Duty

There are many different kinds of duty, but one thing they all have in common is a sense of obligation, which often attaches to a particular role or job. It can also be an amount owed to a government, or to some other authority, especially as a form of tax, in connection with imports and exports. And there is the matter of human relationships. What is the duty of spouses towards each other, of parents towards their children, tenants towards their landlord, employers towards their employees, and vice versa? 

How about citizens towards their country? My own comment on that has taken the form of a sardonic epigram:

“If only it were always my patriotic duty to have unlimited pleasure.”

Many of these duties are spelled out in legal or other documents, such as contracts and professional codes. Others are more a matter of morality, ethics, tradition, or custom. And let’s not forget politicians and the people they supposedly represent – or sports teams, and their fans or supporters. There is some kind of duty involved in all these.

It might also be argued – perhaps first and foremost – that we have a duty to ourselves – to stay healthy, to maintain a positive attitude, to enjoy life as much as possible.

But most of the classic stories about people who did their duty in difficult circumstances concern heroic acts in war. One that comes to mind goes back to ancient Rome, though it was made famous in modern times in a poem by Thomas Babington Macaulay, called “Horatius at The Bridge.” It celebrates a legendary defense of a bridgehead which controlled the only feasible route over the Tiber River to the City of Rome, when it was besieged by a horde of enemy soldiers from Tuscany. Horatius alone held off the whole enemy army, until other Romans behind him had had time to destroy the wooden bridge. Horatius then jumped into the river, and was able to swim to safety on the other side.

The Macaulay poem contains one line which is often quoted to show how a heroic act can win the admiration even of the foe. Horatius’ deed was so astonishingly brave that, upon this success, “Even the ranks of Tuscany could scarce forbear to cheer.”

I myself wrote a poem about a certain kind of duty – the duty, as I saw it, of the writer of a supposedly learned paper to tell the truth about his subject. I was submitting a study of one of my own favorite poets, A. E. Housman, as an assignment in a college class. This essay explored some of the less attractive features of Housman’s personality, and I wrote the poem as a kind of apologetic preface. It included these lines:

“Now, since the world has more need yet,
To be reminded than forget,
I’d hold it as a scholar’s duty
To show the other side of beauty.”

Another classic tale of duty performed, this time quite tragically, is told in the (at least once) famous poem by Felicia Hemans, published in 1826, called “Casabianca” (no, not Casablanca) which begins with the line,

“The boy stood on the burning deck”

This was based on a true incident in the 1798 “Battle of the Nile,” between British and French fleets. The ship was the French flagship, the Orient, which had a hold full of ammunition. Casabianca was the name of its Captain, and he was also father of the boy on the deck, whom he had instructed to remain at his post, until further orders came. Unknown to the boy, his father was dead. The ship was on fire, and had already been abandoned, but the boy had not been told, and remained, doing his duty, waiting for word from his father – until there was a tremendous explosion. End of story.

But finally we come to the really big question: What is your duty to me, and mine to you? At least the sequence is beyond question: I, the writer, must write before you, the reader, reads. We may be vastly separated by time and space. Nevertheless, there’s a certain bond between us. You, as reader of these words, could not exist without me, as the writer of them. The fact that you are reading me means that my duty as writer is fulfilled. And, much as I would like to require one, there won’t be a test. So, we can now relax. Just by getting to this point, we have both performed our duty.