CHAPTER XIII
Be Just
Archbishop Abbot of Canterbury when preaching the funeral sermon of Lord Buckhurst, did not dwell on his merits as a statesman, or his genius as a poet, but upon his virtues as a man in relation to the ordinary duties of life. “How many rare things were in him,” said he, “one of which was justice.” The first and most essential exercise of love toward other persons is respect of their rights. It is a virtue that will govern one’s thoughts, engineer one’s actions, influence one’s life, and command the universal esteem of mankind.
To be just means to deal fairly with others. It is conformity to the principle of right, truthfulness to promise, faithfulness to engagement and trustworthiness in every capacity. True, it is not always done. In business, wrong methods, short measures, false weights are often used. In society misrepresentation seems to hold an important part, but no boy need resort to such measures, for he can succeed without them.
JUSTNESS POSSIBLE AND PROFITABLE.
When Athens was governed by the thirty tyrants, Socrates was summoned to the Senate Chamber and ordered to go with others whom they named, to seize one Leon, a man of rank and fortune whom they determined to slay that they might enjoy his estate. This commission Socrates positively refused. “I will not willingly,” said he, “assist in an unjust act.” One of the tyrants sharply replied, “Dost thou think, Socrates, to talk in this high tone, and not suffer?” “Far from it,” replied he, “I expect to suffer a thousand ills, but none so great as to do unjustly.”
Percy tells of a Persian king who desired a little salt to season some venison while on a hunting expedition. One of his attendants went to a neighboring village and took some by force. The king, suspecting the theft, ordered that he should immediately go and pay for it, saying: “This is a small thing in itself, but a great one as regards me, for a king ought always to be just, because he is an example to his subjects, and if he swerves in trifles he will become dissolute. If I cannot make all my subjects just in the smallest thing, I can at least show them that it is possible for me to be so.”
THE INJUSTICE OF A MOORISH KING.
Injustice in word or deed, however small, is a crime, which may benefit the doer for a time, but which will eventually pain him more than him to whom it is done. “If thou hadst,” said Carlyle, “all the artillery of the world marching at thy back in the support of an unjust thing, it would not be a success. If the thing is not just thou hast not succeeded.” A Moorish king desired to purchase a piece of ground from a woman who preferred to keep it. Thereupon the king seized it and built upon it a pavilion. The poor woman complained to the cadi and he promised to do all in his power to make it right. One day, while the king was in the field, the cadi came with an empty sack and asked to fill it with the earth on which he was treading. Having obtained leave he filled the sack, and then requested the king to complete his kindness by helping him load it on his horse. The monarch laughed, and tried to lift it, but soon let it drop, complaining of its great weight. “It is however,” said the cadi, “only a small part of the ground thou hast wrested from one of thy subjects; how then wilt thou bear the weight of the whole field, when thou shalt appear before the great Judge laden with thine iniquity?” The reproof was severe. The conscience of the king troubled him now like a rawhide lash, and he restored the field to its owner, together with the pavilion and the wealth it contained.