The Project Gutenberg EBook of Practical Ethics, by William DeWitt Hyde This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Practical Ethics Author: William DeWitt Hyde Release Date: January 20, 2008 [EBook #24372] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRACTICAL ETHICS *** Produced by Bill Tozier, Barbara Tozier, Lisa Reigel, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Transcriber's Notes: Click on the page number to see an image of the page. A few typographical errors have been corrected. They have been underlined in the text. Position your mouse over the word to see the correction. A complete set of notes follows the text. PRACTICAL ETHICS BY WILLIAM DEWITT HYDE, D. D. President of Bowdoin College NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY Copyright, 1892, [i] [ii] BY HENRY HOLT & CO. THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS, RAHWAY, N. J. PREFACE. The steady stream of works on ethics during the last ten years, rising almost to a torrent within the past few months, renders it necessary for even the tiniest rill to justify its slender contribution to the already swollen flood. On the one hand treatises abound which are exhaustive in their presentation of ethical theory. On the other hand books are plenty which give good moral advice with great elaborateness of detail. Each type of work has its place and function. The one is excellent mental gymnastic for the mature; the other admirable emotional pabulum for the childish mind. Neither, however, is adapted both to satisfy the intellect and quicken the conscience at that critical period when the youth has put away childish things and is reaching out after manly and womanly ideals. The book which shall meet this want must have theory; yet the theory must not be made obtrusive, nor stated too abstractly. The theory must be deeply imbedded in the structure of the work; and must commend itself, not by metaphysical deduction from first principles, but by its ability to comprehend in a rational and intelligible order the concrete facts with which conduct has to do. Such a book must be direct and practical. It must contain clear-cut presentation of duties to be done, virtues to be cultivated, temptations to be overcome, and vices to be shunned: yet this must be done, not by preaching and exhortation, but by showing the place these things occupy in a coherent system of reasoned knowledge. Such a blending of theory and practice, of faith and works, is the aim and purpose of this book. The only explicit suggestions of theory are in the introduction (which should not be taken as the first lesson) and in the last two chapters. Religion is presented as the consummation, rather than the foundation of ethics; and the brief sketch of religion in the concluding chapter is confined to those broad outlines which are accepted, with more or less explicitness, by Jew and Christian, Catholic and Protestant, Orthodox and Liberal. WILLIAM DeWITT HYDE. Bowdoin College, Brunswick, Me. May 10, 1892. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE Introduction, 1 I. Food and Drink, 9 II. Dress, 19 III. Exercise, 25 IV. Work, 32 V. Property, 40 VI. Exchange, 46 VII. Knowledge, 53 VIII. Time, 60 IX. Space, 65 X. Fortune, 70 XI. Nature, 81 XII. Art, 89 [iii] [iv] [v] XIII. Animals, 98 XIV. Fellow-men, 104 XV. The Poor, 117 XVI. Wrongdoers, 127 XVII. Friends, 137 XVIII. Family, 144 XIX. State, 157 XX. Society, 167 XXI. Self, 179 XXII. God, 194 OUTLINE OF PRACTICAL ETHICS See Last Paragraph of Introduction. Object. Duty. Virtue. Reward. Temptation Vice of Defect Vice of Excess Penalty Food and drink, Vigor, Temperance, Health, Appetite, Asceticism, Intemperance, Disease. Dress, Comeliness, Neatness, Respectability, Vanity, Slovenliness, Fastidiousness, Contempt. Exercise, Recreation, Cheerfulness, Energy, Excitement, Morbidness, Frivolity, Debility. Work, Self-support, Industry, Wealth, Ease, Laziness, Overwork, Poverty. Property, Provision, Economy, Prosperity, Indulgence, Wastefulness, Miserliness, Want. Exchange, Equivalence, Honesty, Self-respect, Gain, Dishonesty, Compliance, Degradation. Sex, Reproduction, Purity, Sweetness, Lust, Prudery, Sensuality, Bitterness. Knowledge, Truth, Veracity, Confidence, Ignorance, Falsehood, Gossip, Distrust. Time, Co- ordination, Prudence, Harmony, Dissipation, Procrastination, Anxiety, Discord. Space, System, Orderliness, Efficiency, Disorder, Carelessness, Red Tape, Obstruction. Fortune, Superiority, Courage, Honor, Risk, Cowardice, Gambling, Shame. Nature, Appreciation, Sensitiveness, Inspiration, Utility, Obtuseness, Affectation, Stagnation. Art, Beauty, Simplicity, Refinement, Luxury, Ugliness, Ostentation, Vulgarity. Animals, Consideration, Kindness, Tenderness, Neglect, Cruelty, Subjection, Brutality. Fellow-men, Fellowship, Love, Unity, Indifference, Selfishness, Sentimentality, Strife. The Poor, Help, Benevolence, Sympathy, Alienation, Niggardliness, Indulgence, Antipathy. Wrong-doers, Justice, Forgiveness, Reformation, Vengeance, Severity, Lenity, Perversity. Friends, Devotion, Fidelity, Affection, Betrayal, Exclusiveness, Effusiveness, Isolation. Family, Membership, Loyalty, Home, Independence, Self-sufficiency, Self- obliteration, Loneliness. State, Organization, Patriotism, Civilization, Spoils, Treason, Ambition, Anarchy. Society, Co-operation, Public Spirit, Freedom, Self-interest, Meanness, Officiousness, Constraint. Self, Realization, Conscientiousness, Character, Pleasure, Unscrupulousness, Formalism, Corruption. God, Obedience, Holiness, Life, Self-will, Sin, Hypocrisy, Death. INTRODUCTION. Ethics is the science of conduct, and the art of life. Life consists in the maintenance of relations; it requires continual adjustment; it implies external objects, as well as internal forces. Conduct must have materials to work with; stuff to build character out of; resistance to overcome; objects to confront. [vi] [vii] [viii] [1] These objects nature has abundantly provided. They are countless as the sands of the seashore, or the stars of heaven. In order to bring them within the range of scientific treatment we must classify them, and select for study those classes of objects which are most essential to life and conduct. Each chapter of this book presents one of these fundamental objects with which life and conduct are immediately concerned. A great many different relations are possible between ourselves and each one of these objects. Of these many possible relations some would be injurious to ourselves; some would be destructive of the object. Toward each object there is one relation, and one only, which at the same time best promotes the development of ourselves and best preserves the object's proper use and worth. The maintenance of this ideal union of self and object is our duty with reference to that object. Which shall come first and count most in determining this right relation, self or object, depends on the character of the object. In the case of inanimate objects, such as food, drink, dress, and property, the interests of the self are supreme. Toward these things it is our right and duty to be sagaciously and supremely selfish. When persons and mere things meet, persons have absolute right of way. When we come to ideal objects, such as knowledge, art, Nature, this cool selfishness is out of place. The attempt to cram knowledge, appropriate nature, and "get up" art, defeats itself. These objects have a worth in themselves, and rights of their own which we must respect. They resent our attempts to bring them into subjection to ourselves. We must surrender to them, we must take the attitude of humble and self-forgetful suitors, if we would win the best gifts they have to give, and claim them as our own. As we rise to personal relations, neither appropriation nor surrender, neither egoism nor altruism, nor indeed any precisely measured mechanical mixture of the two, will solve the problem. Here the recognition of a common good, a commonwealth in which each person has an equal worth with every other, is the only satisfactory solution. "Be a person, and respect the personality of others," is the duty in this sphere. As we approach social institutions we enter the presence of objects which represent interests vastly wider, deeper, more enduring than the interests of our individual lives. The balance, which was evenly poised when we weighed ourselves against other individuals, now inclines toward the side of these social institutions, without which the individual life would be stripped of all its worth and dignity, apart from which man would be no longer man. Duty here demands devotion and self- sacrifice. Finally, when we draw near to God, who is the author and sustainer of individuals, of science and art and nature, and of social institutions, then the true relation becomes one of reverence and worship. In each case duty is the fullest realization of self and object. Whether self or the object shall be the determining factor in the relation depends on whether the object in question has less, equal, or greater worth than the individual self. If we do our duty repeatedly and perseveringly in any direction, we form the habit of doing it, learn to enjoy it, and acquire a preference for it. This habitual preference for a duty is the virtue corresponding to it. Virtue is manliness or womanliness. It is the steadfast assertion of what we see to be our duty against the solicitations of temptation. Virtue is mastery; first of self, and through self-mastery, the mastery of the objects with which we come in contact. Since duty is the maintenance of self and its objects in highest realization, and virtue is constant and joyous fidelity to duty, it follows that duty and virtue cannot fail of that enlargement and enrichment of life which is their appropriate reward. The reward of virtue will vary according to the duty done and the object toward which it is directed. The virtues which deal with mere things will bring as their rewards material prosperity. The virtues which deal with ideal objects will have their reward in increased capacities, intensified sensibilities, and elevated tastes. The virtues which deal with our fellow-men will be rewarded by enlargement of social sympathy, and deeper tenderness of feeling. The virtues which are directed toward family, state, and society, have their reward in that exalted sense of participation in great and glorious aims, which lift one up above the limitations of his private self, and can make even death sweet and beautiful—a glad and willing offering to that larger social self of which it is the individual's highest privilege to count himself a worthy and honorable member. Life, however, is not this steady march to victory, with beating drums and flying banners, which, for the sake of continuity in description, we have thus far regarded it. There are hard battles to fight; and mighty foes to conquer. We must now return to those other possible relations which we left when we selected for immediate consideration that one right relation which we call duty. Since there is only one right relation between self and an object, all others must be wrong. These other possible relations are temptations. Temptation is the appeal of an object to a single side of our nature as against the well-being of self as a whole. Each object gives rise to many temptations. "Broad is the way that leadeth to destruction." Just as duty performed gives rise to virtue, so temptation, yielded to, begets vice. Vice is the habitual yielding to temptation. Temptations fall into two classes. Either we are tempted to neglect an object, and so to give it too little influence over us; or else we are tempted to be carried away by an object, and to give it an excessive and disproportionate place in our life. [2] [3] [4] [5] Hence the resulting vices fall into two classes. Vices resulting from the former sort of temptation are vices of defect. Vices resulting from the latter form of temptation are vices of excess. As one of these temptations is usually much stronger than the other, we will discuss simply the strongest and most characteristic temptation in connection with each object. Yet as both classes of vice exist with reference to every object, it will be best to consider both. Vice carries its penalty in its own nature. Being a perversion of some object, it renders impossible that realization of ourselves through the object, or in the higher relations, that realization of the object through us, on which the harmony and completeness of our life depends. In the words of Plato: "Virtue is the health and beauty and well-being of the soul, and vice is the disease and weakness and deformity of the soul." Each chapter will follow the order here developed. The outline on pp. vi, vii shows the logical framework on which the book is constructed. Under the limitations of such a table, confined to a single term in every case, it is of course impossible to avoid the appearance of artificiality of form and inadequacy of treatment. This collection of dry bones is offered as the easiest way of exhibiting at a glance the conception of ethics as an organic whole of interrelated members: a conception it would be impossible to present in any other form without entering upon metaphysical inquiries altogether foreign to the practical purpose of the book. PRACTICAL ETHICS. CHAPTER I. Food and Drink. The foundations of life, and therefore the first concerns of conduct, are food and drink. Other things are essential if we are to live comfortably and honorably. Food and drink are essential if we are to live at all. In order that we may not neglect these important objects, nature has placed on guard over the body two sentinels, hunger and thirst, to warn us whenever fresh supplies of food and drink are needed. THE DUTY. Body and mind to be kept in good working order.—In response to these warnings it is our duty to eat and drink such things, in such quantities, at such times, and in such ways as will render the body the most efficient organ and expression of the mind and will. Hygiene and physiology, and our own experience and common sense, tell us in detail what, when, and how much it is best for us to eat and drink. Ethics presupposes this knowledge, and simply tells us that these laws of hygiene and physiology are our best friends; and that it is our duty to heed what they say. THE VIRTUE. Temperance is self-control.—These sentinels tell us when to begin; but they do not always tell us when to leave off: and if they do, it sometimes requires special effort to heed the warning that they give. The appetite for food and drink, if left to itself, would run away with us. Our liking for what tastes good, if allowed to have its own way, would lead us to eat and drink such things and in such quantities as to weaken our stomachs, enfeeble our muscles, muddle our brains, impair our health, and shorten our lives. Temperance puts bits into the mouth of appetite; holds a tight rein over it; compels it to go, not where it pleases to take us, but where we see that it is best for us to go; and trains it to stop when it has gone far enough. Virtue means manliness. Temperance is a virtue because it calls into play that strong, firm will which is the most manly thing in us. The temperate man is the strong man. For he is the master, not the slave of his appetites. He is lord of his own life. THE REWARD. The temperate man has all his powers perpetually at their best.—Into work or play or study he enters with the energy and zest which come of good digestion, strong muscles, steady nerves, and a clear head. He works hard, plays a strong game, thinks quickly and clearly; because he has a surplus of vitality to throw into whatever he undertakes. He prospers in business because he is able to prosecute it with energy. He makes friends because he has the cheerfulness and vivacity which is the charm of good-fellowship. He enjoys life because all its powers are at his command. THE TEMPTATION. The pleasures of taste an incidental good, but not the ultimate good.—Food tastes good to the hungry, and to the thirsty drinking is a keen delight. This is a kind and wise provision of nature; and as long as this pleasure accompanies [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] eating and drinking in a normal and natural way it aids digestion and promotes health and vigor. The more we enjoy our food the better; and food, well-cooked, well-served, and eaten in a happy and congenial company, is vastly better for us than the same food poorly cooked, poorly served, and devoured in solitude and silence. Yet it is possible to make this pleasure which accompanies eating and drinking the end for the sake of which we eat and drink. The temptation is to eat and drink what we like and as much as we like; instead of what we know to be best for us. THE VICE OF DEFECT. The difference between temperance and asceticism.—Asceticism looks like temperance. People who practice it often pride themselves upon it. But it is a hollow sham. And it has done much to bring discredit upon temperance, for which it tries to pass. What then is the difference between temperance and asceticism? Both control appetite. Both are opposed to intemperance. But they differ in the ends at which they aim. Temperance controls appetite for the sake of greater life and health and strength. Asceticism is the control of appetite merely for the sake of controlling it. Asceticism, in shunning the evils to which food and drink may lead, misses also the best blessings they are able to confer. The ascetic attempts to regulate by rule and measure everything he eats and drinks, and to get along with just as little as possible, and so he misses the good cheer and hearty enjoyment which should be the best part of every meal. Let us be careful not to confound sour, lean, dyspeptic asceticism with the hale, hearty virtue of temperance. Asceticism sacrifices vigor and vitality for the sake of keeping its rules and exercising self-control. Temperance observes the simple rules of hygiene and common sense for the sake of vigor and vitality; and sacrifices the pleasures of the palate only in so far as it is necessary in order to secure in their greatest intensity and permanence the larger and higher interests of life. THE VICES OF EXCESS. Intemperance in eating is gluttony. Intemperance in drinking leads to drunkenness.—Instead of sitting in the seat of reason and driving the appetites before him in obedience to his will, the glutton and the drunkard harness themselves into the wagon and put reins and whip into the hands of their appetites. The glutton lives to eat; instead of eating to live. This vice is so odious and contemptible that few persons give themselves up entirely to gluttony. Yet every time we eat what we know is not good for us, or more than is good for us, we fall a victim to this loathsome vice. The drunkard is the slave of an unnatural thirst.—Alcoholic drink produces as its first effect an excitement and exhilaration much more intense than any pleasure coming from the normal gratification of natural appetite. This exhilaration is purchased at the expense of stimulating the system to abnormal exertion. This excessive action of the system during intoxication is followed by a corresponding reaction. The man feels as much worse than usual during the hours and days that follow his debauch, as he felt better than usual during the brief moments that he was taking his drinks. This depression and disturbance of the system which follows indulgence in intoxicating drink begets an unnatural and incessant craving for a repetition of the stimulus; and so in place of the even, steady life of the temperate man, the drinking man's life is a perpetual alternation of brief moments of unnatural excitement, followed by long days of unnatural craving and depression. The habit of indulging this unnatural craving steals upon a man unawares; it occupies more and more of his thought; takes more and more of his time and money, until he is unable to think or care for anything else. It becomes more important to him than business, home, wife, children, reputation, or character; and before he knows it he finds that his will is undermined, reason is dethroned, affection is dead, appetite has become his master, and he has become its beastly and degraded slave. Total abstinence the only sure defense.—This vice of intemperance is so prevalent in the community, so insidious in its approach, so degrading in its nature, so terrible in its effects, that the only absolutely and universally sure defense against it is total abstinence. A man may think himself strong enough to stop drinking when and where he pleases; but the peculiar and fatal deception about intoxicating drink is that it makes those who become its victims weaker to resist it with every indulgence. It enfeebles their wills directly. The fact that a man can stop drinking to-day is no sure sign that he can drink moderately for a year and stop then. At the end of that time he will have a different body, a different brain, a different mind, a different will from the body and mind and will he has to-day, and would have after a year of abstinence. As we have seen, with every natural and healthy exercise of our appetites and faculties moderation is preferable to abstinence. It is better to direct them toward the ends they are intended to accomplish that to stifle and suppress them. But the thirst for intoxicating drink is unnatural. It creates abnormal cravings; it produces diseased conditions which corrupt and destroy the very powers of nerve and brain on which the faculties of reason and control depend. "Touch not, taste not, handle not," is the only rule that can insure one against the fearful ravages of this beastly and inhuman vice. Responsibility for social influence.—A strong argument in favor of abstinence from intoxicating drink is its beneficial social influence. If there are two bridges across a stream, one safe and sure, the other so shaky and treacherous that a large proportion of all who try to cross over it fall into the stream and are drowned; the fact that I happen to have sufficiently cool head and steady nerves to walk over it in safety does not make it right for me to do so, when I know that my companionship and example will lead many to follow who will certainly perish in the attempt. Mild wines and milder climates may render the moderate use of alcoholic drinks comparatively harmless to races less nervously organized than ours. And there doubtless are individuals in our midst whose strong constitution, phlegmatic temperament, or social training enable them to use wine daily for years without appreciable injury. They can walk with comparative safety the narrow bridge. There are multitudes who cannot. There are tens of thousands for whom our [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] distilled liquors, open saloons, and treating customs, combined with our trying climate and nervous organizations, render moderate drinking practically impossible. They must choose between the safe and sure way of total abstinence, or the fatal plunge into drunkenness and disgrace. And if those who are endowed with cooler heads and stronger nerves are mindful of their social duty to these weaker brethren, among whom are some of the most generous and noble-hearted of our acquaintances and friends, then for the sake of these more sorely tempted ones, and for the sake of their mothers, wives, and sisters to whom a drunken son, husband, or brother is a sorrow worse than death, they will forego a trifling pleasure in order to avert the ruin that their example would otherwise help to bring on the lives, fortunes, and families of others. Fatal fascination of the opium habit.—What has been said of alcoholic drink is equally true of opium. The habit of using opium is easy to form and almost impossible to break. The secret workings of this poison upon the mind and will of its victim are most insidious and fatal. Tobacco a serious injury to growing persons.—On this point all teachers are unanimous. Statistics taken at the naval school at Annapolis, at Yale College, and elsewhere, show that the use of tobacco is the exception with scholars at the head, and the rule with scholars at the foot of the class. Shortly after we began to take statistics on this point in Bowdoin College I asked the director of the gymnasium what was the result with the Freshman class? "Oh," he said, "the list of the smokers is substantially the same as that which was reported the other day for deficiencies in scholarship." A prominent educator, who had given considerable attention to this subject, after spending an hour in my recitation room with a class of college seniors, indicated with perfect accuracy the habitual and excessive smokers, simply by noting the eye, manner, and complexion. Tobacco, used in early life, tends to stunt the growth, weaken the eyes, shatter the nervous system, and impair the powers of physical endurance and mental application. No candidate for a college athletic team, or contestant in a race, would think of using tobacco while in training. Every man who wishes to keep himself in training for the highest prizes in business and professional life must guard his early years from the deterioration which this habit invariably brings. THE PENALTY. These vices bring disease and disgrace.—These vices put in place of physical well-being the gratification of a particular taste and appetite. Hence they bring about the abnormal action of some organs at the expense of all the rest; and this is the essence of disease. A diseased body causes a disordered mind and an enfeebled will. The excessive and over-stimulated activity of one set of organs involves a corresponding defect in the activity and functions of the other faculties. The glutton or drunkard neglects his business; loses interest in reading and study; fails to provide for his family; forfeits self-respect; and thus brings upon himself poverty and wretchedness and shame. He sinks lower and lower in the social scale; grows more and more a burden to others and a disgrace to himself; and at last ends a worthless and ignominious life in an unwept and dishonored grave. CHAPTER II. Dress. Next in importance to food and drink stand clothing and shelter. Without substantial and permanent protection against cold and rain, without decent covering for the body and privacy of life, civilization is impossible. The clothes we wear express the standing choices of our will; and as clothes come closer to our bodies than anything else, they stand as the most immediate and obvious expression of our mind. "The apparel oft proclaims the man." THE DUTY. Attractive personal appearance.—Clothes that fit, colors that match, cosy houses and cheery rooms cost little more, except in thought and attention, than ill-fitting and unbecoming garments and gloomy and unsightly dwellings. Attractiveness of dress, surroundings, and personal appearance is a duty; because it gives free exercise to our higher and nobler sentiments; elevates and enlarges our lives; while discomfort and repulsiveness in these things lower our standards, and drive us to the baser elements of our nature in search of cheap forms of self-indulgence to take the place of that natural delight in attractive dress and surroundings which has been repressed. Both to ourselves and to our friends we owe as much attractiveness of personal surroundings and personal appearance as a reasonable amount of thought and effort and expenditure can secure. THE VIRTUE. Neatness inexpensive and its absence inexcusable.—No one is so poor that he cannot afford to be neat. No one is so rich that he can afford to be slovenly. Neatness is a virtue, or manly quality; because it keeps the things we wear and have about us under our control, and compels them to express our will and purpose. [17] [18] [19] [20] THE REWARD. Dress an indication of the worth of the wearer.—Neatness of dress and personal appearance indicates that there is some regard for decency and propriety, some love of order and beauty, some strength of will and purpose inside the garments. If dress is the most superficial aspect of a person, it is at the same time the most obvious one. Our first impression of people is gained from their general appearance, of which dress is one of the most important features. Consequently dress goes far to determine the estimate people place upon us. Fuller acquaintance may compel a revision of these original impressions. First impressions, however, often decide our fate with people whose respect and good-will is valuable to us. Important positions are often won or lost through attention or neglect in these matters. THE TEMPTATION. Dress has its snares.—We are tempted to care, not for attractiveness in itself, but for the satisfaction of thinking, and having others think, how fine we look. Worse still, we are tempted to try to look not as well as we can, but better than somebody else; and by this combination of rivalry with vanity we get the most contemptible and pitiable level to which perversity in dress can bring us. There is no end to the ridiculous and injurious absurdities to which this hollow vanity will lead those who are silly enough to yield to its demands. Cynicism regarding appearance.—Vanity may take just the opposite form. We may be just as proud of our bad looks, as of our good looks. This is the trick of the Cynic. This is the reason why almost every town has its old codger who seems to delight in wearing the shabbiest coat, and driving the poorest horse, and living in the most dilapidated shanty of anyone in town. These persons take as much pride in their mode of life as the devotee of fashion does in hers. One of these Cynics went to the baths with Alcibiades, the gayest of Athenian youths. When they came out Alcibiades put on the Cynic's rags, leaving his own gay and costly apparel for the Cynic. The Cynic was in a great rage, and protested that he would not be seen wearing such gaudy things as those. "Ah!" said Alcibiades; "so you care more what kind of clothes you wear than I do after all; for I can wear your clothes, but you cannot wear mine." Another of the Cynics, as he entered the elegant apartments of Plato, spat upon the rug, exclaiming: "Thus I pour contempt on the pride of Plato." "Yes," was Plato's reply, "with a greater pride of your own." Since pride and vanity have these two forms, we need to be on our guard against them both. For one or the other is pretty sure to assail us. An eye single to the attractiveness of our personal appearance is the only thing that will save us from one or the other of these lines of temptation. THE VICE OF DEFECT. Too little attention to dress and surroundings is slovenliness.—The sloven is known by his dirty hands and face, his disheveled hair, and tattered garments. His house is in confusion; his grounds are littered with rubbish; he eats his meals at an untidy table; and sleeps in an unmade bed. Slovenliness is a vice; for it is an open confession that a man is too weak to make his surroundings the expression of his tastes and wishes, and has allowed his surroundings to run over him and drag him down to their own level. And this subjection of man to the tyranny of things, when he ought to exercise a strong dominion over them, is the universal mark of vice. THE VICE OF EXCESS. Too much attention to dress and appearance is fastidiousness.—These things are important; but it is a very petty and empty mind that can find enough in them to occupy any considerable portion of its total attention and energy. The fastidious person must have everything "just so," or the whole happiness of his precious self is utterly ruined. He spends hours upon toilet and wardrobe where sensible people spend minutes. Hence he becomes the slave rather than the master of his dress. The sloven and the dude are both slaves; but in different ways.—Slovenliness is slavery to the hideous and repulsive. Fastidiousness is slavery to this or that particular style or fashion. The freedom and mastery of neatness consists in the ability to make as attractive as possible just such material as one's means place at his disposal with the amount of time and effort he can reasonably devote to them. THE PENALTY. Fastidiousness belittles: slovenliness degrades. Both are contemptible.—The man who does not care enough for himself to keep the dirt off his hands and clothes, when not actually engaged in work that soils them, cannot complain if other people place no higher estimate upon him than he by this slovenliness puts upon himself. The woman whose soul rises and falls the whole distance between ecstasy and despair with the fit of a glove or the shade of a ribbon must not wonder if people rate her as of about equal consequence with gloves and ribbons. These vices make their victims low and petty; and the contempt with which they are regarded is simply the recognition of the pettiness and degradation which the vices have begotten. CHAPTER III. [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] Exercise. When the body is well fed and clothed, the next demand is for exercise. Our powers are given us to be used; and unless they are used they waste away. Nothing destroys power so surely and completely as disuse. The only way to keep our powers is to keep them in exercise. We acquire the power to lift by lifting; to run, by running; to write, by writing; to talk, by talking; to build houses, by building; to trade, by trading. In mature life our exercise comes to us chiefly along the lines of our business, domestic, and social relations. In childhood and youth, before the pressure of earning a living comes upon us, we must provide for needed exercise in artificial ways. The play-impulse is nature's provision for this need. It is by hearty, vigorous play that we first gain command of those powers on which our future ability to do good work depends. THE DUTY. The best exercise that of which we are least conscious.—It is the duty of every grown person as well as of every child to take time for recreation. Exercise taken in a systematic way for its own sake is a great deal better than nothing; and in crowded schools and in sedentary occupations such gymnastic exercises are the best thing that can be had. The best exercise, however, is not that which we get when we aim at it directly; but that which comes incidentally in connection with sport and recreation. A plunge into the river; a climb over the hills; a hunt through the woods; a skate on the pond; a wade in the trout brook; a ride on horseback; a sail on the lake; camping out in the forest;—these are the best ways to take exercise. For in these ways we have such a good time that we do not think about the exercise at all; and we put forth ten times the amount of exertion that we should if we were to stop and think how much exercise we proposed to take. Next in value to these natural outdoor sports come the artificial games; baseball, football, hare and hounds, lawn tennis, croquet, and hockey. When neither natural nor artificial sports can be had, then the dumb-bells, the Indian clubs, and the foils become a necessity. Everyone should become proficient in as many of these sports as possible. These are the resources from which the stores of vitality and energy must be supplied in youth, and replenished in later life. THE VIRTUE. The value of superfluous energy.—The person whose own life-forces are at their best cannot help flowing over in exuberant gladness to gladden all he meets. Herbert Spencer has set this forth so strongly in his Data of Ethics that I quote his words: "Bounding out of bed after an unbroken sleep, singing or whistling as he dresses, coming down with beaming face ready to laugh at the slightest provocation, the healthy man of high powers enters on the day's business not with repugnance but with gladness; and from hour to hour experiencing satisfaction from work effectually done, comes home with an abundant surplus of energy remaining for hours of relaxation. Full of vivacity, he is ever welcome. For his wife he has smiles and jocose speeches; for his children stories of fun and play; for his friends pleasant talk interspersed with the sallies of wit that come from buoyancy." THE REWARD. "Unto everyone that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance." The reward of exertion is the power to make more exertion the next time. And the reward of habits of regular exercise and habitual cheerfulness is the ability to meet the world at every turn in the consciousness of power to master it, and to meet men with that good cheer which disarms hostility and wins friends. THE TEMPTATION. Excitement not to be made an end in itself.—The exhilaration of sport may be carried to the point of excitement; and then this excitement may be made an end in itself. This is the temptation which besets all forms of recreation and amusement. It is the fear of this danger that has led many good people to distrust and disparage certain of the more intense forms of recreation. Their mistake is in supposing that temptation is peculiar to these forms of amusement. As we shall see before we complete our study of ethics, everything brings temptation with it; and the best things bring the severest and subtlest temptations; and if we would withdraw from temptation, we should have to withdraw from the world. We must all recognize that this temptation to seek excitement for its own sake is a serious one. It is least in the natural outdoor sports like swimming and sailing and hunting and fishing and climbing and riding. Hence we should give to these forms of recreation as large a place as possible in our plans for exercise and amusement. We should see clearly that the artificial indoor amusements, such as dancing, card-playing, theater-going, billiard-playing, are especially liable to give rise to that craving for excitement for excitement's sake which perverts recreation from its true function as a renewer of our powers into a ruinous drain upon them. The moment any form of recreation becomes indispensable to us, the moment we find that it diminishes instead of heightening our interest and delight in the regular duties of our daily lives, that instant we should check its encroachment upon our time and, if need be, cut it off altogether. It is impossible to lay down hard and fast rules, telling precisely what forms of amusement are good and what are bad. So much depends on the attitude of the individual toward them, and the associations which they carry with them in different localities, that what is right and beneficial for one person in one set of surroundings would be wrong and disastrous to another person or to the same person in other circumstances. To enable us to see clearly the important part recreation must play in every healthy life, and to see with equal clearness the danger of giving way to a craving for constant and unnatural excitement, is the most that ethics can do for us. The application of these principles to concrete cases each parent must make for his own children, and [26] [27] [28] [29] each individual for himself. THE VICE OF DEFECT. Neglect of exercise and recreation leads to moroseness.—Like milk which is allowed to stand, the spirit of man or woman, if left unoccupied, turns sour. One secret of sourness and moroseness is the sense that some side of our nature has been repressed; and this inward indignation at our own wrongs we vent on others in bitterness and complainings. Moroseness is first a sign that we ourselves are miserable; and secondly it is the occasion of making others miserable too. Having had Spencer's account of the benefits of the cheerfulness that comes from adequate recreation, let us now see his description of its opposite. "Far otherwise is it with one who is enfeebled by great neglect of self. Already deficient, his energies are made more deficient by constant endeavors to execute tasks that prove beyond his strength, and by the resulting discouragement. Hours of leisure, which, rightly passed, bring pleasures that raise the tide of life and renew the powers of work, cannot be utilized: there is not vigor enough for enjoyments involving action, and lack of spirits prevents passive enjoyments from being entered upon with zest. In brief, life becomes a burden. The irritability resulting now from ailments, now from failures caused from feebleness, his family has daily to bear. Lacking adequate energy for joining in them, he has at best but a tepid interest in the amusements of his children; and he is called a wet blanket by his friends." THE VICE OF EXCESS. Perpetual amusement-seeking: brings ennui, satiety, and disgust.—"All play and no work makes Jack a mere toy," is as true as that "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." The constant pursuit of amusement makes life empty and frivolous. Rightly used recreation increases one's powers for serious pursuits. Pursued wrongly, pursued as the main concern of life, amusement makes all serious work seem stale and dull; and finally makes amusement itself dull and stale too. Ennui, loathing, disgust, and emptiness are the marks of the amusement-seeker the world over. "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. All things are full of weariness. The eye is not satisfied with seeing nor the ear filled with hearing"—this is the experience of the man who "withheld not his heart from any joy." It is the experience of everyone who exalts amusement from the position of an occasional servant to that of abiding master of his life. THE PENALTY. The penalty of neglected exercise is confirmed debility.—"Whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that which he hath." Enfeebled from lack of exercise a man finds himself unequal to the demands of his work; and soured by his consequent dissatisfaction with himself, he becomes alienated from his fellows. The tide of life becomes low and feeble; and he can neither overcome obstacles in his own strength nor attract to himself the help of others. CHAPTER IV. Work. Food, clothes, shelter, and all the necessities of life are the products of labor. Even the simplest food, such as fruit and berries, must be picked before it can be eaten: the coarsest garment of skins must be stripped from the animal before it can be worn: the rudest shelter of rock or cave must be seized and defended against intruders before it can become one's own. And as civilization advances, the element of labor involved in the production of goods steadily increases. The universal necessity of human labor to convert the raw materials given us by nature into articles serviceable to life and enjoyment renders work a fundamental branch of human conduct. Regular meals, comfortable homes, knowledge, civilization, all are the fruits of work. And unless we contribute our part to the production of these goods, we have no moral right to be partakers of the fruits. "If any will not work, neither let him eat." "All work," says Thomas Carlyle, "is noble: work alone is noble. Blessed is he that has found his work; let him ask no other blessedness. Two men I honor, and no third. First, the toilworn craftsman who with earth-made implement laboriously conquers the Earth, and makes her man's. A second man I honor, and still more highly: him who is seen toiling for the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, but the bread of life. These two in all their degrees I honor; all else is chaff and dust, which let the wind blow whither it listeth. We must all toil, or steal (howsoever we name our stealing), which is worse." THE DUTY. Every man lives either upon the fruit of his own work, or upon the fruit of the work of others.—In childhood it is right for us to live upon the fruits of the toil of our parents and friends. But to continue this life of dependence on the work of others after one has become an able-bodied man or woman is to live the life of a perpetual baby. No life so little justifies itself as that of the idle rich. The idle poor man suffers the penalty of idleness in his own person. He gives little to the world; and he gets little in return. The idle rich man gives nothing, and gets much in return. And while he lives, someone has to work the harder for his being in the world; and when he dies the world is left poorer than it would have been had he never been born. He has simply consumed a portion of the savings of his ancestors, and balanced the energy and honor of their lives by his own life of worthlessness and shame. Inherited wealth should bring with it a life of greater responsibility and harder toil; for the rich man is morally bound to use his wealth for the common good. And that is a much harder task than merely to earn one's own living. An able-bodied man who does not contribute to the world at least as much as he takes [30] [31] [32] [33] [34] out of it is a beggar and a thief; whether he shirks the duty of work under the pretext of poverty or riches. Every boy and girl should be taught some trade, business, art, or profession.—To neglect this duty is to run the risk of enforced dependence upon others, than which nothing can be more destructive of integrity and self-respect. The increasing avenues open to women, and the fact that a woman is liable at any time to have herself and her children to support, make it as important for women as for men to have the ability to earn an honest living. Woman's sphere is chiefly in the home and the social circle.—Provided she is able to earn her living whenever it becomes necessary, and in case her parents are able and willing to support her, a young woman is justified in remaining in the home until her marriage. Her assistance to her mother in the domestic and social duties of the home, and her preparation for similar duties in her own future home, is often the most valuable service she can render during the years between school and marriage. In order, however, for such a life to be morally justified she must realize that it is her duty to do all in her power to help her mother; to make home more pleasant; and to take part in those forms of social and philanthropic work which only those who have leisure can undertake. The son or daughter who is to inherit wealth, should be trained in some line of political, scientific, artistic, charitable, or philanthropic work, whereby he may use his wealth and leisure in the service of the public, and justify his existence by rendering to society some equivalent for that security and enjoyment of wealth which society permits him to possess without the trouble of earning it. All honest work, manual, mental, social, domestic, political and philanthropic, scientific and literary, is honorable. Any form of life without hard work of either hand or brain is shameful and disgraceful. The idler is of necessity a debtor to society; though there are forms of idleness to which, for reasons of its own, society never presents its bill. THE VIRTUE. Industry conquers the world.—Industry is a virtue, because it asserts this fundamental interest of self-support in opposition to the solicitations of idleness and ease. Industry masters the world, and makes it man's servant and slave. The industrious man too is master of his own feelings; and compels the weaker and baser impulses of his nature to stand back and give the higher interests room. The industrious man will do thorough work, and produce a good article, cost what it may. He will not suffer his arm to rest until it has done his bidding; nor will he let nature go until her resources and forces have been made to serve his purpose. This mastery over ourselves and over nature is the mark of virtue and manliness always and everywhere. THE REWARD. Industry works; and the fruit of work is wealth.—The industrious man may or may not have great riches. That depends on his talents, opportunities, and character. Great riches are neither to be sought nor shunned. With them or without them the highest life is possible; and on the whole it is easier without than with great riches. A moderate amount of wealth, however, is essential to the fullest development of one's powers and the freest enjoyment of life. Of such a moderate competence the industrious man is assured. THE TEMPTATION. Soft places and easy kinds of work to be avoided.—Work costs pain and effort. Men naturally love ease. Hence arises the temptation to put ease above self-support. This temptation in its extreme form, if yielded to, makes a man a beggar and a tramp. More frequently the temptation is to take an easy kind of work, rather than harder work; or to do our work shiftlessly rather than thoroughly. Young men are tempted to take clerkships where they can dress well and do light work, instead of learning a trade which requires a long apprenticeship, and calls for rough, hard work. The result is that the clerk remains a clerk all his life on low wages, and open to the competition of everybody who can read and write and cipher. While the man who has taken time to learn a trade, and has taken off his coat and accustomed himself to good hard work, has an assured livelihood; and only the few who have taken the same time to learn the trade, and are as little afraid of hard work as himself, can compete with him. This temptation to seek a "soft berth," where the only work required is sitting in an office, or talking, or writing, or riding around, is the form of sloth which is taking the st...