The Penn's Grove record., 1905-02-10
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and are accosted by an individual in
shabby garments. You are touched by
his tale Of woe, and with your usual
generosity you give him an ample
aims. Five minutes later (this Incl.
dent is founded upon fact in the crush
Of a crowded corner, you feel an I'M
wonted hand busy at your pocket, and.
turning round, discover in the would.
be thief the very man you have just
helped.
What do you think of this fellow1
Do you feel toward him as if he were
an invalid, a sick soul, a deluded vic
tim Of circumstance?
On the contrary, you regard - and
justly regard-the robust p%urloiner OF
your pocketboOk as al ~ungratefui
scoundrel, and, if you are a good citi-
zen, you promptly and Indignantly
hand him over to the police. Sorrow
and pity you no doubt experience, but,
mingled with sorrow and pity there
will be righteous indignation. How
ever many excuses your kind heart
makes for him, you will still blame
the man; for you will be convinced,
however bad his surroundings and his
bringing up, being a man, he could
have kept straight in spite Of all, as
many another has done. You know, in
your soul, that, however great the OBJ
stacles, being a man, he was still mas
ter of himself. He might have chosen
differently. He might have taken the
right road instead of the wrong one. if
only he had tried hard enough. You
feel, after all is SAID and done, he was,
in this matter, able to do as he liked.
Consequently, he is responsible. There
fore, we blame him. &
Take the opposite case, that of the
hero. We have all read recently how
the Japanese attempted to block the
entrance to Port Arthur by sinking
steamers in the channel. One of these
vessels had reached the appointed spot.
Her anchor had been let go. The fuse
attached to the charge which was to
blow a hole in her had been lighted.
The officer in command ordered the
crew into the lifeboat, he himself be-
ing the last to leave the ship. A mo-
ment he stands On the gunwale, ready
to cast loose. He counts his men. One
is missing. Shall they leave him.
The officer has but an instant in which
to make up his mind. There is an in
ward struggle between the rival i'm
pulses of duty and s~elf-regard. Then
he climbs again upon the shOt-swept
deck to seek his lost comrade. Alas!
it is in vain. The next moment he is
killed by a Russian shell, and his crew
push off, only just in time to save
themselves.
Why do we regard this man as a
hero? Why was a public funeral held
in his hnnnFs nv his aOrTn+prD nan UThn
do we praise him? Because we feel
the brave action was due to him, and
to no thing and no one else. Because
we feel that he stood where two ways
diverged-the way of duty and the way
of safety-and that he was master of
the situation. He determined which
road to take. Out of his own brave
will. out OF his own courageous soul.
he chose the right way. The decision
lay not with circumstances, conditions,
previous training. or ancestry, but
with himself. We feel that he, and he
alone, was responsible, and that there
fore to him, and to him alone, belongs
the credit and the praise.
We cannot help blaming the GRIM
inal, we cannot help praising the
hero. but, if criminal and hero were
simply the victims or circumstance, TO
do so would be meaningless. We have
no right to condemn the criminal if he
cannot help doing what he does. There
is no sense in hOnoring the hero if the
heroism is due TO education or to sur.
rounding conditions; that is. to some
thing other than the hero. Yet we do
condemn the one. and we do give our
homage to the other. We cannot help
ourselves. The praise and the blame
we bestow are involuntary acknowl.
edgment that, in spite of all the theo-
ries closet philosophers may spin,
there is an ineradicable conviction in
the human heart that we are able, in
the last resort, to do as we like. and
that al a consequence we are respon,
sible before God and man both for ouI
deeds and for thoughts.