CHAPTER II.
MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS.
As distinguished from the Benevolent.—The affections have already been distinguished from other forms of the sensibility, by the circumstance that they involve, along with the feeling of pleasure or pain, some feeling of kindness or the opposite, toward the object; in the one case we term them benevolent, in the other, malevolent affections. Of the former, I have treated in the preceding chapter; of the latter, I am now to speak.
Resentment the generic Name.—These affections may be comprised under the general name resentment, as that which underlies and constitutes the basis of them all. Envy, jealousy, revenge, etc., may be regarded as but so many modifications, or perversions, of this general principle. As the benevolent affections are all so many forms of love, going forth toward diverse objects, and varying as the objects vary, so the malevolent affections are so many forms of the opposite principle, i. e., aversion, varying, likewise, with the objects.
Founded in Nature.—As the benevolent, so likewise the malevolent or irascible feelings are, as to their principle, instinctive; they have their foundation in our nature. They are, as such, universally exhibited under the appropriate circumstances; they are early in their development, showing themselves often prior to the exercise of the reflecting and reasoning powers; they are, also, to some extent, common to man with the brutes.
Capable, however, of rational Exercise and Control.—While we pronounce them instinctive, however, we would by no means imply that they are not capable of being deliberately and intelligently exercised, or that they are not in fact, frequently so exercised. What instinct originally teaches, reason and reflection, when, at a later date, they come into play, may sanction and confirm. On the other hand, they may repress and forbid what instinct prompts. In the former case, the emotion, affection, passion, is none the less an instinctive principle in its nature and origin, although it has now passed from the domain of mere instinct to the higher sphere of reason and intelligence. What was done in the first instance from sudden impulse, blindly, without thought, is now done deliberately and intelligently. This may be the case with all our instinctive principles of action, as well as with those now particularly under consideration. Instinct and reason, or intelligence, though distinguished from, are not necessarily opposed to each other, in the sense that one and the same mental act may not proceed, now from one, now from the other, of these principles. The love which I cherish for my friends, or my kindred, may be purely instinctive, it may be strictly rational, a matter of reflection, the result of deliberate purpose.
Existence of such a Principle denied by some.—The existence of such a principle as resentment, among the original and constitutional elements of our nature, has been called in question by some writers. It has been thought derogatory to the divine character, that the Creator should implant the principle of resentment in the human heart. He commands us to love, and not to hate, and what he expressly forbids, he cannot have made provision for in the very constitution of the mind. Such a principle, it is also maintained, is altogether unnecessary. This is the ground taken by Mr. Winslow, in his work on moral philosophy.
The Question at Issue.—There is certainly much force in the view thus presented. The question before us, however, is not, what we might, à priori, have supposed the nature of man to be, nor, what it ought to be, but simply, what is that nature as a matter of fact? Whether such a principle as resentment is necessary in a well-constituted mind, is not now the question; nor yet whether the Creator could consistently implant such a principle within us; nor, again, what may be the moral character of such a principle; but simply, Is there such a principle among the native elements of human character? If it be found there, we may conclude, either, that the Creator has placed it there for some wise purpose, or else, that the nature with which man comes into the world is no longer an adequate expression of the will of the Creator concerning him, but has, in some way, lost its original purity and integrity.
Existence of such a Principle.—Now that there are certain irascible feelings which find a place, under certain circumstances, in the human bosom, whenever the fitting occasion calls them forth, can hardly be denied; nor yet that they have their foundation in the nature of man. We have the same evidence of this, that we have of the existence of any other original and native principle. It manifests itself universally, uniformly, under all the varieties of social condition, among all nations, in all ages of the world. It developes itself at an early period of life, before education or example can have come in to account for its existence. Reason may subsequently control and restrain it, or it may fail to do so; but the principle exists before it can be either indulged or restrained. When the occasion which calls it forth is some injury or evil inflicted upon ourselves, the feeling takes the name of resentment; when others are the objects of that injustice, the feeling awakened is more properly termed indignation. We resent our own wrongs, we are indignant at those of others. The principle is, in either case, the same, and is as truly a part of our nature, as gratitude for favors received, or sympathy with the sorrows of the afflicted.
Term Malevolent, how employed.—The term malevolent, as used to designate this class of affections, is, it must be confessed, liable to serious objection. It has come into use as a convenient term, in place of, and for the want of, something better, to mark the distinction between the feelings now under consideration, and those of the opposite character, already considered; and as we call those benevolent, so we call these malevolent, merely by way of contrast, and not as implying any thing criminal in the character of the emotions themselves. The term, however, is unfortunate, as seeming to involve a meaning not intended. The moral character of the affections thus designated, is an open question, to be decided upon its own merits, and not to be considered as settled, one way or the other, by the use of the term now under consideration. This question we shall presently discuss. For the present, we have to consider, more particularly, the several forms in which the malevolent or irascible feeling presents itself.
Nature of Resentment.—Resentment is the feeling awakened in view of injury received. It is precisely the opposite of gratitude, which is the feeling awakened by benefits conferred. As, in the latter case, there springs up at once in the heart an affectionate regard for the generous donor, so, in the former there is awakened, at once a feeling of resentment against those who have done us the wrong. It is an instinctive emotion. No sooner are we conscious of the injury than we are conscious also of the feeling of resentment.
Design of this Principle.—The design of this principle of our nature is evident. It arms us against those sudden dangers and assaults, which no foresight can anticipate, nor prudence prevent, and which, when they occur, require instant action, and prompt redress. In such cases, reason and reflection would come to our aid too late; were we left to their counsels, however wise those counsels might be, we should already have suffered the injury from which they would seek to protect us. Something is needed that shall prompt to speedier action; some watchman vigilant and armed, ready on the first approach of danger to strike his alarm-bell, and summon the garrison to action. This we have in the principle of resentment. Were it not for this principle, moreover, a cautious and timid policy might often prevail over the sense of justice, and honor, and right, or a selfish policy might keep us back from interfering, at our own peril, for the protection of the injured, and the punishment of the aggressor. Instinct sets us right in such matters, before reason has time to act.
Necessary to the Punishment of Crime.—The malevolent feeling, at least in the form now under consideration, seems to be, in some degree, necessary for the punishment of crime, and the protection of society. It may be doubted whether, without it, we should act with sufficient energy, and promptness, for the redress of wrong, when that wrong is not inflicted upon ourselves. Nature has guarded against this danger, by planting in the human bosom an innate sense of justice, a hatred of wrong and injury wantonly inflicted, and a quick resentment against the perpetrator, which leads us to seek his detection and punishment, silences the pleadings of compassion in his behalf, and arms us to inflict the merited blow. That is but a weak and short-sighted benevolence, that is incapable of hatred of crime, and criminals; and that, under the flimsy pretence of compassion for the unfortunate, and humanity, would shield from justice, and due punishment, those who strike at the highest interests of society, and put in jeopardy all that is most dear and sacred to man. There are cases, in which compassion becomes malice aforethought, and stern resentment is the only true benevolence. It is one of the sublimest and most glorious attributes of deity, as portrayed in the Scriptures, that with the highest benevolence he combines the stern, inflexible hatred of wrong, so that, while it can with truth be said, "God is love," it can with equal truth be affirmed, "our God is a consuming fire."
Liable to abuse.—While, however, the principle now considered has its uses, and must be regarded as a most important provision of nature for the necessities of our race, it must also be conceded that it is a principle liable to abuse, and requiring to be kept in careful check. Especially in its sudden and instinctive action, upon the reception of personal harm or danger, are we liable to be carried to extremes, and indulge a resentment out of proportion to the merits of the case.
A Check on excessive Resentment.—Against this excessive resentment of injuries, real or imaginary, nature has provided a check needful and salutary, in the indignation with which any such manifestation is sure to be regarded by others, and the loss of that sympathy, otherwise on our side, but now turned in favor of the object of our too great resentment. The wise and prudent man will carefully avoid such a result, and this prudence will act as a powerful curb on his anger. To the man of virtuous and honorable sentiments there is also another restraint, hardly less powerful, upon the exercise of the malevolent feeling in any undue degree, and that is, the feeling of self-degradation and humiliation which such a man must feel, in consequence of his excessive resentment, when the heat of passion cools, and the moments of calmer reflection ensue. Even as exercised within due bounds, the malevolent affection is, from its very nature, a painful one. Not only the first emotion on the reception of injury or insult is one of a disagreeable nature, but the wish or desire, which instantly follows and accompanies it, of inflicting in return some ill upon the aggressor, is also a feeling which disturbs and disquiets the mind, and inflicts a species of suffering upon the mind that cherishes it, that may not improperly be termed its own punishment. And this again may be regarded, and doubtless is, to some extent, a check upon the indulgence of the malevolent affection.
Violent Exhibitions of this Feeling, where found.—It is accordingly in natures uncultivated and rude, little accustomed to self control, and the restraints of reason and religion, that we naturally look for the violent and excessive outbursts of passion. A regard for our own happiness, a due sense of our own dignity and moral worth, and a decent respect for the opinions of those about us, whose approbation and sympathy we desire, contribute, if not to diminish the strength, at least to repress the manifestation, in any considerable degree, of the feeling of resentment, in those who have arrived at years of discretion, and have profited by the lessons of experience. The child is angry with the stone against which he strikes his foot, and vents his resentment for any injury upon the unconscious instrument, which was the means of its infliction. The savage tears from his flesh the arrow that has wounded him, and breaks it into fragments. This is undoubtedly the instinct of nature, untaught by reason and reflection. It is probably the first impulse of every man, on the reception of any injury, and before he has time to reflect on the folly of such a course, to express in some manner his resentment against the immediate instrument of his suffering.
Deliberate Form of Resentment.—When the first impulse has passed, and time gives opportunity for reflection, this instinctive resentment dies away, or gives place to a deliberate and rational form of the same emotion. Thus affected, the mind casts about it to ascertain the real extent of its injury, and the best means of redress; it distinguishes between the conscious agent, and the unconscious instrument of its wrong, between the intentional injury and the unintentional, and, it may be, accidental harm; it takes into view the circumstances of the case, and the probable motives of the doer, and graduates its resentment accordingly.
Illustration of deliberate Resentment.—The law of retaliation which prevails among savage tribes, and which demands blood for blood, life for life, and exacts the fearful penalty with a justice inexorable and sure, though often long delayed, and which never loses sight of its victim, though years, and broad lands, and wide waters intervene, affords an illustration of deliberate in distinction from instinctive resentment. The law of honor, so called, as it exists among civilized nations, also illustrates the same principle.
Pointed out by Butler and others.—The distinction which we have indicated between the instinctive and deliberate form of this emotion, was clearly pointed out by Butler, though by no means original with him, as some writers have supposed; it is quite too obvious and important a distinction to have escaped the notice of earlier, and even of ancient philosophers, nor is it at all peculiar to this one affection, but common to all the sensibilities as I have already said.
Modifications of the general Principle.—There are certain modifications of the malevolent affection, which require a passing notice in this connection. I refer to those emotions commonly known as envy, jealousy, and revenge. These are all but different forms of the same general principle, varying as the different circumstances and objects vary which call them forth.
Nature of Envy.—Envy is that form of resentment which too often, and too easily, finds a place in the human bosom, when another is more fortunate, more successful, more honored and esteemed, than ourselves. Especially is this the case, when the fortunate one is from our own circle of companionship, and our own rank in life, and when the honors and distinctions, or the wealth and power, that fall to his lot are such as we might ourselves have aspired to reach. We never, I suspect, envy those whose condition is, and originally was, very far removed from our own. The peasant envies not the lord of the realm, nor the beggar the king, but rather his fellow-peasant, or fellow-beggar, whose hut is warmer, and whose ragged garment not so ragged, as his own. It is the passion of a weak and narrow mind, a mean and degrading emotion, the opposite of every thing noble and generous.
Nature of Jealousy.—Jealousy is that form of the malevolent affection which has relation more particularly, though not exclusively, to the attachment which exists between the sexes, and which is awakened by the supposed rivalry of another. It is one of the most painful of the malevolent affections, and, when thoroughly roused, one of the strongest and most powerful principles of our nature. It is the peculiarity of this passion, that the object of its suspicion, and resentment, is, at the same time, the object of the heart's deepest love, and, it may be, adoration; the strength and bitterness of the passion being in proportion to the fervor and earnestness of that affection. In the character of Othello, we have a fine delineation of the working and development of this trait of human character, as in Cassius we have a portraiture of the corresponding affection of envy.
Nature of Revenge.—Revenge is resentment in its most deliberate form, planned and carried into execution, not for the prevention of crime or injury, nor yet with reference to the ends of justice, but for the simple gratification of personal hatred. As such, and springing from such a motive, it is usually excessive in degree, and malicious in character. It is a dark and deadly passion, not more dangerous to society than degrading to the bosom that harbors it. It has not one redeeming quality to recommend it. It is neither the mark of a noble and generous, nor yet of a manly and brave spirit. It is the offspring of fear, rather than of courage. It usually seeks to accomplish, by secret and unlawful means, what it is ashamed or afraid to do openly, and by fair and honorable measures. It is a passion closely allied to those which may be supposed to reign in the bosom of a fiend.
Qualifying Remark.—I have spoken of envy, jealousy, and revenge, as modifications or different forms of the general principle of resentment, or the irascible propensity. There is, however, one important respect in which they all differ from the parent principle from which they spring. The latter, resentment, while founded in our nature, may, in exercise, be either instinctive or deliberate, as already shown; the former imply, I suspect, always some degree of deliberation, some element of choice. They are natural, in so far as there is a tendency in our nature to the exercise of these feelings under given circumstances, and, inasmuch as the principle from which they spring is founded in our nature, as one of its original elements; but they are not, like that principle, sometimes instinctive in their operation, but always, on the contrary, involve, as it seems to me, some process of thought, reflection, deliberation, choice.
Moral Character of the malevolent Affections.—It has been a question, much discussed, whether the class of feelings under consideration, in the present chapter, has any moral character, and if so, what? The question pertains, perhaps, more properly, to moral than to mental science, but we cannot pass it entirely without notice in this connection. So far as regards those forms of the malevolent emotion last considered, envy, jealousy, and revenge, there can be little doubt. Their exercise involves, as already stated, something of reflection and choice. They are not instinctive, but voluntary in their operation, capable, therefore, of control, and if not subjected to the stern dominion of reason, if not checked and subdued by the higher principles that should ever govern our conduct, we are reprehensible. Their indulgence in any form, and to any degree, must be regarded as blameworthy. They are perversions of that principle of resentment, which, for wise reasons, nature has implanted in our bosoms. Their tendency is evil, and only evil. They are malevolent in the full and proper sense of that term.
Of simple Resentment.—As to the primary principle of resentment in its simple and proper form, in so far as its operation is deliberate and voluntary, rather than purely instinctive, implying the exercise of reflection and reason, it must possess, in common with all other mental acts of that nature, some moral character. Within due limits, and on just occasions, it is a virtue; when it passes those limits, when it becomes excessive, or is uncalled for, by the circumstances of the case, it becomes a vice.
Of Resentment as instinctive.—The question before us properly relates to that form of resentment which is purely instinctive, unaccompanied by the exercise of reason and the reflective powers. Has such an emotion, strictly speaking, any moral character? How far are we responsible for its exercise? It seems to be a principle of manifest justice, and accordant with the common sense of mankind, that a man should be held responsible only for his rational and voluntary acts, for such things as it lies in his power to do, or not to do, according as he chooses. But that which is purely instinctive, is certainly not of this character. It may be in my power to repress the feeling of resentment that arises in my bosom on the reception of manifest injustice and wrong; I may refuse to harbor such a feeling; I may struggle to rise above it; but the feeling itself is instinctive, and I can no more prevent its first awakening and impulse, than I can prevent the involuntary contraction of the muscles upon the incision of the surgeon's knife.
Views of others—Upham, Reid, Chalmers.—Such is the view now generally entertained, we believe, by psychologists. "Instinctive resentment," says Mr. Upham, "has no moral character." "A moral character attaches only to the voluntary form of resentment." The same may be said of other affections, and of the sensibilities generally. In so far as they are purely instinctive, they have no moral character.
Dr. Reid, in his Active Powers of the Human Mind, holds this language, "Nothing in which the will is not concerned can justly be accounted either virtuous or immoral." The practice of all criminal courts, and all enlightened nations, he adds, is founded upon this principle; insomuch, "that if any judicature in any nation should find a man guilty, and the object of punishment, for what they allow to be altogether involuntary, all the world would condemn them as men who knew nothing of the first and most fundamental rules of justice."
Dr. Chalmers claims for the principle now under consideration a place among the primary and universal moral judgments of mankind. "It is in attending to these popular, or rather universal decisions, that we learn the real principles of moral science. And the first, certainly, of these popular, or rather universal decisions is, that nothing is moral or immoral that is not voluntary.
"That an action, then, be the rightful object either of moral censure or approval, it must have had the consent of the will to go along with it. It must be the fruit of a volition, else it is utterly beyond the scope, either of praise for its virtuousness, or of blame for its criminality. If an action be involuntary, it is as unfit a subject for any moral reckoning, as are the pulsations of the wrist."
(Sketches of Moral and Mental Philosophy, Chapter V. On the Morality of the Emotions.)