Part 30 (1/2)
Aristotle finds also in courage an excellent opportunity to apply his celebrated theory of the golden mean. Courage is for him a medium between temerity and cowardice. But it is not the too much or too little in danger which determines what we ought to call courage. There are cases where one may be obliged to brave the greatest possible danger without being for that rash; other cases where, on the contrary, one has the right to avoid the least possible peril without being for that a coward. The true principle is that one should brave necessary perils, be they ever so great; and likewise avoid useless perils, be they ever so slight. Yet, the question of degree should not be wholly overlooked. There are some perils which, without being necessary, it is useful to brave (were it but to train one's self for greater ones). Such are, for example, the dangers connected with bodily exercises. Peril and utility must, of course, be compared with each other; for example, he who from considerations of utility would wish to avoid all kinds of perils, will be wanting in courage; and he who, on the contrary, would lightly brave an extreme peril, will naturally deserve to be called rash. Thus must we first consider the nature of the peril, and, secondly, the degree.
=159. Civic courage.=--Although military courage is the most brilliant and popular form of courage, it may be asked whether there is not a higher and n.o.bler form still, namely, civic courage.
Cicero, who, to say the truth, was not sufficiently disinterested in the matter, persists in showing that civic virtues are equal to military virtues, and demand an equal amount of courage and energy.[124] A firm and high-souled man, he says, has no trouble in difficult circ.u.mstances, to preserve his presence of mind and the free use of his reason, to provide in advance against events, and to be always ready for action when necessary.
This is a sort of courage more difficult perhaps than the one required in a hand-to-hand struggle with the enemy. Civic life, besides, has itself trials which often imperil one's existence.
Antiquity has left us innumerable and admirable examples of civic courage against tyranny. Helvidius Priscus was thought to look with disapproval upon Vespasian's administration. The latter sent him word to keep away from the Senate: ”It is in thy power,” replied Helvidius, ”to forbid my belonging to the Senate, but as long as I belong to it, I shall attend it.”--”Go, then,” said the emperor, ”but hold thy tongue.”--”If thou ask me no questions I will make thee no answers.”--”But I must ask thee questions.”--”And I must answer thee what I think just.”--”If thou dost, I shall have thee put to death.”--”When have I said to thee that I was immortal?” But nothing ever surpa.s.sed the intrepidity of Socrates, either before the Thirty Tyrants who wished to interdict him free speech,[125] or before the people's tribunals which condemned him to death:
Plato in his _Apology_ makes him say: ”If you were to tell me now, 'Socrates, we will not listen to Anytus: we send thee back absolved on condition that thou ceasest philosophizing and givest up thy accustomed researches,' I should answer you without hesitation, 'O Athenians, I honor and love you, but I shall obey G.o.d before I obey you.'”
Then, after having been condemned to death, he closes with these admirable words:
”I bear my accusers, and those who have condemned me, no resentment, although they did not seek my good, but rather to injure me. But I shall ask of them one favor: I beg you, when my children shall be grown up, to persecute them as I have myself persecuted you, if you see that they prefer riches to virtue.... If you grant us this favor, I and my children shall have but to praise your justice. But it is time we go each our way: I to die, you to live. Which of us has the better part, you or I? This is known to none but G.o.d.”
=160. Patience.=--One of the most difficult forms of courage is that which consists not only in braving or repelling a threatening danger (which presupposes some effort and activity), but in bearing without anger, without any sign of vain revolt, the ills and pains of life: this is _patience_. There is a kind of patience which is but a part of our duty in regard to others: one must learn to bear a great deal from others, they having often a great deal to bear from us. But we speak here of that inner patience which is our strength in grief; the patience of the invalid in his daily sufferings; that of the poor man in his poverty; the patience, in short, which all must exercise amidst the innumerable and inevitable accidents of life. It is, above all, that sort of virtue which the Stoics meant when they said with Epictetus: ”You should not wish things to happen as you want them; but you should wish them as they do happen.” A maxim which Descartes translated substantially, saying: ”My maxim is rather to try to overcome myself than fortune, and rather to change my own wishes than to change the order of the world.” Which he explained by saying:
”If we regard the goods which lie outside of us as unattainable as those we are deprived of from our birth, we shall no more grieve at not possessing them, than we should in not possessing the empires of China or Mexico; and, making, as it is said, a virtue of necessity, we shall not any more desire to be healthy when ill, or to be free when in prison, than we desire now to have bodies of as incorruptible a stuff as diamonds, or to have wings to fly with like birds.”[126]
It is this kind of courage which at every moment of life is most in requisition, and which is the rarest; for there will be found plenty of men capable of braving death when the occasion presents itself; but to bear with resignation the inevitable and constantly renewed ills of human life, is a virtue all the more rare as one is scarcely ever ashamed of its opposite vice. One would blush to fear peril, one does not blush for rebelling against destiny; one is willing to die if necessary, but not to be thwarted. Yet will it be admitted that to succ.u.mb under the weight of destiny, is a kind of cowardice. It is for this reason that it would be justly said that suicide is also a cowardly act; for whilst it is true that it demands a certain physical courage, it is also true that the moral courage which bears the ills of life is of a still higher order.
”You take a journey to Olympia,” says Epictetus, ”to behold the work of Phidias, and each of you thinks it a misfortune to die without a knowledge of such things; and will you have no inclination to see and understand those works, for which there is no need to take a journey; but which are ready and at hand, even to those who bestow no pains!
Will you never perceive what you are, or for what you were born, or for what purpose you are admitted to behold this spectacle? But there are in life some things unpleasant and difficult. And are there none at Olympia? Are you not heated? Are you not crowded? Are you not without good conveniences for bathing? Are you not wet through, when it happens to rain? Do you not have uproar and noise, and other disagreeable circ.u.mstances? But, I suppose, by comparing all these with the merit of the spectacle, you support and endure them. Well, and have you not received faculties by which you may support every event? Have you not received greatness of soul? Have you not received a manly spirit? Have you not received patience? What signifies to me anything that happens, while my soul is above it? What shall disconcert or trouble or appear grievous to me? Shall I not use my powers to that purpose for which I received them; but lament and groan at every casualty?”[127]
But we should not confound true strength, true courage, true patience, with false strength and ridiculous obstinacy.
”An acquaintance of mine,” says again Epictetus, ”had, for no reason, determined to starve himself to death. I went the third day, and inquired what was the matter. He answered: 'I am determined.'--'Well; but what is your motive? For, if your determination be right, we will stay, and a.s.sist your departure; but if unreasonable, change it.'--'We ought to keep our determinations.'--'What do you mean, sir? Not all of them; but such as are right. Else, if you should fancy that it is night, if this be your principle, do not change, but persist and say, ”We ought to keep to our determinations.” 'What do you mean, sir? Not to all of them. Why do you not begin by first laying the foundation, inquiring whether your determination be a sound one, or not; and then build your firmness and constancy upon it. For, if you lay a rotten and crazy foundation, you must not build; since the greater and more weighty the superstructure, the sooner will it fall. Without any reason you are withdrawing from us, out of life, a friend, a companion, a fellow-citizen both of the greater and the lesser city; and while you are committing murder, and destroying an innocent person, you say, ”We must keep to our determinations.” Suppose, by any means, it should ever come into your head to kill me; must you keep to such a determination?'
”With difficulty this person was, however, at last convinced; but there are some at present, whom there is no convincing ... a fool will neither bend nor break.”[128]
=161. Moderation.=--The ancients always a.s.sociated with patience in adversity another kind of courage, no less rare and difficult, namely, moderation in prosperity. It was for them, in some respects, one and the same virtue, exercised in two opposite conditions, and this is what they call _equanimity_.
”Now, during our prosperity,” says Cicero, ”and while things flow agreeably to our desire, we ought, with great care, to avoid pride and arrogance; for, as it discovers weakness not to bear adversity with equanimity, so also with prosperity. That equanimity, in every condition of life, is a n.o.ble attribute, and that uniform expression of countenance which we find recorded of Socrates, and also of Caius Laelius. Panaetius tells us, his scholar and friend, Africa.n.u.s, used to say that as horses, grown unruly by being in frequent engagements, are delivered over to be tamed by horse-breakers, thus men, who grow riotous and self-sufficient by prosperity, ought, as it were, to be exercised in the traverse[129] of reason and philosophy, that they may learn the inconstancy of human affairs and the uncertainty of fortune.[130]
Nothing occurs more frequently among the ancient poets and moralists than this idea of the vicissitude of human things. The metaphor of Fortune's wheel, which sometimes lowers to the greatest depth those it raised highest, is well known. We need scarcely dwell upon this commonplace saying which has never, for an instant, ceased to be true; although the more regular conditions of modern society have introduced more security and uniformity in life, at least for those who live wisely and with moderation. Yet is no one secure against the changes of fortune; there are unexpected elevations as there are sudden falls; and firmness in either bad or good fortune will always be necessary.
=162. Equality of temper; anger.=--To equality of temper or possession of one's self, there is still another obligation attached: that of avoiding anger, a pa.s.sion which the ancients with reason considered the principle of courage,[131] but which of itself is without any rules, and is more proper to beasts than men. Aristotle has described the irascible disposition with great accuracy. He justly distinguishes two kinds of anger; one where a man is easily carried away, and as easily appeased again, and the other where resentment is nursed and kept up for a long time. The first is the irascible disposition; the second, the splenetic or vindictive disposition.
”Irascible men,” says Aristotle, ”are easily angered, with improper objects, on improper occasions, and too much; but their anger quickly ceases, and this is the best point in their character. And this is the case with them, because they do not restrain their anger, but retaliate openly and visibly, because of their impetuosity, and then they become calm.--But the bitter are difficult to be appeased, and retain their anger a long time, for they repress their rage; but there comes a cessation, when they have retaliated; for revenge makes their anger cease, because it produces pleasure instead of the previous pain. But if they do not get revenge, they feel a weight of disappointment: for, owing to its not showing itself, no one reasons with them; and there is need of time for a man to digest his anger within him. Persons of this character are very troublesome to themselves, and to their best friends.”[132]
Seneca, in his treatise on _Anger_, has conclusively shown all the evils this pa.s.sion carries with it, and of which Horace justly said: ”Anger is a short madness.”
Yet, if anger is an evil, apathy, absolute indifference, is far from being a good. Whilst there is a brutal and beastly anger, there is also a n.o.ble, a _generous anger_, namely, that which is at the service of n.o.ble sentiments. Plato describes it in the following terms:
”When we are convinced that injustice has been done us, does it not plead the cause of what appears to it to be just? Instead of allowing itself to be overcome by hunger, by cold, by all sorts of ill-treatments, does it not overcome them? It never ceases a moment to make generous efforts toward obtaining satisfaction, and nothing but death depriving it of its power, or reason persuading or silencing it, as the shepherd silences his dog, can stop it.”[133]
Aristotle also approves of this generous anger, and blames those with souls too cold:
”One can only call stupid those who cannot be aroused to anger about things where real anger ought to be felt.... He who does not then get angry appears insensible and ignorant of what just indignation means.
One might even believe him, since he has no feeling of courage, unable to defend himself when necessary. But it is the cowardice of the slave's to accept an insult and to allow his kin to be attacked with impunity.”[134]
But that which is not easy, as Aristotle remarks, is to find an exact and proper medium between apathy and violence: