nhurt the wrongdoer himself.+--The boy who tells a lie treats us as if we\ndid not belong to the same society, and have the same claim on truth\nthat he has. We must make him feel that we do not consider him fit to be\non a level with us. We must make him ashamed of himself. The man who\ncheats us shows that he is willing to sacrifice our interests to his. We\nmust show him that we will have no dealings with such a person. The man\nwho is mean and stingy shows that he cares nothing for us. We must show\nhim that we despise his miserliness and meanness. The robber and the\nmurderer show that they are enemies to society. Society must exclude\nthem from its privileges.\n\nIt is the function of punishment to bring the offender to a realizing\nsense of the nature of his deed, by making him suffer the natural\nconsequences of it, or an equivalent amount of privation, in his own\nperson. Punishment is a favor to the wrongdoer, just as bitter medicine\nis a favor to the sick. For without it, he would not appreciate the evil\nof his wrongdoing with sufficient force to repent of it, and abandon it.\nPlato teaches the true value of punishment in the \"Gorgias.\" \"The doing\nof wrong is the greatest of evils. To suffer punishment is the way to be\nreleased from this evil. Not to suffer is to perpetuate the evil. To do\nwrong, then, is second only in the scale of evils; but to do wrong and\nnot to be punished, is first and greatest of all. He who has done wrong\nand has not been punished, is and ought to be the most miserable of all\nmen; the doer of wrong is more miserable than the sufferer; and he who\nescapes punishment more miserable than he who suffers punishment.\"\n\n+Punishment is the best thing we can do for one who has done\nwrong.+--Punishment is not a good in itself. But it is good relatively\nto the wrongdoer. It is the only way out of wrong into right. Punishment\nneed not be brutal or degrading. The most effectual punishment is often\npurely mental; consisting in the sense of shame and sorrow which the\noffender is made to feel. In some form or other every wrongdoer should\nbe made to feel painfully the wrongness of his deed. To \"spare the rod,\"\nboth literally and metaphorically, is to \"spoil the child.\" The duty of\ninflicting punishment, like all duty, is often hard and unwelcome. But\nwe become partakers in every wrong which we suffer to go unpunished and\nunrebuked when punishment and rebuke are within our power.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+Forgiveness is not inconsistent with justice. It does not do away with\npunishment. It spiritualizes punishment; substituting mental for bodily\npains.+--The sense of the evil and shame of wrongdoing, which is the\nessence and end of punishment, forgiveness, when it is appreciated,\nserves to intensify. Indeed it is impossible to inflict punishment\nrightly until you have first forgiven the offender. For punishment\nshould be inflicted for the offender's good. And not until vengeance has\ngiven way to forgiveness are we able to care for the offender's\nwell-being.\n\nForgiveness is a special form of love. It recognizes the humanity of the\noffender, and treats him as a brother, even when his deeds are most\nunbrotherly. But it cares so much for him that it will not shrink from\ninflicting whatever merciful pains may be necessary to deliver him from\nhis own unbrotherliness. Forgiveness loves not the offense but the man.\nIt hates the offense chiefly because it injures the man. Its punishment\nof the offense is the negative side of its positive devotion to the\nperson. The command \"love your enemies\" is not a hard impossibility on\nthe one hand, nor a soft piece of sentimentalism on the other. It is\npossible, because there is a human, loveable side, even to the worst\nvillain, if we can only bring ourselves to think on that better side,\nand the possibilities which it involves. It is practical, because regard\nfor that better side of his nature demands that we shall make him as\nmiserable in his wrongdoing as is necessary to lead him to abandon his\nwrongdoing, and give the better possibilities of his nature a chance to\ndevelop. The parent who punishes the naughty child loves him not less\nbut more than the parent who withholds the needed punishment. The state\nwhich suffers crime to go unpunished becomes a nursery of criminals. It\nwrongs itself; it wrongs honest citizens; but most of all it wrongs the\ncriminals themselves whom it encourages in crime by undue lenity. The\nobject of forgiveness is not to take away punishment, but to make\nwhatever punishment remains effective for the reformation of the\noffender. It is to transfer the seat of suffering from the body, where\nits effect is uncertain and indirect, to the mind, where sorrow for\nwrongdoing is powerful and efficacious. Every wrong act brings its\npenalty with it. In order to induce repentance and reformation that\npenalty must in some way be brought home to the one who did the wrong.\nVengeance drives the penalty straight home, refusing to bear any part of\nit itself. Forgiveness first takes the penalty upon itself in sorrow for\nthe wrong, and then invites the wrongdoer to share the sorrow which he\nwho forgives him has already borne. Vengeance smites the body, and often\ndrives in deeper the perversity. Forgiveness touches the heart and\ngently but firmly draws the heart's affections away from the wrong, into\ndevotion to the right.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+Forgiveness, rightly received, works the reformation of the\noffender.+--And to one who ardently loves righteousness there is no joy\ncomparable to that of seeing a man who has been doing wrong, turn from\nit, renounce it, and determine that henceforth he will endeavor to do\nright. Contrast heightens our emotions. And there is \"joy over one\nsinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine righteous persons\nthat need no repentance.\" Deliverance from wrong is effected by the firm\nyet kindly presentation of the right as something still possible for us,\nand into which a friend stands ready to welcome us. Reformation is\nwrought by that blending of justice and forgiveness which at the same\ntime holds the wrong abhorrent and the wrongdoer dear. Reformation is\nthe end at which forgiveness aims, and its accomplishment is its own\nreward.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+The sight of heinous offenses and outrageous deeds against ourselves or\nothers tempts us to wreak our vengeance upon the offender.+--This\nimpulse of revenge served a useful purpose in the primitive condition of\nhuman society. It still serves as the active support of righteous\nindignation. But it is blind and rough; and is not suited to the\nconditions of civilized life. Vengeance has no consideration for the\ntrue well-being of the offender. It confounds the person with the deed\nin wholesale condemnation. It renders evil for evil; it provokes still\nfurther retaliation; and erects a single fault into the occasion of a\nlasting feud. It is irrational, brutal, and inhuman; it is dangerous and\ndegrading.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+The absence of forgiveness in dealing with wrongdoers leads to undue\nseverity.+--The end of punishment being to bring the offender to realize\nthe evil of his deed and to repent of it, punishment should not be\ncarried beyond the point which is necessary to produce that result. To\ncontinue punishment after genuine penitence is manifested is to commit a\nfresh wrong ourselves. \"If thy brother sin, rebuke him; and if he\nrepent, forgive him. And if he sin against thee seven times in a day,\nand seven times turn again to thee, saying, I repent, thou shalt forgive\nhim.\" To ignore an unrepented wrong, and to continue to punish a\nrepented wrong, are equally wide of the mark of that love for the\noffender which metes out to him both justice and forgiveness according\nto his needs. All punishment which is not tempered with forgiveness is\nbrutal; and brutalizes both punisher and punished. It hardens the heart\nof the offender; and itself constitutes a new offense against him.\n\nThese principles apply strictly to relations between individuals. In the\ncase of punishment by the state, the necessity of self-protection; of\nwarning others; and of approximate uniformity in procedure; added to the\nimpossibility of getting at the exact state of mind of the offender by\nlegal processes, render it necessary to inflict penalties in many cases\nwhich are more severe than the best interest of the individual offenders\nrequires. To meet such cases, and to mitigate the undue severity of\nuniform penalties when they fall too heavily on individuals, all\ncivilized nations give the power of pardon to the executive.\n\n+Whether the penalty be in itself light or severe, it should always be\nadministered in the endeavor to improve and reform the character of the\noffender.+--The period of confinement in jail or prison should be made a\nperiod of real privation and suffering; but it should be especially the\nprivation of opportunity for indulgence in idleness and vice; and the\npainfulness of discipline in acquiring the knowledge and skill necessary\nto make the convict a self-respecting and self-supporting member of\nsociety, after his term of sentence expires.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+Lenity ignores the wrong; and by ignoring it, becomes responsible for\nits repetition.+--Lenity is sentimentality bestowed on criminals. It\ntreats them in the manner most congenial to its own feelings, instead of\nin the way most conducive to their good. Forgiveness is regard for the\noffender in view of his ability to renounce the offense and try to do\nbetter in the future. Lenity confounds offender and offense in a\nwholesale and promiscuous amnesty. The true attitude toward the\nwrongdoer must preserve the balance set forth by the lawgiver of Israel\nas characteristic of Israel's God, \"full of compassion and gracious,\nslow to anger and plenteous in mercy and truth; keeping mercy for\nthousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin: and _that will\nby no means clear the guilty_.\" Lenity which \"clears the guilty\" is\nneither mercy, nor graciousness, nor compassion, nor forgiveness. Such\nlenity obliterates moral distinctions; disintegrates society; corrupts\nand weakens the moral nature of the one who indulges in it; and confirms\nin perversity him on whom it is bestowed.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+Severity and lenity alike increase the perversity of the\noffender.+--Severity drives the offender into fresh determination to do\nwrong; and intrenches him behind the conception that he has been treated\nunfairly. He is made to think that all the world is against him, and he\nsees no reason why he should not set himself against the world. Lenity\nleads him to think the world is on his side no matter what he does; and\nso he asks himself why he should take the trouble to mend his ways.\nLenity to others leads us to be lenient toward ourselves; and we commit\nwrong in expectation of that lenient treatment which we are in the habit\nof according to others. Severity to others makes us ashamed to ask for\nmercy when we need it for ourselves. Furthermore, knowing there is no\nmercy in ourselves, we naturally infer that there is none in others. We\ndisbelieve in forgiveness; and our disbelief hides from our eyes the\nforgiveness, which, if we had more faith in its presence, we might\nfind. Hence the unforgiving man can find no forgiveness for himself in\ntime of need; he sinks to that level of despair and confirmed\nperversity, to which his own unrelenting spirit has doomed so many of\nhis erring brothers.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nFriends.\n\n\nIn addition to that bond of a common humanity which ought to bind us to\nall our fellow-men, there is a tie of special affinity between persons\nof congenial tastes, kindred pursuits, common interests, and mutually\ncherished ideals. Persons to whom we are drawn, and who are likewise\ndrawn to us, by these cords of subtle sympathy we call our friends.\n\nFriendship is regard for what our friend is; not for what he can do for\nus. \"The perfect friendship,\" says Aristotle, \"is that of good men who\nresemble one another in virtue. For they both alike wish well to one\nanother as good men, and it is their essential character to be good men.\nAnd those who wish well to their friends for the friends' sake are\nfriends in the truest sense; for they have these sentiments toward each\nother as being what they are, and not in an accidental way; their\nfriendship, therefore, lasts as long as their virtue, and that is a\nlasting thing. Such friendships are uncommon, for such people are rare.\nSuch friendship requires long and familiar intercourse. For they cannot\nbe friends till each show and approve himself to the other as worthy to\nbe loved. A wish to be friends may be of rapid growth, but not\nfriendship. Those whose love for one another is based on the useful, do\nnot love each other for what they are, but only in so far as each gets\nsome good from the other. These friendships are accidental; for the\nobject of affection is loved, not as being the person or character that\nhe is, but as the source of some good or some pleasure. Friendships of\nthis kind are easily dissolved, as the persons do not continue\nunchanged; for if they cease to be useful or pleasant to one another,\ntheir love ceases. On the disappearance of that which was the motive of\ntheir friendship, their friendship itself is dissolved, since it existed\nsolely with a view to that. For pleasure then or profit it is possible\neven for bad men to be friends with one another; but it is evident that\nthe friendship in which each loves the other for himself is only\npossible between good men; for bad men take no delight in each other\nunless some advantage is to be gained. The friendship whose motive is\nutility is the friendship of sordid souls. Friendship lies more in\nloving than in being loved; so that when people love each other in\nproportion to their worth, they are lasting friends, and theirs is\nlasting friendship.\"\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+The interest of our friend should be our interest; his welfare, our\nwelfare; his wish, our will; his good, our aim.+--If he prospers we\nrejoice; if he is overtaken by adversity, we must stand by him. If he is\nin want, we must share our goods with him. If he is unpopular, we must\nstand up for him. If he does wrong, we must be the first to tell him of\nhis fault: and the first to bear with him the penalty of his offense. If\nhe is unjustly accused we must believe in his innocence to the last.\nFriends must have all things in common; not in the sense of legal\nownership, which would be impracticable, and, as Epicurus pointed out,\nwould imply mutual distrust; but in the sense of a willingness on the\npart of each to do for the other all that is in his power. Only on the\nhigh plane of such absolute, whole-souled devotion can pure friendship\nbe maintained.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+The true friend is one we can rely upon.+--Our deepest secrets, our\ntenderest feelings, our frankest confessions, our inmost aspirations,\nour most cherished plans, our most sacred ideals are as safe in his\nkeeping as in our own. Yes, they are safer; for the faithful friend will\nnot hesitate to prick the bubbles of our conceit; laugh us out of our\nsentimentality; expose the root of selfishness beneath our virtuous\npretensions. \"Faithful are the wounds of a friend.\" To be sure the\nfriend must do all this with due delicacy and tact. If he takes\nadvantage of his position to exercise his censoriousness upon us we\nspeedily vote him a bore, and take measures to get rid of him. But when\ndone with gentleness and good nature, and with an eye single to our real\ngood, this pruning of the tendrils of our inner life is one of the most\nprecious offices of friendship.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+The chief blessing of friendship is the sense that we are not living\nour lives and fighting our battles alone; but that our lives are linked\nwith the lives of others, and that the joys and sorrows of our united\nlives are felt by hearts that beat as one.+--The seer who laid down so\nseverely the stern conditions which the highest friendship must fulfill,\nhas also sung its praises so sweetly, that his poem at the beginning of\nhis essay may serve as our description of the blessings which it is in\nthe power of friendship to confer:\n\n A ruddy drop of manly blood\n The surging sea outweighs;\n The world uncertain comes and goes,\n The lover rooted stays.\n I fancied he was fled,\n And, after many a year,\n Glowed unexhausted kindliness\n Like daily sunrise there.\n My careful heart was free again,--\n Oh, friend, my bosom said,\n Through thee alone the sky is arched,\n Through thee the rose is red,\n All things through thee take nobler form\n And look beyond the earth,\n The mill-round of our fate appears\n A sun-path in thy worth.\n Me too thy nobleness has taught\n To master my despair;\n The fountains of my hidden life\n Are through thy friendship fair.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+A relation so intimate as that of friendship offers constant\nopportunity for betrayal.+--Friends understand each other perfectly.\nFriend utters to friend many things which he would not for all the world\nlet others know. And more than that, the intimate association of\nfriendship cannot fail to give the friend an opportunity to perceive the\ndeep secrets of the other's heart which he would not speak even to a\nfriend, and which he has scarcely dared to acknowledge even to himself.\n\nThis intimate knowledge of another appeals strangely to our vanity and\npride; and we are often tempted to show it off by disclosing some of\nthese secrets which have been revealed to us in the confidence of\nfriendship. This is the meanest thing one person can do to another. The\nperson who yields to this basest of temptations is utterly unworthy ever\nagain to have a friend. Betrayal of friends is the unpardonable social\nsin.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+We cannot find people who in every respect are exactly to our\nliking.+--And, what is more to the point, we never can make ourselves\nexactly what we should like to have other people intimately know and\nunderstand. Friendship calls for courage enough to show ourselves in\nspite of our frailties and imperfections; and to take others in spite of\nthe possible shortcomings which close acquaintance may reveal in them.\nFriendship requires a readiness to give and take, for better or for\nworse; and that exclusiveness which shrinks from the risks involved is\nsimply a combination of selfishness and cowardice. Refusal to make\nfriends is a sure sign that a man either is ashamed of himself, or else\nlacks faith in his fellow-men. And these two states of mind are not so\ndifferent as they might at first appear. For we judge others chiefly by\nourselves. And the man who distrusts his fellow-men, generally bases his\ndistrust of them on the consciousness that he himself is not worthy of\nthe trust of others. So that the real root of exclusiveness is the dread\nof letting other people get near to us, for fear of what they might\ndiscover. Exclusiveness puts on the airs of pride. But pride is only a\ngame of bluff, by which a man who is ashamed to have other people get\nnear enough to see him as he is pretends that he is terribly afraid of\ngetting near enough to others to see what they are.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+Effusiveness.+--Some people can keep nothing to themselves. As soon as\nthey get an experience, or feel an emotion, or have an ache or pain,\nthey must straightway run and pour it into the ear of some sympathetic\nlistener. The result is that experiences do not gain sufficient hold\nupon the nature to make any deep and lasting impression. No\nindependence, no self-reliance, no strength of character is developed.\nSuch people are superficial and unreal. They ask everything and have\nnothing to give. The stream is so large and constant that there is\nnothing left in the reservoir. Friendship must rest on solid\nfoundations of independence and mutual respect. With great clearness and\nforce Emerson proclaims this law in his Essay on Friendship: \"We must be\nour own before we can be another's. Let me be alone to the end of the\nworld, rather than that my friend should overstep, by a word or a look,\nhis real sympathy. Let him not cease an instant to be himself. The only\njoy I have in his being mine, is that the not mine is mine. I hate where\nI looked for a manly furtherance, or at least a manly resistance, to\nfind a mush of concession. Better be a nettle in the side of your friend\nthan his echo. The condition which high friendship demands is ability to\ndo without it. There must be very two, before there can be very one. Let\nit be an alliance of two large formidable natures, mutually beheld,\nmutually feared, before yet they recognize the deep identity, which,\nbeneath these disparities, unites them.\"\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+If we refuse to go in company there is nothing left for us but to\ntrudge along the dreary way alone.+--If we will not bear one another's\nburdens, we must bear our own when they are heaviest in our unaided\nstrength; and fall beneath their weight. Here as everywhere penalty is\nsimply the inevitable consequence of conduct. The loveless heart is\ndoomed to drag out its term of years in the cheerless isolation of a\nlife from which the light of love has been withdrawn.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nThe Family.\n\n\nThus far we have considered our fellow-men as units, with whom it is our\nprivilege and duty to come into external relations. These external\nrelations after all do not reach the deepest center of our lives. They\nindeed bind man to man in bonds of helpfulness and service. But the two\nwho are thus united remain two separate selves after all. Even\nfriendship leaves unsatisfied yearnings, undeveloped possibilities in\nhuman hearts. However subtle and tender the bond may be, it remains to\nthe last physical rather than chemical; mechanical rather than vital;\nthe outward attachment of mutually exclusive wholes, rather than the\ninner blending of complemental elements which lose their separate\nselfhood in the unity of a new and higher life. The beginning of this\ntrue spiritual life, in which the individual loses his separate self to\nfind a larger and nobler self in a common good in which each individual\nshares, and which none may monopolize;--the birthplace of the soul as of\nthe body is in the family. The nursery of virtue, the inspirer of\ndevotion, the teacher of self-sacrifice, the institutor of love, the\nfamily is the foundation of all those higher and nobler qualities of\nmind and heart which lift man above the level of sagacious brutes.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+The family a common good.+--Membership in the family involves the\nrecognition that the true life of the individual is to be found only in\nunion with other members; in regard for their rights; in deference to\ntheir wishes; and in devotion to that common interest in which each\nmember shares. Each member must live for the sake of the whole family.\nChildren owe to their parents obedience, and such service as they are\nable to render. Parents, on the other hand, owe to children support,\ntraining, and an education sufficient to give them a fair start in life.\nBrothers and sisters owe to each other mutual helpfulness and\nprotection. All joys and sorrows, all hopes and fears, all plans and\npurposes should be talked over, and carried out in common. No parent\nshould have a plan or ambition or enthusiasm into which he does not\ninvite the confidence and sympathy of his child. No child should cherish\na thought or purpose or imagination which he cannot share with father or\nmother. It is the duty of the parent to enter sympathetically into the\nsports and recreations and studies and curiosities of the child. It is\nthe duty of the child to interest himself in whatever the father and\nmother are doing to support the family and promote its welfare. Between\nparent and child, brother and sister, there should be no secrets; no\nground on which one member lives in selfish isolation from the rest.\n\n+The basis of right marriage.+--These relations come by nature, and we\ngrow into them so gradually that we are scarcely conscious of their\nexistence, unless we stop on purpose to think of them. Marriage, or the\nfoundation of a new family, however, is a step which we take for\nourselves, once for all, in the maturity of our conscious powers. To\nknow in advance the true from the false, the real from the artificial,\nthe genuine from the counterfeit, the blessed from the wretched basis of\nmarriage is the most important piece of information a young man or woman\ncan acquire. The test is simple but searching. Do you find in another,\none to whose well-being you can devote your life; one to whom you can\nconfide the deepest interests of your mind and heart; one whose\nprinciples and purposes you can appreciate and respect: one in whose\nimage you wish your children to be born, and on the model of whose\ncharacter you wish their characters to be formed; one whose love will be\nthe best part of whatever prosperity, and the sufficient shield against\nwhatever adversity may be your common lot? Then, provided this other\nsoul sees a like worth in you, and cherishes a like devotion for what\nyou are and aim to be, marriage is not merely a duty: it is the open\ndoor into the purest and noblest life possible to man and woman.\nComplete identification and devotion, entire surrender of each to each\nin mutual affection is the condition of true marriage. As \"John\nHalifax\" says in refusing the hand of a nobleman for his daughter, \"In\nmarriage there must be unity--one aim, one faith, one love--or the\nmarriage is imperfect, unholy, a mere civil contract, and no more.\" This\nnecessity of complete, undivided devotion of each to each is, as Hegel\npoints out, the spiritual necessity on which monogamy rests. There can\nbe but one complete and perfect and supreme merging of one's whole self\nin the life and love of another. Marriage with two would be of necessity\nmarriage with none. If we apprehend the spiritual essence of marriage we\nsee that marriage with more than one is a contradiction in terms. It is\npossible to cut one's self up into fragments, and bestow a part here and\na part there; but that is not marriage; it is mere alliance. It brings\nnot love and joy and peace, but hate and wretchedness and strife.\n\n+A true marriage never can be dissolved.+--If love be present at the\nbeginning it will grow stronger and richer with every added year of\nwedded life. How far a loveless marriage should be enforced upon\nunwilling parties by the state for the benefit of society is a question\nwhich it is foreign to our present purpose to discuss. The duty of the\nindividual who finds himself or herself in this dreadful condition is,\nhowever, clear. There is generally a good deal of self-seeking on both\nsides at the basis of such marriages. Getting rather than giving was the\nreal though often unsuspected hope that brought them together. If either\nhusband or wife will resolutely strive to correct the fault that is in\nhim or her, ceasing to demand and beginning to give unselfish affection\nand genuine devotion, in almost every case, where the man is not a brute\nor a sot, and the woman is not a fashion-plate or a fiend, the life of\nmutual love may be awakened, and a true marriage may supersede the empty\nform. Not until faithful and prolonged efforts to establish a true\nmarriage within the legal bonds have proved unavailing; and only where\nadultery, desertion, habitual drunkenness, or gross brutality and\ncruelty demonstrate the utter impossibility of a true marriage, is\nhusband or wife justified in seeking to escape the bond, and to revert\nto the lower, individualistic type of life.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+In the family we are members one of another.+--The parent shows his\nloyalty to the child by protecting him when he gets into trouble. The\nloyal brother defends his brothers and sisters against all attacks and\ninsults. The loyal child refuses to do anything contrary to the known\nwishes of father and mother, or anything that will reflect discredit\nupon them. The loyal child cares for his parents and kindred in\nmisfortune and old age; ministering tenderly to their wants, and bearing\npatiently their infirmities of body and of mind which are incidental to\ndeclining powers. The loyal husband and wife trust each other implicitly\nin everything; and refuse to have any confidences with others more\nintimate than they have with each other. Not that the family is narrow\nand exclusive. Husband and wife should each have their outside\ninterests, friendships, and enthusiasms. Each should rejoice in\neverything which broadens, deepens, and sweetens the life of the other.\nJealousy of each other is the most deadly poison that can be introduced\ninto a home. It is sure and instant death to the peace and joy of\nmarried life.\n\n+Other relations should always be secondary and external to the primary\nand inner relation of husband and wife to each other.+--It should be the\nmarried self; the self which includes in its inmost love and confidence\nhusband or wife; not a detached and independent self, which goes out to\nform connections and attachments in the outer world. Where this mutual\ntrust and confidence are loyally maintained there can be the greatest\nsocial freedom toward other men and women and at the same time perfect\ntrust and devotion to each other. This, however, is a nice adjustment,\nwhich nothing short of perfect love can make. Love makes it easily, and\nas a matter of course. Loyalty is love exposed to strain, and overcoming\nstrain and temptation by the power which love alone can give.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+Loyalty to the family preserves and perpetuates the home.+--Home is a\nplace where we can rest; where we can breathe freely; where we can have\nperfect trust in one another; where we can be perfectly simple,\nperfectly natural, perfectly frank; where we can be ourselves; where\npeace and love are supreme. \"This,\" says John Ruskin, \"is the true\nnature of home--it is the place of peace; the shelter, not only from all\ninjury, but from all terror, doubt, and division. In so far as it is not\nthis, it is not home; so far as the anxieties of the outer life\npenetrate into it, and the unknown, unloved, or hostile society of the\nouter world is allowed to cross the threshold, it ceases to be home; it\nis then only a part of the outer world which you have roofed over and\nlighted fire in. But so far as it is a sacred place, a vestal temple, a\ntemple of the hearth watched over by household gods, before whose faces\nnone may come but those whom they can receive with love,--so far as it\nis this, and roof and fire are types only of a nobler shade and\nlight,--shade as of a rock in a weary land, and light as of a Pharos on\na stormy sea; so far it vindicates the name and fulfills the praise of\nhome.\"\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+The individual must drop his extreme individualism when he crosses the\nthreshold of the home.+--The years between youth and marriage are years\nof comparative independence. The young man and woman learn in these\nyears to take their affairs into their own hands; to direct their own\ncourse, to do what seems right in their own eyes, and take the\nconsequences of wisdom or folly upon their own shoulders. This period\nof independence is a valuable discipline. It develops strength and\nself-reliance; it compels the youth to face the stern realities of life,\nand to measure himself against the world. It helps him to appreciate\nwhat his parents have done for him in the past, and prepares him to\nappreciate a home of his own when he comes to have one. The man and\nwoman who have never known what it is to make their own way in the world\ncan never be fully confident of their own powers, and are seldom able to\nappreciate fully what is done for them.\n\nMany an exacting husband and complaining wife would have had their\nquerulousness and ingratitude taken out of them once for all if they\ncould have had a year or two of single-handed conflict with real\nhardship. Independence and self-reliance are the basis of self-respect\nand self-control.\n\nAt the same time this habit of independence, especially if it is\ningrained by years of single life, tends to perpetuate itself in ways\nthat are injurious to the highest domestic and family life. Independence\nis a magnificent foundation for marriage; to carry it up above the\nfoundation, and build the main structure out of it, is fatal. The\ninsistence on rights, the urging of claims, the enforcement of private\nwhims and fancies, are the death of love and the destruction of the\nfamily. Unless one is ready to give everything, asking nothing save what\nlove gives freely in return, marriage will prove a fountain of\nbitterness rather than of sweetness; a region of storm and tempest\nrather than a haven of repose. Within a bond so close and all-embracing\nthere is no room for the independent life of separated selves. Each must\nlose self in the other; both must merge themselves in devotion to a\ncommon good; or the bond becomes a fetter, and the home a prison. Unless\none is prepared to give all to the object of his love, duty to self, to\nthe object of his affections, and to the blessed state of marriage\ndemands that he should offer nothing, and remain outside a relation\nwhich his whole self cannot enter. Independence outside of marriage is\nrespectable and honorable. Independence and self-assertion in marriage\ntoward husband or wife is mean and cruel. It is the attempt to partake\nof that in which we refuse to participate; to claim the advantages of an\norganism in which we refuse to comply with the conditions of membership.\nNot admiration, nor fascination, nor sentimentality, nor flattered\nvanity can bind two hearts together in life-long married happiness. For\nthese are all forms of self-seeking in disguise. Love alone, love that\nloses self in its object; love that accepts service with gladness and\ntransmutes sacrifice into a joy; simple, honest, self-forgetful love\nmust be the light and life of marriage, or else it will speedily go out\nin darkness and expire in death.\n\nOf the deliberate seeking of external ends in marriage, such as money,\nposition, family connections, and the like, it ought not to be necessary\nto say a word to any thoughtful person. It is the basest act of which\nman or woman is capable. It is an insult to marriage; it is a mockery of\nlove; it is treachery and falsehood and robbery toward the person\nmarried. It subordinates the lifelong welfare of a person to the\nacquisition of material things. It introduces fraud and injustice into\nthe inmost center of one's life, and makes respect of self, happiness in\nmarriage, faith in human nature forever impossible. The deliberate\nformation of a loveless marriage is a blasphemy against God, a crime\nagainst society, a wrong to a fellow being, and a bitter and lasting\ncurse to one's own soul.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+Self-sufficiency fatal to the family.+--The shortcoming which most\nfrequently keeps individuals outside of the family, and keeps them\nincomplete and imperfect members of the family after they enter it, is\nthe self-sufficiency which is induced by a life of protracted\nindependence. Marriage is from one point of view a sacrifice, a\ngiving-up. The bachelor can spend more money on himself than can the\nmarried man who must provide for wife and children. The single woman can\ngive to study and music and travel an amount of time and attention which\nis impossible to the wife and mother. Such a view of marriage is\nsupremely mean and selfish. Only a very little and sordid soul could\nentertain it. There are often the best and noblest of reasons why man or\nwoman should remain single. It is a duty to do so rather than to marry\nfrom any motive save purest love. Marriage, however, should be regarded\nas the ideal state for every man and woman. To refuse to marry for\nmerely selfish reasons; or to carry over into marriage the selfish\nindividualistic temper, which clings so tenaciously to the little\nindividual self that it can never attain the larger self which comes\nfrom real union and devotion to another--this is to sin against human\nnature, and to prove one's self unworthy of membership in society's most\nfundamental and sacred institution.\n\nThe child who sets his own will against his parent's, the mother who\nthrusts her child out of her presence in order to pursue pleasures more\ncongenial than the nurture of her own offspring, the man who leaves his\nfamily night after night to spend his evenings in the club or the\nsaloon, the woman who spends on dress and society the money that is\nneeded to relieve her husband from overwork and anxiety, and to bring up\nher children in health and intelligence, do an irreparable wrong to the\nfamily, and deal a death blow to the home.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+Self-obliteration robs the family of the best we have to give it.+--The\nman who makes himself a slave; goes beyond his strength; denies himself\nneeded rest and recreation; grows prematurely old, cuts himself off from\nintercourse with his fellow-men in order to secure for his family a\nposition or a fortune: the woman who works early and late; forgets her\nmusic, and forsakes her favorite books; gives up friends and society;\ngrows anxious and careworn in order to give her sons and daughters a\nbetter start in life than she had, are making a fatal mistake. In the\neffort to provide their children with material things and intellectual\nadvantages they are depriving them of what even to the children is of\nfar more consequence--healthy, happy, cheerful, interesting,\nenthusiastic parents. To their children as well as to themselves parents\nowe it to be the brightest, cheeriest, heartiest, wisest, completest\npersons that they are capable of being. Children also when they have\nreached maturity, although they owe to their parents a reverent regard\nfor all reasonable desires and wishes, ought not to sacrifice\nopportunities for gaining a desired education or an advantageous start\nin business, merely to gratify a capricious whim or groundless\nforeboding of an arbitrary and unreasoning parent. Devotion to the\nfamily does not imply withdrawal from the world outside. The larger and\nfuller one's relations to the world without, the deeper and richer ought\nto be one's contribution to the family of which he is a member.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+To have no one for whom we supremely care, and no one who cares much\nfor us; to have no place where we can shield ourselves from outward\nopposition and inward despair; to have no larger life in which we can\nmerge the littleness of our solitary selves; to touch other lives only\non the surface, and to take no one to our heart;--this is the sad estate\nof the man or woman who refuses to enter with whole-souled devotion into\nunion with another in the building of a family and a home.+--The sense\nthat this loneliness is chosen in fidelity to duty makes it endurable\nfor multitudes of noble men and women. But for the man or woman who\nchooses such a life in proud self-sufficiency, for the sake of fancied\nfreedom and independence, it is hard to conceive what consolation can be\nfound. Thomas Carlyle, speaking of the joys of living in close union\nwith those who love us, and whom we love, says: \"It is beautiful; it is\nhuman! Man lives not otherwise, nor can live contented, anywhere or\nanywhen. Isolation is the sum-total of wretchedness to man. To be cut\noff, to be left solitary; to have a world alien, not your world; all a\nhostile camp for you; not a home at all, of hearts and faces who are\nyours, whose you are! It is the frightfullest enchantment; too truly a\nwork of the Evil One. To have neither superior, nor inferior, nor equal,\nunited manlike to you. Without father, without child, without brother.\nMan knows no sadder destiny.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nThe State.\n\n\nOut of the family grew the state. The primitive state was an enlarged\nfamily, of which the father was the head. Citizenship meant kinship,\nreal or fictitious. The house or gens was a composite family. Houses\nunited into tribes, and the authority of the chieftain over his\nfellow-tribesmen was still based on the fact that they were, either by\nbirthright or adoption, his children. The ancient state was the union of\ntribes under one priest and king who was regarded as the father of the\nwhole people.\n\nDisputes about the right of succession, and the disadvantage and danger\nof having a tyrant or a weakling rule, just because he happened to be\nthe son of the previous ruler, led men to elect their rulers. There are\nto-day states like Russia where the hereditary monarch is the ruler:\nstates like the United States where all rulers are elected by the\npeople; and states like England where the nominal ruler is an hereditary\nmonarch, and the real rulers are chosen by the people.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+The function of the state is the organization of the life of the\npeople.+--Men can live together in peace and happiness only on condition\nthat they assert for themselves and respect in others certain rights to\nlife, liberty, property, reputation, and opinion. My right it is my\nneighbor's duty to observe. His right it is my duty to respect. These\nmutual rights and duties are grounded in the nature of things and the\nconstitution of man. They are the conditions which must be observed if\nman is to live in unity with his fellow-men. It is the business of the\nstate to define, declare, and enforce these rights and duties. And as\ncitizens it is our duty to the state to do all in our power to frame\njust laws; to see that they are impartially and effectively\nadministered; to obey these laws ourselves; to contribute our share of\nthe funds necessary to maintain the government; and to render military\nservice when force is needed to protect the government from overthrow.\nTo law and government we owe all that makes life endurable or even\npossible: the security of property; the sanctity of home; the\nopportunity of education; the stability of institutions; the blessings\nof peace; protection against violence and bloodshed. Since the state and\nits laws are essential to the well-being of all men, and consequently of\nourselves; we owe to it the devotion of our time, our knowledge, our\ninfluence, yes, our life itself if need be. If it comes to a choice\nbetween living but a brief time, and that nobly, in devotion to country,\nand living a long time basely, in betrayal of our country's good, no\ntrue, brave man will hesitate to choose the former. In times of war and\nrevolution that choice has been presented to men in every age and\ncountry: and men have always been found ready to choose the better part;\ndeath for country, rather than life apart from her. So deep was the\nconviction in the mind of Socrates that the laws of the state should be\nobeyed at all costs, that when he had been sentenced to death unjustly,\nand had an opportunity to escape the penalty by running away, he refused\nto do it on the ground that it was his duty to obey those laws which had\nmade him what he was and whose protection he had enjoyed so many years.\nTo the friend who tried to induce him to escape he replied that he\nseemed to hear the laws saying to him, \"Our country is more to be valued\nand higher and holier far than father or mother. And when we are\npunished by her, whether with imprisonment or stripes, the punishment is\nto be endured in silence; and if she sends us to wounds or death in\nbattle, thither we follow as is right; neither may anyone yield or\nretreat or leave his rank, but whether in battle or in a court of law,\nor in any other place, he must do what his city and his country order\nhim; or he must change their view of what is just; and if he may do no\nviolence to his father or mother, much less may he do violence to his\ncountry.\" To do and bear whatever is necessary to maintain that\norganization of life which the state represents is the imperative duty\nof every citizen. This duty to serve the country is correlative to the\nright to be a citizen. No man can be in truth and spirit a citizen on\nany other terms. And not to be a citizen is not to be, in any true and\nworthy meaning of the term, a man.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+Love of country, or patriotism, like all love places the object loved\nfirst and self second.+--In all public action the patriot asks not,\n\"What is best for me?\" but, \"What is best for my country?\" Patriotism\nassumes as many forms as there are circumstances and ways in which the\nwelfare of the country may be promoted. In time of war the patriot\nshoulders his gun and marches to fight the enemy. In time of election he\ngoes to the caucus and the polls, and expresses his opinion and casts\nhis vote for what he believes to be just measures and honest men. When\ntaxes are to be levied, he gives the assessor a full account of his\nproperty, and pays his fair share of the expense of government. When one\nparty proposes measures and nominates men whom he considers better than\nthose of the opposite party, he votes with that party, whether it is for\nhis private interest to do so or not. The patriot will not stand apart\nfrom all parties, because none is good enough for him. He will choose\nthe best, knowing that no political party is perfect. He will act with\nthat party as long as it continues to seem to him the best; for he must\nrecognize that one man standing alone can accomplish no practical\npolitical result. The moment he is convinced that the party with which\nhe has been acting has become more corrupt, and less faithful to the\ninterests of the country than the opposite party, he will change his\nvote. Self first, personal friends second, party third, and country\nfourth, is the order of considerations in the mind of the office-seeker,\nthe wire-puller, the corrupt politician. Country first, party second,\npersonal friends third, and self last is the order in the mind of the\ntrue citizen, the courageous statesman, the unselfish patriot.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+In return for serving our country we receive a country to serve.+--The\nstate makes possible for us all those pursuits, interests, aims, and\naspirations which lift our lives above the level of the brutes. Through\nthe institutions which the state maintains, schools, almshouses, courts,\nprisons, roads, bridges, harbors, laws, armies, police, there is secured\nto the individual the right and opportunity to acquire property, engage\nin business, travel wherever he pleases, share in the products of the\nwhole earth, read the books of all nations, reap the fruits of scholarly\ninvestigation in all countries, take an interest in the welfare and\nprogress of mankind. This power of the individual to live a universal\nlife, this participation of each in a common and world-wide good, is the\nproduct of civilization. And civilization is impossible without that\nsubordination of each to the just claims of all, which law requires and\nwhich it is the business of the state to enforce.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+Organization involves a multitude of offices and public servants. Many\nof these offices are less onerous and more lucrative than the average\nman can find elsewhere. Many offices give a man an opportunity to\nacquire dishonest gains.+--Hence arises the great political temptation\nwhich is to seek office, not as a means of rendering useful and\nhonorable service to the country, but as a means to getting an easy\nliving out of the country, and at the public expense. The \"spoils\nsystem,\" which consists in rewarding service to party by opportunity to\nplunder the country: which pays public servants first for their service\nto party, and secondly for service to the country: which makes\nusefulness to party rather than serviceableness to the country the basis\nof appointment and promotion, is the worst evil of our political life.\n\"Public office is a public trust.\" Men who so regard it are the only men\nfit for it. Office so held is one of the most honorable forms of service\nwhich a man can render to his fellow-men. Office secured and held by the\nmethods of the spoils system is a disgrace to the nation that is corrupt\nenough to permit it, and to the man who is base enough to profit by it.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+Betrayal of one's country and disregard of its interests is\ntreason.+--In time of war and revolution treason consists in giving\ninformation to the enemy, surrendering forts, ships, arms, or\nammunition into his hands; or fighting in such a half-hearted way as to\ninvite defeat. Treason under such circumstances is the unpardonable sin\nagainst country. The traitor is the most despicable person in the state;\nfor he takes advantage of the protection the state gives to him and the\nconfidence it places in him to stab and murder his benefactor and\nprotector.\n\nThe essential quality of treason is manifested in many forms in time of\npeace. Whoever sacrifices the known interests of his country to the\ninterests of himself, or of his friends, or of his party, is therein\nguilty of the essential crime of treason. Whoever votes for an\nappropriation in order to secure for another man lucrative employment or\na profitable contract; whoever gives or takes money for a vote; whoever\nincreases or diminishes a tax with a view to the business interests, not\nof the country as a whole, but of a few interested parties; whoever\naccepts or bestows a public office on any grounds other than the\nefficiency of service which the office-holder is to render to the\ncountry; whoever evades his just taxes; whoever suffers bad men to be\nelected and bad measures to become laws through his own negligence to\nvote himself and to influence others to vote for better men and better\nmeasures, is guilty of treason. For in these, which are the only ways\npossible to him, he has sacrificed the good of his country to the\npersonal and private interests of himself and of his friends.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+True and false ambition.+--The service of the country in public office\nis one of the most interesting and most honorable pursuits in which a\nman can engage. Ambition to serve is always noble. Desire for the honors\nand emoluments of public office, however, may crowd out the desire to\nrender public service. Such a substitution of selfish for patriotic\nconsiderations, such an inversion of the proper order of interests in a\nman's mind, is the vice of political ambition. The ambitious politician\nseeks office, not because he seeks to promote measures which he believes\nto be for the public good; not because he believes he can promote those\ninterests more effectively than any other available candidate: but just\nbecause an office makes him feel big; or because he likes the excitement\nof political life; or because he can make money directly or indirectly\nout of it. Such political ambition is as hollow and empty an aim as can\npossess the mind of man. And yet it deceives and betrays great as well\nas little men. It is our old foe of sentimentality, dressed in a new\ngarb, and displaying itself on a new stage. It is the substitution of\none's own personal feelings, for a direct regard for the object which\nmakes those feelings possible. It is a very subtle vice: and the only\nsafeguard against it is a deep and genuine devotion to country for\ncountry's sake.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+A state in which laws were broken, taxes evaded, and corrupt men placed\nin authority could not endure.+--With the downfall of the state would\narise the brigand, the thief, the murderer, and the reign of dishonesty,\nviolence, and terror.\n\nThe individual, it is true, may sin against the state and escape the\nfull measure of this penalty himself. In that case, however, the penalty\nis distributed over the vast multitude of honest citizens, who bear the\ncommon injury which the traitor inflicts upon the state. The man who\nbetrays his country, may continue to have a country still; but it is no\nthanks to him. It is because he reaps the reward of the loyalty and\ndevotion of citizens nobler than himself.\n\nYet even then the country is not in the deepest sense really his. He\ncannot enjoy its deepest blessings. He cannot feel in his inmost heart,\n\"This country is mine. To it I have given myself. Of it I am a true\ncitizen and loyal member.\" He knows he is unworthy of his country. He\nknows that if his country could find him out, and separate him from the\ngreat mass of his fellow-citizens, she would repudiate him as unworthy\nto be called her son. The traitor may continue to receive the gifts of\nhis country; he may appropriate the blessings she bestows with impartial\nhand on the good and on the evil. But the sense that this glorious and\nrighteous order of which the state is the embodiment and of which our\ncountry is the preserver and protector belongs to him; that it is an\nexpression of his thought, his will and his affection;--this spiritual\nparticipation in the life and spirit of the state, this supreme devotion\nto a beloved country, remains for such an one forever impossible. In his\nsoul, in his real nature, he is an outcast, an alien, and an enemy.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nSociety.\n\n\nRegard for others, merely as individuals, does not satisfy the deepest\nyearnings of our social nature. The family is so much more to us than\nthe closest of ties which we can form on lines of business, charity, or\neven friendship; because in place of an aggregate of individuals, each\nwith his separate interests, the family presents a life in which each\nmember shares in a good which is common to all.\n\nThe state makes possible a common good on a much wider scale. Still, on\na strict construction of its functions, the state merely insures the\noutward form of this wider, common life. The state declares what man\nshall not do, rather than what man shall do, in his relations to his\nfellow-men. To prevent the violation of mutual rights rather than to\nsecure the performance of mutual duties, is the fundamental function of\nthe state. Of course these two sides cannot be kept entirely apart.\nThere is a strong tendency at the present time to enlarge the province\nof the state, and to intrust it with the enforcement of positive duties\nwhich man owes to his fellow-men, and which class owes to class. Whether\nthis tendency is good or bad, whether it is desirable to enforce social\nduties, or to trust them to the unfettered social conscience of\nmankind, is a theoretical question which, for our practical purposes, we\nneed not here discuss.\n\nNo man liveth unto himself. No man ought to be satisfied with a good\nwhich is peculiar to himself, from which mankind as a whole are\nexcluded. No man can be so satisfied. Ignorance, prejudice, selfishness,\npride, custom, blind men to this common good, and prevent them from\nmaking the efforts and sacrifices necessary to realize it. But the man\nwho could deliberately prefer to see the world in which he lives going\nto destruction would be a monster rather than a man.\n\n+This common life of humanity in which each individual partakes is\nsociety. Society is the larger self of each individual. Its interests\nand ours are fundamentally one and the same.+--If the society in which\nwe live is elevated and pure and noble we share its nobleness and are\nelevated by it. If society is low, corrupt, and degraded, we share its\ncorruption, and its baseness drags us down. So vital and intimate is\nthis bond between society and ourselves that it is impossible when\ndealing with moral matters to keep them apart. To be a better man,\nwithout at the same time being a better neighbor, citizen, workman,\nsoldier, scholar, or business man, is a contradiction in terms. For life\nconsists in these social relations to our fellows. And the better we\nare, the better these social duties will be fulfilled.\n\nSociety includes all the objects hitherto considered. Society is the\norganic life of man, in which the particular objects and relations of\nour individual lives are elements and members. Hence in this chapter,\nand throughout the remainder of the book, we shall not be concerned with\nnew materials, but with the materials with which we are already\nfamiliar, viewed in their broader and more comprehensive relationships.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+In each act we should think not merely \"How will this act affect me?\"\nbut \"How will this act affect all parties concerned, and society as a\nwhole?\"+--The interests of all men are my own, by virtue of that common\nsociety of which they and I are equal members. What is good for others\nis good for me, because, in that broader view of my own nature which\nsociety embodies, my good cannot be complete unless, to the extent of my\nability, their good is included in my own. Hence we have the maxims laid\ndown by Kant: \"Act as if the maxim of thy action were to become by thy\nwill a universal law of nature.\" \"So act as to treat humanity, whether\nin thine own person or in that of another, in every case as an end,\nnever as a means only.\" Or as Professor Royce puts the same thought;\n\"Act as a being would act who included thy will and thy neighbor's will\nin the unity of one life, and who had therefore to suffer the\nconsequences for the aims of both that will follow from the act of\neither.\" \"In so far as in thee lies, act as if thou wert at once thy\nneighbor and thyself. Treat these two lives as one.\"\n\n+The realization of the good of all in and through the act of each is\nthe social ideal.+--In everyday matters this can be brought about by\nsimply taking account of all the interests of others which will be\naffected by our act. In the relations between employer and employee, for\ninstance, profit sharing is the most practical form of realizing this\ncommunity of interest. Such action involves a co-operation of interests\nas the motives of the individual act.\n\nThe larger social ends, such as education, philanthropy, reform, public\nimprovements, require the co-operation of many individuals in the same\nenterprise. The readiness to contribute a fair share of our time, money,\nand influence to these larger public interests, which no individual can\nundertake alone, is an important part of our social duty. Every\nbeneficent cause, every effort to rouse public sentiment against a\nwrong, or to make it effective in the enforcement of a right; every\nendeavor to unite men in social intercourse; every plan to extend the\nopportunities for education; every measure for the relief of the\ndeserving poor, and the protection of homeless children; every wise\nmovement for the prevention of vice, crime, and intemperance, is\nentitled to receive from each one of us the same intelligent attention,\nthe same keenness of interest, the same energy of devotion, the same\nsacrifice of inclination and convenience, the same resoluteness and\ncourage of action that we give to our private affairs.\n\n+Co-operation, then, is of two kinds, inward and outward: co-operation\nbetween the interests of others and of ourselves in the motive to our\nindividual action; and co-operation of our action with the action of\nothers to accomplish objects too vast for private undertaking.+--Both\nforms of co-operation are in principle the same; they strengthen and\nsupport each other. The man who is in the habit of considering the\ninterests of others in his individual acts will be more ready to unite\nwith others in the promotion of public beneficence. And on the other\nhand the man who is accustomed to act with others in large public\nmovements will be more inclined to act for others in his personal\naffairs. The reformer and philanthropist is simply the man of private\ngenerosity and good-will acting out his nature on a larger stage.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+Public spirit is the life of the community in the heart of the\nindividual.+--This recognition that we belong to society, and that\nsociety belongs to us, that its interests are our interests, that its\nwrongs are ours to redress, its rights are ours to maintain, its losses\nare ours to bear, its blessings are ours to enjoy, is public spirit.\n\nA generous regard for the public welfare, a willingness to lend a hand\nin any movement for the improvement of social conditions, a readiness\nwith work and influence and time and money to relieve suffering,\nimprove sanitary conditions, promote education and morality, remove\ntemptation from the weak, open reading-rooms and places of harmless\nresort for the unoccupied in their evening hours, to bind together\npersons of similar tastes and pursuits--these are the marks of public\nspirit; these are the manifestations of social virtue.\n\n+Politeness is love in little things.+--Toward individuals whom we meet\nin social ways this recognition of our common nature and mutual rights\ntakes the form of politeness and courtesy. Politeness is proper respect\nfor human personality. Rudeness results from thinking exclusively about\nourselves, and caring nothing for the feelings of anybody else. The\nsincere and generous desire to bring the greatest pleasure and the least\npain to everyone we meet will go a long way toward making our manners\npolite and courteous.\n\nStill, society has agreed upon certain more or less arbitrary ways for\nfacilitating social intercourse; it has established rules for conduct on\nsocial occasions, and to a certain extent prescribed the forms of words\nthat shall be used, the modes of salutation that shall be employed, the\nstyle of dress that shall be worn, and the like. A due respect for\nsociety, and for the persons whom we meet socially, demands that we\nshall acquaint ourselves with these rules of etiquette, and observe them\nin our social intercourse. Like all forms, social formalities are easily\ncarried to excess, and frequently kill the spirit they are intended to\nexpress. As a basis, however, for the formation of acquaintances, and\nfor large social gatherings, a good deal of formality is necessary.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+The complete expression and outgo of our nature is freedom.+--Since man\nis by nature social, since sympathy, friendship, co-operation and\naffection are essential attributes of man, it follows that the exercise\nof these social virtues is itself the satisfaction of what is\nessentially ourselves.\n\nThe man who fulfills his social duties is free, for he finds an open\nfield and an unfettered career for the most essential faculties of his\nnature. The social man always has friends whom he loves; work which he\nfeels to be worth doing; interests which occupy his highest powers;\ncauses which appeal to his deepest sympathies. Such a life of rounded\nactivity, of arduous endeavor, of full, free self-expression is in\nitself the highest possible reward. It is the only form of satisfaction\nworthy of man. It is in the deepest sense of the word success. For as\nLowell says:\n\n All true whole men succeed, for what is worth\n Success's name, unless it be the thought,\n The inward surety to have carried out\n A noble purpose to a noble end.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+Instead of regarding society as a whole, and self as a member of that\nwhole, it is possible to regard self as distinct and separate from\nsociety, and to make the interests of this separated and detached self\nthe end and aim of action.+--This temptation is self-interest. It\nconsists in placing the individual self, with its petty, private,\npersonal interests, above the social self, with the large, public,\ngenerous interests of the social order.\n\nFrom one point of view it is easy to cheat society, and deprive it of\nits due. We can shirk our social obligations; we can dodge\nsubscriptions; we can stay at home when we ought to be at the committee\nmeeting, or the public gathering; we can decline invitations and refuse\nelections to arduous offices, and at the same time escape many of the\nworst penalties which would naturally follow from our neglect. For\nothers, more generous and noble than we, will step in and take upon\nthemselves our share of the public burdens in addition to their own. We\nmay flatter ourselves that we have done a very shrewd thing in\ncontriving to reap the benefits without bearing the burdens of society.\nThere is, as we shall see, a penalty for negligence of social duty, and\nthat too most sure and terrible. Self-interest is the seed, of which\nmeanness is the full-grown plant, and of which social constraint and\nslavishness are the final fruits.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+Lack of public spirit is meanness.+--The mean man is he who\nacknowledges no interest and recognizes no obligation outside the narrow\nrange of his strictly private concerns. As long as he is comfortable he\nwill take no steps to relieve the distress of others. If his own\npremises are healthy, he will contribute nothing to improve the sanitary\ncondition of his village or city. As long as his own property is secure\nhe cares not how many criminals are growing up in the street, how many\nare sent to prison, or how they are treated after they come there. He\nfavors the cheapest schools, the poorest roads, the plainest public\nbuildings, because he would rather keep his money in his own pocket than\ncontribute his share to maintain a thoroughly efficient and creditable\npublic service. He will give nothing he can help giving, do nothing he\ncan help doing, to make the town he lives in a healthier, happier,\npurer, wiser, nobler place. Meanness is the sacrifice of the great\nsocial whole to the individual. It is selfishness, stinginess, and\ningratitude combined. It is the disposition to receive all that society\ncontributes to the individual, and to give nothing in return. It is a\nwillingness to appropriate the fruits of labors in which one refuses to\nbear a part.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+The officious person is ready for any and every kind of public service,\nproviding he can be at the head of it. There is no end to the work he\nwill do if he can only have his own way.+--He wants to be prime mover in\nevery enterprise: to be chairman of the committee; to settle every\nquestion that comes up; to \"run\" things according to his own ideas. Such\npeople are often very useful. It is generally wisest not to meddle much\nwith them. The work may not be done in the best way by these officious\npeople; but without them a great deal of public work would never be done\nat all. The vice, however, seriously impairs one's usefulness. The\nofficious person is hard to work with. Men refuse to have anything to do\nwith him. And so he is left to do his work for the most part alone.\nOfficiousness is, in reality, social ambition; and that again as we saw\nresolves itself into sentimentality;--the regard for what we and others\nthink of ourselves, rather than straightforward devotion to the ends\nwhich we pretend to be endeavoring to promote. Officiousness is\nself-seeking dressed up in the uniform of service. The officious person,\ninstead of losing his private self in the larger life of society, tries\nto use the larger interests of society in such a way as to make them\ngratify his own personal vanity and sense of self-importance.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+All meanness and self-seeking are punished by lack of freedom or\nconstraint; though frequently the constraint is inward and spiritual\nrather than outward and physical.+--We have seen that to the man of\ngenerous public spirit society presents a career for the unfolding and\nexpansion of his social powers. To such a man society, with its claims\nand obligations, is an enlargement of his range of sympathy, a widening\nof his spiritual horizon, and on that account a means of larger liberty\nand fuller freedom.\n\nTo the mean and selfish man, on the contrary, society presents itself as\nan alien force, a hard task-master, making severe requirements upon his\ntime, imposing cramping limitations on his self-indulgence, levying\nheavy taxes upon his substance; prescribing onerous rules and\nregulations for his conduct.\n\nBy excluding society from the sphere of interests with which he\nidentifies himself, the mean man, by his own meanness, makes society\nantagonistic to him, and himself its reluctant and unwilling slave.\nServe it to some extent he must; but the selfishness and meanness of his\nown attitude toward it, makes social service, not the willing and joyous\noffering of a free and devoted heart, but the slavish submission of a\nreluctant will, forced to do the little that it cannot help doing by\nlegal or social compulsion.\n\nTo him society is not a sphere of freedom, in which his own nature is\nenlarged, intensified, liberated; and so made richer, happier, nobler,\nand freer. To him society is an external power, compelling him to make\nsacrifices he does not want to make; to do things he does not want to\ndo; to contribute money which he grudges, and to conform to requirements\nwhich he hates. By trying to save the life of self-interest and\nmeanness, he loses the life of generous aims, noble ideals, and heroic\nself devotion.\n\nBy refusing the career of noble freedom which social service offers to\neach member of the social body, he is constrained to obey a social law\nwhich he has not helped to create, and to serve the interests of a\nsociety of which he has refused to be in spirit and truth a part.\n\nThis living in a world which we do not heartily acknowledge as our own;\nthis subjection to an authority which we do not in principle recognize\nand welcome as the voice of our own better, larger, wiser, social\nself,--this is constraint and slavery in its basest and most degrading\nform.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nSelf.\n\n\nHitherto we have considered things, relations, persons, and institutions\noutside ourselves as the objects which together constitute our\nenvironment.\n\nThe self is not a new object, but rather the bond which binds together\ninto unity all the experiences of life. It is their relation to this\nconscious self which gives to all objects their moral worth. Every act\nupon an object reacts upon ourselves. The virtues and vices, the rewards\nand penalties that we have been studying are the various reactions of\nconduct upon ourselves. This chapter then will be a comprehensive review\nand summary of all that has gone before. Instead of taking one by one\nthe particular reactions which follow particular acts with reference to\nparticular objects, we shall now look at conduct as a whole; regard our\nenvironment in its totality; and consider duty, virtue, and self in\ntheir unity.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+The duty we owe to ourselves is the realization of our capacities and\npowers in harmony with each other, and in proportion to their worth as\nelements in a complete individual and social life.+--We have within us\nthe capacity for an ever increasing fullness and richness and intensity\nof life. The materials out of which this life is to be developed are\nready to our hands in those objects which we have been considering. One\nway of conduct toward these objects, which we have called duty; one\nattitude of mind and will toward them which we have called virtue, leads\nto those completions and fulfillments of ourselves which we have called\nrewards. Duty then to self; duty in its most comprehensive aspect, is\nthe obligation which the existence of capacity within and material\nwithout imposes on us to bring the two together in harmonious relations,\nso as to realize the capacities and powers of ourselves and of others,\nand promote society's well being. In simpler terms our fundamental duty\nis to make the most of ourselves; and to become as large and genuine a\npart of the social world in which we live as it is possible for us to\nbe.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+The habit of seeking to realize the highest capacities and widest\nrelationships of our nature in every act is conscientiousness.\nConscience is our consciousness of the ideal in conduct and character.\nConscience is the knowledge of our duty, coupled as that knowledge\nalways is with the feeling that we ought to do it.+--Knowledge of any\nkind calls up some feeling appropriate to the fact known. Knowledge that\na given act would realize my ideal calls up the feeling of\ndissatisfaction with myself until that act is performed; because that\nis the feeling appropriate to the recognition of an unrealized yet\nattainable ideal. Conscience is not a mysterious faculty of our nature.\nIt is simply thought and feeling, recognizing and responding to the fact\nof duty, and reaching out toward virtue and excellence.\n\nThe objective worth of the deliverances and dictates of the conscience\nof the individual, depends on the degree of moral enlightenment and\nsensitiveness he has attained. The conscience of an educated Christian\nhas a worth and authority which the conscience of the benighted savage\nhas not. Since conscience is the recognition of the ideal of conduct and\ncharacter, every new appreciation of duty and virtue gives to conscience\nadded strength and clearness.\n\n+The absolute authority of conscience.+--Relatively to the individual\nhimself, at the time of acting, his own individual conscience is the\nfinal and absolute authority. The man who does what his conscience tells\nhim, does the best that he can do. For he realizes the highest ideal\nthat is present to his mind. A wiser man than he might do better than\nthis man, acting according to his conscience, is able to do. But this\nman, with the limited knowledge and imperfect ideal which he actually\nhas, can do no more than obey his conscience which bids him realize the\nhighest ideal that he knows. The act of the conscientious man may be\nright or wrong, judged by objective, social standards. Judged by\nsubjective standards, seen from within, every conscientious act is,\nrelatively to the individual himself, a right act. We should spare no\npains to enlighten our conscience, and make it the reflection of the\nmost exalted ideals which society has reached. Having done this,\nconscience becomes to us the authoritative judge for us of what we\nshall, and what we shall not do. The light of conscience will be clear\nand pure, or dim and clouded, according to the completeness of our moral\nenvironment, training, and insight. But clear or dim, high or low,\nsensitive or dull, the light of conscience is the only light we have to\nguide us in the path of virtue. In hours of leisure and study it is our\nprivilege to inform and clarify this consciousness of the ideal. That\nhas been the purpose of the preceding pages. When the time for action\ncomes, then, without a murmur, without an instant's hesitation, the\nvoice of conscience should be implicitly obeyed. Conscientiousness is\nthe form which all the virtues take, when viewed as determinations of\nthe self. It is the assertion of the ideal of the self in its every act.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+Character the form in which the result of virtuous conduct is\npreserved.+--It is neither possible nor desirable to solve each question\nof conduct as it arises by conscious and explicit reference to rules and\nprinciples. Were we to attempt to do so it would make us prigs and\nprudes.\n\nWhat then is the use of studying at such length the temptations and\nduties, the virtues and vices, with their rewards and penalties, if all\nthese things are to be forgotten and ignored when the occasions for\npractical action arrive?\n\nThe study of ethics has the same use as the study of writing, grammar,\nor piano-playing. In learning to write we have to think precisely how\neach letter is formed, how one letter is connected with another, where\nto use capitals, where to punctuate and the like. But after we have\nbecome proficient in writing, we do all this without once thinking\nexplicitly of any of these things. In learning to play the piano we have\nto count out loud in order to keep time correctly, and we are obliged to\nstop and think just where to put the finger in order to strike each\nseparate note. But the expert player does all these things without the\nslightest conscious effort.\n\nStill, though the particular rules and principles are not consciously\npresent in each act of the finished writer or musician, they are not\nentirely absent. When the master of these arts makes a mistake, he\nrecognizes it instantly, and corrects it, or endeavors to avoid its\nrepetition. This shows that the rule is not lost. It has ceased to be\nbefore the mind as a distinct object of consciousness. It is no longer\nneeded in that form for ordinary purposes. Instead, it has come to be a\npart of the mind itself--a way in which the mind works instinctively. As\nlong as the mind works in conformity with the principle, it is not\ndistinctly recognized, because there is no need for such recognition.\nThe principle comes to consciousness only as a power to check or\nrestrain acts that are at variance with it.\n\nIt is in this way that the practical man carries with him his ethical\nprinciples. He does not stop to reason out the relation of duty and\nvirtue to reward, or of temptation and vice to penalty, before he\ndecides to help the unfortunate, or to be faithful to a friend, or to\nvote on election day. This trained, habitual will, causing acts to be\nperformed in conformity to duty and virtue, yet without conscious\nreference to the explicit principles that underlie them, is character.\n\nIt is chiefly in the formation of character that the explicit\nrecognition of ethical principles has its value. Character is a storage\nbattery in which the power acquired by our past acts is accumulated and\npreserved for future use.\n\nIt is through this power of character, this tendency of acts of a given\nnature to repeat and perpetuate themselves, that we give unity and\nconsistency to our lives. This also is the secret of our power of\ngrowth. As soon as one virtue has become habitual and enters into our\ncharacter, we can leave it, trusting it in the hands of this unconscious\npower of self-perpetuation; and then we can turn the energy thus freed\ntoward the acquisition of new virtues.\n\nDay by day we are turning over more and more of our lives to this domain\nof character. Hence it is of the utmost importance to allow nothing to\nenter this almost irrevocable state of unconscious, habitual character\nthat has not first received the approval of conscience, the sanction of\nduty, and the stamp of virtue. Character, once formed in a wrong\ndirection, may be corrected. But it can be done only with the greatest\ndifficulty, and by a process as hard to resolve upon as the amputation\nof a limb or the plucking out of an eye.\n\nThe greater part of the principles of ethics we knew before we undertook\nthis formal study. We learned them from our parents; we picked them up\nin contact with one another in the daily intercourse of life. The value\nof our study will not consist so much in new truths learned, as in the\nclearer and sharper outlines which it will have given to some of the\nfeatures of the moral ideal. The definite results of such a study we\ncannot mark or measure. Just as sunshine and rain come to the plants and\ntrees, and then seem to vanish, leaving no visible or tangible trace\nbehind; yet the plants and trees are different from what they were\nbefore, and have the heat and moisture stored up within their structure\nto burst forth into fresher and larger life; in like manner, though we\nshould forget every formal statement that we have read, yet we could not\nfail to be affected by the incorporation within ourselves in the form of\ncharacter of some of these principles of duty and virtue which we have\nbeen considering. It has been said: \"Sow an act, and you reap a habit;\nsow a habit and you reap a character; sow a character and you reap a\ndestiny.\"\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+Pleasure not a reliable guide to conduct.+--The realization of capacity\nbrings with it pleasure. The harmonious realization of all our powers\nwould bring harmonious and permanent pleasure or happiness. Pleasure is\nalways to be welcomed as a sign of health and activity. Other things\nbeing equal, the more pleasure we have the better. It is possible\nhowever to abstract the pleasure from the activity which gives rise to\nit, and make pleasure the end for which we act. This pursuit of pleasure\nfor pleasure's sake is delusive and destructive. It is delusive, because\nthe direct aim at pleasure turns us aside from the direct aim at\nobjects. And when we cease to aim directly at objects, we begin to lose\nthe pleasure and zest which only a direct pursuit of objects can\nproduce. For instance, we all know that if we go to a picnic or a party\nthinking all the while about having a good time, and asking ourselves\nevery now and then whether we are having a good time or not, we find the\npicnic or party a dreadful bore, and ourselves perfectly miserable. We\nknow that the whole secret of having a good time on such occasions is to\nget interested in something else; a game, a boat-ride, anything that\nmakes us forget ourselves and our pleasures, and helps us to lose\nourselves in the eager, arduous, absorbing pursuit of something outside\nourselves. Then we have a glorious time.\n\nThe direct pursuit of pleasure is destructive of character, because it\njudges things by the way they affect our personal feelings; which is a\nvery shallow and selfish standard of judgment; and because it centers\ninterest in the merely emotional side of our nature, which is peculiar\nto ourselves; instead of in the rational part of our nature which is\ncommon to all men, and unites us to our fellows.\n\nDuty demands not the hap-hazard realization of this or that side of our\nnature. Yet this is what the pursuit of pleasure would lead to. Duty\ndemands the realization of all our faculties, in harmony with each\nother, and in proportion to their worth. And to this proportioned and\nharmonious realization, pleasure, pure and simple, is no guide at all.\nHence, as Aristotle remarks, \"In all cases we must be specially on our\nguard against pleasant things and against pleasure: for we can scarce\njudge her impartially.\" \"Again, as the exercises of our faculties differ\nin goodness and badness, and some are to be desired and some to be\nshunned, so do the several pleasures differ; for each exercise has its\nproper pleasure. The pleasure which is proper to a good activity, then,\nis good, and that which is proper to one that is not good is bad.\" \"As\nthe exercises of the faculties vary, so do their respective pleasures.\"\n\nTo the same effect John Stuart Mill says that the pleasures which result\nfrom the exercise of the higher faculties are to be preferred. \"It is\nbetter to be a human being dissatisfied, than a pig satisfied; better to\nbe Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied.\" Whether it is possible\nto stretch, and qualify, and attenuate the conception of pleasure so as\nto make it cover the ideal of human life, without having it, like a\nsoap-bubble, burst in the process, is a question foreign to the\npractical purpose of this book. That pleasure, as ordinarily understood\nby plain people, is a treacherous, dangerous, and ruinous guide to\nconduct, moralists of every school declare. Pleasure is the most subtle\nand universal form of temptation. Pleasure is the accompaniment of all\nexercise of power. When it comes rightly it is to be accepted with\nthankfulness. We must remember however that the quality of the act\ndetermines the worth of the pleasure; and that the amount of pleasure\ndoes not determine the quality of the act. A pleasant act may be right,\nand it may be wrong. Whether we ought to do it or not must in every case\nbe decided on higher grounds.\n\nTo the boy who says, \"I should like to be something that would make me a\ngreat man, and very happy besides--something that would not hinder me\nfrom having a great deal of pleasure\"--George Eliot represents \"Romola\"\nas replying, \"That is not easy, my Lillo. It is only a poor sort of\nhappiness that could ever come by caring very much about our own narrow\npleasures. We can only have the highest happiness, such as goes along\nwith being a great man, by having wide thoughts, and much feeling for\nthe rest of the world as well as for ourselves; and this sort of\nhappiness often brings so much pain with it that we can only tell it\nfrom pain by its being what we would choose before everything else,\nbecause our souls see it is good. And so, my Lillo, if you mean to act\nnobly and seek to know the best things God has put within reach of men,\nyou must learn to fix your mind on that end, and not on what will happen\nto you because of it. And remember, if you were to choose something\nlower, and make it the rule of your life to seek your own pleasure and\nescape from what is disagreeable, calamity might come just the same; and\nit would be calamity falling on a base mind, which is the one form of\nsorrow that has no balm in it, and that may well make a man say--It\nwould have been better for me if I had never been born.\"\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+The unscrupulous man acts as he happens to feel like acting.+--Whatever\ncourse of conduct presents itself as pleasant, or profitable, or easy,\nhe adopts. Anything is good enough for him. He seeks to embody no ideal,\naims consistently at no worthy end, acknowledges no duty, but simply\nyields himself a passive instrument for lust, or avarice, or cowardice,\nor falsehood to play upon. Refusing to be the servant of virtue he\nbecomes the slave of vice. Disowning the authority of duty and the\nideal, he becomes the tool of appetite, the football of circumstance.\nUnscrupulousness is the form of all the vices of defect, when viewed in\nrelation to that absence of regard for realization of self, which is\ntheir common characteristic.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+The exclusive regard for self, in abstraction from those objects and\nsocial relationships through which alone the self can be truly realized,\nleads to formalism.+--Formalism keeps the law simply for the sake of\nkeeping it. Conscientiousness, if it is wise and well-balanced,\nreverences the duties and requirements of the moral life, because these\nduties are the essential conditions of individual and social well-being.\nThe law is a means to well-being, which is the end. Formalism makes the\nlaw an end in itself; and will even sacrifice well-being to law, when\nthe two squarely conflict.\n\n+Extreme cases in which moral laws may be suspended.+--The particular\nduties, virtues, and laws which society has established and recognized\nare the expressions of reason and experience declaring the conditions of\nhuman well-being. As such they deserve our profoundest respect; our\nunswerving obedience. Still it is impossible for rules to cover every\ncase. There are legitimate, though very rare, exceptions, even to moral\nlaws and duties. For instance it is a duty to respect the property of\nothers. Yet to save the life of a person who is starving, we are\njustified in taking the property of another without asking his consent.\nTo save a person from drowning, we may seize a boat belonging to\nanother. To spread the news of a fire, we may take the first horse we\nfind, without inquiring who is the owner. To save a sick person from a\nfatal shock, we may withhold facts in violation of the strict duty of\ntruthfulness. To promote an important public measure, we may\ndeliberately break down our health, spend our private fortune, and\nreduce ourselves to helpless beggary. Such acts violate particular\nduties. They break moral laws. And yet they all are justified in these\nextreme cases by the higher law of love; by the greater duty of devotion\nto the highest good of our fellow-men. The doctrine that \"the end\njustifies the means\" is a mischievous and dangerous doctrine. Stated in\nthat unqualified form, it is easily made the excuse for all sorts of\nimmorality. The true solution of the seeming conflict of duties lies in\nthe recognition that the larger social good justifies the sacrifice of\nthe lesser social good when the two conflict. One must remember,\nhowever, that the universal recognition of established duties and laws\nis itself the greatest social good; and only the most extreme cases can\njustify a departure from the path of generally recognized and\nestablished moral law.\n\nThese extreme cases when they occur, however, must be dealt with\nbravely. The form of law and rule must be sacrificed to the substance of\nrighteousness and love when the two conflict. As Professor Marshall\nremarks in the chapter of his \"History of Greek Philosophy\" which deals\nwith Socrates, \"The highest activity does not always take the form of\nconformity to rule. There are critical moments when rules fail, when, in\nfact, obedience to rule would mean disobedience to that higher law, of\nwhich rules and formulae are at best only an adumbration.\"\n\nThere is nothing more contemptible than that timid, self-seeking virtue\nwhich will sacrifice the obvious well-being of others to save itself the\npain of breaking a rule. There is nothing more pitiful than that\nself-righteous virtue which does right, not because it loves the right,\nstill less because it loves the person who is affected by its action,\nbut simply because it wants to keep its own sweet sense of\nself-righteousness unimpaired. Mrs. Browning gives us a clear example of\nthis \"harmless life, she called a virtuous life,\" in the case of the\nfrigid aunt of \"Aurora Leigh\":\n\n From that day, she did\n Her duty to me (I appreciate it\n In her own word as spoken to herself),\n Her duty, in large measure, well-pressed out,\n But measured always. She was generous, bland,\n More courteous than was tender, gave me still\n The first place,--as if fearful that God's saints\n Would look down suddenly and say, 'Herein\n You missed a point, I think, through lack of love.'\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+Just as continuity in virtue strengthens and unifies character and\nmakes life a consistent and harmonious whole; so self-indulgence in\nvicious pleasures disorganizes a man's life and eats the heart out of\nhim.+--Corrupt means literally broken. The corrupt man has no soundness,\nno solidity, no unity in his life. He cannot respect himself. Others\ncannot put confidence in him. There is no principle binding each part of\nhis life to every other, and holding the whole together. The other words\nby which we describe such a life all spring from the same conception. We\ncall such a person dissolute; and dissolute means literally separated,\nloosed, broken apart. We call him dissipated; and dissipated means\nliterally scattered, torn apart, thrown away.\n\nThese forms of statement all point to the same fact, that the\nunscrupulous pleasure-seeker, the selfish, vicious man has no\nconsistent, continuous, coherent life whatever. \"The unity of his\nbeing,\" as Janet says, \"is lost in the multiplicity of his sensations.\"\nHis life is a mere series of disconnected fragments. There is no growth,\nno development. There is nothing on which he can look with approval; no\nconsistent career of devotion to worthy objective ends, the fruits of\nwhich can be witnessed in the improvement of the world in which he has\nlived, and stored up in the character which he has formed.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nGod.\n\n\nIn the last chapter we saw that the particular objects and duties which\nmake up our environment and moral life are not so many separate affairs;\nbut all have a common relation to the self, and its realization. We saw\nthat this common relation to the self gives unity to the world of\nobjects, the life of duty, the nature of virtue, and the character which\ncrowns right living.\n\nThere is, however, a deeper, more comprehensive unity in the moral world\nthan that which each man constructs for his individual self. The world\nof objects is included in a universal order. The several duties are\nparts of a comprehensive righteousness, which includes the acts of all\nmen within its rightful sway. The several virtues are so many aspects of\none all-embracing moral ideal. The rewards and penalties which follow\nvirtue and vice are the expression of a constitution of things which\nmakes for righteousness. The Being whose thought includes all objects in\none comprehensive universe of reason; whose will is uttered in the voice\nof duty; whose holiness is revealed in the highest ideal of virtue we\ncan form; and whose authority is declared in those eternal and\nindissoluble bonds which bind virtue and reward, vice and penalty,\ntogether, is God.\n\n\nTHE DUTY.\n\n+Communion with God is the safeguard of virtue, the secret of resistance\nto temptation, the source of moral and spiritual power.+--Our minds are\ntoo small to carry consciously and in detail; our wills are too frail to\nhold in readiness at every moment the principles and motives of moral\nconduct. God alone is great enough for this.\n\nWe can make him the keeper of our moral precepts and the guardian of our\nlives. And then when we are in need of guidance, help, and strength, we\ncan go to him, and by devoutly seeking to know and do his will, we can\nrecover the principles and reinforce the motives of right conduct that\nwe have intrusted to his keeping; and ofttimes we get, in addition,\nlarger views of duty and nobler impulses to virtue than we have ever\nconsciously possessed before. Just as the love of father or mother\nclarifies a child's perception of what is right, and intensifies his\nwill to do it, so the love of God has power to make us strong to resist\ntemptation, resolute to do our duty, and strenuous in the endeavor to\nadvance the kingdom of righteousness and love.\n\nInto the particular doctrines and institutions of religion it is not the\npurpose of this book to enter. These are matters which each individual\nlearns best from his own father and mother, and from the church in which\nhe has been brought up. Our account of ethics, however, would be\nseriously incomplete, were we to omit to point out the immense and\nindispensable strength and help we may gain for the moral life, by\napproaching it in the religious spirit.\n\n+Ethics and religion each needs the other.+--They are in reality, one\nthe detailed and particular, the other the comprehensive and universal\naspect of the same world of duty and virtue. Morality without religion\nis a cold, dry, dreary, mass of disconnected rules and requirements.\nReligion without morality, is an empty, formal, unsubstantial shadow.\nOnly when the two are united, only when we bring to the particular\nduties of ethics the infinite aspiration and inspiration of religion,\nand give to the universal forms of religion the concrete contents of\nhuman and temporal relationships, do we gain a spiritual life which is\nat the same time clear and strong, elevated and practical, ideal and\nreal.\n\n\nTHE VIRTUE.\n\n+Just as God includes all objects in his thought, all duties in his\nwill, all virtues in his ideal; so the man who communes with him, and\nsurrenders his will to him in obedience and trust and love, partakes of\nthis same wholeness and holiness.+--Loving God, he is led to love all\nthat God loves, to love all good. And holiness is the love of all that\nis good and the hatred of all that is evil.\n\nComplete holiness is not wrought out in its concrete relations all at\nonce, nor ever in this earthly life, by the religious, any more than by\nthe moral man. Temptations are frequent all along the way, and the falls\nmany and grievous to the last. But from all deliberately cherished\nidentification of his inmost heart and will with evil, the truly\nreligious man is forevermore set free. From the moment one's will is\nentirely surrendered to God, and the divine ideal of life and conduct is\naccepted, a new and holy life begins.\n\nOld temptations may surprise him into unrighteous deeds; old habits may\nstill assert themselves, old lusts may drift back on the returning tides\nof past associations; old vices may continue to crop out.\n\nIn reality, however, they are already dead. They are like the leaves\nthat continue to look green upon the branches of a tree that has been\ncut down; or the momentum of a train after the steam is shut off and the\nbrakes are on.\n\nGod, who is all-wise, sees that in such a man sin is in principle dead;\nand he judges him accordingly. If penitence for past sins and present\nfalls be genuine; if the desire to do his will be earnest; He takes the\nwill for the deed, penitence for performance, aspiration for attainment.\nSuch judgment is not merely merciful. It is just. Or rather, it is the\nblending of mercy and justice in love. It is judgment according to the\ndeeper, internal aspect of a man, instead of judgment according to the\nsuperficial, outward aspect. For the will is the center and core of\npersonality. What a man desires and strives for with all his heart,\nthat he is. What he repents of and repudiates with the whole strength of\nhis frail and imperfect nature, that he has ceased to be.\n\nThus religion, or whole-souled devotion to God, gives a sense of\ncompleteness, and attainment, and security, and peace, which mere\nethics, or adjustment to the separate fragmentary objects which\nconstitute our environment, can never give. The moral life is from its\nvery nature partial, fragmentary, and finite. The religious life by\npenitence and faith and hope and love, rises above the finite with its\nlimitations, and the temporal with its sins and failings, and lays hold\non the infinite ideal and the eternal goodness, with its boundless\nhorizon and its perfect peace. The religious life, like the moral, is\nprogressive. But, as Principal Caird remarks, \"It is progress, not\ntowards, but within, the infinite.\" Union with God in sincere devotion\nto his holy will, is the \"promise and potency\" of harmonious relations\nwith that whole ethical and spiritual universe which his thought and\nwill includes.\n\n\nTHE REWARD.\n\n+The reward of communion with God and comprehensive righteousness of\nconduct is spiritual life.+--The righteous man, the man who walks with\nGod, is in principle and purpose identified with every just cause, with\nevery step of human progress, with every sphere of man's well-being. To\nhim property is a sacred trust, time a golden opportunity, truth a\ndivine revelation, Nature the visible garment of God, humanity a holy\nbrotherhood, the family, society, and the state are God-ordained\ninstitutions, with God-given laws. Through the one fundamental devotion\nof his heart and will to God, the religious man is made a partaker in\nall these spheres of life in which the creative will of God is\nprogressively revealed. All that is God's belong to the religious man.\nFor he is God's child. And all these things are his inheritance.\n\nTo the religious man, therefore, there is open a boundless career for\nservice, sacrifice, devotion and appropriation. Every power, every\naffection, every aspiration within him has its counterpart in the\noutward universe. The universe is his Father's house; and therefore his\nown home. All that it contains are so many opportunities for the\ndevelopment and realization of his God-given nature.\n\nTo dwell in active, friendly, loving relation to all that is without; to\nbe\n\n wedded to this goodly universe\n In love and holy passion,\n\nto be heirs with God of the spiritual riches it contains: this is life\nindeed. \"The gift of God is eternal life.\"\n\n+Religion is the crown and consummation of ethics.+--Religion gathers up\ninto their unity the scattered fragments of duty and virtue which it has\nbeen the aim of our ethical studies to discern apart. Religion presents\nas the will of the all-wise, all-loving Father, those duties and virtues\nwhich ethics presents as the conditions of our own self-realization.\nReligion is the perfect circle of which the moral virtues are the\nconstituent arcs. Fullness of life is the reward of righteousness, the\ngift of God, the one comprehensive good, of which the several rewards\nwhich follow the practice of particular duties and virtues are the\nconstituent elements.\n\n\nTHE TEMPTATION.\n\n+The universal will of God, working in conformity with impartial law,\nand seeking the equal good of all, often seems to be in sharp conflict\nwith the interests of the individual self.+--If his working is\nirresistible we are tempted to repine and rebel. If his will is simply\ndeclared, and left for us to carry out by the free obedience of our\nwills, then we are tempted to sacrifice the universal good to which the\ndivine will points, and to assert instead some selfish interest of our\nown. Self-will is, from the religious point of view, the form of all\ntemptation. The ends at which God aims when he bids us sacrifice our\nimmediate private interests are so remote that they seem to us unreal;\nand often they are so vast that we fail to comprehend them at all. In\nsuch crises faith alone can save us--faith to believe that God is wiser\nthan we are, faith to believe that his universal laws are better than\nany private exceptions we can make in our own interest, faith to\nbelieve that the universal good is of more consequence than our\nindividual gain. Such faith is hard to grasp and difficult to maintain;\nand consequently the temptation of self-will is exceedingly seductive,\nand is never far from any one of us.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF DEFECT.\n\n+Sin is short-coming, missing the mark of our true being, which is to be\nfound only in union with God.+--Sin is the attempt to live apart from\nGod, or as if there were no God. It is transgression of his laws. It is\nthe attempt to make a world of our own, from which in whole or in part\nwe try to exclude God, and escape the jurisdiction of his laws. All\nwrong-doing, all vice, all neglect of duty, is in reality a violation of\nthe divine will. But not until the individual comes to recognize the\ndivine will, and in spite of this recognition that all duty is divine,\ndeliberately turns aside from God and duty together, does vice become\nsin.\n\n\nTHE VICE OF EXCESS.\n\n+Devotion to God as distinct from or in opposition to devotion to those\nconcrete duties and human relationship wherein the divine will is\nexpressed, is hypocrisy.+--\"If a man say I love God and hateth his\nbrother he is a liar: for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath\nseen, cannot love God whom he hath not seen.\"\n\nPure religion begins in faith and ends in works. It draws from God the\ninspiration to serve in righteousness and love our fellow-men. If faith\nstop short of God, and rest in church, or creed, or priest; if work stop\nshort of actual service of our fellow-men, and rest in splendor of\nritual or glow of pious feeling, or orthodoxy of belief; then our\nreligion becomes a vain and hollow thing, and we become Pharisees and\nhypocrites.\n\n\nTHE PENALTY.\n\n+The wages of sin is death.+--The penalty of each particular vice we\nhave seen to be the dwarfing, stunting, decay, and deadening of that\nparticular side of our nature that is effected by it. Intemperance\nbrings disease; wastefulness brings want; cruelty brings brutality;\nugliness brings coarseness; exclusiveness brings isolation; treason\nbrings anarchy. Just in so far as one cuts himself off from the moral\norder which is the expression of God's will; just in so far as there is\nsin, there is privation, deadening, and decay. As long as we live in\nthis world it is impossible to live an utterly vicious life; to cut\nourselves off completely from God and his order and his laws. To do that\nwould be instant death. The man who should embody all the vices and none\nof the virtues, would be intolerable to others, unendurable even to\nhimself. The penalty of an all-round life of vice and sin would be\ngreater than man could endure and live. This fearful end is seldom\nreached in this life. Some redeeming virtues save even the worst of men\nfrom this full and final penalty of sin. The man, however, who\ndeliberately rejects God as his friend and guide to righteous living;\nthe man who deliberately makes self-will and sin the ruling principle of\nhis life, is started on a road, which, if followed to the end, leads\ninevitably to death. He is excluding himself from that sphere of good,\nthat career of service and devotion, wherein alone true life is to be\nfound. He is banishing himself to that outer darkness which is our\nfigurative expression for the absence of all those rewards of virtue and\nthe presence of all those penalties of vice which our previous studies\nhave brought to our attention. \"Sin, when it is full-grown, bringeth\nforth death.\" \"The wages of sin is death.\"\n\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX.\n\n\n Abstinence, total, 14-16\n\n Adulteration, 47\n\n Affectation, 86, 87\n\n Alcibiades, on personal appearance, 22\n\n Ambition, true and false, 164\n\n Amusement, 28;\n seeking, 30\n\n Animals, 98\n\n Anxiety, 63\n\n Aristotle, on friendship, 137;\n on pleasure, 187\n\n Arnold, M., on insincerity, 105;\n on \"quiet work,\" 39\n\n Art, 89\n\n Asceticism, 12\n\n\n Bashfulness, 106\n\n Beauty, 90, 92;\n how to cultivate the love of, 91;\n ideal of, 89\n\n Benevolence, 118\n\n Betrayal, 141\n\n Betting, a form of gambling, 78\n\n Brothers, duties of, 145\n\n Browning, Mrs. E. B., on self-centered virtue, 192\n\n Browning, Robert, on strength, 72;\n on love, 115\n\n Building and loan associations, 42\n\n\n Caird, John, on morality and religion, 198\n\n Carelessness, 68, 69\n\n Carlyle, Thomas, on human fellowship, 156;\n on work, 32\n\n Character, 182, 184\n\n Charity, 118\n\n Cheating, 48\n\n Childhood, 40\n\n Children, duty of, to their parents, 145\n\n Civilization rests on law, 161\n\n Coleridge, S. T., on kindness to animals, 101\n\n Confidence, 56\n\n Conflict of duties, 191\n\n Conscience, absolute authority of, 181\n\n Conscientiousness, 180, 182\n\n Constraint, 176\n\n Co-operation, 170;\n two kinds of, 171\n\n Co-ordination, 60\n\n Courage, 73, 75;\n moral, 74\n\n Cowardice, moral, 76;\n the shame of, 79\n\n Craik, Mrs. D. M., on marriage, 147\n\n Cruelty, 102, 103\n\n Cynicism regarding appearance, 21\n\n\n Death, the wages of sin, 202\n\n Debility, the penalty of neglected exercise, 31\n\n Debt, 43\n\n Devotion of husband and wife, 152\n\n Discord, 64\n\n Disease, 17, 18\n\n Dishonesty, 49\n\n Dissipation, 193\n\n Dissoluteness, 193\n\n Divorce, 148\n\n Dress, 19, 20, 21\n\n Drink, 9\n\n Drunkenness, 13\n\n Dude, the, 23\n\n Duties, conflict of, 191\n\n Duty, 2, 187\n\n\n Economy, 42\n\n Effusiveness, 142\n\n Eliot, George, on sympathy, 110;\n on happiness, 188\n\n Emerson, R. W., on friendship, 140, 143\n\n Energy, the value of superfluous, 26\n\n Ennui, 30\n\n Enjoyment, the only true, 86\n\n Epicurus, on the duty of friends, 139\n\n Equivalence in trade, 46\n\n Ethics, 1\n\n Ethics and religion, 196\n\n Example, responsibility for, 15\n\n Exchange, 46\n\n Excitement, 27\n\n Exclusiveness, 142\n\n Exercise, necessity of, 25\n\n\n Faith, 200\n\n Falsehood, the forms of, 57\n\n Family, the, 144\n\n Fastidiousness, 23\n\n Fellowship, 104\n\n Food, 9\n\n Foolhardiness, 77\n\n Forgiveness, 130\n\n Formalism, 190\n\n Fortune, 70\n\n Freedom is complete self-expression, 173\n\n Friendship, 137\n\n\n Gambling, 78\n\n Games, value of, 26\n\n Gluttony, 13\n\n God, 194\n\n Golden Rule, the, 107\n\n Gossip, the mischievousness of, 57\n\n\n Habit, 3\n\n Harmony, 90\n\n Hegel, on duty in personal relations, 2\n\n Heredity, 51\n\n Hill, Octavia, on benevolence, 120\n\n Holiness, 196\n\n Home, 149, 150\n\n Honesty, 47\n\n Hospitality, 105\n\n Husband and wife, 149\n\n Hypocrisy, 105, 201\n\n\n Ideal of Beauty, 89\n\n Idleness, 33\n\n Independence, 150, 151, 152\n\n Indorsing notes, 50\n\n Indiscriminate charity, 125\n\n Individualism, 150, 153, 154\n\n Industry, 35\n\n Isolation, 143\n\n\n Janet, Paul, on dissipation, 193\n\n Justice, 128\n\n\n Kant, on humanity an end, 106;\n on importance of social relations, 109;\n on a lie, 59;\n on universality as test of conduct, 169\n\n Keats on beauty, 93\n\n Kindness, 100\n\n Knowledge, 53\n\n\n Law, uniformity of, 70\n\n Laziness, the slavery of, 37;\n leads to poverty, 39\n\n Lenity, 134, 135;\n its effect on the offender, 135\n\n Life insurance, 42\n\n Loneliness, 156\n\n Love, 106, 107, 108, 111\n\n Lowell, J. R., on success, 173\n\n Loyalty, 148\n\n Luxury, the perversion of beauty, 93\n\n Lying, 58, 59\n\n\n Marriage, 146, 153\n\n Marshall, J., on conformity to rule, 191\n\n Martineau, on censoriousness, 58\n\n Maudsley, on hereditary effects of dishonesty, 51\n\n Meanness, 51, 174, 175, 177\n\n Mill, John Stuart, on pleasure, 187;\n unity with fellow-men, 108\n\n Miserliness, 44, 45\n\n Moral courage, 74\n\n Moroseness, 29\n\n Morris, William, on simplicity of life, 92\n\n\n Nature, 81\n\n Neatness, 20\n\n Niggardliness, 124\n\n Notes, indorsement of, 50\n\n\n Obtuseness, 86, 87\n\n Officiousness, 176\n\n Old age, provision for, 40\n\n Opium habit, 16\n\n Orderliness, 66\n\n Organization, the function of the state, 157\n\n Overwork, the folly of, 38\n\n\n Parents, duties of, to children, 145\n\n Party, political, 160\n\n Patriotism, 160\n\n Peace, 198\n\n Perfection, 90\n\n Place for everything, 65\n\n Plato, on virtue and vice, 6;\n refutation of the Cynic, 22;\n on obedience to laws, 159\n\n Pleasure, 71, 186\n\n Politeness, 172\n\n Politician, and statesman, 161\n\n Potter, Bishop, on giving, 119\n\n Poverty, the causes of, 117\n\n Pride, 142\n\n Prigs, 182\n\n Procrastination, 62\n\n Profit-sharing, 170\n\n Property, 40\n\n Prudence, 61\n\n Public spirit, 171\n\n Punishment, the function of, 128;\n good for the wrong-doer, 129\n\n\n Quackery, 49\n\n\n Raffling, a form of gambling, 78\n\n Red-tape, 68\n\n Reformation, 131\n\n Reformer, 170\n\n Religion, 195, 198\n\n Religion and ethics, 196, 199\n\n Reward of virtue, 4\n\n Rich, the idle, 33\n\n Rights, our own, 50;\n of others, 158\n\n Royce, J., on regarding others as persons, 107, 169\n\n Rules, 183, 191\n\n Ruskin, John, on the home, 150;\n on truth, 54\n\n\n Saving, systematic, 41, 43\n\n Savings-banks, 42\n\n Scandal, the mischievousness of, 57\n\n Scott, Sir Walter, on deceit, 56\n\n Selfishness, 112;\n the penalty of, 115\n\n Self-indulgence, 192\n\n Self-interest, 174\n\n Self-obliteration for the sake of family, 154, 155\n\n Self-realization, 179\n\n Self-righteousness, 192\n\n Self-will, 200\n\n Sentimentality, 113, 114\n\n Severity, 133, 135;\n effect of, on the offender, 135\n\n Shakespeare, on music, 95\n\n Simplicity of life, 92\n\n Sin, 201\n\n Sisters, duties of, 145\n\n Slavery, 178\n\n Slovenliness, 22, 23\n\n Social ideal, 170\n\n Society, 167\n\n Social responsibility, 15\n\n Socrates, on obedience to law, 159\n\n Soft places, to be avoided, 36\n\n Space, 65\n\n Speculation, a form of gambling, 79\n\n Spencer, Herbert, on abundant energy, 27;\n on deficient energy, 29\n\n Spendthrift, the, 45\n\n Spinoza, on the difficulty of excellence, 97\n\n Spiritual life, the reward of righteousness, 198\n\n \"Spoils system,\" 162\n\n Sports, value of, 26\n\n Stagnation, 87\n\n State, developed out of the family, 157\n\n Statesman and politician, 161\n\n Stealing, 48\n\n Stoicism, 71, 110\n\n Strength, the secret of, 72\n\n Strife, the penalty of selfishness, 115\n\n Success, 173\n\n Superiority to fortune, the secret of, 71\n\n Sympathy, 123\n\n System, 66, 67\n\n\n Temperance, 10-15\n\n Temptation, 5\n\n Terence, oneness of individual with humanity, 106\n\n Time, 60\n\n Tobacco, 16, 17\n\n Trade, importance of learning a, 34\n\n ----, equivalence in, 46\n\n Tranquillity, 39\n\n Treason, 163\n\n Truth, 53, 54\n\n\n Ugliness, 94\n\n Unscrupulousness, 189\n\n\n Vengeance, 131, 132\n\n Veracity, 55\n\n Vice, 5\n\n Virtue, 3\n\n Vulgarity, akin to laziness, 96\n\n\n Wastefulness, 44, 45\n\n Wealth, 36\n\n Well-being, the conditions of, 118\n\n Whitman, Walt, on the feelings of animals, 99\n\n Whittier, J. G., on acting contrary to convictions, 79\n\n Wife, and husband, 149\n\n Woman's sphere, 34\n\n Wordsworth, on books, 53;\n on courage, 75;\n on the influence of Nature, 82, 83, 84;\n on neglecting Nature, 85;\n on cruelty to animals, 102\n\n Work, 32, 35\n\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:\n\n\nThe following words appear with and without hyphens. They have been left\nas in the original.\n\n life-long lifelong\n Profit-sharing profit sharing\n Red-tape red tape\n short-coming shortcoming\n wrong-doer wrongdoer\n wrong-doers wrongdoers\n wrong-doing wrongdoing\n\nThe following corrections were made to the text:\n\n page 13: Alcoholic[original has Alchoholic] drink produces\n\n page 15: moderate use of alcoholic[original has alchoholic]\n drinks\n\n page 28: form of recreation becomes indispensable[original has\n indispensaable]\n\n page 55: that we withhold[original has withold] the truth\n\n page 58: the worst pest that infests[original has invests]\n\n page 62: for to-morrow we die.[original has comma]\n\n page 70: by invariable laws.[original has comma] Every event\n\n page 101: give it the reasonable[original has resonable]\n attention\n\n page 106: letters, or philanthropy[original has philanthrophy]\n or social problems\n\n page 113: on hand wherever[original has whereever] there is a\n chance\n\n page 122: THE REWARD.[original has comma]\n\n page 133: the offender which metes[original has meets] out to\n him\n\n page 148: demonstrate the utter impossibility[original has\n impossibilty]\n\n page 177: with which he identifies[original has indentifies]\n himself\n\n page 191: we may withhold[original has withold] facts in\n violation\n\n page 197: falls many and grievous[original has grevious] to\n the last\n\n page 198: in principle and purpose identified[original has\n indentified] with\n\n page 206: index entry for Gluttony was put in alphabetic\n order[original has it listed after Gossip]\n\n page 206: Hypocrisy, 105, 201[original has 105-201]\n\n page 206: Marriage, 146, 156[original has viii and ix listed\n as well--page viii is blank and page ix does not exist]\n\n page 207: Obscenity, viii[entry removed because page viii is\n blank]\n\n page 207: Parents, duties of, to children, 145[reference to\n page vi removed--page vi is part of the outline]\n\n page 207: Purity, viii[entry removed because page viii is\n blank]\n\n page 207: index entries for Reformer and Religion separated\n and semi-colon removed[original has Reformer, 170; Religion,\n 195, 198]\n\n page 207: Sensuality, ix[entry removed because there is no\n page ix]\n\n page 207: Sexual passions, vii[entry removed--page vii is part\n of the outline]\n\nIn the index, there is an entry for \"Craik, Mrs. D. M.\" Her name is not\nmentioned in the book, but she is the author of \"John Halifax,\nGentleman\" which is referenced on page 147.","title":"Practical Ethics","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":48728}