particular set of duties, it is advisable, as has been said, to present
some concrete case, and biographical or historical examples are
particularly useful. I have sometimes begun the lesson on the duty of
acquiring knowledge by telling the story of Cleanthes and that of
Hillel. Cleanthes, a poor boy, was anxious to attend the school of Zeno.
But he was compelled to work for his bread, and could not spend his days
in study as he longed to do. He was, however, so eager to learn that he
found a way of doing his work by night. He helped a gardener to water
his plants, and also engaged to grind corn on a hand-mill for a certain
woman. Now the neighbors, who knew that he was poor, and who never saw
him go to work, were puzzled to think how he obtained the means to live.
They suspected him of stealing, and he was called before the Judge to
explain. The Judge addressed him severely, and commanded him to tell the
truth. Cleanthes requested that the gardener and the woman might be sent
for, and they testified that he had been in the habit of working for
them by night. The Judge was touched by his great zeal for knowledge,
acquitted him of the charge, and offered him a gift of money. But Zeno
would not permit him to take the gift. Cleanthes became the best pupil
of Zeno, and grew up to be a very wise and learned man, indeed one of
the most famous philosophers of the Stoic school. The story of Hillel
runs as follows: There was once a poor lad named Hillel. His parents
were dead, and he had neither relatives nor friends. He was anxious to
go to school, but, though he worked hard, he did not earn enough to pay
the tuition fee exacted at the door. So he decided to save money by
spending only half his earnings for food. He ate little, and that little
was of poor quality, but he was perfectly happy, because with what he
laid aside he could now pay the door-keeper and find a place inside,
where he might listen and learn. This he did for some time, but one day
he was so unlucky as to lose his situation. He had now no money left to
buy bread, but he hardly thought of that, so much was he grieved at the
thought that he should never get back to his beloved school. He begged
the door-keeper to let him in, but the surly man refused to do so. In
his despair a happy thought occurred to him. He had noticed a skylight
on the roof. He climbed up to this, and to his delight found that
through a crack he could hear all that was said inside. So he sat there
and listened, and did not notice that evening was coming on, and that
the snow was beginning to fall. Next morning when the teachers and
pupils assembled as usual, every one remarked how dark the room seemed.
The sun too was shining again by this time quite brightly outside.
Suddenly some one happened to look up and with an exclamation of
surprise pointed out the figure of a boy against the skylight. Quickly
they all ran outside, climbed to the roof, and there, covered with snow,
quite stiff and almost dead, they found poor Hillel. They carried him
indoors, warmed his cold limbs, and worked hard to restore him to life.
He was at last resuscitated, and from this time on was allowed to attend
the school without paying. Later he became a great teacher. He lived in
Palestine at about the time of Jesus. He was admired for his learning,
but even more for his good deeds and his unfailing kindness to every
one. The question is now raised, Why did Cleanthes work at night instead
of seeking rest, and why did Hillel remain outside in the bitter cold
and snow? The pupils will readily answer, Because they loved knowledge.
But why is knowledge so desirable? With this interrogatory we are fairly
launched on the discussion of our subject. The points to be developed
are these:
First, knowledge is indispensable as a means of making one's way in the
world. Show the helplessness of the ignorant. Compare the skilled
laborer with the unskilled. Give instances of merchants, statesmen,
etc., whose success was due to steady application and superior
knowledge. Knowledge is power (namely, in the struggle for existence).
Secondly, knowledge is honor. An ignorant person is despised. Knowledge
wins us the esteem of our fellow-men.
Thirdly, knowledge is joy in a twofold sense. As the perception of light
to the eye of the body, so is the perception of truth to the eye of the
mind. The mind experiences an intrinsic pleasure in seeing things in
their true relations. Furthermore, mental growth is accompanied by the
joy of successful effort. This can be explained even to a boy or girl of
thirteen. Have you ever tried hard to solve a problem in algebra?
Perhaps you have spent several hours over it. It has baffled you. At
last, after repeated trials, you see your way clear, the solution is
within your grasp. What a sense of satisfaction you experience then. It
is the feeling of successful mental effort that gives you this
satisfaction. You rejoice in having triumphed over difficulties, and the
greater the difficulty, the more baffling and complex the problems, the
greater is the satisfaction in solving them.
Fourthly, knowledge enables us to do good to others. Speak of the use
which physicians make of their scientific training to alleviate
suffering and save life. Refer to the manifold applications of science
which have changed the face of modern society, and have contributed so
largely to the moral progress of the world. Point out that all true
philanthropy, every great social reform, implies a superior grasp of the
problems to be solved, as well as devotion to the cause of humanity. In
accordance with the line of argument just sketched the rule for the
pursuit of knowledge may be successively expanded as follows:
Seek knowledge that you may succeed in the struggle for existence.
Seek knowledge that you may gain the esteem of your fellow-men.
Seek knowledge for the sake of the satisfaction which the attainment of
it will give you.
Seek knowledge that you may be able to do good to others.
These points suffice for the present. In the advanced course we shall
return to the consideration of the intellectual duties. I would also
recommend that the moral teacher, not content with dwelling on the uses
of knowledge in general, should go through the list of subjects which
are commonly taught in school, such as geography, history, language,
etc., and explain the value of each. This is too commonly neglected.
Having stationed the duty of acquiring knowledge in the center, connect
with it the various lesser duties of school life, such as punctual
attendance, order, diligent and conscientious preparation of home
lessons, etc. These are means to an end, and should be represented as
such. He who desires the end will desire the means. Get your pupils to
love knowledge, and the practice of these minor virtues will follow of
itself. Other matters might be introduced in connection with what has
been mentioned, but enough has been said to indicate the point of view
from which the whole subject of intellectual duty should, as I think, be
treated in the present course.
XII.
DUTIES WHICH RELATE TO THE PHYSICAL LIFE.
Of the duties which relate to the physical life, the principal one is
that of self-preservation, and this involves the prohibition of suicide.
When one reflects on the abject life which many persons are forced to
lead, on their poverty in the things which make existence desirable and
the lack of moral stamina which often goes together with such
conditions, the wonder is that the number of suicides is not much
greater than it actually is. It is true most people cling to life
instinctively, and have an instinctive horror of death. Nevertheless,
the force of instinct is by no means a sufficient deterrent in all
cases, and the number of suicides is just now alarmingly on the
increase. If we were here considering the subject of suicide in general
we should have to enter at large into the causes of this increase; we
should have to examine the relations subsisting between the increase of
suicide and the increase of divorce, and inquire into those pathological
conditions of modern society of which both are the symptoms; but our
business is to consider the ethics of the matter, not the causes. The
ethics of suicide resolves itself into the question, Is it justifiable
under any circumstances to take one's life? You may object that this is
not a fit subject to discuss with pupils of thirteen or fourteen. Why
not? They are old enough to understand the motives which ordinarily lead
to suicide, and also the reasons which forbid it--especially the most
important reason, namely, that we live not merely or primarily to be
happy, but to help on as far as we can the progress of things, and
therefore that we are not at liberty to throw life away like an empty
shell when we have ceased to enjoy it. The discussion of suicide is
indeed of the greatest use because it affords an opportunity early in
the course of our lessons on duty to impress this cardinal truth, to
describe upon the moral globe this great meridian from which all the
virtues take their bearings. However, in accordance with the inductive
method, we must approach this idea by degrees. The first position I
should take is that while suffering is often temporary, suicide is
final. It is folly to take precipitately a step which can not be
recalled. Very often in moments of deep depression the future before us
seems utterly dark, and in our firmament there appears not one star of
hope; but presently from some wholly unexpected quarter help comes.
Fortune once more takes us into her good graces, and we are scarcely
able to understand our past downheartedness in view of the new happiness
to which we have fallen heirs. Preserve thy life in view of the brighter
chances which the future may have in store. This is a good rule as far
as it goes, but it does not fit the more trying situations. For there
are cases where the fall from the heights of happiness is as complete as
it is sudden, and the hope of recovering lost ground is really shut out.
Take from actual life the case of a husband who fairly idolized his
young wife and lost her by death three months after marriage. We may
suppose that in the course of years he will learn to submit to his
destiny. We may even hope that peace will come back to his poor heart,
but we can not imagine that he will ever again be happy. Another case is
that of a person who has committed a great wrong, the consequences of
which are irreparable, and of which he must carry the agonizing
recollection with him to the grave. Time may assuage the pangs of
remorse, and religion may comfort him, but happiness can never be the
portion of such as he.
Still another instance--less serious, but of more frequent
occurrence--is that of a merchant who has always occupied a commanding
position in the mercantile community, and who, already advanced in
years, is suddenly compelled to face bankruptcy. The thought of the
hardships to which his family will be exposed, of his impending
disgrace, drives him nearly to distraction. The question is, would the
merchant, would those others, be justified in committing suicide?
Certainly not. The merchant, if he has the stuff of true manhood in him,
will begin over again, at the bottom of the ladder if need be, will work
to support his family, however narrowly. It would be the rankest
selfishness in him to leave them to their fate. The conscience-stricken
sinner must be willing to pay the penalty of his crime, to the end that
he may be purified even seven times in the fire of repentance. And even
the lover who has lost his bride will find, if he opens his eyes, that
there is still work for him to do in life. The world is full of evils
which require to be removed, full of burdens which require to be borne.
If our own burden seems too heavy for us, there is a way of lightening
it. We may add to it the burden of some one else, and ours will become
lighter. Physically, this would be impossible, but morally it is true.
The rule of conduct, therefore, thus far reads, Preserve thy life in
order to perform thy share of the work of the world. But the formula,
even in this shape, is not yet entirely adequate, for there are those
who can not take part in the work of the world, who can only
suffer--invalids, e. g., who are permanently incapacitated, and whose
infirmities make them a constant drag on the healthy lives of their
friends. Why should not these be permitted to put an end to their
miseries? I should say that so long as there is the slightest hope of
recovery, and even where this hope is wanting, so long as the physical
pain is not so intense or so protracted as to paralyze the mental life
altogether, they should hold out. They are not cut off from the true
ends of human existence. By patient endurance, by the exercise of a
sublime unselfishness, they may even attain on their sick-beds a height
of spiritual development which would otherwise be impossible; and, in
addition, they may become by their uncomplaining patience the sweetest,
gentlest helpers of their friends, not useless, assuredly, but shining
examples of what is best and noblest in human nature. The rule,
therefore, should read: Preserve thy life in order to fulfill the duties
of life, whether those duties consist in doing or in patiently
suffering. As has been said long ago, we are placed on guard as
sentinels. The sentinel must not desert his post. I think it possible to
make the pupil in the grammar grade understand that suicide is selfish,
that we are bound to live, even though life has ceased to be attractive,
in order that we may perform our share of the world's work and help
others and grow ourselves in moral stature. This does not, of course,
imply any condemnation of that vast number of cases in which suicide is
committed in consequence of mental aberration.
In the advanced course we shall have to return to this subject, and
shall there refer _in extenso_ to the views of the Stoics. The morality
of the Stoic philosophers in general is so high, and their influence
even to this day so great, that their defense, or rather enthusiastic
praise of suicide,[16] needs to be carefully examined. I am of the
opinion that we have here a case in which metaphysical speculation has
had the effect of distorting morality. Metaphysics in this respect
resembles religion. On the one hand the influence of religion on
morality has been highly beneficial, on the other it has been hurtful in
the extreme--instance human sacrifices, religious wars, the
Inquisition, etc. In like manner, philosophy, though not to the same
extent, has both aided morality and injured it. I regard the Stoic
declamations on suicide as an instance of the latter sort. The Stoic
philosophy was pantheistic. To live according to Nature was their
principal maxim, or, more precisely, according to the reason in Nature.
They maintained that in certain circumstances a man might find it
impossible to live up to the rational standard; he might, for instance,
discover himself to be morally so weak as to be unable to resist
temptation, and in that case it would be better for him to retire from
the scene and to seek shelter in the Eternal Reason, just as, to use
their own simile, one who found the room in which he sat filled to an
intolerable degree with smoke would not be blamed for withdrawing from
it. It was their pantheism that led them to favor suicide, and in this
respect it is my belief that the modern conscience, trained by the Old
and New Testaments, has risen to a higher level than theirs. We moderns
feel it impossible to admit that to the sane mind temptation can ever be
so strong as to be truly irresistible. We always can resist if we will.
We can, because we ought; as Kant has taught us to put it. We always can
because we always ought.
NOTE.--Despite the rigorous disallowance of suicide in general
plainly indicated in the above, I should not wish to be understood
as saying that there are no circumstances whatever in which the
taking of one's life is permissible. In certain rare and
exceptional cases I believe it to be so. In the lecture as
delivered I attempted a brief description of these exceptional
cases, too brief, it appeared, to prevent most serious
misconception. I deem it best, therefore, to defer the expression
of my views on this delicate matter until an occasion arrives when
I shall be able to articulate my thought in full detail, such as
would here be impossible.
From the commandment "Preserve thy life" it follows not only that we
should not lay violent hands upon ourselves, but that we should do all
in our power to develop and invigorate the body, in order that it may
become an efficient instrument in the service of our higher aims. The
teacher should inform himself on the subject of the gymnastic ideal of
the Greeks and consider in how far this ideal is applicable to modern
conditions. In general, the teacher should explore as fully as possible
the ethical problems on which he touches. He should not be merely "one
lesson ahead" of his pupils. Really it is necessary to grasp the whole
of a subject before we can properly set forth its elements. A very
thorough normal training is indispensable to those who would give moral
instruction to the young.
The duties of cleanliness and temperance fall under the same head as the
above. In speaking of cleanliness, there are three motives--the
egoistic, the aesthetic, and the moral--to which we may appeal. Be
scrupulously clean for the sake of health, be clean lest you become an
object of disgust to others, be clean in order to retain your
self-respect. Special emphasis should be laid on secret cleanliness.
Indolent children are sometimes neat in externals, but shockingly
careless in what is concealed from view. The motive of self-respect
shows itself particularly in secret cleanliness.
The duty of temperance is supported by the same three motives.
Intemperance undermines health, the glutton or the drunkard awakens
disgust, intemperance destroys self-respect. To strengthen the
repugnance of the pupils against intemperance in eating, contrast the
way in which wild beasts eat with that in which human beings partake of
their food. The beast is absorbed in the gratification of its appetite,
eats without the use of implements, eats unsocially. The human way of
eating is in each particular the opposite. Show especially that the act
of eating is spiritualized by being made subservient to friendly
intercourse and to the strengthening of the ties of domestic affection.
The family table becomes the family altar. Call attention also to the
effects of drunkenness; point out the injuries which the drunkard
inflicts on wife and children by his neglect to provide for them, by the
outbursts of violence to which he is subject under the influence of
strong drink; describe his physical, mental, and moral degradation; lay
stress on the fact that liquor deprives him of the use of his reason.
With respect to temperance in food, there are one or two points to be
noted. I say to my pupils if you are particularly fond of a certain
dish, sweetmeats, for instance, make it a rule to partake less of that
than if you were not so fond of it. This is good practice in
self-restraint. I make out as strong a case as possible against the
indulgence of the candy habit. Young people are not, as a rule, tempted
to indulge in strong drink; but they are tempted to waste their money
and injure their health by an excessive consumption of sweets. It is
well to apply the lesson of temperance to the things in which they are
tempted. For the teacher the following note may be added: Of the senses,
some, like that of taste, are more nearly allied to the physical part of
us; others, like sight and hearing, to our rational nature. This
antithesis of the senses may be used in the interest of temperance.
Appeal to the higher senses in order to subdue the lower. A band of
kindergarten children, having been invited on a picnic, were given the
choice between a second plate of ice cream, for which many of them were
clamoring, and a bunch of flowers for each. Most of them were
sufficiently interested in flowers to prefer the latter. In the case of
young children, the force of the physical appetite may also be weakened
by appealing to their affection. During the later stage of adolescence,
when the dangers which arise from the awakening life of the senses
become great and imminent, the attention should be directed to high
intellectual aims, the social feelings should be cultivated, and a taste
for the pleasures of the senses of sight and hearing--namely, the
pleasures of music, painting, sculpture, etc.--should be carefully
developed. Artistic, intellectual, and social motives should be brought
into play jointly to meet the one great peril of this period of life.
DUTIES WHICH RELATE TO THE FEELINGS.
Under this head let me speak first of fear. There is a distinction to be
drawn between physical and moral cowardice. Physical cowardice is a
matter of temperament or organization. Perhaps it can hardly ever be
entirely overcome, but the exhibition of it can be prevented by moral
courage. Moral cowardice, on the other hand, is a fault of character. In
attempting to formulate the rule of conduct, appeal as before to the
egoistic motive, then to the social--i. e., the desire for the good
opinion of others--and lastly to the moral motive, properly speaking.
Fear paralyzes; it fascinates its victim like the fabled basilisk.
Nothing is more common than a sense of helpless immobility under the
influence of fear. There is a way of escape. You might run or leap for
your life, but you can not stir a limb. What you need to do is to turn
away your attention by a powerful effort of the will from the object
which excites fear. So long as that object is before you the mind can
not act; the mind is practically absent. What you need is presence of
mind. Let the teacher adduce some of the many striking instances in
which men in apparently desperate straits have been saved by presence of
mind. The rule thus far would read: Be brave and suppress fear, because
by so doing you may escape out of danger. In the next place, by so doing
you will escape the reproaches of your fellow-men, for cowardice is
universally condemned as shameful. Cite from Spartan history examples
showing in the strongest light the feeling of scorn and contempt for the
coward. There are, however, cases where death is certain, and where
there is no support like that of public opinion to sustain courage. What
should be the rule of duty in such cases? Take the case of a person who
has been shipwrecked. He swims the sea alone, he is still clinging to a
spar, but realizes that in a few minutes he must let go, his strength
being well-nigh spent. What should be his attitude of mind in that
supreme moment. The forces of nature are about to overwhelm him. What
motive can there be strong enough to support bravery in that moment? The
rule of duty for him would be: Be brave, because as a human being you
are superior to the forces of nature, because there is something in
you--your moral self--over which the forces of nature have no power,
because what happens to you in your private character is not important,
but it is important that you assert the dignity of humanity to the last
breath.
After having discussed courage, define fortitude. Point out the
importance of strength of will. Contrast the strong will with the
feeble, with the wayward, the irresolute, and also the obstinate will,
for obstinacy is often the sign of weakness rather than of strength.
See, for useful hints on this subject, Bain's The Emotions and the Will.