Chapter 31: Of Other Causes and Effects of Anger, and Rules for Its Moderation

Those which follow, are more accidental: whereof some may be considered ex parte Patientis, on the part of him that suffers; and some ex parte Inferentis Injuriam, on the part of him that does the injury. Touching the patient or subject of an injury, there are three qualifications, which may make him more inclinable to anger, upon supposition of the fundamental cause, contempt: and the first of these is excellency, whether inward from nature, or accidental from fortune: for hereby men are made more jealous of their credit, and impatient of abuse, as well perceiving that all injury implies some degree both of impotency in the patient, and of excellency (at least conceived) in the agent. As Aristotle speaks, [in non-Latin alphabet], that injurious men are commonly highly conceited of their own excellency, which cannot well stand with the height and distance of that mind which is possessed with his own good opinion — and this cause the Poet intimates in those words —

— Manet altâ mente repôstum, Iudicium Paridis, Spretaeque injuria formae.

A deep and lasting discontent is bred to see their beauties undervalued by a weak wanton judgment.

It wrought a deep indignation in the minds of power and wisdom to see a weak and wanton judgment give beauty the precedence in their emulation. Which undervaluing of worth, how much it is able to possess a man with grief and fury: the one example of Ahithophel alone may discover, who upon the rejection of his counsel, when he was too low to revenge himself on Absalom, executed his anger on his own neck.

The second qualification of the subject is weakness and defect, when the mind finds itself assaulted in those things, wherein it is most of all deficient: which Aristotle has observed, when he tells us, that sick men, poor men, and lovers are commonly most subject to this passion: it being as great a pain, and a greater contempt to rub and provoke an old wound, than to make a new. That injury which proceeds against men of high and eminent quality, cannot possibly pierce so deep as that which is exercised upon open and naked weakness: because the former proceeds only from strife and emulation; but the other from insultation and pride: the one is only a disesteem; but the other a contumely and exprobation: the one is a conflict of judgments, but the other a conflict of passions; and therefore likely to be the greater. For a neglect of worth and good parts (unless, as sometimes it falls out, it proceeds from baseness and ignorance) is an injury from worth also: but a neglect, and despising men already down, is an injury from stomach and height of mind; wherein the party offended cannot labor so much to clear itself from the imputation, as to revenge itself for it.

Another reason why weakness the better disposes a man to anger, may be, because such men are most tender to feel an injury, most suspicious to fear it, and most interpreting to over-judge it. All which being circumstances of aggravation to increase a wrong, are likewise good means to add degrees and heat to our passion.

Lastly, to give a reason of both these two former causes together, it may be a disappointment and frustrating of expectation: for men of eminency and worth, expect rather approbation and imitation than contempt. And men weak and defective, expect compassion to cover, and not pride to mock, and so double their wounds: and both these are in some sort debts of nature, it being the law of reason to honor merit, as it is the law of mercy to cover nakedness: and for both I am sure it is the law of charity, as not to vaunt or be puffed up in ourselves: so neither to rejoice or think evil of another: and we may well conceive anger will be strong, when it thinks itself lawful.

To this particular of weakness we may also reduce that which the grammarian has observed on Virgil, Plus Irarum advenit, cum in manus non potest venire, cui irascimur. Anger is increased when it cannot reach the thing with which it is angry. And therefore the chaining up of wolves and mastiffs enrages them, because it restrains them; which the Poet has excellently described.

Ac veluti pleno Lupus iusidiatis evili, Cum fremit ad caulos, ventos perpessus & imbres Nocte super media: tuti sub matribus agni Balatum exercent. Ille asper & improbus irâ Savit in absentes, collecta fatigat edendi Ex longo rabies, & siccae sanguine fauces. Haud aliter Rutilo muros & castra tuenti Ignescunt Ira, & durus dolor ossibus ardet. As a fierce wolf with winds, storms, midnight, whet when in close folds the secure lambs do bleat, barks at his absent prey with the more ire: when raged and deceived hunger does him tire. So Rutilus seeing his foes all safe, does vex and boil with the more burning chase.

For it is a great torment to an enemy, when he can find no inlet nor advantage against him, whom he hates.

Another cause of anger may be strong desires: for always vaster and more exact our desires are, it is so much the harder for them to be pleased or satisfied. And therefore as the Philosopher notes, luxurious men are usually transported with anger, because men love not to be stopped in their pleasures: and hence as Plutarch observes, men are usually most angry there, where their desires are most conversant: as a countryman with his bailiff; or an epicure with his cook; or a lover with his rival, because all these cross men in that which they most love. Now strength when it is opposed, is collected and gathered into the more excess; as we see in winds or rivers, when they meet with anything which crosses their full passage.

The last qualification of the subject, whereby he is made more inclinable to this passion, is a suspicious, apprehensive, and interpreting fancy, ready to pick out injury where it cannot be justly found; and (that its anger may be employed) to frame occasions to itself. And therefore it is wise advice of Seneca, Non vis esse Iracundus? ne sis Curiosus. He which is too wise in his judgment on other men's errors, will be easily too foolish in the nourishing of his own passion: and it is commonly seen in matters of censure and suspicion, the more sight and reason goes out, the less uses to abide within. Now is it hard for a man, if he be peremptorily possessed with this opinion; yet he is a common subject of others' contempt, to find out, either in defects of nature, or rudeness of custom, habit, education, temper, humor, or the like, some probable ground or other for exception; which yet when it is further inquired into, will prove rather strangeness than injury.

And this is generally a corruption of anger: First, because it is hereby oftentimes unjust, either in fastening itself there where it was justly neglected: for we may ever observe that suspicion proceeds from guilt, and none are more jealous of being neglected than those that deserve it: as it is observed of some reproachful speeches, which a senator was accused to have uttered against the honor of Tiberius: Quia vera erant dicta credebantur. His suspicious mind was persuaded that they had been spoken, because he was conscious that they had been acted; and therefore (as was before noted) it was the custom under such men to avoid all manner of curiosities, and search into things done by them, which might easily be subject to sinister judgment; and rather to affect ignorance with security, than to be ruined with wisdom. And next it is corrupt, because it is rash and hasty, being led by a half judgment, the worst guide to a headlong and blind passion.

The next degree of causes is of those which qualify the agent, or him that works the injury, and there may be among many other, which cannot be reckoned, these general ones.

First, baseness, which works a double cause of anger: One for an injury of omission, in neglecting those respects which are required in men of mean and inferior rank towards their superiors: Another for a positive [reconstructed: injury] in the evil exercised against them. And many times the former alone is a cause of anger, without the latter: For this distance of persons does quite alter the nature of our actions, insomuch that those demeanors, which are commendable and plausible toward our equals, are rude and irreverent toward those that are above us: and this is that which makes the wrath of God in the Scripture to be set out so terrible to us: because of the infinite distance between the unmeasurable glory of the Maker of the World, and the baseness of sinners; and therefore the comparison which used to be made for the defense of venial sins, that it is altogether unlikely that God, infinitely more merciful than men, should yet be offended at that which a man's neighbor would pardon him for, as a foolish angry word, or the stealing of a farthing, or the like, is without reason: because between man and man there is a community both in nature and weakness; and therefore,

[reconstructed: Hac veniam, petimusque damusque vicissim.]

Because we both our errors have, We pardon give, and pardon crave.

But it is an argument of infinite insolence in a vile creature for feeding its own corruption and self-love in a matter of no value to neglect one command of him, who by another is able to command him into Hell, or into nothing.

The next quality in the injurer, which may raise this passion is impudence, either in words or carriage. And the reasons hereof may be:

First, because as Aristotle observes, all impudence is joined with some contempt, which is the fundamental and essential cause of anger.

Secondly, because all impudence is bold, stiff and contentious, which are all incitements to this passion. For as shame being a degree of fear works an acknowledgement of our own weakness; and therefore a submission to the power we have provoked, which (as Aristotle observes) procures from beasts themselves lenity and mercy: So impudence in all other things being contrary to it, must likewise produce a contrary effect.

Thirdly, those things which we impudently do, we do willingly likewise. And therefore we shall observe in the Scripture how reigning sins — that is, those which are done with greediness of the appetite, and full consent of the will — are set forth by the names of stubbornness, rebellion, whorish forehead, brass, and iron. Now nothing does more aggravate a wrong than this, that it proceeded from the will of man. And the reasons are,

First, because a man's power is in his will: but passions and other blind agents, when they work ungoverned, are our imperfections, and not our power; and therefore the easier borne withal.

Secondly, to a plenary, spontaneous action, (such as I take most of impudence to be) there are required antecedently, deliberation, approbation, and assent: and consequently, resolution, perseverance, and constancy. All which, as they take away the two principal conditions required to lenity — confession and repentance — so likewise do they add much to the weight of an injury, because an action which is thus exercised, is a work of the whole man, and employs a perfect consent thereunto: so a perfect and complete enmity toward the person offended thereby. Whereas others are but the wrongs of some part, such as are of those of the will, led by an ignorant understanding; or those of passion, led by a corrupted understanding; and they too not of a part regular, but of an unjointed and paralytic part, which follows not the motion of a steady reason; and therefore as they proceed from more disorder in ourselves, so do they work less in the party offended.

Another thing which may raise and nourish this passion, is any degree of near relation between the parties; whether it be natural by consanguinity; or moral, by society, liberality, or any other friendship. For as it is monstrous in the natural body to see one member wrong and provoke another: so in civil or moral unions, it is strangely offensive to make a divulsion. Therefore we are more angry for the neglect offered us by friends, or those of whom we have well deserved, than by enemies or strangers. No wounds go so deep as those we receive in the house of our friend.

And the reason why this difference between men nearly referring each other should work a greater anger between them, is: First, because herein we may find that which before I observed as a furtherance to this passion — disappointment, and frustrating of expectation: For in this case, we expect sympathy and not division. Secondly, because all anger is a kind of disjoining or divulsion of things before joined: there therefore, where is the greatest union, must needs be the strongest and most violent separation; as in the body, the divulsion of soul is more horrible than of an arm, or some other member; because the one is an essential, the other only an integral union: and so it is with those who are by blood or friendship made one; as the dividing of them is more strange and violent, so does it produce a stronger passion.

Another cause of this passion in respect of the injurer may be a too great freedom and indiscreet use of speech; especially if it be in way of correction and rebuke: for as Solomon's speech is true, Mollis responsio frangit Iram, a soft answer pacifies wrath: so on the contrary it is true likewise, Dura Correptio unit Iram; that a harsh rebuke knits it. Anger is by nothing more nourished than by much speaking, though not in the [reconstructed: party] that speaks; because speech is to anger, like tears to grief, a spending and venting of it, yet always in another, to whom we minister further matter of offence. To which purpose, is that speech of Syracides: Strive not with a man that is full of tongue, and heap not wood upon his fire.

Another cause, which I shall observe is contention and difference, whether it be in opinions or in inclinations: because this must needs be ever joined with some undervaluing of another man's choice and judgment; which if it be not seasoned with much sobriety, will easily induce a man to believe, that it proceeds not from zeal to truth, but from a humor of opposition. With which many men are so far possessed, that one must hardly dare to speak the truth in their company for fear of endangering it and them. Like [reconstructed: Chrysippus] in Laertius, who used to boast that he often wanted opinions, but those once gotten, he never wanted arguments and sophisms to defend them.

The last cause which I shall note of this passion is in him, who offends us, his very abilities, when we see them neglected: for this provokes to more displeasure, than naked impotency. Weakness, when it miscarries, is the object of pity: but strength, when it miscarries, is the object of anger.

[illegible] I should not blame unworthy and base spirits to [reconstructed: slink] and shrink from battle: but for merits so to forget themselves, for you to be unlike the men you are, what man can see such weakness, and not wonder, chide, debate; till you yourselves do your own errors hate.

To all these we might add some others which the philosopher touches, as neglect of our calamities, or rejoicing at them, or divulging them, or bringing readily the report of them to us, receiving the report of them with pleasure. Or lastly, representing the signs which may bring into mind the memory of any injuries done us. As the Levite sent the parts of his abused concubine up and down to the tribes of Israel to move them to indignation. So Antony in the funeral oration upon Julius Caesar produced his robe stained with the blood which Brutus and Cassius had shed, to work [reconstructed: detestation] of that fault in the people.

Now concerning all these causes together (because it would be too tedious to gather particular circumstances of dignity and corruption from all of them) we are to conclude that anger, as it arises from any of them, is then only regular and just, when it keeps these conditions.

First, that it still observe proportion and conformity to the rules of love: otherwise it is not Ira in Delictum, but Ira in fratrem — not against the crime but the person of my brother. We know the nature of this passion is to be transient, to go out from us on our brother and reform him: not immanent, to work upon ourselves and deform us: I mean by soiling the habit of charity, which ought always to remain inviolate.

Secondly, that it keep likewise due proportion to judgment, and that to a true judgment, and a whole judgment; otherwise it is not only to be angry with our brother, but, which is further, to be angry with him unadvisedly. Judgment then must be true first, that is, clear, settled, and untransported; and that likewise in two actions; in the act of interpretation, which reaches to the injury; and in the act of direction or government, which reaches to the passion.

3 And next it must be a whole judgment: and that in both the former. It must judge fully of the nature and circumstances of the injury, which ever receives its degrees of intention or remission, not from the matter of the act, but from some particular qualifications and circumstances joined thereto.

Secondly, it must judge fully of the act of passion, not only in informing, quod sit, that reparation of ourselves is lawful; but too, in the manner and form how to undertake it. Because as passion, being without reason in itself, wants the tongue of judgment to inform it what to do; so, being blind, it wants the hand of judgment to lead it in the doing of it: and this I take to be the proper way of governing this passion. But that which was once prescribed by Athenodorus the philosopher, to Augustus to repeat over the alphabet between the passion and the revenge, is too boyish and slight, as diverting the mind from the occasion to some other trifle, which is only to cozen and not to conquer our distemper; and therefore though it may for a time allay it, yet this is but as the cures of empirics, which give present ease, but search not into the root, nor leave such a habit within, as shall in after occasions limit the unruliness of such distempers, like those odors which use to raise men out of a fit of the falling sickness, but do not at all cure them of the disease.

Now to speak a word or two of the effects of this passion: they are such as are wrought, either in ourselves or others. Concerning the former, they are either outward effects, which [reconstructed: reach] to our bodies, or inward, which reflect upon reason.

Those on the body are clamor (as Saint Paul calls it) in the tongue, tumor and inflammation in the heart, fire in the eyes, and fierceness and paleness in the countenance, and a sensible alteration in the whole man. The use or deformity of all which depend upon the subordination of passion to reason, or dominion over it. For if it be governed and obedient, there is an excellent use of these alterations in the body (which will not then be permitted to be excessive) namely the testification of our just displeasures at an offence received, and the enlivening or sharpening of us (if occasion require) to the prosecution of further lawful redress; for though I would not have a man in his passion suffer a metamorphosis, and turn his face into a torment punishing himself as much with deformity, as his adversary with fear, yet neither can I like that close and dissembled, that politic and stomach anger, which cunningly shrouds itself under a calm and serene countenance; which being unnatural to this passion (whose property it is, Non insidiari sed palà agere, not to work by way of ambush and stratagem, but visibly) will quickly degenerate into malice and rancor.

The inward effect of this passion is an excitation of reason; to judge of the wrong and means of redress, which is then regular, when it is done ministerially and by way of service to the whole; but most corrupt and dangerous, when it is done by prepossession, transporting, confounding, or any other way tainting of reason; which is to make it a party rather than a judge.

[illegible]

Which makes sometimes a wise man break into distempers wild and weak.

In which ill office there is not any passion more busy and fruitful than this of anger by reason of its suddenness, and of its violence: both which are strong means to smother or divert reason, as we see in Tiberius himself, who though a man of a close and sad judgment, and of most reserved passions (insomuch as he lived in them and nourished them a long time before either their working or discovery) yet when he was provoked by Agrippina, to a more violent anger than usual, his passion we see for the time altered his nature. [reconstructed: And the true voice of his hidden heart was drawn out: whether he were wronged because he did not reign?] He broke forth into words, strange and unusual from so close a disposition; to wit, whether she were wronged because she did not reign? which is Tacitus his observation upon the anger of that man.

The last effect is expedition and dexterity in executing those means which reason judges needful for satisfying ourselves against the person that has offended us, wherein its assistance, while it is regular, is of excellent use in man's actions, because it makes bold and resolute. But here one main corruption is to be avoided, precipitancy and impatience of delay or attendance on the determination of right reason — which makes it commonly run away with a half or a broken judgment. In which respect Aristotle in his Ethics very elegantly compares it to a hasty servant, that goes away posting with half his errand and to dogs, which, as soon as ever they hear a noise, bark presently before they know whether it be a stranger at the door, or not — so anger attends reason thus long, till it receive warrant for the justness of seeking redress, and then suddenly hastens away without any further listening to the rules of decorum and justice, which it should always observe in the prosecution thereof: lest while it is too intent on its own right, it fall in that extreme which it pretends to revenge, the wronging of another.

There is not any passion which stands more in need of moderation than this does, both because it is one of the most frequent which we are troubled with, and the most unruly, as that which can overbear the rest, and, of all other, has the least recourse to reason, being hasty, impetuous, full of desires, grief, self-love, impatience, which spares no persons, friends or foes, no things, animate or inanimate, when they fit not our fancy. And therefore grammarians tell us that it has its name Ira from Ire, because a man in his anger usually goes away from his reason, and as his anger slackens, he is said, ad se redire, to return again to himself. And therefore those men in whom reason is most predominant, are least transported by this affection, and most often displeased with themselves for it. It was a strange commendation given to Theodosius Junior, that never any man saw him angry; and such a power had Lycurgus over himself, that when an insolent young man had done him no less injury than the striking out of one of his eyes, by lenity and mansuetude he convinced and gained him. And Pericles that great statesman and orator of Greece, being all the day reviled by an impure companion, commanded his servant at night to light him home to his house — nothing more obvious than examples of this kind.

That we may therefore so manage this passion as to be angry but not sin, it will be requisite:

1 To let it have an eye upward, as Moses did, who never expressed any other anger that we read of but zealous, and religious, when the injury directly aimed at God and his honor. It is very improbable that anything will move too fast upward.

2 To convert it inward into a self-displeasure and severity toward our own errors, for the more acquainted any man is with himself, the less matter he will find of anger with other men, as having so much both to do, and to blame at home. Anger ever arises from the value which we set upon ourselves, which will ever then be most modest, when we take of it the fullest view.

3 Follow it not too close, join not too soon, not too hastily with it, though it may be used sometimes, it must never be encouraged, being over-bold and forward of itself. And therefore as many drugs must be prepared before we may use them; so we must take heed of dispensing this affection without its due corrective — it must first be schooled before it be employed, as men bridle their horses before they ride them. It is not good drinking in muddy water so soon as it is stirred, give it time to subside and settle.

4 Keep it not long, it is the spawn of malice and contention, and time will hatch it. It is a corroding thing which will fret and stain the vessel in which it is kept. Let not the sun go down upon it, it is ill being in the dark with so bad a leader. It may pass through the heart of a wise man, but it rests only in the bosom of fools.

5 Remove the occasions of it, withdraw fuel from so catching a flame. They say of turpentine, and some other like things, that they will draw and suck fire to them. Certainly of all fire there is none so ductile, so sequacious and obsequious, as this of wrath. It was not ill done therefore of [reconstructed: Curtius] and Augustus, to cause those curious vessels to be broken on purpose, which having been accidentally broken might have made a breach likewise upon the discretion of their owners.

6 Give not an easy ear to reports, nor an easy entertainment to suspicions, be not greedy to know who or wherein another has wronged you. That which we are desirous to know, or apt to believe, we shall be the more ready to revenge. Curiosity and credulity are the handmaids to passion. Alexander would not see the woman after whom he might have lusted; nor Caesar search Pompey's cabinet, lest he should find new matters of revenge. He chose rather to make a fire of them on his hearth, than in his heart. Injuries unknown do many times the less hurt; when I have found them, I then begin to feel them, and suffer more from my own discovery than from my enemy's attempt.

7 Be candid in interpreting the thing wherein you suffer. Many times the glass through which I look makes that seem formidable, and the wave, that crooked, which in itself was beautiful and straight. Perhaps you are angry with that which could not intend to hurt you — your book, your pen, the stone at which you stumble, the wind or rain that beats upon you: be angry again, but with yourself, who are either so bold as to be angry with God, or so foolish as to be angry with nothing. You are displeased at a childish or an ignorant miscarriage — call it not injury but imprudence, and then pity it. You are angry with counsel, reproof, discipline; why do you not as well break the glass in which your physician ministers a potion to you. Be angry with your sin, and you will love him that takes it from you. Is he that advises you your superior? Your anger is undutiful. Is he your friend? Your anger is ungrateful.

8 Give injuries a new name, and that will work a new affection. In blind agents call it chance; in weak persons, infirmity; in simple, ignorance; in wise, counsel; in superiors, discipline; in equals, familiarity; in inferiors, confidence. Where there is no other construction to be made, do as Joseph and David did — call it providence, and see what God says to you by it. Get a mind conversant with high and noble things — the more heavenly, the less tempestuous.

9 Be not idle, sluggish, luxurious — we are never more apt to be angry than when we are sleepy or greedy. Weak resolutions and strong desires are sensible of the least exasperation, as an empty ship of the smallest tempest.

Again, be not over-busy neither. That man can hardly be master of his passion that is not master of his employments. A mind ever burdened, like a bow always bent, must needs grow impotent and weary — the fittest preparations to this distemper. When a man's business does not poise, but press him, there will ever be something either undone or ill-done, and so still matter of vexation. And therefore our minds as our vessels must be unloaded, if they would not have a tempest hurt them.

Lastly, wrestle not with that which pinches you. If it be strong it will hurt; if cunning, it will hamper and entangle you. He that strives with his burden makes it heavier. That tempest breaks not the stalks of corn which rends asunder the arms of an oak — the one yields, the other withstands it. A humble weakness is safer from injury than a stubborn strength.

I have now done with the passions of the mind. And briefly proceed to those honors and dignities of the soul of man which belong to it in a more abstracted consideration.