A little girl four years old came trembling to her mother and asked for
pencil and paper. Then, teeth set and eyes flashing, she pounced on the
paper and began to make all sorts of vicious marks. Asked what she was
doing, she said she was writing a letter to a sister who had offended
her by an act that had been misunderstood. "She is not a nice girl," the
little critic said, "and I'm telling her so. I don't like her any more,
and I'm saying that." As she wrote her hand trembled; she was carried
away by her unpleasant emotion. After a few moments, unable to go on
with her self-appointed task, she flung herself, sobbing, into her
mother's arms and for half an hour she could not control herself.
The sight was pitiful. But far more pitiful is the spectacle of one old
enough to know better who yields to vexation and hatred, thereby not
only making himself disagreeable, but robbing himself of power to
perform the duties of the hour. For there is nothing so exhausting as
uncontrolled emotion. There is so much for each one of us to do, and
every ounce of strength is needed by those who would play their part in
the world. Then what spendthrift folly it is to waste needed power on
emotion that is disquieting, disagreeable and disgraceful!
That lesson was never impressed more forcibly than by a French officer
of whom a visitor from America asked, "Did I understand that you had
lost three sons?" "Yes, sir, and two brothers," was the proud reply.
"How you must hate the Boche," remarked a bystander. "No, no," was the
instant reply, "not hate; just pity, sir; pity, but not hate. Hate, you
know, is an excessive emotion, sir; and no one can do effective work if
he spends his vitality in an excess of emotion. No," he concluded, "we
cannot hate; we cannot work if we burn up ourselves inside. Pity, sir;
pity. 'They know not what they do.' That's the idea. And they don't."
The same lesson of self-restraint was taught by Marshal Foch in his
words to the soldiers of France. He urged them to keep their eyes and
ears ready and their mouths "in the safety notch"; and he told them they
must obey orders first and kick afterwards if they had been wronged. He
said, "Bear in mind that the enemy is your enemy and the enemy of
humanity until he is killed or captured; then he is your dear brother
or fellow soldier beaten or ashamed, whom you should no further
humiliate." He told them that it was necessary to keep their heads clear
and cool, to be of good cheer, to suffer in silence, to dread defeat,
but not wounds, to fear dishonor, but not death, and to die game.
Because so many of the soldiers under him heeded this wise admonition,
they did not waste their precious strength on useless and harmful
emotions, but they were ever ready to go to their task, with the motto
of their division, "It shall be done."
What a blessing it will be to the world that millions of young men were
trained in France to repress hurtful emotion, to exercise
self-restraint--which may be defined as the act or process of holding
back or hindering oneself from harmful thoughts or actions. And what a
wonderful thing it will be if the lesson is passed on to us, so that we
shall not be like the torrent that wastes its power by rushing and
brawling over the stones, all to no purpose, but like the harnessed
stream whose energy is made to turn the wheels of factory and mill. For
only guarded and guided strength is useful and safe.