such judgment which differentiates it from other sentiments.
"If we wished to appeal to common sense we should acknowledge, too often,
that in the search for expansion we have only recognized the opportunity
to satisfy the inclination which urges us to seek for pleasure.
"Sentiment reasons, and is capable of devotion. Sentimentality excludes
reflective thought and ignores generosity.
"We are capable of sacrificing ourselves for sentiment.
"Sentimentality exacts the sacrifice of others.
"Therefore, profiting by the principles already developed, he who
cultivates common sense will never fail to reason in the following
manner:
"Opening the symbolic fan, he will encounter, after perfection, the
memory which will suggest to him the recollections of personal and
strange experiences and he will record this fact: abegation is rarely
encountered.
"The inclination of our thoughts will suggest to us the difficulties
there are in searching for it.
"Deduction will acquaint us with the temerity of this exaction, and
precaution will attract our thoughts to the possibility of suffering
which could proceed from disillusion.
"Following this, reasoning and judgment will intervene in order to hasten
the conclusion formulated by common sense.
"It follows then that, abnegation being so rare, common sense indicates
to me that it would be imprudent for me to allow my happiness to rest
upon the existence of a thing so exceptional.
"For this reason this sentimental defect will find common sense armed
against this eventuality.
"There is another form or sentimentality not less common.
"It is that which extends itself to all the circumstances of life and
transforms true pity into a false sensibility, the exaggeration of which
deteriorates the true value of things.
"Those who give publicity to this form of sentiment are agitated (or
imagine themselves to be agitated) as profoundly on the most futile of
pretexts as for the most important cause.
"They do not think to ask themselves if their ardor is merited; also
every such experience, taking out of them something of their inner
selves, leaves them enfeebled and stranded.
"Every excursion into the domain of sentimentality is particularly
dangerous, for tourists always fail to carry with them the necessary
coinage which one calls common sense."
After having put ourselves on guard against the surprizes of mental
exaggeration, Yoritomo warns us of a kind of high respectable
sentimentality which we possess, that is none the less censurable
because under an exterior of the purest tenderness it conceals a
profound egotism.
It concerns paternal love from which reasoning and common sense
are excluded.
"Nothing" said he, "seems more noble than the love of parents for their
children, and no sentiment is more august when it is comprehended in all
its grandeur.
"But how many people are apt to distinguish it from an egotistical
sentimentality.
"I have seen some mothers oppose the departure of their sons, preferring
to oblige them to lead an obscure existence near to them, rather than
impose upon themselves the sorrow of a separation.
"These women do not fail to condemn the action of others, who, filled
with a sublime abnegation, allow their children to depart, hiding from
them the tears which they shed, because they have the conviction of
seeing them depart for the fortune and the happiness which they feel
themselves unable to offer them.
"Which of these are worthy of admiration? Those who condemn their
children to a life of mediocrity in order to obey an egotistical
sentimentality, or those who, with despair in their hearts, renounce the
joy of their presence, and think only of their own grief in order to
build upon it the happiness of their dear ones.
"The common sense of this latter class inspiring in them this magnificent
sentiment, and forcing them to set aside a sentimentality which is, in
reality, only the caricature of sentiment, has permitted them to escape
that special kind of egotism, which could be defined thus: The
translation of a desire for personal contentment.
"Ought we then to blame others so strongly?
"It is necessary, above all, to teach them to reason about the ardor of
their emotions, and only to follow them when they find that they are
cleansed from all aspiration which is not a pledge of devotion."
Now the Shogun speaks to us with that subtlety of analysis which is
characteristic and refers to a kind of sentimentality the most frequent
and the least excusable.
"There are," he tells us, "a number of people who, without knowing that
they offend common sense in a most indefensible manner, invoke
sentimentality in order to dispense with exercising the most vulgar pity,
to the profit of their neighbor.
"A prince," he continues, "possest a large? tract of land which he had
put under grain.
"For the harvest, a large number of peasants and laborers were employed
and each one lived on the products of his labor.
"But a prolonged drought threatened the crop; so the prince's overseer
dismissed most of the laborers, who failed to find employment in the
parched country.
"Soon hunger threatened the inmates of the miserable dwellings, and
sickness, its inseparable companion, did not fail to follow.
"Facing the conditions the prince left, and had it not been for two
or three wealthy and charitable people the laborers would have
starved to death.
"This pitiful condition was soon changed, abundance replaced famine, and
the master returned to live in his domain.
"But amazement followed when he addrest his people as follows: Here I am,
back among you, and I hope to remain here a long time; if I left you, it
was because I have so great an affection for all my servants and because
even the bare thought of seeing them suffer caused me unbearable sorrow.
"I am not among those who are sufficiently hard-hearted to be able to
take care of sick and suffering people and to be a witness of their
martyrdom. My pity is too keen to permit of my beholding this spectacle;
this is why I had to leave to others, less sensitive, the burden of care
which my too tender heart was unable to lavish on you."
And that which is more terrible is that this man believed what he said.
He did not understand the monstrous rent which he made in the robe of
common sense, by declaring that he had committed the vilest act of
cruelty due to excessive sensitiveness since it represented a murderous
act of omission.
Examples of this form of sentimentality are more numerous than we think.
There exist people who cover their dogs with caresses, gorging them with
dainties, and will take good care not to succor the needy.
Others faint away at sight of an accident and never think of giving aid
to the wounded.
One may observe that for people exercising sentimentality at the expense
of common sense, the greatest catastrophe in intensity, if it be far away
from us, diminishes, while the merest incident, a little out of the
ordinary, affects them in a most immoderate manner if it be produced in
the circle of their acquaintances.
It is needless to add that, if it touches them directly, it becomes an
unparalleled calamity; it seems that the rest of the world must be
troubled by it.
This propensity toward pitying oneself unreasonably about little things
which relate to one directly and this exaggerated development of a
sterile sentimentality are almost always artificial, and the instinct of
self-preservation very often aids in their extermination.
"Among my old disciples," pursues the Shogun, "I had a friend whose son
was afflicted by this kind of sentimentality, the sight of blood made him
faint and he was incapable of aiding any one whomsoever; that which he
called his good heart, and which was only a form of egotistical
sentimentality, prevented him from looking at the suffering of others.
"One day, a terrible earthquake destroyed his palace; he escaped, making
his way through the ruins and roughly pushing aside the wounded who told
about it afterward.
"I saw him some days after; instead of reproaching him severely for his
conduct, I endeavored to make him see how false was his conception of
pity, since, not only had he not fainted at the sight of those who,
half-dead, were groaning, but he had found in the egotistical sentiment
of self-preservation the strength to struggle against those who clung to
him, beseeching him for help.
"I demonstrated to him the evident contradiction of his instinctive
cruelty to the sentimentality that it pleased him to make public.
"I made an appeal to common sense, in order to prove to him the attitude
which he had, until then, assumed, and I had the joy of seeing myself
understood.
"My arguments appealed to his mentality, and always afterward, when he
had the opportunity to bring puerile sentimentality and common sense face
to face, he forced himself to appeal to that quality, which in revealing
to him the artifice of the sentiment which animated him, cured him of
false sensibility, which he had displayed up to that time."
Sentimentality is in reality only a conception of egotism, under the
different forms which it adopts.
Yoritomo proves it to us again, in speaking of the weakness of certain
teachers, who, under the pretext of avoiding trouble, allow their
children to follow their defective inclinations.
"It is by an instinctive hatred of effort that parents forbid themselves
to make their children cry when reprimanding them," said he.
"If the parents wish to be sincere to themselves, they will perceive that
the sorrow in seeing their children's tears flow, plays a very small part
in their preconceived idea of indulgence.
"It is in order to economize their own nervous energy or to avoid
cleverly the trouble of continued teaching, that they hesitate to provoke
these imaginary miseries, the manifestation of which is caused by the
great weakness of the teachers.
"Common sense, nevertheless, ought to make them understand that it is
preferable to allow the little ones to shed a few tears, which are
quickly dried, rather than to tolerate a deplorable propensity for these
habits which, later in life, will cause them real anxiety."
And the philosopher concludes:
"A very little reasoning could suffice to convince one of the dangers of
sentimentality, if the persons who devote themselves entirely to it
consented to reflect, by frankly agreeing to the true cause which
produces it.
"They would discover in this false pity the desire not to disturb their
own tranquility.
"They would also perceive that, in order to spare themselves a few
unpleasant moments in the present they are preparing for themselves great
sorrow for the future.
"In parental affection, as in friendship or in the emotions of
love, sentimentality is none other than an exaggerated amplification
of the ego.
"If it be true that all our acts, even those most worthy of approbation,
can react in our personality, at least it is necessary that we should be
logical and that, in order to create for ourselves a partial happiness or
to avoid a temporary annoyance, we should not prepare for ourselves an
existence, outlined by deception and fruitless regrets.
"Sentimentality and its derivatives, puerile pity and false
sensitiveness, can create illusion for those who do not practise the art
of reasoning, but the friends of common sense do not hesitate to condemn
them for it.
"In spite of the glitter in which it parades itself, sentimentality will
never be anything but the dross of true sentiment."
LESSON VI
THE UTILITY OF COMMON SENSE IN DAILY LIFE
As our philosopher explains, the influence of common sense is above all
appreciation of daily events. "We have," he continues, "very rarely in
life the opportunity of making grave decisions, but we are called upon
daily to resolve unimportant problems, and we can only do it in a
judicious way, if we are allowed to devote ourselves to certain kinds of
investigation.
"This is what may be called to judge with discrimination, otherwise, with
common sense.
"Without this faculty, it is in vain that our memory amasses the
materials, which must serve us in the comparative examination of facts.
"And this examination can only be spoiled by decrepitude, if common sense
did not succeed in dictating its conclusions to us.
"Thanks to this faculty, we possess this accuracy of mind which permits
us to discern truth from falsehood.
"It is this power which aids us in distinguishing what we should consider
as a duty, as a right, or as a thing conforming to equity, established by
the laws of intelligence.
"Without common sense we should be like an inexperienced gardener, who,
for want of knowledge, would allow the tares to grow and would neglect
the plants whose function is to nourish man.
"In order to conform to the habit of judging with common sense, one ought
first to lay down the following principle:
"No fact can exist, unless there is a sufficient motive to determine
its nature.
"It is when operating on the elements furnished us by common sense that
we are able to discern the quality of the object of our attention.
"One day, a sage, whom people gladly consulted, was asked by what means
he had learned to know so well the exact proportion of things, so that he
never failed to attribute to them their real value.
"'Why' they added, 'can you foresee so exactly the evil and direct us to
that which is right and just?'
"And the superstitious people added:
"'Are you not in communication with the spirits, which float in space,
which come from the other world?
"Would you not be counseled by voices which we have not the power to
hear, and do you not see things which are visible to you alone?'
"'You are right,' replied the saintly man, smiling:
"'I have indeed the power to hear and to see that which you do not
perceive; but sorcery has no relation to the power which is
attributed to me.
"If you wish, you will be able to possess it in your turn, for my means
are not a secret.
"'I keep my eyes and ears open.'
"And as every one burst out laughing, believing it a joke, the sage
began again:
"'But this is not all; after having seen and heard, I call to my aid all
the qualities which constitute common sense and, thanks to this faculty,
I draw my conclusions from my experience, from which enthusiasm, fancy,
as well as personal interest are totally excluded.
"'This done, and my judgment being formulated in my thought, I adapt it
to the circumstances, and especially to the material situation and to the
mentality of those who consult me.'
"From these counsels," thinks the Shogun, "we must draw a precious
lesson.
"It is true that an exigency, physical or moral, can determine, in
different individuals, a very different resolution.
"According to the manner of life adopted, or the direction given to one's
duties, different resolutions can be made without lacking common sense.
It is indisputable that what represents social obligations does not
demand the same conduct from the peasant as from the prince.
"We should outrage common sense in presenting a workman with a gorgeous
robe suitable for great ceremonies, in which to do his work, but reason
would be equally outraged if one put on a shabby costume to go to the
palace of the Mikado."
The nature of resolutions inspired by common sense varies according to
environment, the time, and the state of mind in which one is.
These conditions make of this quality a virtue really worth acquiring,
for it is more difficult to conquer than many others and its effects are
of infinite variety.
But as always, Yoritomo, after having signaled the danger, and indicated
the remedy, gives us the manner of its application.
That which follows is marked by that simplicity of conception and
facility of execution which render the doctrine of the Nippon philosopher
absolutely efficacious.
Instead of losing himself by digressing from his subject and by placing
himself on the summits of psychology, he remains with us, puts himself on
the level of the most humble among us, and says to us all:
"The best way to use common sense in daily life consists in declaring
one's honest intentions.
"What should I do if I were in the place of the person with whom I am
discussing?
"I found myself one day on the slope of a hill named Yung-Tshi, and I
remarked that the majority of the trees were stript of their foliage.
"The season seeming to me not sufficiently advanced for this condition of
vegetation, I exprest my astonishment to a passer-by, who replied to me:
"'Alas! This occurs every year at the same time, and it is not well to
cultivate trees on the height of Yung-Tshi, for the sun, being too hot,
dries them up before the time when the foliage ought to fall.'
"A few days afterward my steps lead me on the opposite slope of the
same hill.
"There the trees were covered with foliage, still green but uncommon, and
their appearance indicated an unhealthy condition of growth.
"'Alas!' said a man who was working in the hedges to me, 'it is not well
to cultivate trees on the height of Tung-Tshi, for the sun never shines
there, and they can only acquire the vigor they would possess if they
were planted in another country.'
"And, altho recognizing the truth of these two opinions, so
contradictory, I could not help thinking that they were the reproduction
of those which men, deprived of common sense, express every day.
"The same hill produced a vegetation, affected in different ways, by
reason of different causes; and the people, instead of taking into
consideration how carelessly they had chosen the location of their
plantation, preferred to attribute the defect to the site itself, rather
than to their lack of precaution.
"Both of them were suffering from a hurtful exaggeration, but each one
explained it in a way arbitrarily exclusive.
"He of the north made out that the sun never shone on the summit of
Yung-Tshi, and the inhabitant of the south affirmed that the
health-giving shade was unknown there."
This is why it is indispensable to the successful resolution of the
thousand and one problems of daily life, both those whose sole importance
is derived from their multiplicity and those whose seriousness justly
demands our attention, to employ the very simple method which prescribes
that we place ourselves mentally in the position and circumstances of the
person with whom we are discussing.
If each one of the inhabitants of Yung-Tshi had followed this precept,
instead of declaring that the hill never received the sun or that shade
never fell upon it, they would each one have thought for himself.
"At what conclusions should I arrive, if I had planted my trees on the
opposite side?"
From the reasoning which would have ensued, the following truth would
most certainly have been revealed.
"If I were in the other man's place, I should certainly think as he
does."
This premise once laid down, the conclusion would be reached; all the
more exact, because, without abandoning their arguments, each one would
present those which it is easy to turn against an adversary.
Before solving a problem, he who desires to avoid making a mistake must
never fail to ask himself this question:
What should I do if my interests were those of the opposite party?
Or, yet again:
What should I reply if my adversaries used the same language to me as I
purpose using when addressing them?
This method is valuable in that it raises unexpected objections, which
the mind would not consider if one had simply studied the question from
one's own point of view.
It is a self-evident fact that, according to the state of mind in which
we are, things assume different proportions in the rendering of
judgment on them.
We must not argue as children do, who, not having the sense of
calculating distances, ask how the man standing near to them will be able
to enter his house, which they see far away, and which seems to them of
microscopic dimensions.
One departs from common sense when one attributes to insignificant things
a fundamental value.
We neglect to consider it in a most serious way when we adopt principles
contrary to the general consensus of opinion accredited in the
environment in which we are living.
"A high dignitary of the court," says Yoritomo, "would be lacking in
common sense if he wished to conduct himself as a peasant and, on the
other hand, a peasant would give a proof of great folly were he to
attempt the remodeling of his life on the principles adopted by
courtiers.
"He who, passing his life in camps, wished to think and to act like the
philosopher, whose books are his principal society, would cause people to
doubt his wisdom; and the thinker who should adopt publicly the methods
of a swashbuckler would only inspire contempt."
In ordinary life, one ought to consider this faculty of common sense as
the ruling principle of conduct.
One can be lacking in thought, in audacity, in brilliant qualities, if
only one possesses common sense.
It takes the place of intelligence in many people, whose minds,
unaccustomed to subtle argument, only lend themselves to very simple
reasoning.
A versatile mentality rarely belongs to such minds, because it is not
their forte to unfold hidden truths.
It walks in the light and keeps in the very middle of the road, far from
the ambushes which may be concealed by the hedges of the cross-roads.
Many people gifted with common sense but deprived of ordinary
intelligence have amassed a fortune, but never, no matter how clever he
may be, has a man known success, if he has not strictly observed the laws
of common sense.
It is not only in debates that the presence of this virtue should make
itself felt, but every act of our life should be impregnated with it.
There are no circumstances, no matter how insignificant they may appear,
where the intervention of common sense would be undesirable.
It is only common sense which will indicate the course of conduct to be
pursued, so as not to hurt the feelings or offend the prejudices of
other people.
There are great savants, whose science, freed from all puerile beliefs,
rises above current superstition.
They would consider it a great lack of common sense if they expounded
their theories before the humble-minded, whose blind faith would be
injured thereby.
Of two things one is certain: either they would refuse to believe such
theories and this display of learning would be fruitless, or their
habitual credulity would be troubled and they would lose their
tranquility without acquiring a conviction sufficiently strong to give
them perfect peace of mind.
Even in things which concern health, common sense is applicable to
daily life.
It is common sense which will preserve us from excesses, by establishing
the equilibrium of the annoyances which result from them, with reference
to the doubtful pleasure which they procure.
Thanks to common sense, we shall avoid the weariness of late nights and
the danger of giving oneself up to the delights of dissipation.
"It is common sense," says the philosopher, "which forces us at a banquet
to raise our eyes to the hour-glass to find out how late it is.
"It is under the inspiration of this great quality of mind that we shall
avoid putting to our lips the cup already emptied many times.
"Common sense will reflect upon the mirror of our imagination the specter
of the day after the orgy; it will evoke the monster of the headache
which works upon the suffering cranium with its claws of steel; and, at
some future day, it will show us precocious decrepitude as well as all
bodily ills which precede the final decay of those who yield to their
passions. It will also impose upon us the performance of duty under the
form which it has adopted for each individual.
"Common sense represents for some the care of public affairs; for others
those of the family; for us all the great desire to leave intact to our
descendants the name which we have received from our fathers.
"For some of those still very young, it is like a lover long desired!
"For sages and warriors, it blows the trumpet of glory.