LATTER-DAY SERMONS

TH

THE PERSONAL EQUATION IN MORALS

A daw's not counted a religious bird

Because he keeps caw-cawing from a steeple "-HOOD.

HE TRUTH contained in this couplet is so obvious that, if it were not for the quaint form with which the poet has invested it, it might be considered trite and commonplace. But behind the simple statement of a conspicuous truth is an implication, full of suggestion, and pregnant with meaning to the rare student who can recognize a parable when he sees one. If we invert the poet's idea, we are taught the correlated truth, that neither can the somber bird be accused of impiety because he has selected a religious edifice from which to deliver his utterances. Presented thus, our text ceases to be commonplace; it rises to the dignity of high moral sentiment, inculcating sympathy, charity, and kindly judgments.

In his somewhat slighting reference to the daw's vocabulary, the poet lapses from the high and liberal spirit which inspires the rest of the text. It is a reasonable supposition that the bird only said "caw-caw" because these words most nearly translated into corbine speech the temporary mental condition which his elevated position had induced; and nothing but the exigencies of poetic rhythm could justify the omission of all reference to the varied and abundant vocabulary which is at the command of every jackdaw that dwells within earshot of a pulpit. Overlooking this, however, there can be no doubt that there was absolutely no relation between the vocal demonstration described and the bird's piety. His utterances were neither religious nor profane; the language quoted was the result of a mental, rather than a moral, condition.

The metaphor thus concealed in the text gives expression to the belief, not generally held by moralists, that the forms in which mental energy runs ever into physical manifestation have no necessary relationship with morals; that their general character is determined by temperament rather than by esoteric teachings, ethical codes, or religious affiliations. A picturesque illustration of the absence of this relationship is furnished by an incident from the life of one of our poets, as publicly narrated by Judge Howland, of New York. While calling at the home of Mr. Richard Henry Stoddard, the judge heard the poet's voice issuing loudly from an outhouse as though an earnest discussion were in progress. "What are you doing, dear?" presently asked Mrs. Stoddard. "Opening a can of oysters!" was the unexpected answer. The sounds of debate presently waxed louder, and Mrs. Stoddard anxiously asked: "What are you opening it with?" "With an ax!" came the vigorous reply, followed by the sarcastic query, "Did you think I was opening it with my teeth?" "No, Richard; I did n't," Mrs. Stoddard sweetly answered; "but from your language I thought you might be opening it with prayer."

Thus in the poetical temperament, as might have been expected, extreme mental energy expressed itself in speech, supplemented by a religious outburst; the relief afforded by vigorous muscular movements with an ax being insufficient to carry off

the nervous discharge excited by the recalcitrant mollusks. With a man of grosser fiber, there would probably have been a reversal of all this; no words of pious exhortation would have been heard, but the sounds of the ax would have compensated for thevocal silence. And the difference, it is important to remember, would have been due to temperamental causes, and not to any divergence from a common moral standard.

In our estimates of human conduct this factor of individual temperament cannot be too highly rated. Under exactly parallel conditions, it is certain that no two of us will act in precisely the same way. With the stimulus afforded by a perverse can of oysters, other poets, armed with axes, might have broken into fervent and pious rhapsody; but the language used would have differed from Mr. Stoddard's eloquent flow as much as this did from that of any street revivalist. And had the objurgations possessed a sulphurous flavor instead of the ethereal one which Mrs. Stoddard recognized, it would have been no proof of the moral degeneracy of the objurgator.

Illustrations which emphasize the absence of relationship between the phenomena described and morality are abundant on every hand. A woman weeps when she hits her thumb while aiming at an obstreperous tack. When an accident of the kind happens to a man, he says things. But they mean the same thing, just as their feelings are the same under the sudden stimulus of a tack-hammer. And morality is implicated neither in the accident nor in the emotional outburst following it. Further, it is probable that no code of morals will ever materially affect these interesting manifestations, which, originating perhaps in the minor accidents of our arboreal ancestors, and strengthened by the slip of many an ancient stone-ax in our forefathers' hands, have become the inherited channels through which escape the feelings invariably generated by the sudden and unexpected contact of an unyielding and ponderous body with a sensitive digit. Given the appropriate conditions, and women will weep and men will say things as long as nails of any kind exist.

In bygone days we know that under great mental stress, men wept. There is no evidence that women ever gave verbal expression to their surcharged feelings with modern masculine vigor; and although men have substituted expletives for tears, it is not likely that the new woman, however she may grow in outward masculinity, will for low the example of the sturdier sex in the expression of her emotions. If, however such a revolution should unhappily occur, it will indicate a change of temperamen rather than a reversal of moral standards. The daw may find other words to express it: joys and sorrows, but it will continue to use the steeple for the display of its eloquence The perversity of inanimate things, already hinted at, has been conclusively shown by the individual experience of every grown man and woman. That there is a spirit of evil in shirt-studs, for instance, no man will deny; nor will any woman maintain the contrary concerning the multitudinous strings and fastenings with which she is hel together. This is another factor to which due weight must be given in our system of moral ratings. When a shirt-stud plays hide-and-seek at inopportune moments, o something about a woman's stomacher "gives " just when every law of orderly conduc and seemliness demands that it hold unflinchingly, there is created a psychologica tension which nothing but physical action will relieve. The mode of action varie with every individual. Some people throw things, and experience a mental comfor which is proportionate to the damage done by the missiles. Others make misanthro pic remarks to those about them, whom at other times they hold most dear. In some irrelevant thoughts are suggested and violently expressed, perhaps on the subject o

eternal punishment or other theological dogmas; and however tolerant such people may ordinarily be, they will brook no contradiction, nor listen to opposing arguments, at these explosive times. But whatever may be claimed for an esthetic relation among these various phenomena, there can be none asserted for a moral connection. For if it be admitted that one method of finding relief in physical expression, such as a woman's tears, is neither moral nor immoral, then must we concede that the more vigorous means by which the masculine mind discharges its excess of feeling involves the infraction of no ethical principle. In a way, indeed, it may be claimed for these various physical indications of a temporary mental condition that they are but manifestations of that individuality to which all development tends--marks of that advance from an incoherent indefinite homogeneity to a coherent definite heterogeneity which is the concomitant of all progress.

This aspect of what has conveniently been called the "personal equation" is one which few moralists have heretofore taken into cognizance, although sociologists have been forced to recognize it in order to account for honest differences of opinion. That two men, having passed through precisely the same scholastic training, should hold diametrically opposite views on such subjects, for instance, as free trade, is a phenomenon which must be accounted for in some reasonable fashion; so sociologists have accepted, as a proximate explanation, the doctrine of the relativity of knowledge, which denies the possibility of the absolutely true, and supplemented it by claiming for us an idiosyncrasy that gives to each of us a point of view peculiar to himself.

There is no good reason why these convenient theories should not be extended to conventional standards of conduct. As we know, these standards are constantly changing; there is nothing of the absolutely true about them. What was considered right and proper yesterday is held to be wrong and improper to-day, and the conventional code of one country trenches on the immoral in another. A belle of Central Africa whose character for modesty would be irretrievably lost if she appeared in public without her necklace, might show herself with perfect propriety though this were her only garment. So it is in a minor degree among peoples calling themselves civilized. And this is where we reach the moral of our sermonizing. If to a liberalized conception of the instability of conventional standards we join a recognition of temperamental differences as affecting conduct, we shall be more benign in our judgments concerning our fellows and more comfortable life-companions for ourselves. A study of the difference between conventionality and morality is a useful and civilizing study; but it is one which is sadly neglected by those to whom it would be most helpful.

The daw, from his eminence on the steeple, can thus see the beginnings of a vast field in which charity, generosity, and all the flowers of human kindness grow-and flourish the more abundantly they are picked.