Chapter 30: Of the Affection of Anger — Its Fundamental Cause, Contempt

I now proceed to the last of the passions, Anger, whereof, in itself a subject of large discourse, yet being everywhere obvious, I shall not speak much. I intend not therefore distinctly to handle the several kinds of this passion, which Aristotle in his Ethics has given us, which are a sharp anger, and a hard or knotty anger. And Saint Paul who likewise gives us three kinds of it. Of which the first I may call a close and buried anger, which he names bitterness, the other a violent burning anger, which he calls wrath, and the last a desiring and pursuing anger, which seems to have its derivation from a word which signifies to desire, and therefore is defined by Aristotle to be [illegible], and by the Stoics [illegible], words of prosecution and pursuit. For these differ not essentially or formally among themselves, but only in diversity of degrees, and in order to the diverse constitutions of the subject wherein they lodge, and of the habits with which they are joined.

In which respects we might observe several other shapes of this affection. For there is the anger of a wasp, which is a hasty, pettish, and fretful anger, proceeding from a nature leavened and habituated with choler, which is presently stirred and provoked. And there is the anger of a lion, which is slow, but strong and severe, thus elegantly described by Homer.

[illegible]

He first walks by with [reconstructed: scorn], but when swift youth urge him with darts, then with devouring [reconstructed: mouth] he turns again, and at his lips is seen a boiling [reconstructed: flame], while his stout heart within rouses itself with groans: and round about his tail, beating his sides and loins, calls out and wakens proud revenge. Thus stirred he flies right on with red and fiery sparkling eyes to kill or to be killed —

There is further a cowardly, verbal and ridiculous anger, like that of whelps, which bark aloud, but run away from the thing which angers them. Which spends itself only in storms of empty expressions, rather pleasing than punishing those whom they light on, and rendering the person that uses it a very [illegible], or scarecrow, formidable to children, but to men ridiculous, like Geta in the comedian.

Ruerem, agerem, raperem, tunderem, prosternerem.

There is a grave and serious anger, like that of Agamemnon. An insolent and boasting anger, like that of Achilles. A sullen and stubborn anger like that of the Roman army disgracefully used by the Samnites. A cruel and raging anger, like that of Scylla, who in an excess of fury, vomited up blood, and died. And thus Saul is said to have breathed out threats, and been exceeding mad against the Church. A revengeful and impatient anger, as that of Cambyses, who being reproved by Prexaspes for his drunkenness, [reconstructed: refuted] the reproof with this act of cruelty: he shot the son of his reprover through the heart, to prove the steadiness of his hand. An anger of indignation at the honor and prosperity of unworthy persons, as that of the Roman nobility, who seeing Cn. Flavius, a man of mean condition, advanced to the praetorship, threw away their golden rings, (the signs of their honor) to testify their just indignation. The poet thus elegantly expresses the like against Menas, made of a slave a freeman by Pompey.

Videsne Sacram metiente te via[illegible] Cum bis ter [illegible]lnarum togâ Ut ora vertat [illegible]uc & huc euntium Liberrima Indignatio? Sectus flagellis hic trium viralibus Praconis ad fastidium, Arat falerni mille fundi jugera Et appiam mannis terit. When you pace up and down in your long gown, do you see how the people fret to see you jet? How with indignation bold, they cannot hold to see a man, so lately plowed with scourges lowed, until at length the weary crier, began to tire, dressing a thousand acres now with horse and plow?

Lastly, an anger of emulation, or a displeasure against ourselves for coming short by our negligence of the perfections of other men whom perhaps by industry we might have equaled. As Themistocles professed that the trophy of Miltiades would not suffer him to sleep. And Caesar wept [reconstructed: when] he read the achievements of Alexander, as having not at his age done any memorable thing. And Thucydides hearing Herodotus recite a history which he had written, broke forth into a strange passion of weeping, which the historian espying thus comforted his father: you are a happy man to be the father of such a son, [illegible], who is carried with such a vehement affection toward learning.

But to pass over these particulars, I shall in the general content myself with a brief consideration of the causes and effects of this passion.

The fundamental and essential cause of anger is contempt from others meeting with the love of ourselves. Whether it be disestimation and undervaluing of a man's person, or disappointment of his purposes, or slandering his good name, or any other way of casting injury on him. Or any of these particulars being impaired (if by such on whom we may hope to receive revenge) do work not only anxiety and grief (which is a motion of slight) but hope also and desire to ease itself, if not in the recovery of its own loss, yet in the comfort of another man's. For calamity (as the historian speaks) is ever either querulous or malignant, Cum suo malo torquetur, quiescit [illegible]. When it feels itself wrung and pinched, it quickly proceeds either by justice or revenge to please itself in retaliation.

For the former of these, as it is the common property of man with all other creatures to love himself: so it is his particular desire also, being Animal Sociale & Politicum, to be loved by others; because hereby that love of himself, which proceeds from judgment and reason, is confirmed. For every man does more willingly believe that, to which he has further authority to persuade him. And therefore though love be not sinisterly suspicious, nor too envious in interpreting a man's own, or a friend's actions and [reconstructed: behavior]; yet that love, which is not blind and furious, will be ever ready to submit itself to the opinion of stayed and indifferent judgments, because it is conscious to itself, how easily it may miscarry, if it [reconstructed: rely] upon its own censure, wherein reason, affection, and prejudice are mixed together.

Now then when a man already strongly possessed with a love of his own or his friends' person or parts, shall find either of them by others slighted and despised; from whose joint respect he hoped for a confirmation of his judgment — there hence arises not only a grief to see his expectation deceived, and his opinion undervalued — but withal a desire to make known to the persons, who thus contemn him by some manner of face or tongue, or hand, or heart, or head, revenge (for all these may be the instruments of our anger) that there is in him more courage, power and worth than deserves so to be neglected. Which passion in a word, so long as it submits itself to the government of reason, is then always allowable and right, when it is grounded on the pride and insolence of others, who unjustly contemn us. And then irregular and corrupt, when it proceeds from the root of pride and ambition in ourselves, which makes us greedy of more honor from others, than their judgments or our own worth allows them to afford us.

To this branch of contempt may be referred forgetfulness of friends and acquaintance, whereby we upbraid them with obscurity and distance, as well from true worth, as from our affection: for Omnia quae curant, meminerunt, says Tully: and Aristotle to the same purpose. Those things which we do respect, do not lie hidden and out of our sight.

Next here may be referred all ungrateful persons, who slight those favors which they have received from other men's bounties, and out of a swelling and height of stomach, cannot endure to acknowledge any obligations; but desire to receive benefits, as corrupt men take bribes in the dark, and behind their backs, that so neither others, nor (if it were possible) their own eyes might be witnesses to it: for as Tacitus speaks, Gratia oneri habetur: such is the pride of some men, that they disdain not to be overcome in any thing — though it be in kindness. And therefore Ubi multum beneficiâ antevenêre, pro gratia odium redditur, says the same author: when they find themselves overladen with love, the best [reconstructed: requital] which their high minds can afford, is hatred: which cannot but work a double anger; an anger against ourselves and our own weakness in the choice of so unfit a subject for the placing of our benefits; and an anger at that contemptuous pride, which so basely entertained them.

Here also we may refer those locked and close men, who even to their friends are so [reconstructed: reserved], and keep everything so secret, as if none were worthy, to whose judgment or trust they might commit themselves.

Here likewise are referred acceptance of persons in equality of merit with unequal respect, negligence of outward ceremony and behavior — and generally whatever else may work an opinion that we are undervalued.

The second branch of this first fundamental cause was a hindering of the projects and purposes of another, which is not only a privative (as the former) but a positive and real injury, which includes that other, and adds to it, as being not only a slighting, but an assault upon us; [reconstructed: not] an opinion only, but an expression of our weakness; a course so much the more likely to [reconstructed: incense] nature, and make it swell, by how much violent and opposition is more sensible in motion than in rest. So that these two former injuries, I think I may well compare to a bank, and to a bridge, or some other stops to a river in his course: of which the former does confine the river, and not oppose it, as not hindering it in its direct and natural motion (which it rather helps by more uniting the parts) but only in a motion lateral and indirect, which nature did not intend; and therefore herein we see not any manifest fretting and noise, but only a secret swelling and rising of the water, which breaks not into outrage and violence: but the latter resisting the natural course of the stream in its own channel, and standing directly cross, where nature should pass, makes it, not only in time to overswell on all sides, but in the meantime works in it great tumult and noise.

[reconstructed: Spumens], & fervens, & ab Obice Saevior ibit.

It foams and boils, and with a raging force, fights with all obstacles, that stop its course.

So of these two degrees of contempt in anger — the former as being only a confining and limiting contempt, which shuts up a man's worth within too narrow and strait a judgment, works indeed a secret swelling of the heart with indignation at the conceit of such disesteem; but this breaks not out into that clamor (as Saint Paul calls it) that noise of anger, as the other does, which [reconstructed: arises] out of a direct opposition against our counsels or actions.

To which opposition may be reduced all manner of injurious proceeding, which tends to the prejudice and disappointing of any man's ends; whether it be by closeness and undermining, as cheats and deceptions in the preventing of lawful, or by other political wisdom in hindering unlawful ends; or whether by open and professed opposition, as in matters of emulation, competition, commodity, and the like; or lastly, whether it be such as takes notice, and discovers ends which desired to be undiscerned. And therefore Tacitus reckoning the ambiguous and close speeches of the Emperor Tiberius, says that it was Unicus Patrum metus si intelligere viderentar, the Senate [reconstructed: feared] nothing more than to discover that they understood him; which is the same with his judgment after: Eò acriùs accepit recludi quae premeret, nothing did more exasperate him than to see those things taken notice of, which he desired to suppress and dissemble. Both which were true in [reconstructed: Scaurus]; one of the senators, who venturing to infer Tiberius his willingness of accepting the empire, in that he did not [reconstructed: forbid] by his Tribunician authority the relation thereof by the Consuls, did thereby procure his utter and implacable hatred.

But of all contempts, the last of the three is greatest; that I mean, which immediately violates our reputation and good name; because it is a derivative and spreading injury; not only dishonoring a man in private and reserved opinion, but in the eyes and ears of the world; nor only making him odious in his life, but in his memory. As there is in a man a double desire — the one of perfecting; the other of perpetuating himself: which two answer to that double honor of our creation, which we lost in our first Father; the honor of integrity in goodness; and the honor of immunity from corruption: So there may be from the violation of these sundry degrees of anger, or any other burdensome passion wrought in us. But when in injury we find them both assaulted, and not only our parts and persons (which belong to our perfection) privately undervalued; but our name and memory (which belong to our preservation) tainted likewise, we cannot but be so much the more incensed, by how much perpetuity accumulates, either to weakness or perfection: But of this fundamental cause of anger enough.