We can hence see why he who has a violent temper should always speak in a low voice, and study mildness and sweetness in his tones. For loud, impassioned, and boisterous tones certainly excite impassioned feelings. So do all the actions which indicate anger. Thus Dr. Darwin has said that any individual, by using the language and actions of an angry person, towards an imaginary object of displeasure, and accompanying them by threats, and blows, with a doubled or clinched fist, may easily work himself into a rage. Of the justice of this opinion I am fully convinced, from actual and repeated experiments.
If we find ourselves apt to be angry, we should endeavor to avoid the road which leads to it. The first thing to be done, is to govern our voice. On this point, the story of the Quaker and the merchant may not be uninstructive.
A merchant in London had a dispute with a Quaker gentleman about the settlement of an account. The merchant was determined to bring the action into court,—a course of proceeding to which the Quaker was wholly opposed;—he therefore used every argument in his power to convince the merchant of his error; but all to no purpose.
Desirous of making a final effort, however, the Quaker called at the house of the merchant, one morning, and inquired of the servant if his master was at home. The merchant hearing the inquiry from the top of the stairs, and knowing the voice, called out, loudly, 'Tell that rascal I am not at home.' The Quaker, looking up towards him, said calmly; 'Well, friend, may God put thee in a better mind.'
The merchant was struck with the meekness of the reply, and after thinking more deliberately of the matter, became convinced that the Quaker was right, and he in the wrong. He requested to see him, and after acknowledging his error, said, 'I have one question to ask you. How were you able to bear my abuse with so much patience?'
'Friend,' replied the Quaker, 'I will tell thee. I was naturally as hot and violent as thou art. But I knew that to indulge my temper was sinful, and also very foolish. I observed that men in a passion always spoke very loud; and I thought if I could control my voice, I should keep down my passions. I therefore made it a rule never to let it rise above a certain key; and by a careful observance of this rule, I have, with the blessing of God, entirely mastered my natural temper.'
When you are tempted by the conduct of those around you, to be angry, endeavor to consider the matter for a few moments. If your temper be so impetuous that you find this highly difficult, you may adopt some plan or device for gaining time. Some recommend counting twenty or thirty, deliberately. The following anecdote of the celebrated Zimmerman is exactly in point, and may afford useful hints for instruction.
Owing in part to a diseased state of body, Zimmerman was sometimes irritable. One day, a Russian princess and several other ladies entered his apartment to inquire after his health; when, in a fit of petulance, he rose, and requested them to leave the room. The prince entered some time afterward, when Zimmerman had begun to repent of his rashness, and after some intervening conversation, advised him, whenever he felt a disposition to treat his friends so uncivilly again, to repeat, mentally, the Lord's prayer. This advice was followed, and with success. Not long afterward the same prince came to him for advice in regard to the best manner of controlling the violence of those transports of affection towards his young and amiable consort, in which young and happy lovers are so apt to indulge. 'My dear friend,' said Zimmerman, 'there is no expedient which can surpass your own. Whenever you feel yourself overborne by passion, you have only to repeat the Lord's prayer, and you will be able to reduce it to a steady and permanent flame.'
By adopting Zimmerman's rule, we shall, as I have already observed, gain time for reflection, than which nothing more is needed. For if the cause of anger be a report, for example, of injury done to us by an absent person, either in words or deeds, how do we know the report is true? Or it may be only partly true; and how do we know, till we consider the matter well, whether it is worth our anger at all? Or if at all, perhaps it deserves but a little of it. It may be, too, that the person who said or did the thing reported, did it by mistake, or is already sorry for it. At all events, nothing can be gained by haste; much may be by delay.
If a passionate person give you ill language, you ought rather to pity than be angry with him, for anger is a species of disease. And to correct one evil, will you make another? If his being angry is an evil, will it mend the matter to make another evil, by indulging in passion yourself? Will it cure his disease, to throw yourself into the same distemper? But if not, then how foolish is it to indulge improper feelings at all!