YOUR MIND AND HOW TO USE IT/PART 13
CHAPTER XIII.
The Passions.
ARISING
from the most elemental instinctive emotions, we find what may be termed
"the passions." By the term "passion" is meant those strong
feelings in which the elemental selfish instincts are manifested in relation to
other persons, either in the phase of attraction or repulsion. In this class we
find the elementary phases of love, and the feelings of hate, anger, jealousy,
revenge, etc. This class of emotions usually manifests violently, as compared
with the other emotions. The passions generally arise from self-preservation,
race preservation and reproduction, self-interest, self-aggrandizement, etc.,
and may be regarded as a more complex phase of the elemental instinctive
emotions. The elemental instinctive emotions of self-preservation and self-comfort
cause the individual to experience and manifest the passional emotions of
desire for combat, anger, hate, revenge, etc., while the instinctive emotions
leading to reproduction and continuance of the race give rise to the passional
emotions of sexual love, jealousy, etc. The desire to attract the other sex
increases ambition, vanity, love of display, and other feelings.
It
is only when this class of emotions blends with the higher emotions that the
passions become purified and refined. But it must not be forgotten that these
emotions were very necessary for the welfare of the race in the early stage of
its evolution, and that they still play an active part in human life, under the
greater or less restraint imposed by civilized society. Nor should it be forgotten
that from these emotions have evolved the highest love of one human being for
another. From instinctive sexual love and the "racial instinct" have
developed the higher affection of man for woman, and woman for man, in all
their beautiful manifestations—and the love of the parent for the child, and
the love of the child for the parent. The first manifestation of altruism
arises in the love of the living creature for its mate, and in the love of the
parents for their offspring. In certain forms of life where the association of
the sexes is merely for the moment, and is not followed by protection, mutual
aid, and companionship, there is found an absence of mutual affection of any
kind, the only feeling being an elemental reproductive instinct bringing the
male and female together for the moment—an almost purely reflex activity. In
the same way, in the cases of certain animals (the rattlesnake, for instance)
in which the young are able to protect themselves from birth, there is seen a
total absence of parental affection or the return thereof. Human love
between the sexes, in its higher and lower degrees, is a natural evolution from
passional emotion of a low order, due to the growth of social, ethical, moral,
and æsthetic emotion arising from the necessities of the increasing complexity
and development of human life.
The
simpler forms of passional emotion are almost entirely instinctive in their
manifestation. Indeed, in many cases, there appears to be but little more than
a high form of reflex nervous action. The following words of William James give
us an interesting view of this fact of life: "The cat runs after the
mouse, runs or shows fight before the dog, avoids falling from walls and trees,
shuns fire and water, not because he has any notion either of life or of death
or of self-preservation. He acts in each case separately and simply because he
cannot help it; being so framed that when that particular running thing called
a mouse appears in his field of vision, he must pursue; that
when that particular barking and obstreperous thing called a dog appears there,
he must retire if at a distance, and scratch if close by; that
he must withdraw his feet from water, and his face from flame,
etc. * * * Now, why do the various animals do what seem to us such strange
things in the presence of such outlandish stimuli? Why does the hen, for
instance, submit herself to the tedium of incubating such a fearfully
uninteresting set of objects as a nestful of eggs, unless she have some sort of
prophetic inkling of the result? The only answer is ad hominem. We
can only interpret the instinct of brutes by what we know of instincts in
ourselves. Why do men always lie down, when they can, on soft beds rather than
on soft floors? Why do they sit around a stove on a cold day? Why, in a room,
do they place themselves, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, with their faces
toward its middle rather than to the wall? Why does the maiden interest the
youth so much that everything about her seems more important and significant
than anything else in the world? Nothing more can be said than that these are
human ways, and that every creature likes its own ways, and takes to following
them as a matter of course. Science may come and consider these ways, and find
that most of them are useful. But it is not for the sake of their utility that
they are followed, but because at the moment of following them we feel that it
is the only appropriate and natural thing to do. Not one man in a million, when
taking his dinner, ever thinks of its utility. He eats because the food tastes
good, and makes him want more. If you should ask him why he
wants to eat more of what tastes like that, instead of revering you as a
philosopher he will probably laugh at you for a fool."
James
continues: "It takes, in short, what Berkeley called a mind debauched by
learning to carry the process of making the natural seem strange, so far as to
ask the why of any instinctive human act. To the metaphysician
alone can such questions arise as: Why do we smile when pleased and not scowl?
Why are we unable to talk to a crowd as to a single friend? Why does a
particular maiden turn our wits upside down? The common man can only say, 'Of
course we smile, of course our heart palpitates at
the sight of the crowd, of course we love the maiden—that
beautiful soul clad in that perfect form, so palpably and flagrantly made from
all eternity to be loved!' And so, probably, does each animal feel about the
particular things it tends to do in the presence of particular objects. They,
too, are a priori syntheses. To the lion it is the lioness
which is made to be loved; to the bear, the she bear. To the broody hen the
notion would seem monstrous that there should be a creature in the world to
whom a nestful of eggs was not the utterly fascinating, precious, and
never-to-be-too-much-sat-upon object which it is to her. Thus we may be sure
that however mysterious some animals' instincts may appear to us, our instincts
will appear no less mysterious to them. And we may conclude that, to the animal
which obeys it, every impulse and every step of that instinct shines with its
own sufficient light, and seems at the moment the only externally right
and proper thing to do. It may be done for its own sake exclusively."
One
has very little need, as a rule, to develop the passional emotions. Instinct
has taken pretty good care that we shall have our share of this class of
feelings. But there is a need to train, restrain, govern, and control these
emotions, for the conditions which brought about their original being have
changed. Our social conventions require that we should subordinate these
passional feelings, to some extent at least. Society insists that we must
restrict our love impulses to certain limits and to certain quarters, and that
we subdue our anger and hate, except toward the enemies of our land, the
disturbers of public peace, and the menacers of the social conventions of our
time and land. The public welfare requires that we inhibit our fighting
impulses, except in cases of self-defense or war. Public policy requires that
we keep our ambitions within reasonable limits, which limits change from time
to time, of course. In short, society has stepped in and insisted that man, as
a social being, must not only acquire a social conscience but
must also develop sociable emotions and inhibit his unsociable ones. The
evolution of man's nature has caused him unconsciously to modify his elemental,
instinctive, passional emotions, and subordinate them to the dictates of
social, ethical, moral, and æsthetic feelings and ideals, and to intellectual
considerations. Even the original elemental instincts of the lower animals have
been modified by reason of the social requirements of the pack, herd, or drove,
until the modified instinct is now the ruling force.
The
general principles of emotional control, restraint, and mastery, as given in a
preceding chapter, are applicable to the particular class of emotions now under
consideration here.
(1)
By refraining from the physical expression, one may at least partially inhibit
the emotion.
(2)
By refusing to create the habit, one may more easily manifest control.
(3)
By refusing to dwell upon the idea or mental picture of the exciting object,
one may lessen the stimulus.
(4)
By cultivating the opposite class of emotions, one may inhibit any class of
feeling.
(5)
And, finally, by acquiring a control of the attention, by means of the will,
one has the reins firmly in hand, and may drive or hold back the steeds of
passion as he wills.
The
passions are like fiery horses, useful if well under control, but most
dangerous if the control is lost. The ego is the driver, the will his hands,
attention the reins, habit the bit, and the passions the horses. To drive the
chariot of life under social conditions, the ego must have strong hands (will)
to tighten or loosen the reins of attention. He must also employ a well
designed and shaped bit of habit. Without strong hands, good reins, and
well-adjusted bit, the fiery steeds of passion may gain control and, running
away, dash the chariot and its driver over the precipice and on to the jagged
rocks below.
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