This type is so highly developed in human beings that it has been taken by Bain to define all varieties of anger, just as formerly Aristotle selected revenge for a similar purpose. Tyrants have kept alive their victims to perpetuate their sufferings, and have regretted their deaths as depriving them of an exquisite enjoyment. But, in civilised life, it is sometimes through speech that the endeavour to cause pain effects its purpose. When two persons are venting their anger in words, each often endeavours to inflict pain on the other, and to discover his most sensitive spots.

The development of the anger which is directed to inflict pain seems, then, to be an acquired variety, and to depend on the discrimination of pain as one of the normal effects of anger, after which it is possible to pursue pain as an end. Yet many varieties of anger not only incidentally produce pain, but require to produce it as a means. The effectiveness of threats depends on their arousing fear; and where animals fight for leadership of their bands, the pain and fear which they inflict on those who oppose them are necessary as means to their end.

Seeing that the infliction of pain appears to be an incident or a means, and not an end, in primitive types of anger, it must seem strange that Bain should be so much impressed by its wide diffusion in the human race as to define the entire emotion by it, as in his well-known declaration that "Anger contains, as its essential peculiarity, an impulse knowingly to inflict suffering on another sentient being, and to derive a positive gratification therefrom." Yet he at the same time recognises that among predatory animals "the disposition to kill and destroy "2 is sufficient for their preservation. Thus he recognises other tendencies in anger and yet, in treating of man, tries to confine his emotion to one.

Supposing pain to have been distinguished as one of the normal effects of anger, what influences it consciously to pursue pain as its proximate end? If the anger which is preventive, or that which seeks to subordinate others or to break down opposition, or to kill, employs pain at most as a means, what variety may pursue it as an end? Now revenge, 1 The Emotions and the Will,' ch. ix. 4. 2 Op. cit. ch. ii. 24.

in human beings, is frequently directed to inflict pain, because pain is a form of punishment. And while revenge at first seeks to injure or destroy, according to the nature of the offence or the degree of anger aroused, so, as mental development progresses, it comes to select degrees and varieties of pain. The pain is one kind of punishment that may be inflicted, and which also can be graded to the offence. The study of the behaviour of this variety of anger, setting aside the ambiguous cases of animal cruelty, seems to show that it is gradually acquired through experience. Thus men invent instruments of torture which are not so much designed to produce injury as pain; and when the pain to be inflicted is mental, a knowledge of human nature is required: as to know what another most loves, and to defeat the end of his love; or what he most fears, and to bring this danger upon him. One general kind of behaviour is soon learnt. For as men value themselves highly, and have more pride than love, so anger seeks out this pride, and endeavours to humiliate them and to bring them into contempt. Hence insults are amongst the most frequent forms of this behaviour of anger. And hence, too, once pride is developed, anger nearly always elicits it both in the angry man himself and in his opponent ; rising into elation in one and smarting under humiliation in the other. Thus both in respect of its end and its behaviour, this variety of anger seems to be acquired. Yet in the principle of an eye for an eye' and 'a tooth for a tooth,' there seems to be something instinctive, as if there were an innate compulsion on a man when he has been injured to cause injury in return; and the infliction of pain, as a variety of revenge, has therefore something of the instinctive character of that primitive type.

This variety of anger, where it belongs to a sentiment, is generally in the service of either pride or hatred. For hatred, which takes its end of destruction from anger, adopts also this end of inflicting pain. The other ends of anger it sets aside, except as its occasional means. It does not aim at overcoming opposition, nor at the prevention of an attack, nor to bring others into subordination, nor to deter them from repeating an offence, but only at their destruction or suffering.

There are other acquired varieties of anger which are peculiar to sentiments of love. It would seem as if all kinds of love would only employ anger to break down opposition to their desires, or by threats to prevent opposition, or to enforce obedience; but love has its acquired forms of punishment. In the love felt for children and for inferiors generally, punishment is never the end of anger as in revenge; but becomes a means to the new and acquired end of reforming the offender, or of deterring him from repeating the offence. The reformation of character is wholly foreign to all primitive varieties of anger, and is only acquired through the organisation of anger in love.

Yet while this end is acquired it may adopt one of the primitive varieties of anger as its means, or some modification of them which still bears the same general character. Thus "righteous anger" threatens terrible punishments in the future if the work of reformation is not presently begun; it breaks down rebellion, and does not allow the pity of love to restrain it.

There is one variety of punishment which is peculiar to our affections. It is a frequent fate of human love not to meet with the responsive affection it longs for. The young accept the love of the old as if it were part of the established order of things, as involving receptiveness on their part with little corresponding activity. Hence it seems strange to them to find this love not always the same, but sometimes chilled. In the heart of the old, which is hidden from them, there is a want of some answering love to their own, which need not go far, but must go a little way. Hence when the old find that love meets with forgetfulness, ingratitude, and neglect, they are apt to grow chilled and offended. The young feel that they are received differently, and it seems unreasonable to them; for they have done nothing. This chilled or offended manner which surprises them is the calm anger of love, which is painful to it because directed against the loved object. It is an anger of ideas and reflection, and essentially belongs to the sentiment. Its function, in which it is seldom successful, appears to be to recall the other to a sense of the duties of love. And the punishment which it inflicts is also peculiar to

it, and at some time invented by it. It withdraws or conceals love for a time.

There is an anger which has a still more chilling effect. It is the anger of pride. Like the former it springs in a world of ideas, reflection, and self-control, and is dependent on a performed sentiment, the self-love which is pride. Its cause is a humiliation, a wound to pride which must be concealed, but revenged. Its persistency is proverbial: the offence under which it smarts is one which we are least able to forgive; its peculiar and bitter pain of humiliation, one that we are least able to forget. It is a most frequent cause of hatred. But its anger is reduced to such an unnatural coldness that to the man himself it often seems that he is not angry. He is not excited his feeling is not an emotion in the popular sense of the word. The excitement of emotion betrays itself; but such a disclosure of anger would be a humiliation to pride. The man who offends our pride must detect neither anger nor humiliation. For a mark of the superiority which pride feels is superiority to what is meant by emotion. It must preserve always its calm and impassible demeanour. Hence the coldness of its anger, yet until its revenge is attained persistent and implacable. And its revenge must take a peculiar form determined by the sentiment: it must consist in the humiliation of the offender. For whatever injury it inflicts, and whatever other pains, these are subordinate to this end of depriving him of power, superiority, and reputation so as to make him feel the pain of his degraded state. By his humiliation alone is the cold anger of pride appeased.

Thus anger has important functions to perform in the systems of love, self-love, and hate; and the nature of its end is determined by the respective nature of these sentiments. In all three cases, the self-control of the higher system masks its emotional character. It is neither excited, nor explosive, nor violent. It has lost the primitive character of the emotion; and those bodily changes which physiologists attribute to it are hardly appreciable. If it has no longer the same strength in one sense, in another it has a greater. In immediate physical energy it is weaker in power of persistence immeasurably stronger. In place of thoughtless

impulse, and crude primitive methods of offence, it has the thoughtfulness, self-control, and adaptability of the senti

ment.

2. Of the Common End of Anger.

We cannot judge of the end of an impulse from the results that ensue on it in a given case; for the impulse may be counteracted, or only partially achieved. Thus in one case the actual results of anger may be death, in another injury, in another no injury at all, or an injury inflicted on an unoffending person, in another words that do not even give pain, but excite contempt. When a man in his rage at bodily pain strikes himself, or dashes his head against a wall, the visible results cannot be the end of his angry impulse, but the end is the destruction of his pain. We judge of the end by what satisfies the impulse, and brings it to an end.1 When a child cries and is restless, we may not know at first what it wants. But if we find that its crying ceases with food, and a look of contentment spreads over its face, we judge that food was the end of its impulse, and the impulse hunger. But if it continues to cry, and pushes aside the breast, but appears satisfied when something is given it to look at or to handle, and becomes engrossed in that, turning it over on all sides, then we conclude that its impulse was for some occupation adapted to its state.

While we may trace the ends of particular impulses in this way, even where they cannot be disclosed through introspection, we cannot thus judge of the end common to many allied impulses, such as the common end of the different varieties of anger. Here we have to compare their particular and proximate ends, and consider whether they have anything in common which distinguishes all varieties of anger from the ends of other emotions. In attempting to make this comparison, we note how some of those we have distinguished have been held at one time or another to furnish a complete definition of the emotion. To a subtle mind, dealing with general terms of loose and flexible meanings, it is easy to force a definition, designed to apply to certain cases, on others that 1 See' Manual of Psy.,' G. F. Stout, B. i. ch. i. § 4.