ON ANGER. PREFACE. To my lord and most blessed father in Christ, most longed-for by me, Bishop Vitimer, Bishop Martin. While a little while ago we together enjoyed the mutual converse of conversation, among other things the love of your regard for me drew this out: that I should set in order for you in a brief book some things concerning the passion of anger, or the effects of its nature. I obeyed at once gladly, and discoursed in few words, for your zeal, on the fleeing of anger, or at least, should that not come about, on its soothing. Certain of the wise men have said that anger is a brief madness. For it is master of itself no longer, forgets honour, heedless of affection, shut off from reason and counsels;
while, driven by various causes, it becomes at once unfit for the consideration of justice and prone to ruin, and is broken upon that very thing which it has crushed. CHAPTER ONE. On the appearance of anger. The bearing is bold, the countenance threatening, the brow gloomy and the gaze fierce, the face either pale or flushed: the blood boils up from the deepest inward parts, the eyes blaze and flash, the lips tremble, the teeth are clenched, the breast is shaken with breath drawn often and more violently, with a deeper groaning, and, with the sound but a little cleared, the speech is headlong, a frenzied bursting forth of the voice; the neck is stretched out, the hands restless, and the joints of the fingers, more often, are forced together, the teeth grind, the step is hurried, the ground struck with the feet, the limbs quivering, and the whole body roused with unstable wavering;
bringing forth from itself great furies, horrible anger distorts itself and swells up; so that you would not know whether the vice is more detestable or more deformed. What sort of soul do you suppose to be within, whose outward image is so foul? The other vices hide themselves and flee back into concealment; anger betrays itself and comes out upon the face; and the greater it is, the more openly it blazes forth. Nothing therefore less befits a prudent man than to be angry. CHAPTER II. On the effects of anger. Thus it changes all things from the best and most just into their opposite. Whomever it has seized, it allows him to be mindful of no duty. Give it to a father, he is an enemy; give it to a son, he is a parricide; give it to a mother, she is a step-mother; give it to a king, he is a tyrant.
Anger is not found useful even in battles, because it is prone to rashness; and while it wishes to inflict dangers, it does not guard against them; and it comes into another's power while it is not in its own. Anger judges according to its own caprice; it will not listen, nor does it leave room for any defence. It does not suffer its own verdict to be taken from it, even if it be wrong. It loves and protects its own error, nor does it wish to be refuted, even if the truth be thrust manifest upon its eyes. Obstinacy in evil undertakings is reckoned more honourable to it than correction. For although empty matters have stirred it up, it wishes to persevere, lest it seem to have begun without cause. And what is more iniquitous: while it is held fast, it becomes more obstinate and grows, as though this very thing—to be grievously angry—were a proof of just anger.
But if it has as much power as it threatens, on this account too, because it is terrible, it is the more hated. If, however, it is without strength, it is the more exposed to contempt, and does not escape mockery; yet that—to be despised—though more perilous, is safer. Anger makes all the other passions subject to itself, and there is no ambition of the soul in which anger does not hold sway; and anger tramples down avarice, the worst evil and the least flexible. How often does the angry soul, driven on, scatter its wealth! How often does it cast away tokens reckoned at a great price! The violence of anger is sudden and total: it does not advance little by little; but as soon as it begins, it is wholly there; nor, after the manner of the other vices, does it entice souls, but it carries them away. The other vices allure;
but anger, like rivers and storms, hurls headlong, and nothing presses on more, whether it prevails in its pride or is frustrated in its madness. The other vices depart from reason, but anger from sanity; for, not even when repelled, is it driven into weariness of itself; but, when the adversary is withdrawn, it turns its bites against its own self. The other vices seize men one by one, but anger sometimes invades many publicly: for never has a whole people been at once inflamed with the lust of fornicating; nor has an entire city at once set its hope upon the gain of money; nor does the ambition of honour take all in a herd, but it occupies single men one by one: but truly men run into anger often in one band, in a throng. CHAPTER III. On the three remedies of anger.
Against anger the first remedy is not to be angry; the second, to cease quickly; the third, to heal also another's anger. The first then is that we fall not into anger; but if it has happened, the second remedy is that we sin not in anger. For just as in the care of bodies some precepts are given for preserving health, others for healing those seized by disease; so it is one thing to restrain anger lest it rise, another to check it when already aroused. For just as the upper region, near to the stars, is neither compressed into a cloud nor turned into a whirlwind, while the lower is more often struck by lightning: in the same way the sublime soul, ever quiet and set in a tranquil station, pressing beneath itself all those things by which anger is contracted, is found modest and venerable.
But the soul which runs about into many affairs and attempts varied things falls into many complaints. One disappoints its hope, another puts it off, another intercepts it: and so it becomes impatient of all things, and is angered from the slightest causes, now at a person, now at a matter, now at the time, now at the place, now at itself. Therefore, that the soul may be quiet, it must not be wearied by the doing of many things, nor of great things sought beyond one's strength. For it is easy to apply light things to the shoulders, and to transfer them to either side without a fall. CHAPTER IV. On the causes from which anger is born. Against the first causes of anger, therefore, one must fight. Now the cause of anger is the opinion of injury:
which must not easily be believed, nor must one straightway assent even to open and manifest conjectures, because sometimes false things bear the appearance of truth. The matter must always be deferred: a postponed day will reveal the truth. Let not the ears lie easily open to accusers; but let this vice of human nature be suspected and known by us, that those things which we hear unwillingly we easily believe, and grow angry. For many are impelled by suspicions, and, interpreting worse things from another's look or laugh, are angry at the innocent. Credulity does very much harm. Wherefore often one ought not even to listen, and suspicion must be removed from the mind. Argument is never wanting, and the deceitful incitements of conjecture.
There is need to use simplicity and a kindly estimation of things. One ought to believe nothing except what plainly meets the eyes; and as often as suspicion appears in the mind, let credulity be rebuked. For this rebuke will produce the habit of not easily believing. If you do not wish to fall into anger, do not be inquisitive. He who searches out what has been said of him, and digs up malicious words, even if they were spoken in secret, disturbs himself. For while they are being committed, they are brought to this point, that they may seem injuries. But in that committing, some things must be defended, some pardoned, some derided: and so by these means anger must be forestalled. The prudent man passes over many injuries, and most of them he does not receive;
because either he does not know of them, or, if he has known them, he turns them into sport and jest. For if he should complain either by suspecting false things or by aggravating slight ones, anger does not come to him, but he himself comes to anger; which is never to be summoned, but, when it has crept in, must be refuted. It is the mark of a great soul to despise injuries; to let them sink down deeper into oneself while they take vengeance; it is better not to have acknowledged an injury than to have forgiven it. For truly he is great and noble who, like a great beast, hears unconcerned the barking of little dogs. For it is more holy to dissemble an injury than to avenge it. But the injuries of the more powerful must be borne not only with patience, but even with a cheerful countenance. They will do it again, if they believe you have suffered it and that they have done it.
Indeed it is so often inexpedient to avenge an injury, that it is not even expedient to confess it. One must therefore abstain from anger, whether he who provokes be a superior, or an equal, or an inferior. To contend with a superior is mad; with an equal, doubtful; with an inferior, base. CHAPTER V. Nothing is to be believed to whisperers; nor to ourselves, by hearing or seeing. Now of those things which are wont to offend, some are reported to us, some we ourselves hear, some we even see. Concerning those things therefore which are narrated, they ought not quickly to be believed, because some lie in order to deceive; others I do not suppose to lie, because they themselves too have been deceived. One man, by accusation, catches at favour; and, that he may seem to have something to say, he has invented an injury.
There is also someone who speaks this thing secretly and out of malice, in order to break up close friendships, or at least to slander before you his own enemy. Someone is said to have spoken ill of you. Consider whether you did this first. Consider of how many you yourself speak. Consider that some do not do us an injury, but repay; some act against us, but under compulsion; others even in ignorance. But as for those who act willingly and knowingly, consider that they do not seek the injury itself, but either, having slipped through the sweetness of wit; or they did something, not that they might harm us, but because they could not otherwise obtain what they wished.
And in those things which you come to know by hearing or seeing, you shall examine the nature and the will of the doer, and weigh the mind of the one who has sinned: whether he willed it, or fell into it; whether he was deceived, or compelled. Let his age excuse the boy, because he knows not whether he is sinning; freedom excuses the stranger; familiarity the member of the household. If he has offended for the first time, consider how long he has pleased you. If often, bear that which you have often borne. He did it under command, he did it of necessity; why should you be inflamed? But if you take it as an injury, it is no injury, that you suffer what you did above. He is a judge; if he punishes the guilty, yield to justice. He is a friend; he did what he did not wish. He is an enemy; he did what he ought. He is a father; consider that he has profited you so much that it is lawful for him even to do you an injury. It is a dumb animal;
if you are angry at it, you imitate it. Finally, if it is a good man who has done the injury, do not believe it; if a bad man, do not imitate him. Yield to the more prudent, forgive the foolish. Everyone has within himself the mind of a king, so that he wishes licence to be given to himself against others, but not against himself. He therefore who always supposes that something will come about which may offend him, will least be angry when it has happened. CHAPTER VI. Other censures against anger. Furthermore, this too is exceedingly illiberal and foul in these matters, when the soul is exasperated at the least and basest things. If the boy has been too little nimble, if water somewhat too tepid is offered to one about to drink, if the couch is disordered or the table set too carelessly, if a fly has been driven off too feebly, if a key has slipped too negligently from a servant's hands;
since he did these things not for your insult, nor did them so as to offend you, spare the innocent. Often too how foolishly we are angry at those things which have neither deserved our anger nor feel it. What is more demented than this madness, to pour out upon things the bile gathered against men? It is a sick soul, and of unhappy health, which a slight care of such things disturbs. For where pleasures have corrupted both soul and body together, nothing is bearable—not because those things are hard, but because he who suffers is soft. Nothing therefore nourishes irascibility more than intemperate and impatient luxury. The soul must therefore be handled roughly, so that it may feel no blow except a heavy one.
But for the chastising of those who err, an angry chastiser is not needed. For since anger is a fault of the soul, it is not fitting to correct the sinner by sin. But if a wise man should be angry as much as the iniquity of crimes demands, he must not merely be angry, but go mad. Thefts, frauds, denials, and whatever else there be—all these the wise man regards as propitiously as a physician regards his sick. Never therefore is irascibility to be admitted, sometimes to be feigned. If the sluggish minds of hearers are to be roused, sometimes fear must be struck into those upon whom reason does not avail. CHAPTER VII. In what way anger may be soothed. These things have been said, that no one may come into anger: but if anger has already broken forth, the greatest remedy for it is the delay of postponement.
Let this first be sought, not that it should pardon, but that it should judge. If you wait, it will cease; nor must you attempt to take away the whole of it, which has its first onsets violent. It is wholly conquered, if it be taken piecemeal; until that which was to be done by its command, we ourselves rather command it. For it must be brought about that its first fervour grow faint, and the smoke which presses the mind be somewhat thinned. But let it strive—the Apostle says that it was made subject to servitude not of its own accord, but because of him who subjected it in hope: because it itself shall be freed from the servitude of corruption, with the liberty of the children of God (Rom. VIII, 20, 21).
This creature is of the spirit of life, which created all things of earthly bodily nature, made subject in that hope, that it might be freed from the destruction of corruption with the liberty of the glory of the children of God: which indeed today is made subject to servitude, in that it was made worldly, that Christ might have come to free it, and preserved it, so that it might suffer at the time at which the creature shall be made subject; so that the day which had been one of sorrow might now be restored to gladness. But since the sacraments of this Lamb were so great that even the shadow of the truth itself availed for the salvation of those to be freed, just as concerning these things, concerning the servitude of Pharaoh, as though already the liberty of the creature were prefigured from the servitude of corruption.
The figure of the passion of Christ wrought an image at the coming of salvation; and therefore it was said by God, that in the first month of the year, on the fourteenth moon, an unblemished lamb, a yearling, should be sacrificed, with whose blood they should mark their houses above the lintels, lest they be terrified by the destroying angel; and that in that very house, the lamb being eaten throughout the houses—which is the celebration of the Pasch—they might receive liberation through flight from servitude. Nor is the figure obscure, that the unblemished lamb is Christ: His immolation, for the freeing of the servitude of our destruction. For, signed by the sign of His cross as by the sprinkling of blood, until the consummation of the world we shall be defended from the destroying angels.
Let it suffice to have said this briefly and concisely, so that that which we have proposed to inquire—the reckoning of the observance, both of the Pasch, and of the month, and of the moon, and of the day—we may open up without the trouble of much speech. III. It was therefore inquired by our forefathers, according to that which was written, what was the first day, and on what day, the fourteenth moon being reached, the Pasch should be celebrated. For in that time in which the tradition was made to the Jews, the month was not yet reckoned according to the course of the moon by the meaning of names. But He gave them the argument, the calculation of computation being now found, the time and the day of the passion;
so that from it they might understand which they should take to have been the first month of the year, and which the first day of that same month, and when the fourteenth moon, and why this mystery of the Pasch ought to be observed according to the day and the moon. But this in the first place they judged: since through the several years the Pasch and the time did not agree with the moon and the day, that it was better to extend the time than not to render the moon and the day. First, because two matters would be more justly furnished. Then, because these things seemed more important in the observance. IV. Let us therefore define which is the first month among the months of the year; then which is its first day. We have said therefore that our forefathers had an argument from the time of the passion and resurrection of the Lord.
For the Lord is recorded to have risen on the eighth before the Kalends of April, on the Lord's Day. And on the preceding fifth weekday He ate the Pasch with His disciples: which was the eleventh before the Kalends of April. This reckoning of this time they took into account, that the creature which He had freed in His blood had at that time been made subject to servitude. It must therefore be proved by us that He established the beginning of the world at this time. Genesis teaches that the world began in the spring season. When first the dry land appeared, which God called earth, it was said: Let the earth bring forth all grass and all fodder, and every green herb of the tree bearing seed after its kind (Gen. 1, 11). In which we see all things sprout; and so we do not doubt that the beginning of the world is in it.
But since the spring season has three months, the middle of these three is that which gave the beginning to the world. Nor only the middle month, but also the middle day of the months. From the fifth before the Ides of February is the beginning of spring: from the fifth before the Ides of March to the eighth before the Kalends of April there are fifteen days, that is, the half of a month: thus one month and a half follows. On the eighth before the Kalends of April the night and the day are equal, just as Genesis teaches the beginning of the world to have been made, saying: God divided between the light and the darkness, and called the light day, and called the darkness night (Ibid., 4, 5). For every division has equality. Thus, in that wherein we find the equality of night and day, in it let us understand the beginning of the world to have been established. V. But not without cause did our forefathers, beyond the eighth before the Kalends of April,
added three days, so that they might find the first day of the world. Our forefathers reckoned the second before the Kalends of April to be the first month of the world and its day: because, before the sun was established in the sovereignty of the world, a space of three days had gone before. Genesis relates (Ibid., 16, 19) that on the fourth day the luminaries of the sun and moon were made: therefore we find that Christ rose on the eighth before the Kalends of April. But truly on the eleventh before the Kalends He began the Pasch with His disciples: on which day first the creature had been made subject to its servitude, which by His passion He had come to free. But that the Lord's Day is the first day of the world cannot be doubted; because Scripture says (Gen. II, 2, 3) that the world was made in six days, and on the seventh day God rested:
which seventh day He called the Sabbath. Whence it is manifest that the first day of the world was the Lord's Day; and we understand the full moon to have been made, because it was made at the beginning of the night and of the sovereignty. But this, just as it is shown by computation, cannot run for itself through the several years—namely, that on the eleventh before the Kalends of April the fourteenth moon should always be found on the Lord's Day. For in the following year, on the eleventh before the Kalends of April, the moon is found to be the twenty-fifth, and the second weekday. And so, since two things, both the moon and the day, are found changed, rightly was the eleventh before the Kalends of April seen to be observed as the birthday of the world. VI.
And so our forefathers judged that a whole month must be observed for the birthday of the world, and that the Pasch must be celebrated in whatever part of it; and let each one with himself, if he can no longer overcome it, at least remember to conceal it. If no outlet is given to it, its signs can be smothered, although this is done with great trouble. For anger desires to leap forth, and to kindle the eyes and change the face; and if it has been allowed to shine forth a little outside us, it is above us. Let it be hidden in the inmost recess of the breast; and let it be carried, not carry. Let all its judgments be turned to the contrary, let the countenance be relaxed, the voice gentler, and the step slower; and so little by little the inward parts are formed together with the outward.
And so it will come to pass that, if someone should perceive that you are angry, yet no one should feel it. Therefore regard for ourselves makes us more moderate, if we take counsel of ourselves; for we too have sometimes committed some such thing. For if we have erred thus, is it expedient for us to condemn in others those things which we ourselves could not avoid? It will also make us more gentle, if we consider what he with whom we are angry has at some time profited us, and so the present offence be redeemed by former merits. Let this too occur to us: how much commendation the report of clemency will bring us; how many enemies pardon has made useful. Nothing is more glorious than to change anger into friendship. Is someone angry? do you on the contrary provoke him by kindnesses.
Strife falls at once, deserted by one of the two parties: unequal sides do not fight. But if both have contended, anger is met with anger. He is the stronger who first drew back his foot; he who conquered has often been the conquered. Has he struck you? draw back; for by striking again you will give both an occasion of striking more often and an excuse: and finally, when you wish to return, you will not be able. CHAPTER VIII. To avenge an injury is to set fault against fault. He who is angry at one who injures him sets fault against fault. Does he not seem to be mad, if he should attack a mule with kicks, or tear a dog by whom he has been bitten? In the same place is whoever lacks counsel. For what does it matter whether he has many other unlike things, if he has this one like thing, which defends one cleansed of every sin?
Let us place ourselves in that position in which he is at whom we are angry. Let us pretend his cause to be ours: for our unjust estimation has made us irascible; because we are unwilling to suffer those things which we wish to do. Remember too that all the most holy men commit many faults: but if even the most prudent men sin, whose error has not the ground for pardon? No one is so fearful of offences that, while he avoids them, he does not admit them. For he will bear with a more equal mind that he is despised, to whomever it comes to mind that there is no power so great that injury does not befall it. Let us give space to the one sinning, in which he may consider what he has done, and he himself will chastise himself. What then, you say, shall he go unpunished? Suppose you wish it;
for it will not be so. Because no one is more grievously condemned than he who is given over to the punishment of repentance. We must then look to the condition of human affairs, that we may be equitable judges of all that befalls. But he is unjust who casts a common fault at single persons. We are all inconsiderate and improvident; all uncertain, querulous, ambitious. Why do I hide the public evil with lighter words? We are all evil. Whatever is detected in another, each one will find it in his own bosom. We live evil among evil men. CHAPTER IX. The healing of another's anger. Now then, in the third place, let us see in what way we may soothe another's anger. For we wish not only to be sound, but to heal.
We shall therefore not dare to soothe another's first anger by our own reasoning, for it is deaf and out of its mind: we shall give it space; for the remedies of physicians are profitable not in the onsets of infirmities, but in their remissions. But if anyone should try to anoint swollen eyes, by stirring them he the more provokes them with fresh force. The wise man will more secretly remove from a raging friend all the instruments of vengeance, and will himself feign irascibility, so that, as a hearer and companion of his grief, he may have more authority in his counsels, and weave delays: and while he seeks a greater punishment, he will meanwhile put off the present one, and by every art give the fury rest. But if you are the more powerful, you will strike into him whom you resist by force either shame or fear. To the one you shall say:
'It is far too unworthy, and I find no measure for my grief; but one must wait for the right time too: it will pay its penalty.' Keep this in your mind, and in return for the delay you will repay it when you are able. To one man you will say: 'See that your anger is not a delight to your enemies.' To another: 'See that the greatness of your spirit, and the strength that most people credit you with, does not collapse.' For in this way both the physician will conceal his instrument, and the field will bear its pain so long as it hopes, will endure it; for some things are healed only by being deceived. But to chastise the angry man, and so to grow angry of one's own accord, is itself a chastising. And therefore anger must be healed in a varied manner.