LIBRARY OF CONGRESS^ Shelf BJ 10 S3 I UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. I ELEMENTS OF MORALS: SPECIAL APPLICATION OF THE MORAL LAW TO THE DUTIES OF THE INDIVIDUAL AND OF SOCIETY AND THE STATE. \ .^' PAUL JANET, MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE, OF THE ACADEMY OF MORAL AND POLITICAL SCIENCES, AUTHOR OF THEORY OF MORALS, HISTORY OF MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY, FINAL CAUSES, ETC., ETC. ^kM TRANSLATED BY Mrs. Q.^-efr-'^C;^ R S O ISr OCT 20 1§84;^ » ( A . S . B A iTn E S & CO., NEW YORK AND CHICAGO ^-^ \<^' ■s^ -s-^^ 188U, by A. S. Barnes & Co. PREFACE THE Elements de Morale, by M. Paul Janet, which we here present to the educational world, translated from the latest edition, is, of all the works of that distinguished moralist, the one best adapted to college and school purposes. Its scholarly and methodical arrangement, its clear and direct reasonings, its felicitous examples and illustrations, drawn with rare impartiality from the best ancient and modern writers, make of this study of Ethics, generally so unattrac- tive to young students, one singularly inviting. It is a sys- tem of morals, practical rather than theoretical, setting forth man's duties and the application thereto of the moral law. Starting with Preliminary JVotions, M. Janet follows these up with a general division of duties, establishes the general principles of social and individual morality, and chapter by chapter moves from duties to duties, developing each in all its ramifications with unerring clearness, decision, and com- pleteness. Never before, perhaps, was this diihcult subject brought to the comprehension of the student with more con- vincing certainty, and, at the same time, with more vivid and impressive illustrations. The position of M. Paul Janet is that of the i-eligious moralist. " He supplies," says a writer in the British Quarterly Re- view* in a notice of his Theory of Morals, " the very element * No. CLIX.— July 1, 1884, pp. 246, 247. IV PREFACE. to which Mr. Sully gives so little place. He cannot conceive morals without religion. Stated shortly, his position is, that moral good is founded upon a natural and essential good, and that the domains of good and of duty are absolutely equivalent. So far he would seem to follow Kant ; but he diiFers from Kant in denying that there are indefinite duties : every duty, he holds, is definite as to its form ; but it is either definite or indefinite as to its application. As religion is simply belief in the Divine goodness, morality must by necessity lead to reli- gion, and is like a flowerless plant if it fail to do so. He holds with Kant that practical faith in the existence of God is the postulate of the moral law. The two things exist or fall to- gether." This, as to M. Janet's position as a moralist; as to his manner of treating his subject, the writer adds : " . . . it is beyond our power to set forth, with approach to success, the admirable series of reasonings and illustrations by which his positions are established and maintained." M. Janet's signal merit is the clearness and decision which he gives to the main points of his subject, keeping them ever distinctly in view, and strengthening and supplementing them by substantial and conclusive facts, drawn from the best sources, framing, so to say, liis» idea in time-honored and irrefutable truths. The law of duty thus made clear to the comprehension of the student, cannot fail to fix his attention ; and between fiix- ing the attention and striking root, the difference is not very great. G. K. G. TABLE OF OOWTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. — Preliminary Notions 1 II. — Division of Duties. — General Principles of Social Moral- ity 33 III. — Duties of Justice. — Duties toward Human Life 50 IV. — Duties Concerning the Property of Others 63 V. — Duties toward the Liberty and toward the Honor of Others. — Justice, Distributive and Remunerative. — Equity 93 VI.— Duties of Charity and Self -Sacrifice Ill VII.— Duties toward the State 139 VIII.— Professional Duties 157 IX. — Duties of Nations among themselves. — International Law 182 X.— Family Duties 190 XI. — Duties toward One's Self. — Duties relative to the Body. 223 XII. — Duties relative to External Goods. ... 244 XIII.— Duties relative to the Intellect 260 XIV.— Duties relative to the Will 281 XV.— Religious Morality. — Religious Rights and Duties 299 XVI. — Moral Medicine and Gymnastics 315 Appendix to Chapter VIII 341 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. CHAPTEE I. PRELIMIKAKT ]S"OTIOKS. SUMMARY. Starting point of morals, — Notions of common sense. Object and divisions of morals.— Practical morality and theoretical morality. Utility of morals. — Morals are useful : 1, in protecting us against the sophisms which combat them; 2, in fixing principles in the mind ; 3, in teaching us to reflect upon the motives of our actions ; 4, in preparing us for the difficulties which may arise in practice. Short resume of theoretical morality. — Pleasure and the good. — The useful and the honest. — Duty. — Moral conscience and moral sentiment. —Liberty. — Merit and demerit. — Moral responsibility. — • Moral sanction. All sciences have for their starting-point certain elementary notions which are furnished them by the common experience of mankind. There would be no arithmetic if men had not, as their wants increased, begun by counting and calculating, and if they had not already had some ideas of numbers, unity, fractions, etc. ; neither would there be any geometry if they had not also had ideas of the round, the square, the straight line. The same is true of morals. They presuppose a certain number of notions existing among all men, at least to some degree. Good and evil, duty and obligation, conscience, Kb- 2 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. erty and responsibility, virtue and vice, merit and demerit, sanction, punishment and reward, are notions which the philosopher has not invented, but which he has borrowed from common sense, to return them agam cleared and deep- ened. Let us begin, then, by rapidly enumerating the elementary and common notions, the analysis and elucidation of which is the object of moral science, and explain the terms employed to express them. I. Starting point of morals: common notions. — All men distinguish the good and the bad, good actions and bad actions. For instance, to love one's parents, respect other people's property, to keep one's word, etc., is right; to harm those who have done us no harm, to deceive and lie, to be ungrateful towards our benefactors, and unfaithful to our friends, etc., is wrong. To do right is obligatory on every one — that is, it shoidd be done; wrong, on the contrary, should be avoided. Didy is that law by which we are held to do the right and avoid the wrong. It is also called the moral laiv. This law, like all laws, commands, forbids, and permits. He who acts and is capable of doing the right and the wrong, and who consequently is held to obey the moral law, is called a moral agent. In order that an agent may be held to obey a law, he must know it and understand it. In morals, as in legislation, no one is supposed to be ignorant of tlie lav). There is, then, in every man a certain knowledge of the law, that is to say, a natural discernment of the right and the wrong. This discernment is what is called conscience, or sometimes the moral sense. Conscience is an act of the mind, a judgment. But it is not only the mind that is made aware of the right and the wrong : it is the heart. Good and evil, done either by others or by ourselves, awaken in us emotions, affections of diverse nature. These emotions or affections are Avhat collectively constitute the moral sentiment. PRELIMINARY XOTIONS. 3 It does not suffice that a man know and distinguish the good and the evil, and experience for the one and for the other different sentiments ; it is also necessary, in order to be a moral agent, that he be capable of choosing between them; he cannot be commanded to do what he cannot do, nor can he be forbidden to do what he cannot help doing. Tliis power of choosing is called liberty, ov free icill. A free agent — one, namely, who can discern between the right and the wrong — is said to be responsible for his actions ; that is to say, he can answer for them, give an account of them, suffer their consequences ; he is then their real cause. His actions may consequently be attributed to him, put to his account ; in other words, imputed to him. The agent is re- sponsible, the actions are imputable. Human actions, we have said, are sometimes good, some- times bad. These two qualifications have degrees in propor- tion to the importance or the difficulty of the action. It is thus we caU an action suitable, estimable, beautiful, admirable, sublime, etc. On the other hand, a bad action is sometimes but a simple mistake, and sometimes a crime. It is culpable, base, abominable, execrable, etc. If we observe in an agent the habit of good actions, a con- stant tendency to conform to the law of duty, this habit or constant tendency is called virtue, and the contrary tendency is called vice. Whilst man feels himself bound by his conscience to seek the right, he is impelled by his nature to seek pleasure. When he enjoys pleasure without any admixture of pain, he is happy ; and the highest degree of possible pleasure with the least degree of possible pain is happiness. Now, experience shows that happiness is not always in harmony with virtue, and that pleasure does not necessarily accompany right doing. And yet we lind such a separation unjust; and Ave believe in a natural and legitimate connection between pleasure and right, pain and wrong. Pleasure, considered as the conse- 4 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. quence of well-doing, is called recompense ; and pain, consid- ered as the legitimate consequence of evil, is called punish- ment. When a man has done well he thinks, and all other men think, that he has a right to a recompense. When he has done ill they think the contrary, and he himself thinks also that he must atone for his wrong-doing by t chastisement. This principle, by virtue of which we declare a moral agent deserving of happiness or unhappiness according to his good or bad actions, is called the principle of merit and demerit. The sum total of the rewards and punishments attached to the execution or violation of a law is called sanction ; the sanction of the moral law will then be called moral sanc- tion. All law presupposes a legislator. The moral law will pre- suppose, then, a moral legislator, and morality consequently raises us to God. All human or earthly sanction being shown by observation to be insufficient, the moral law calls for a re- ligious sanction. It is thus that morality conducts us to the immortality of the soul. If we go back upon the whole of the ideas we have just briefly expressed, we shall see that at each of the steps we have taken there are always two contraries opposed the one to the other: good and evil, command and prohibition^ virtue and vice, merit and deme^nt, pleasure and pain, reward and punishment. Human life present's itself, then, under two aspects. Man can choose between the two. This power is liberty. This choice is difficult and laborious ; it exacts from us incessant efforts. It is for this reason that life is said to l)e a tn'(d, and is often represented as a combat. It should therefore not be represented as a play, but rather as a manly and valiant effort. Struggle is its condition, peace its prize. Such are the fundamental ideas morality has for its object, and of wliich it R(!cks, at the same time, both the principles and tin; applications. PRELIMIKARY NOTIONS. 5 2. What is morality ? the object of morality. — Moral- ity may be considered as a science or as an art. By science we understand a totality of truths connected with each other concerning one and the same object. Science has for its object proper, knowledge. By art we understand a totahty of rules or precepts for directing activity towards a definite end; art has for its object proper, action. Science is theoretical or speculative; art is, practical. Morahty is a science inasmuch as it seeks to know and demonstrate the principles and conditions of morality ; it is an art inasmuch as it shows and prescribes to us its applica- tions. As science, morality may be defined : science of good or science of duty. As art, morahty may be defined : the art of right living or the art of right acting. 3. Division of morality. — Morahty is divided into two parts : in one it studies principles, in the other, applications ; in the one, duty; in the other, duties. Hence a theoretical morahty and a practical morahty. The first may also be called general morality, and the second par- ticidar morality, because the first has for its object the study of the common and general character of all our duties, and the other especially that of the particular duties, which vary according to objects and circumstances. It is in the first that morality has especially the character of science, and in the second, the character of art. 4. Utility of morality. — The utility of moral science has been disputed. The ancients questioned whether virtue could be taught. It may also be asked whether it should be taught. ]\Iorahty, it is said, depends much more upon the heart than upon the reasoning faculties. It is rather by education, ex- ample, habit, religion, sentiment, than through theories, that men become habituated to virtue. If this were so, moral science would be of no use. 6 ELEMElTtS OF MORALS. However, though it may be true that for happiness noth- ing can take the place of practice, it does not follow that re- flection and study may not very efficaciously contribute toward it, and for the following reasons : 1. It often happens that evil has its origin in the sophisms of the mind, sophisms ever at the service of the passions. It is therefore necessary to ward off or prevent these sophisms by a thorough discussion of principles. 2. A careful study of the principles of morality causes them to penetrate deeper into the soul and gives them there greater fixity. 3. Morality consists not only in the actions themselves, but especially in the motives of our actions. An outward moral- ity, wholly of habit and imitation, is not yet the true morality. Morality must needs be accompanied by conscience and re- flection. So viewed, moral science is a necessary element of a sound education, and the higher its principles the more the conscience is raised and refined, 4. Life often presents moral problems for our solution. If the mind is not prepared for them it will lack certainty of decision ; what above all is to be feared is that it will mostly prefer the easier and the more convenient solution. It should be fortified in advance against its own weakness by acquiring the habit of judging of general questions before events put it to the proof. Such is the utility of morality. It is of the same service to man as geometry is to the workman; it does not take the place of tact and common sense, but it guides and perfects them. It is well understood, moreover, that such a study in no- wise excludes, it even exacts, the co-operation of all the practical means we have indicated above, which constitute what is called education. Doctrinal teaching is but the com- plement and confirmation of teaching by practice and by ex- ample. 5. Short resume of theoretical movzWVj.— Theoretical PKELIMINAEY NOTION'S. 7 morality should, in fact, precede practical morality, and that is what usually takes place ; but as it presents more difficul- ties and less immediate applications than practical morality, we shall defer the developments it may give rise to, to a subse- quent year.* The present will be a short resume, purely elementary, containing only preliminary and strictly necessary notions. It will be an exposition of the common notions we have just enumerated above. 6. Pleasure and the good. — Morality being, as we have said, the science of the good, the first question that presents itself is : What is good ? If we are to believe the first impulses of nature, which in- stinctively urge us towards the agreeable and cause us to repel all that is painful, the answer to the preceding question would not be difficult; we should have but to reply: " Good is what makes us happy; good \s> jjleasure.^'' One can, without doubt, affirm that morality teaches us to be happy, and puts us on the way to true happiness. But it is not, as one might believe, in obeying that blind law of nature which inclines us towards pleasure, that we shall be truly happy. The road morality points out is less easy, but surer. Some very simple reflections will suffice to show us that it cannot be said absolutely that pleasure is the good and pain the had. Experience and reasoning easily demonstrate the falsity of this opinion. 1. Pleasure is not always a good, and in certain circum- stances it may even become a real evil ; and, vice versa, pain is not always an evil, and it may even become a great good. Thus we see, on the one hand, that the pleasures of intem- perance bring with them sickness, the loss of health and rea- son, shortening of life. The pleasures of idleness bring poverty, uselessness, the contempt of men. The pleasures of vengeance and of crime carry with them chastisement, re The fifth collegiate year will be devoted to theoretical morality. 8 ELEMENTS OF :M0RALS. morse, etc. Conversely, again, we see the most painful troubles and trials bringing with them evident good. The amputation of a limb saves our life ; energetic and painstak- ing work brings comfort, etc. In these different cases, if we consider their results, it is pleasure that is an evil and pain a good. 2. It must be added that among the pleasures there are some that are low, degrading, vulgar ; for example, the pleasures of drunkenness ; others, again, that are noble and generous, as the heroism of the soldier. Among the pleasures of man there are some he has in common with the beasts, and others that are peculiar to him alone. Shall we put the one kind and the other on the same level 1 Assuredly not. 3. There are pleasures very keen, which, however, are fleeting, and soon pass away, as the pleasures of the passions ; others which are durable and continuous, as those of health, security, domestic comfort, and the respect of mankind. Shall we sacrifice life-long pleasures to pleasures that last but an hour ? 4. Other pleasures are very great, but equally uncertain, and dependent on chance ; as, for instance, the pleasures of ambition or the pleasures of the gaming-table ; others, again, calmer and less intoxicating, but surer, as the pleasures of the family circle. Pleasures may then be compared in regard to certainty^ purity^ durability, intensity, etc. Experience teaches that we should not seek pleasures without distinction and choice; that we should use our reason and compare them ; that we should sacrifice an uncertain and fleeting present to a durable future; prefer the simple and peaceful pleasures, free from re- grets, to the tumultuous and dangerous pleasures of the pas- sions, etc. ; in a word, sacrifice the agrp.eahle to the useful. 7. Utility and honesty. — One should prefer, we have just seen, the useful to the agreeable; but the useful itself should not be confounded with the real good — that is, with the honest. PRELIMINARY NOTIONS. 9 Let us explain the differences between these two ideas. 1. There is no honesty or moral goodness without disin- terestedness; and he who never seeks anything but his own personal interest is branded by all as a selfish man. 2. Interest gives only advice ; morality gives commands. A man is not obliged to be skillful, but he is obliged to be honest. 3. Personal interest cannot be the foundation of any uni- versal and general law as applicable to others as to ourselves, for the happiness of each depends on his own way of viewing things. Every man takes his pleasure where he finds it, and understands his interest as he pleases ; but honesty or justice is the same for all men. 4. The honest is clear and self-evident; the useful is uncer- tain. Conscience tells every one what is right or wrong; but it requires a long trained experience to calculate all the possible consequences of our actions, and it would often be absolutely impossible for us to foresee them. AVe cannot, therefore, always know what is useful to us ; but we can always know what is right. 5. It is never impossible to do right ; but one cannot always carry out his own wishes in order to be happy. The prisoner may always bravely bear his prison, but he cannot always get out of it. 6. We judge ourselves according to the principles of action we recognize. The man who loses in gambling may he troubled and regret his imprudence ; but he who is conscious of having cheated in gambling (though he won thereby) must despise himself if he judges himself from the standpoint of moral law. This law must therefore be something else than the principle of personal happiness. For, to be able to say to one's self, " I am a villain, though I have filled my purse," requires another principle than that by which one congratu- lates himself, saying, " I am a prudent man, for I have filled my cash-box." 7. The idea of punishment or chastisement could not be 10 ELEMEIs^TS OF MORALS.' understood, moreover, if the good only were the usefuL A man is not punished for having been awkward ; he is pun- ished for being culpable. 8. The good op the honest. — We have just seen that neither pleasure nor usefulness is the legitimate and supreme object of human life. We are certainly permitted to seek pleasure, since nature invites us to it ; but we should not make it the aim of life. We are also permitted, and even sometimes commanded, to seek what is useful, since reason demands we see to our self-preservation. But, above pleasure and utility, there is another aim, a higher aim, the real object of human life. This higher and final aim is what we call, according to circumstances, the good, the honest, and ih.^ just. 'Eow, what is honesty ? We distinguish .in man a double nature, body and soid ; and in the soul itself two parts, one superior, one inferior ; one more particularly deserving of the name of soul, the other more carnal, more material, if one may say so, which comes nearer the body. In one class we liave intelligence, senti- ments, will; in the other, senses, appetites, passions. JSTow, that which distinguishes man from the lower animal is the power to rise above the senses, appetites, and passions, and to be capable of thinking, loving, and willing. Thus, moral good consists in preferring what there is best in us to what there is least good ; the goods of the soul to the goods of the body ; the dignity of human nature to the servi- tude of animal passions ; the noble affections of the heart to the inclinations of a vile selfishness. In one word, moral good consists in man becoming truly man — that is to say, " A free will, guided by the heart and enlightened by reason." Moral good takes different names, according to the relations under which we consider it. For instance, when we consider it as having for its special object the individual man in rela- tion with himself, good becomes what is properly called the honest, and has for its prime object personal dignity. In its PKELIMIi^AKY NOTIONS. 11 relation with other men, good takes the name of the just, and has for its special object the happiness of others. It consists either in not doing to others what we should not wish they should do to us, or in doing to others as we should ourselves wish to be done by. Finally, in its relation to God, the good is called piety or saintliness, and consists in rendering to the Father of men and of the universe what is his due. 9. Duty. — Thus, the honest, the just, and the 2010118 are the different names which moral good takes in its relations to ourselves, to other men, or to God. Moral good, under these different forms, presents itself always in the same character, namely, imposing on us the ob- ligation to do it as soon as we recognize it, and that, too, without regard to consequences and whatever be our inclina- tions to the contrary. Thus, we should tell the truth even though it injures us; we should respect the property of others, though it be neces- sary to our existence ; finally, we should even sacrifice, if necessary, our life for the family and the country. This law, which prescribes to us the doing right for its own sake, is what is called moral Icvw or the law of duty. It is a sort of constraint, but a moral constraint, and is distin- guished from physical constraint by the fact that the latter is dictated by fate and is irresistible, whilst the constraint of duty imposes itself upon our reason without violating our liberty. This kind of necessity, Avhich commands reason alone without constraining the will, is moral obligation. To say that the right is obligatory is to say, then, that we consider ourselves held to do it, without being forced to do it. On the contrary, if we were to do it by force it Avould cease to be the right. It must therefore be done freely, and duty may thus be defined an obligation consented to. Duty presents itself in a two-fold character : it is absolute and universal. 1. It is absolute : that is to say, it imposes its commands unconditionally, without taking account of our desires, our 12 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. passions, our interests. It is by this that the commands of duty may be distinguished, as we have already said, from the counsels of an interested prudence. The rules or calculations of prudence are nothing but means to reach a certain end, which is the useful. The law of duty, on the contrary, is in itself its own aim. Here the law should be obeyed for its own sake, and not for any other reason. Prudence says : " The end justifies the means." Duty says : "Do as thou shouldst do, let come what will." 2. From this first character a second is deduced : duty being absolute, is universal ; that is to say, it can be applied to all men in the same manner and under the same circumstances ; whence it follows that each must acknowledge that this law is imposed not only on himself, but on all other men also. To which correspond those two beautiful maxims of the Gospel : "Do to others as thou wishest to be done by. Do not do to others what thou dost not wish they should do to thee." The law of duty is not only obligatory in itself, it is so also because it is derived from God, who in his justice and goodness wishes we should submit to it. God being himself the absolutely perfect being, and having created us in his image, wishes, for this very reason, that we should make every effort to imitate him as much as possible, and has thus imposed on us the obligation of being virtuous. It is God we obey in o1)eying the law of honesty and duty. 10. Moral conscience. — A law cannot be imposed on a free agent without its being known to him ; without its being present to his mind — that is to say, without his accepting it as true, and recognizing the necessity of its application in every particular case. This faculty of recognizing the moral law, and applying it in all the circumstances that may present tliemselves, is what is called conscience. Conscience is then that act of the mind by which we apply to a particular case, to an action to he performed or already l^erf&rmed^ the general rules prescribed by moral law. It is PRELIMIKARY ifOTIOJfS. 13 both the power that commands and the inward judge that condemns or absolves. On the one hand it dictates what should be done or avoided ; on the other it judges what has been done. Hence it is the condition of the performance of all our duties. Conscience being the practical judgment which in each particular case decides the right and the wrong, one can ask of man only one thing : namely, to act according to his con- science. At the moment of action there is no other rule. But one must take great care lest by subtle doubts, he obscures either within himself or in others the clear and distinct de- cisions of conscience. In fact, men often, to divert themselves from the right when they wish to do certain bad actions, fight their own conscience with sophisms. "Under the influence of these soph- isms, conscience becomes erroneous ; that is to say, it ends by taking good for evil and evil for good, and this is even one of the punishments of those who follow the path of vice : they become at last incapable of discerning between right and wrong. When it is said of a man that he has no conscience, it is not meant that he is really deprived of it (else he were not a man) ; but that he has fallen into the habit of not con- sulting it or of holding its decisions in contempt. By ignorant conscience we mean that conscience which does wrong because it has not yet learned to know what is right. Thus, a child tormenting animals does not always do so out of bad motives : he does not know or does not think that he hurts them. In fact, it is with good as it is with evil ; the child is already good or bad before it is able to discern be- tween the one or the other. This is what is called the state of innocence, which in some respects is conscience asleep. But this state cannot last ; the child's conscience, and in general the conscience of all men, must be enlightened. This is the progress of human reason which every day teaches us better to know the difi'erence between good and evil. It sometimes happens that one is in some respects in doubt 14 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. between two indications of conscience; not, of course, between duty and passion, which is the highest moral combat, but be- tween two or more duties. This is what is called a doubting or loeiylexed conscience. In such a case the simplest rule to follow, when it is practicable, is the one expressed by that celebrated maxim : When in doubt, abstain. In cases where it is impossible to absolutely abstain, and where it becomes necessary not only to act but to choose, the rule should always be to choose that part which favors least our interests, for we may always suppose that that which causes our conscience to doubt, is an interested, unobserved motive. If there is no private interest in the matter either on the one side or the other, there remains nothing better to do than to decide according to circumstances. But it is very rare that con- science ever finds itself in such an absolute state of doubt, and there are almost always more reasons on the one side than on the other. The simplest and most general rule in such a case is to chose what seems most probable. II. Moral Sentiment. — At the same time, as the mind distinguishes between good and evil by a judgment called conscience, the heart experiences emotions or divers affections, which are embraced under the common term moral sentiment. These are the pleasures or pains which arise in our soul at the sight of good or evil, either in ourselves or in others. In respect to our own actions this sentiment is modified according as the action is to be performed, or is already per- formed. In the first instance we experience, on the one hand, a certain attraction for the right (that is when passion is not strong enough to stifle it), and on the other, a repugnance or aversion for the wrong (more or less attenuated, according to circumstances, by habit or the violence of the design). Usage has not given any particular names to tliese two sentiments. When, on the contrary, the action is performed, the i)leasure which results from it, if we have acted rightly, is called moral satisfaction; and if we have acted wrong, remorse, or re- pentance. I»IlELtMlKARY NOTIOKS. 15 Remorse is a burning pain ; and, as the word indicates, tlie hite that tortures the heart after a culpable action. This pain may be found among the very ones who have no regret for having done wrong, and who would do it over again if they could. It has therefore no moral character whatsoever, and must be considered as a sort of punishment attached to crime by nature herself. "Malice," said Montaigne, " poisons itself with its own venom. Aace leaves, like an ulcer in the flesh, a repentance in the soul, which, ever scratching itself, draws ever fresh blood." Repentance is also, like remorse, a pain which comes from a bad action; but there is coupled with it the regret of having done it, and the wish, if not the firm resolution, never to do it again. Repentance is a sadness of the soul ; remorse is a torture and an anguish. Repentance is almost a virtue ; remorse is a punishment ; but the one lead^ to the other, and he who feels no remorse can feel no repentance. Moral satisfaction, on the contrary, is a peace, a joy, a keen and delicious emotion born from the feeling of having accom- plished one's duty. It is the only remuneration that never fails us. Among the sentiments called forth by our own actions, there are two which are the natural auxiliaries of the moral sentiment : they are the sentiment of lionor and the sentiment of shame. Honor is a principle wliich incites us to perform actions which raise us in our own eyes, and to avoid such as Avoidd lower us. Shame is the opposite of honor ; it is what we feel when we have done something that lowers us not only in the eyes of others, but in our own. All remorse is more or less accompanied by shame ; yet the shame is greater for actions which indicate a certain baseness of soul. For instance, one will feel more ashamed of having told a falsehood than for having struck a person ; for having cheated in gambling than for havinir fouuht a duel. 16 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. Honor and shame are therefore not always an exact measure of the moral value of actions ; for be they but brilliant, man will soon rid himself of all shame ; this happens, for instance, in cases of prodigality, licentiousness, ambition. One does wron£c, not without remorse, but with a certain ostentation which stifles the feelings of shame. Let us pass now to the sentiments which the actions of others excite in us. Sympathy, antipathy, kindness, esteem, contempt, respect, enthusiasm, indignation, these are the various terms by which we express the diverse sentiments of the soul touching virtue and vice. Sympathy is a disposition to share the same impressions with other men ; to sympathize with their joy is to share that joy ; to sympathize with their grief is to share that grief. It may happen that one sympathizes with the defects of others when they are the same as our own ; but, as a general thing, people sympathize above all with the good qualities, and experience only antipathy for the bad. At the theatre, all the spectators, good and bad, wish to see virtue rewarded and crime punished. The contrary of sympathy is antipathy. Kindness is the disposition to wish others well. Esteem is a sort of kindness mingled with judgment and reflection, which we feel for those who have acted well, especially in cases of or- dinary virtues ; for before the higher and more difficult virtues, esteem becomes respect ; if it be heroism, respect turns into admiration and enthusiasm ; admiration being the feeling of surprise which great actions excite in us, and enthusiasm that same feeling pushed to an extreme ; carrying us away from our- selves, as if a god were in us.* Gontem2)t is the fecHng of aversion we entertain towards him who does wrong ; it im- ))lies particularly a case of base and shameful actions. When these actions are only condemnable without being ♦ Tlie word eiitlmsiasin coiiuis from a Greek word siynifyiiig, to be filled with u god. ^ PRELIMII^ARY KOTIOKS. 17 odious, the sentiment is one of hlame, which, Hke esteem, is nearer being a judgment than a sentiment. When, finally, it is a case of criminal and revolting actions, the feeling is one of horror or execration. 12. Liberty. — We have already said that man or the moral agent is/ree, when he is in a condition to choose be- tween right and wrong, and able to do either at his will. Liberty always supposes one to be in possession of himself. Man is free when he is awake, in a state of reason, and an adult. He is not free, or very little so, when he is asleep, or delirious, or in his first childhood. Liberty is certified to man. L By the inward sentiment which accompanies each of his acts ; for instance, at the moment of acting, I feel that I can will or not will to do such or such an action ; if I enter on it, I feel that I can discontinue it as long as it is not fully executed ; when it is completed, I am convinced that I might have acted otherwise. 2. By the very fact of moral law or dtdy; I ought, therefore I can. No one is held to do the impossible. If, then, there is in me a law that commands me to do good and avoid evil, it is because I can do either as I wish. 3. By the moral satisfaction which accompanies a good action ; by the remorse or repentance wliich follows a bad one. One does not rejoice over a thing done against his will, and no one reproaches himself for an act committed under com- pulsion. The first word of all those reproached for a bad action is, that it was not done on purpose, intentionally. They acknowledge thereby that we can only be reproached for an action done wilfully ; namely, freely. 4. By the rewards and punisliments, and in general by the moral responsihilit^j which is attached to all our actions when they have been committed knowingly. We do not punish actions which are the result of constraint or ignorance. 5. By the exhortations or counsels we give to others. We do not exhort a man to be warm or cold, not to suffer hunger 18 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. or thirst, because it is well known that this is not a thing de- pendent on his will. But we exhort him to be honest, be- cause we believe that he can be so if he wishes. 6. By promises : no one promises not to die, not to be sick, etc., but one promises to be present at a certain meeting, to pay a certain sum of money, on such a day, to such a man, because one feels he can do so unless circumstances over which he has no control prevent. Prejudices against Liberty. — Although men, as we have seen, may have the sense of liberty very strong, and may show it by their acts, by their approbation or blame, etc., yet, on the other hand, they often yield to the force of certain prejudices which seem to contradict the universal belief we have just spoken of. 1. Character. — The principal one of these prejudices is the often expressed opinion that every man is impelled by his own character to perform the actions which accord with this char- acter, and that there is no help against this irresistible neces- sity of nature ; this is often expressed by the common axiom : " One cannot make himself over again." The same has also been expressed by the poet Destouches in that celebrated line : Chassez le naturel, il revient au galop.* Nothing is less exact as a fact and more dangerous as a principle, than this pretended immutability of human char- acter, which, if true, would render evil irremediable and incor- rigible. Experience teaches the contrary. No man is wholly de- prived of good and bad inclinations ; he may develop the one or the other, as he chooses between theili. 2. Habits. — Habits in the long run become, it is true, irresistible. It is a fact which has been often observed ; but if, on the one hand, an inveterate habit is irresistible, it is not so in the beginning, and man is thus free to prevent the en- * Drive away nature, and it gallops back apain. Lafontaine has said tlie same thing : " Shut the door against its nose, and it will return by the window." ^RELIMIXAEY NOTIONS. 19 croachments of liad habits. It is for this reason that moralists warn us above all against the beginnings of habits. " Beware especially of beginnings," says the Imitation. 3. Passions. — Passions have especially enjoyed the privilege of passing for uncontrollable and irresistible. All great sin- ners find their excuse in the fatal allurements of passions. " The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak," says the Gos- pel. The remarks we have just made touching the habits, may be equally applied to the passions. It is rare that pas- sions manifest themselves all of a sudden, and with that ex- cess of violence which, breaking upon one imexpectedly and like a delirium, assume, indeed, all the appearances of a fatality. But, as a general thing, passions grow little by little. " Some smaller crimes always precede the greater crimes." It is especially when the first attacks of a passion begin to show themselves that it should be energetically fought down. 4. Education and circumstances. — Tlic education one has received, the circumstances one finds liimself in, may put a limit to his liberty ; and man is not wholly responsible for the impulses which he may owe to example and the bad principles in which he may have been brought up. These may, perhaps, be called attenuating circumstances ; but they do not go so far as wholly to suppress liberty and responsibility. In the ap- preciation of other people's acts, we may allow the attenuating circumstances as large a margin as possible, but in the case of self-government, one should make it as strict and narrow as possible. 1^0 one having, in fact, a measure by ^vliich he may determine his moral strength in an absolute manner, it is better to aim too high than too low. One should be guided by the principle that nothing is impossible to him who has a strong will ; for " we can do a thing when we think we can." In conclusion, liberty means nothing else but moral strength. Experience certifies that man can become the master of the physical nature which he can subject to his designs ; he can gain the mastery over liis own body, his passions, his habits, his own disposition; in a word, he can be "master of him- 20 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. self." In thus ascending, step by step, from exterior nature to the body, from the body to the passions, from the passions to the habits and the character, we arrive at the first motor of action which moves everything without being moved : namely, liberty. 13. Merit and demerit. — We call in general merit the quality by virtue of which a moral agent renders himself worthy of a reward ; and demerit that by which he renders himself, so to say, worthy of punishment. The merit of an action may be determined : 1, by the diffi- culty of the action ; 2, by the importance of the duty. 1. Wliy, for instance, is there in general very little merit in respecting other people's property and abstaining from theft ? Because education in this respect has so fashioned us, that few men have any temptation to the contrary; and, even were there such a temptation, we should be ashamed to pub- licly claim any merit for having resisted it. Why, on the other hand, is there great merit in sacrificing one's life to the happiness of others? Because we are strongly attached to life, and comparatively very little attached to men in general ; to sacrifice what we love most, to what we love but little, from a sense of duty, is evidently very difficult ; for this reason, we find in this action a very great merit. Suppose a man, who had enjoyed in all security of con- science and during a long life, a large fortune which he be- lieves his, and of which he has made the noblest use, should learn all at once, and at the brink of old age, that this fortune belongs to another. Suppose, to render the action still more difficult to perform, that he alone knows the fact, and could consequently in all security keep the fortune if he wishes ; aggravate the situation still more by supposing that this for- tune belongs to heirs in great poverty, and that in renouncing it the possessor would hiuiself be reduced to utter misery. Imagine, finally, all the circumstances which may render a duty both the strictest and most difficult, and you will have an action the merit of which will be very great. PRELIMIJ?-ARY ISTOTIONS. 31 2. It is not only the difficulty of an action that constitutes its merit, but also the importance of the duty. Thus the merit of a difficulty surmounted, has no more value in morality than it has in poetry, when it stands alone. One may of course impose upon himself a sort of moral gymnastics, and consequently very difficult tasks, though very useless in the end; but these will be considered only in the light of dis- cipline and exercise, and not in that of duty ; and this dis- cipline would have to be more or less connected with the life one may be called to lead. For instance, suppose a mission- ary, called to brave during all his life all kinds of climates and dangers, should exercise himself beforehand in under- takings brave and bold, such undertakings would be both reasonable and meritorious. But he who out of bravado, ostentation, and without any worthy aim, should undertake the climbing to inaccessible mountain-tops, the swimming across an arm of the sea, the fighting openly ferocious animals, etc., he would accomplish actions which, it is true, would not be without merit, since they are brave ; but their merit would not be equivalent to that we should attribute to other actions less difficult, but more wise. As to demerit, it is in proportion to the gravity of duties, and the facility of accomplishing them. The more important a matter, and the easier to fulfil, the more is one culpable in faihng to fulfil it. According to these principles, one may determine as follows the estimation of moral actions : Human actions, we have said, are divided into two classes : the good and the bad. It is a question among the moralists to determine whether there are any that are to be called in- dijferent. Among the good actions, some are heautiful, heroic^ stiblwie / others, proper, right, and honest ; among the bad, some are simply censurable, others shameful, criminal, hideous ; finally, among the indifferent ones, some are agreeable and allowable, others necessary and unavoidable. 22 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. Let us give some examples by which the rlifFerent characters of human actions may be well understood. A judge who administers justice without partiality, a mer- chant who sells his merchandise for no more tha^ it is worth, a debtor who regularly pays his creditor, a soldier punctual at drill, obedient to discipline, and faithful at his post in times of peace or war, a schoolboy doing regularly the task assigned to him, all these persons perform actions good and laudable, but they cannot be called extraordinary. They are approved of, but not admired. To manage one's fortune economically, not to yield too much to the pleasure of the senses, to tell no lies, to neither strike nor wound others, are so many good, right, proper, and estimable actions ; but they cannot be called admirable actions. Actions are beautiful in proportion to the difficulty of their performance ; when they are extremely difficult and perilous, then we call them heroic and sublime ; that is, provided they are good actions, for heroism is unfortunately sometimes allied with wrong. He who, like President de Harlay, can say to a very powerful usurper : " It is a sad thing when the servant is allowed to dismiss the master ;" he who can say, like Viscount d'Orthez, who made opposition to Charles IX. after St. Bartholomew, saying : " My soldiers are no executioners ;" he who, like Boissy d'Anglas, can firmly and resolutely uphold the rights of an assembly in the face of a sanguinary, violent, and rebellious populace ; he who, like Morus or Dubourg, would rather die tlian sacrifice his trust ; he who, like Colum])us, can venture upon an unknown ocean, and brave the revolt of a rude and superstitious crew, to obey a generous conviction ; he who, like Alexander, confides in friendship enough to re- ceive from the hands of liis physician a drink reputed poisoned; any man, in short, who devotes himself for his fellow beings, who, in fire, in water, in the depths of the eartli, braves death to save life ; Avho, in order to spread the truth, to re- main true iiiid lioiH'st, to Avork in the interests of religion, PEELIMINAKY NOTIONS. 23 science, or humanity, will suffer hunger and thirst, poverty, slavery, torture, or death, is a hero. Epictetus was a slave. His master, for some negligence or other, caused him to be beaten. " You will break my leg," said the sufferer ; and the leg broke, indeed, under the blows. " I told you you would break it," he remarked quietly. This is a hero. Joan of Arc, defeated by the English and made a prisoner, threatened with the stake, said to her executioners : " I knew quite well that the English would put me to death ; but were there a hundred thousand of them, they should not have this kingdom." This is a heroine. Bad actions have their degrees likewise. But here we should call attention to the fact that the worst are those that stand in opposition to the simply good actions ; on the con- trary, an action which is not heroic is not necessarily bad ; and when it is bad it is not to be classed among the most criminal. Some examples will again be necessary to under- stand these various shades of meaning, which every one feels and recognizes in practice, but which are very difficult to analyze theoretically. To be respectful towards one's parents is a good and proper action, but not a heroic one. On the contrary, to strike them, insult them, kill them, are abominable actions, and to be classed among the basest and most hideous that can be com- mitted. To love one's friends, to be as serviceable to them as possible, shows a straightforward and well-endowed soul ; but there is nothing sublime in it. On the other hand, to betray friendship ; to slander those that love us ; to lie in order to win their favor ; to inquire into their secrets for the purpose of using them against them, are black, base, and shameful actions. There is scarcely any merit in not taking what does not belong to us ; theft, on the con- trary, is the most contemptible of things. Now, not to be able to bear with adversity, to fear death, to shrink from braving the ice of the N'ovth Pole, to stay at home when fire 24 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. or flood threatens our neighbor, may be mean or weak, but not criminal. Let us add, however, that there are cases where heroism becomes obligatory, and where it is criminal not to be heroic. A sea-captain, who has endangered his ship, and who, instead of saving it, leaves his post ; a general who, when the moment calls for it, refuses to die at the head of his army, lack courage ; the chief of a State who, in times of revolt, or when the country is in peril, fears death ; the pre- sident of a convention who takes to flight before a rebellion ; the physician who runs away before an epidemic ; the magis- trate who is afraid to be just ; all these are truly culpable. Every condition of life has its peculiar heroism, which at cer- tain moments becomes a duty. Yet will it always be true that the more easy an action is, the less excusable is its neglect, and consequently the more odious is it to try to escape from it. Besides the good or bad actions, there are others which ap- pear to. partake of neither the one nor the other of these two characters, which are neither good nor bad, and which for this reason are called indifl'erent. For instance, to go and take a walk is an action which, considered by itself, is neither good nor bad, although it may become the one or the other according to circumstances. To be asleep, to be awake, to eat, to take exercise, to talk with one's friends, to read an agreeable book, to play on some instrument, are actions which certainly have nothing bad in themselves, but which, never- theless, could not be cited as examples of good actions. One would not say, for instance, such a one is an honest man be- cause he plays the violin well ; such a one is a scholar because lie has a good appetite ; still less Avhen actions absolutely nec(}ssary come into (piestion, as the act of breathing and sleeping. Actions, then, which are inseparable from the necessities of our existence, have no moral character ; they are the same with us as with the aninials and plants ; they are purely natural actions. Tlierc are others, again, that are not necessary, })ut simply agreeabh;, which we perform because tliey suit our tastes and fancies. PKELIMIKAEY KOTIOi^S. 25 It is sufficient that they are not contrary to the right, that one cannot call them bad ; but it does not follow from this that they are good, and such are what are called indifferent actions. Such, at least, is the appearance of things ; for, in a more elevated sense, the moralists were right in saying that there is no action absolutely indifferent, and that all actions are in some respect good or bad, according to motive. 14. Moral responsibility. — ^Man being free, is for this reason responslUe for his actions : they can be imputed to him. These two expressions have about the same meaning, only the term responsibility applies to the agent, and imputability to the actions. The two fundamental conditions of moral responsibility are: 1, the knowledge of good and evil; 2, the liberty of action. In proportion as these two conditions vary, the re- sponsibility will vary. It foUows from this, that idiocy, insanity, delirium in cases of illness — destroying nearly always both conditions of re- sponsibility — namely, discernment and free agency, deprive thereby of all moral character the actions committed in these different states. They are not of a nature to be imputed to a moral agent. Yet are there certain lunatics not wholly in- sane who ma}^ preserve in their lucid state a certain portion of responsibility. 2. Drunkenness. May that be considered a cause of irre- sponsibility 1 j^o, certainly not ; for, on the one hand, one is responsible for the very act of drunkenness ; and, on the other, one knows that in putting himself in such a condition he ex- poses himself to all its consequences, and accepts them im- plicitly. For example, he who puts himself in a state of drunkenness, consents beforehand to all the low, vulgar actions inseparable from that state. As to the violent and dangerous actions which may accidentally result from it, as blows and murders springing from quarrels, one cannot, of course, impute them to the drunken man with the same sever- 26 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. ity as to the sober man, for lie certainly did not explicitly chose them when he put himself into a state of drunkenness ; but neither is he wholly innocent of them, for he knew that they were some of the possible consequences of that condition. As to him who puts himself voluntarily into a state of drunkenness, with the express intention of committing a crime and giving himself courage for the act, it is evident that, so far from diminishing thereby his share of responsi- bility in the action, he, on the contrary, increases it, since he makes violent efforts to keep off all the scruples or hesitations which might keep him from committing it. 3. " Xo one is held to do impossible things." According to this theory, it is evident that one is not responsible for an action he has been absolutely unable to accomplish ; thus we cannot blame a paralytic, or a child, or an invalid, for not taking up arms in defence of his country. Yet we must not liave voluntarily created the impossibility of acting, as it often happened in Rome, where some, in order not to go to war, cut off their thumbs. The same with a debtor who, by circum- stances independent of liis will (fire, shipwreck, epidemics), is unable to acquit himself : he is excusable ; but if he placed himself in circumstances which he knew would disable him, his inability is no longer an excuse. 4, Natural qualities or defects of mind and body cannot be imputed to any one, either for good or for bad. Who would reproach a man for being born blind, or because he became so in consequence of sickness or a blow 1 The same with the defects of the mind : no one is responsible for having no memory, or for not being briglit. Yet as these defects may be corrected by exercise, we are more or less responsible for mak- ing no efforts to remedy them. As to the defects or deformities which result from our own fault, as, for example, the conse- quences of our passions, it is evident that they can justly be imputed to us. Natural qualities cannot be credited to any one. Tims we should not honor people for their physical strength, health, beauty, or even wit ; and no one should boast PEELIMIKARY NOTIONS. 27 of such advantages, or pride himself on them. However, he who by a wise and laborious life has succeeded in preserving or developing his physical strength, or who, by the effort of his will, has cultivated and perfected his mind, deserves praise ; and it is thus that physical and moral advantages may become indirectly legitimate matter for moral appro- bation. 5. The effects of extraneous causes and events, whatever they may be, whether good or bad, can only be imputed to a man, as he could or should have produced, prevented, or directed them, and has been careful or negligent in doing so. Thus a farmer, according as he works the land entrusted to him well or badly, is made responsible for a good or bad harvest. 6. A final question is that of the responsibility of a man for other people's actions. Theoretically, no man certainly is responsible for any but his own actions. But human actions are so interlinked with each other that it is very rare that we have not some share, direct or indirect, in the conduct of others. For instance, one is responsible in a certain measure for the conduct of those under him ; a father for his children, a master for his servants, and, up to a certain point, an em- ployer for his workmen ; 2, one is responsible in a measure for actions which he might have prevented, when, either through negligence or laziness, he did not do so ; if you see a man about to kill himself, and make no effort to prevent it, you are not innocent of his death, unless, of course, you did not suspect what he was going to do ; 3, you are responsible for other people's actions when, either by your instigations, or even by a simple approbation, you have co-operated towards them. 15. Moral sanction. — We call the sanction of a law the body of recompenses and punishments attached to the execu- tion or violation of the law. Civil laws, in general, make more use of punishments than rewards ; for punishments may appear means sufficient to have the law executed. In educa- 28 ELEMEiTTS OF MORALS. tion, on the contrary, the commands or laws laid down by a superior, have as much need of rewards as punishments. But what is to be understood by the terms recompense and punishment ? The recompense of a good and virtuous action is the pleasure we derive from it, and for the very reason that it is good and virtuous. There are to be distinguished, however, two other kinds of rewards, which, though they resemble recompense, are never- theless very different from it namely, favor and remunera- tion. Favor is a pleasure or an advantage bestowed on us, without our having deserved or earned it ; a pure expression of the good-will of others towards us. It is thus that a king grants favors to his courtiers, that those in power distribute favors. It is thus we speak of the favors of fortune. Although theoretically there is no reason why we should understand the word favor in a bad sense, yet has it by usage come to signify not only an advantage undeserved, but unworthy ; not only a legitimate preference which has its reason in sympathy, but an arbitrary choice more or less contrary to justice. How- ever, although no such ugly signification need be attached to it, a favor, as a gratuitous gift, must always be distinguished from reward, which, on the contrary, implies a remuneration; that is to say, a gift in return for something. Yet not all remuneration is necessarily a reward ; and here we must establish another distinction between reward and re- muneration. By remuneration we mean the price we pay for a service rendered us, no matter what motive may determine a per- son to render us this service ; it is for its utility we pay, and for nothing else. The reward, on the contrary, implies the idea of a certain effort to do good. He who renders us a service from affection and devotion, would refuse being paid for it, and, vice versa, he who sells us his work does not ask us for a recompense, but for an equivalent of what he would have earned for himself if he had a])plied his work to his own wants. I PRELIMIKART NOTIONS. 29 On the contrary, we call every pain or suffering inflicted on an agent for committing a bad action, for no other reason than that it is bad, chastisement or punishment. Punishment stands against damage or lorong ; that is to say, against undeserved harm. The Uowsoi fortune or of men are not always punishments. One may be striLck without being punished. Although we say in a general way that the ills that befall men are often the chastisements of their faults, yet this should not be taken too strictly, otherwise we should too easily transform the merely unfortunate into criminals. Although recompenses and punishments may be only secondary means by which men may be led to do good and avoid evil, this should not be their essential office nor their real idea. It is not that the law should he fulfilled that there are re- wards and punishments in morality ; it is because it has been fulfilled or violated. Such is the true principle of reward. It comes from justice, not utility. For the same reason, chastisement, in its true sense, should not only be a menace insuring the execution of the law, but a reparation or expiation for its violation. The order of things disturbed by a rebellious Avill is again re-established by the suffering which is the consequence of the fault committed. In one sense it may be said that punishment is the remedy for the fault. In fact, injustice and vice being, as it were, the diseases of the soul, it is certain that suffering is their remedy ; but only on condition that this suffering be accepted by way of chastisement. It is thus that grief has a purifying virtue, and that instead of being considered an evil, it may be called a good. Another confusion of ideas which should be equally avoided, and which is very common among men, is that which consists in taking the reward itself for a good, and the punisliment for an evil. It is thus that men are often more proud of the titles and 30 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. honors they have obtained, tha'n of the real merit through which they have won them. It is thus also that they fear the prison more than the crime, and shame more than vice. It is for this reason that the greatest courage is needed to bear undeserved punishment. "We distinguish generally four species of sanction : 1. Natural sanction ; 2, legal sanction ; 3, the sanction of public opinion ; 4, inward sanction. 1. Natural sanction is that which rests on the natural con- sequences of our actions. It is natural for sobriety to keep up and establish health, for intemperance to be a cause of disease. It is natural for work to bring with it ease of cir- cumstances, for idleness to be a source of misery and poverty. It is natural that probity should insure security, confidence, and credit ; that courage should put off the chances of death ; that patience should render life more bearable ; that good-will should call forth good-will ; that wickedness should drive men from us ; that perjury should cause them to distrust us, etc. These facts have ever been verified by experience. The honest is not always the useful ; but it is often what is most useful. 2. Legal sanction is above all a penal sanction. It is com- posed of the chastisements which the law has established for the guilty. There are, in general, few rewards established by the law, and they may be classed among what is called the esteem of men. 3. Another kind of sanction consists in the opinion other men entertain in regard to our actions and character. We have seen that it is in the nature of good actions to inspire esteem, in the nature of the bad to inspire blame and contempt. The honest man generally enjoys public honor and considera- tion. The dishonest man, even though tlie law does not reach him, is branded with discredit, aversion, contempt, etc. 4. Finally, a more exact and certain sanction is that which results from the very conscience and moral sentiment men- tioned above. PEELIMINARY NOTIOKS. 31 16. The superior sanction : the future life. — These various sanctions being insufficient to satisfy our want of justice, there is required still another, namely, the superioi- religious sanction. It is a well-known fact that virtue is not a sufficient shield to protect us against the blows of adversity, and that im- morality does not necessarily condemn one to misery and grief. It is evident that a man corrupt and wicked may be born with all the advantages of genius, fortune, health ; and that an honest man may have inherited none of these. There is in this neither injustice nor blind chance ; but it proves that the harmony between moral good and happiness is not of this world. In regard to the pleasures and pains of conscience, it is also evident that they are not sufficient. In fact, the pleasures of the senses may divert and deaden the pangs of remorse ; and it must also be said, though it be still more sad, that it sometimes happens that a merciless continuance of misfortune deadens in an honest soul the delight in virtue ; and the pain- ful efforts which virtue costs may finally obliterate in a man, tired of life, the calm and sweet enjoyment which it naturally brings with it. If such is the dispro]3ortion and disagreement between the inner pleasures and pains, and the moral merit of him who experiences them, what shall we say of that wholly outward sanction which consists in the rewards and punishments dis- tributed by the unequal justice of man ? I do not speak of legal pains alone ; it is well known that they often fall upon the innocent, and are spared to the guilty ; that they are almost always disproportioned : the law punishing the crime, without taking note of the exact moral value of the action ; but I speak also of the pains and rewards of public opinion, esteem, and contempt. Are these always in an exact propor- tion to merit 1 From all these observations it results that the law of har- mony between good and happiness is not of this workl ; that 32 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. there is always disagreement, or at least disproportion, between moral merit and the pleasures of the senses. Hence the neces- sity of a superior sanction, the means and time of which are in the hand of God. "The more I go within myself," says a philosopher,* "the more I consult myself, the more I read these words written in my soul : he just and thou shalt be haiopy. And yet it is not so, looking at the actual state of things : the wicked prosper, and the just are oppressed. See, also, what indigna- tion arises in us when this expectation is frustrated ! The conscience murmurs and rebels against its author ; it cries to him, groaning : Thou hast deceived me ! I have deceived thee, oh thou rash one 1 Who has told thee so 1 Is thy soul annihilated'? Hast thou ceased to exist? Oh, Brutus ! oh, my son, do not stain thy noble life by putting an end to it ; do not leave thy hopes and glory with thy body on the fields of Philippi. Why sayest thou : Virtue is nothing when tliou art now about entering into the enjoyment of thin« 1 Thou shalt die, thinkest thou ; no, thou shalt live, and it is then I shall keep what I have promised ! One would say, hearing the murmurings of impatient mortals, that God owes them a reward before they have shown any merit, and that he is obliged to pay their virtue in advance. Oh ! let us first be good ; we shall be happy afterwards. Do not let us claim the prize before the victory, nor the salary before the work. ' It is not in the lists,' says Plutarch, ' that the victors in our sacred games are crowned; it is after they have run the course.' " J. J. Rousseau, Emile. I CHAPTEE II. DIVISION OF DUTIES — GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. SUMMARY. Division of duties. — In theory there is but one duty, which is to do right ; but this duty is subdivided according to the various relations of man. Hence three classes of duties : duties towards ourselves, towards others, towards God : individual, social, religious morality. We will begin Avith social morality, which requires the most ex- pounding. General principles of social duties : to do good ; not to do evil. DifTerent degrees of this double obligation : 1, not to return evil for good (ingratitude) ; 2, not to do evil to those who have not done us any (injustice and cruelty) ; 3, not to return evil for evil (revenge) ; 4, to return good for good (gratitude) ; 5, to do good to those who have not done us any (charity) ; 6, to return good for evil (clemency, generosity ). Distinction between the various kinds of social duties : 1, to- wards the lives of other men ; 2, towards their j^roperty ; 3, towards t\veiv family ; 4, towards their honor ; 5, towards their liberty. Distinction between the duties of justice and the duties of charity. —Justice is absolute, AAdthout restriction, without exception. Charity, although as obligatory as justice, is more independent in its applica- tion. It chooses its time and place ; its objects and means ; its beauty is in its liberty. We have seen that practical morality or private morality has for its object to acquaint us with the application of theo- retical morality. It bears not so much on didij as on didies. The first question, then, that presents itself to us is that of the division of duties. 34 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 17. Division of duties. — It has been reasonably asserted that there is in reahty but one duty, which is to do good under all circumstances, the same as it has also been said that there is but one virtue : wisdom, or obedience to the laws of reason. But as these two general divisions teach us in reality nothing touching our various actions, which are very numer- ous, it is useful and necessary to classify the principal circum- stances in which we have to act, in order to specify in a more particular manner wherein the general principle which com- mands us to do good may be applied in each case. Human actions may then be divided, either in regard to the different beings they have for their object, or in regard to the various faculties to which they relate. The ancients divided morality particularly in reference to the divers human faculties, and in private morality they con- sidered above all the virtues. The moderns, on the other hand, have divided morality particularly in its relations to the different objects of our actions ; and, in private morality, they have considered, above all, the duties. The ancients reduced all virtues to four principal ones : prudence, temperance, courage, and justice. .This division was transmitted to us, and it is these four virtues which the catechism teaches under the name of cardinal virtues. The moderns reduced duties to three classes : the duties towards ourselves, towards others, and towards God. Some add a fourth class, namely, duties towards animals. That portion of morality which treats of the duties towards ourselves, is called individual morality ; that which treats of the duties towards God, is called religious morality; that which treats of the duties towards other men, social morality. As to the duties towards animals, they are of so secondary an order, that it is not worth wliile to classify them apart ; we shall include them in social morality. vSociid morality is by far the most extended in precepts and applications, the various relations of men witli each other GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 35 being extremely numerous. It may be subdivided into three parts : 1, general duties of social life, or morality proxjerly called social; 2, duties towards the State, or civil morality; 3, duties towards the family, or domestic morality. AVe will begin with the study of social morality, social duties towards men in general, and we will first establish their principles and different varieties. Let us in a few^ pages rapidly take a summary review of the general principles of social morality. 18. General principles of social duties : to do good, not to do evil. — All human actions, in regard to others, may be reduced to these two precepts : 1, to do good to men; 2, not to do them harm. To this all the virtues of social morality may be reduced. But before exliibiting these virtues and vices more in detail, let us explain wdiat is understood by the expressions to do good and to do evil. In the most general and apparent sense to do any one good would seem to be to give him pleasure ; to do him harm, would seem to be to give Mm pain. Yet, is it always doing good to a person to procure him pleasure 1 and is it ahvays doing him harm, to cause him pain? For example, Kant"^ says, "SliaU we allow the idler soft cushions ; the drunkard wanes in abund- ance ; the rogue an agreeable face and manners, to deceive more easily; the violent man audacity and a good fist?" Would it reaUy be doing good to these men to gTant them the object of their desires, what may satisfy their passions? On the other hand, the surgeon wdio amputates a mortified limb, the dentist who pulls out a bad tooth, the teacher wdio obliges you to learn, the father who corrects your faults or restrains your passions, do they really do you harm because they give you pain? Xo, certainly not. There are, then, cases wdiere to do some one good is to cause him pain, and to do him harm is to procure him pleasure. One may reasonably reduce all principles of social morality to these two maxims of the gospel : " Do not do to others what * Kant, Doctrine de la vertu. French translation of J. Barni, p. 171. 36 ELEMENTS 01- MOHALS. you do not wish tliem do to you;" — "Do to others as you wish to be done by." These two maxims are admirable, cer- tainly ; but they must be interpreted rightly. If, for instance, we have done wrong, do we generally wish to be corrected and punished 1 When we are yielding to a passion, do we wish to be repressed in it, have it repelled 1 On the contrary, do we not rather wish to be allowed to enjoy it, and have the free range of our vices ? Is not this generally what we all wish, when the voice of duty is mute and does not silence our passionate feelings ? If this is so, should we wish to do to others as we wish in similar circumstances, namely, in the gratification of passions, to be done by 1 Should we not rather do to them what we should not like them do to us, that is, punish and correct them ? It is evidently not in that sense we are to understand the two evangelical maxims ; for they would be then no other than maxims of remissness and im- proper kindness ; whilst they, on the contrarj'-, express most admirably a moral truth ; only when they speak of what we wish, they mean a true and good wish, not the desires of pas- sion; the same when we recommend men to do good, we mean real good and not apparent good; as also in recommending to do no harm, we mean real harm, not the illusory harm of the senses, imagination and passions. Thus, to well understand the duties we have to fulfil towards other men, we must understand the distinction between true good and false good. False good is that Avhich consists exclusively in pleasure, all abstraction being made of useful- ness or moral vahie ; as, for example, the pleasures of pas- sions. True good is that which independently of pleasure recommends itself either through usefulness or through moral value ; as, for instance, health or education. The real evils, of course, are those which injure either the int(;rosts of others or their moral dignity, such as misery or corruption. Apparent evils are those which cause us to suffer but a mo- ment and redccin themselves by subsequent advantages : as, for instance, remedies or chastisements. aENEKAL PEmCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 37 AMien we speak of good in regard to others, we should not fear to understand by that their interest, as well as their moral welfare; for, though we should not make our own interest the aim of our actions, it is not so in our relation with others. The seeking of our own happiness has no moral value; but the seeking of other people's happiness may have one, pro- vided, we repeat, that ^ve do not deceive ourselves touching the real sense of the word happiness, and that ^ve do not un- derstand by it a deceitful and short-lived delight. " To do to others as we wish to be done by ; not to do to them what we do not ivish they should do us," should, there- fore, be understood in the sense of an enlightened will, which wills for itself nothing but what is truly conformable either to a proper interest or to virtue. Thus understood (and it is their true sense*), these two maxims comprehend perfectly the whole of social morality. ^19. Different degrees of this double obligation. — The sense of these two expressions, to do good and to do harm, being now well-defined, let us examine the various cases which may present themselves, in rising, so to say, from the lowest to the highest round of duty. Let us first suppose a certain good or a certain evil, which will not vary in any of the fol- lowing cases: this is the scale one may observe starting from the least virtue, to which corresponds evidently the greatest vice (by virtue of the principle set forth abovef), to rise to the highest virtue, to .which the least vice corresponds. 1. Not to return evil for good. — This is, one may say (all things being equal), the feeblest of the virtues, as to return evil for good constitutes the greatest of wrongs. Say, for example, homicide : is it not evident that the murder of a benefactor is the most abominable of all ? that to rob a bene- factor is the most horrible of robberies ? that the slander of a benefactor is the most criminal of slanders 1 On the other * Kant is -wrong in rejecting these two maxims, interpreting them in the sense we have just refuted. t Chapter I., page 22. 38 ELEMEKTS OF MORALS. hand again, not to kill, not to steal, not to slander, not to deceive a benefactor, is the minimum of moral virtue. To abstain from doing harm to him who has done you good, is a Avholly negative virtue, which is simply the absence of a crime. We cannot call that gratitude, for gratitude is a posi- tive virtue, not a negative one ; it is all in action, and not in omission ; but, l)efore being grateful, the first condition at least, is to be not ungrateful. We shall then say that the greatest of crimes is ingratitude. It is by reason of this prin- ciple that the crimes towards parents are the most odious of all ; for we have no greater benefactors than our parents, and without mentioning the crimes nature finds repugnant enough, it is evident that the same kind of harm (wounds, blows, insults, negligence, etc.) will always be more blamable when done to parents than to any other benefactors, and to bene- factors in general, than to any other men. 2. Not to do liarm to those who have not done us any. — The violation of this maxim is the second degree of crime and of sin, somewhat less serious than the preceding one, but still odious enough that to abstain from it is, in many cases, a rather feeble virtue. Not to kill, not to steal, not to deceive, not to expose one's self to the punishments of the law, are, indeed, of a very feeble moral value ; whilst their contraries constitute the basest and most odious of actions. The kind of vice which injures others without provocation is what is called injustice, and when the pleasure of doing wrong is joined thereto, it is called cruelty. Cruelty is an injustice which rejoices in the harm done to others; injustice contents itself with taking advantage of it. There is, there- fore, a higher degree of evil in cruelty than in injustice pure and simple. The virtue opposed to injustice is justice, which has two degrees and two forms : the one negative, which consists simply in a})staining from doing injury to any one ; the second positive, which consists in renderinri to each his due. This second form of justice is more difficult than the first, for it is GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 39 active. It is more difficult to restore to others what we hold as our own, or to pay one's debts, than to abstain from stealing; it is more difficult to speak well of one's rivals, than to abstain from slandering them ; it is more difficult to give up one's position to another who deserves it, than to abstain from tak- ing his ; and yet there are cases where justice requires one should act instead of simply abstaining. 3. Not to return evil for good.' — Here we rise, in some respect, a degree in the moral scale. The two inferior degrees, namely, ingratitude and cruelty, have always and everywhere been considered as crimes. Nowhere has it ever been con- sidered allowable to do harm to those who have done us good. But in nearly all societies, at a certain degree of civilization, has it been considered allowable, and even praiseworthy, to return evil for evil. "To do good to our friends, and harm to our enemies," is one of the maxims the poets and sages of Greece oftenest repeat. Among the Indians of America, glory consists in ornamenting one's dwelling with the greatest possible number of scalps taken from conquered enemies. We know about the Corsican vendetta. In one word, the passioU. of revenge (which consists precisely in returning evil for evil) is one of the most natural and the most profound in the human heart, and it demands a very advanced moral education to comprehend that revenge is contrary to the laws of morality. Now, as the beauty of virtue is in proportion to the difficulty of the passions to be overcome, it is evident that the virtues contrary to revenge, namely : gentleness, clemency, pardon of injuries, are amongst the most beautiful and most sublime. Already among the ancients had morality reached this maxim, that one should not do any harm, namely, even to those who had done us some, as may be seen from the dialogue of Plato, entitled the Crito. " Socrates : One should then commit no injustice whatsoever?" ^^ Crito : No, certainly not." " Socrates : Then should one not be unjust even towards those who are unjust towards us. " 4. Thus far we have only spoken of the virtues which ex^ 40 eleme:n^ts of morals. press themselves negatively, and which consist especially in doing no harm. Let us now consider those which express themselves affirmatively, and which consist in doing good. The first degree is to return good for good : which is gratitude, the contrary of which, as we have seen, is ingratitude ; but there are two sorts of ingratitude, as there are two sorts of gratitude. There is a negative ingratitude, as there is a posi- tive ingratitude. The positive ingratitude, which is, as we have seen, the most odious of all crimes, consists in returning evil for good ; negative ingratitude consists simply in not returning good for good, namely, in forgetting a kindness. It is not so reprehensible as the former, but it has still a certain character of baseness. Gratitude is also twofold in its degrees and forms : it is negative, inasmuch as it abstains from injuring a benefactor -,* it is positive, inasmuch as it returns good for good. In one sense, gratitude is a part of justice, for it con- sists in returning to a benefactor what is due him ; but it is also a notable part, and one which deserves being pointed out, for it seems that there is nothing easier than to return good for good ; and experience, on the contrary, teaches us that there is nothing more rare. [This is certainly too strongly put/] 5. To do good to those who have done us neither good nor harm. This is what is called charity, wdiich is a degree above the preceding, for in the preceding case we scarcely do more than give back what we have received ; in this case we put in something of our own. But to characterize this new degree of virtue, it is necessary to well explain that the question relates to a good that is not due. For justice, we have seen, does not always mean to abstain from evil ; it even does good * It would seem Iktg that negative gratitude becomes confounded M'itli negative ingratitude ; tlw; one doing no liarni, the other doing no good ; it wouhl seem as one and the same condition, wliereiu ueitlier harm nor good is done ; but tlie distinction exists nevertheless ; for the (juestion, on the one hand, is to do no harm wlien tempted to do some, and on the f)ther, not to do any good when there is an occasion for it. For example, he who despoils others, but abstains before his benefactor, cxi)eri(;nces a certain degree of gratitude, and he who does good to his friends and flattercis around him, and does not do any to his benefactor, is already ungrateful. GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 41 sometimes. To restore a trust to one not expecting it ; to do good to him who deserves it ; to elect to a position one worthy of it ; or, what is still more heroic, to give one's OAvn position up to him, this evidently is doing good to others, and to those who have not done us any ; but these are goods due, which already belong in some respects to those upon whom w^e confer them. It is not so with the goods which charity distributes. The gifts I make to the poor, the consolations I give to the afflicted, the care I bestow upon the sick, all of which take from my time, my interests, and my life which I endanger to save a fellow-being, are also goods which are tr^ own and not his. I do not return to him what he would otherwise legitimately possess, whether he knows it or not. I give him something of my own ; it is a pure gift. This gift is suggested to me by love, not by justice. The contrary of charity or devotion to others is selfishness. Finally, there is a last degree above all other preceding degrees, namely, to return good for evil. This kind of virtue, the liighest of all, has no particular name in the language. Charity, in fact, consists in doing good generally, and com- prises the two degrees : to do good to the unfortunate, and return good for evil. Clemency may consist in simply par- doning ; it does not necessarily go so far as to return good for evil. Corneille might as well have called his tragedy of Cinna, the Clemency of Augustus, even if Augustus had merely pardoned Cinna, and not added : " Let us be friends!" Thus has this great and magnificent virtue no name, and as science is powerless in creating words suitable for every-day language, it must rest satisfied with periphrases. Nevertheless, this sublime virtue finds nowhere a grander expression than in those maxims of the Gospel : " You have been told that it was said : Thou shalt love thy neighbor and hate thy enemy : But I say to you : Love your enemies ; do good to those that hate you, and pray for those that despitefully use you and persecute you." 42 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 20. Different kinds of social duties. — After the preceding division, which answers to the different degrees of obligation which may exist among men, there is another classification which rests on the various species or kinds of duties which we may have to perform towards our fellow-beings. Let us first briefly state what will be developed at greater length in the following chapters. 1. Duties relating to the life of others. — According to the two maxims cited above, these duties are of two kinds : 1, not to attempt the life of others; 2, to make efforts to ^ve the life of others. All attempt at the life of others is called homicide. When accompanied by perfidy or treason, it is assassination. The murder of parents by children is called parricide ; of children by parents (especially at the tenderest age), infanticide ; of brothers by brothers, fratricide. All these crimes are most odious, and most repugnant to the human heart. Murder is never permitted, even when the highest interest and the greatest good is at stake. Thus did the ancients err in believing that the murder of a tyrant, or tyrannicide, was not only legitimate, but also honorable and beautiful. However, there is to be excepted the case of legiti- mate self-defense ; for we cannot be f orlndden to defend ourselves against him who wishes to deprive us of life. But the duel should not be considered an act of legitimate self-defense : that is evident in the case of the aggressor; and, on the other side, there is only the defense that there has been the consent to be put in peril. As to the question whether an attack on honor is not equivalent to an attack on life, it cannot be said that it is false in all cases ; but the abuse of the thing is here so near the principle, that it is wiser to condeum altogether a barbar- ous practice, of which so deplorable an abuse has been made. Finally, homicide in war, Avithin the conditions authorized by international law, is considered a case of legitimate self- defense.* * These questions will be examined more in detail in the next chapter. GEN-ERAL- PRIXCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 43 If murder is the most criminal of actions, and the most revolting to our sensibilities, the action, on the contrary, which consists in saving the life of others is the most beautiful of all. " The good shepherd gives his life for the sheep." With the fundamental duty not to attempt the life of other men, is connected, as corollary, the duty not to injure them bodily by blows or wounds, or by dangerous violence done to their health, and, conversely, to assist them in illness. 2. Duties relating to propertij. — It is evident"^ that man cannot preserve his life and render it happy and comfortable without a certain number of material objects which are his. The legitimate possession of these goods is what is called property.^ The rjght of property rests in one respect on so- cial utility, and in the other on human labor. On the one hand, society cannot subsist without a certain order that settles for each what is Ms own ; on the other, it is but right that each should be the proprietor of what he has earned by his work ; the right of possession carries with it the right of economizing, and, consequently, the right of forming a cap)ital, and, moreover, the right of using this capital in making it bear intei'est. Again, the right of preserving implies also the right of transmissioji ; hence the legitimacy of inheritance. Property once foimded upon law, it becomes our duty not to transgress the law. The act of taking what belongs to an- other is called theft. Theft is absolutely forbidden by the moral law, whatever name it may assume, or under whatever prestige it may present itself. " Thou shalt not steal." Theft does not consist merely in putting one's hand into a neigh- bor's pocket ; it includes all possible ways whereby the prop- erty of others may be appropriated. For example, to defraud in regard to the quality of the thing sold ; to practice illegal stock-Jobbing ; to convert to one's own use a deposit entrusted * See chapter IV. t Lawj'ers make a distinction between possession and property. The first consists simply in having the object in use ; the second, in enjoying its exclusive use, even if the object were not naturally in one's hands. 44 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. to one's care ; to borrow without knowing whether one can pay, and after having borrowed, to disown the debt, or refuse to pay it ; there are as many forms of theft as there are ways of appropriating the property of others. Kegarding the property of others, the negative duty then consists in not taking what belongs to others. The positive duty consists in assisting others with one's own property, in reheving their misery. This is called benevolence, which be- nevolence may be exercised in various ways, either by gift, or by loan. It may also be exercised in Mud, that is in giving to others the objects necessary to their maintenance or support, or in money, that is, in furnishing them the means of procuring them ; or in luork, which is the best of all gifts ; for in thus relieving others we procure them the means of helping them- selves. With the duty relating to the property of others, are con- nected as corollaries, the duties relating to the observance of agreements or contracts ; the transmission of property in so- ciety being not always done from hand to hand, but by means of promises and writings. To fail in keeping one's promise, to pervert the sense of solemn contracts, is, on the one side, to appropriate other people's property, and on the other, to lie and deceive, and thus to fail in a double duty. 3. Duties relating to the families of others. — We have seen above what are the duties of man in his family ; there re- mains to be said a few words touching the duties towards the families of others. One may fail in these duties either by violating the conjugal bond, which is adultery ; or by carry- ing off other people's children, which is abduction, or by de- praving them through bad advice or bad examples, which is corruption. 4. Duties relating to the honor of others. — One may fail in these duties, eitlier by saying to a man (who does not deserve it), wounding and rude things to his face, which are insidts, or in speaking ill of others ; and here we distinguish two de- grees : if what is said is true, it is backbiting j if what is said # GEXERAL PRIXCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 45 is false aiid an invention, it is slander. In general one must not too easily ascribe evil to other men ; this kind of defect is what is called rash judgments. The positive duty respecting other people's reputation is to be just towards every one, even towards one's enemies ; to speak well of them if they deserve it, and even of those who speak ill of us. It is a duty to entertain a kindly disposition towards men in general, provided this does not go so far as to wink at wrong. In our relations with our neighbors, usage of the world has, in order to avoid quarrels and insults, in- troduced what is called politeness, which, for being a worldly virtue, is not the. less a necessary virtue in the order of society. 5. Duties towards the Wberty of others. — These are rather the duties of the State than of the individual. They consist in respecting in others the liberty of conscience, the liberty of labor, individual liberty, personal responsibility, all of which are the natural rights of man. However, private indi- viduals may themselves also fail in this kind of duties. The violation of the liberty of conscience is called intolerance ; it consists either in employing force to constrain the consciences, or in imputing bad morals or bad motives to those who do not think as Ave do. The virtue opposed to intolerance is toler- ance, a disposition of the soul which consists, not in approv- ing what we tliink false, but in respecting in others what we wish they should respect in us, namely, conscience. One may also violate individual liberty, the liberty of labor, in keeping one's fellow-beings in slavery ; but slavery is rather a social institution than an individual act. However, there may be cases where one may seek to injure other people's work, in restraining others by threats from work ; which, for example, takes sometimes place in workmen's strikes. There is also a certain way of domineering over the freedom of others with- out restraining it materially, which constitutes real tyranny ; it is the dominion which a strong M'ill exercises over a feeble will, and of which it too often is tempted to take advantage. 46 ELEMEI^TS OF MOEALS. ♦ On the contrary, it is a duty, not only to respect the liberty of others, but also to encourage it, to develop it, to enlighten it through education. 6. Duties relating to friendship.— AW the preceding duties are the same towards all men. There are others which con- cern more particularly certain men, those, for example, to whom we are attached either by congeniality of disposition or uniformity of occupation, or a common education, etc., those, namely, whom we cdl\ friends. The duties relating to friend- ship are: 1, to choose well one's friends; to choose the honest, and enlightened, in order to find in their society en- couragement to right-doing. Nothing more dangerous than pleasure-friends or interested friends, united by vices and pas- sions, instead of being united by wisdom and virtue ; 2, the friends once chosen, the reciprocal duty is fidelity. They should treat each other with perfect equality and with confi- dence. They owe each other secrecy when they mutually entrust their dearest interests ; they owe each other self-devo- tion when they need each other's help. Finally, they owe to each other in a more strict and rigorous a sense, all they gen- erally owe to other men, for the faults or crimes against hu- manity in general assume a still more odious character when against friends. 21. Professional duties and civic duties. — Such are the general duties of men in relation to each other, when simply viewed as men. But these duties become diversified and specialized according as we view man either in the light of the private functions he fills in society, which are his profes- sional duties, or in the light of the particular society of which he is a member, and which is called the State or the country, and these are the civic duties. (See chapters xii. and xiii.) 22. Distinction between the duties of justice and the duties of charity. -We have said above that all the social duties could be reduced to these two maxims : " Do not do unto others what you do not wish they should do to you. Do to others as you wish to be done by." These two maxims 1 GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 47 correspond with what is called : 1, the duties of justice ; 2, the duties of charity. The first consists in not doing wrong, or at least in repair- ing the wrong already done. Charity consists in doing good, or at least in giving to others what is not really their due. A celebrated writer* has made a very subtle and forcible dis- tinction between these two virtues : " The respect for the rights of others is called justice. All violation of any right whatsoever is an injustice. The greatest of injustices, since it comprises all, is slavery. Slavery is the subjugation of all the faculties of a man for the benefit of an- other. Moral personality should be respected in you as well as in me, and for the same reason. In regard to myself it has imposed a duty on me ; in you it becomes the foundation of a right, and imposes thereby, relatively to you, a new duty on me. I owe you the truth as I owe it to myself, and it is my strict duty to respect the development of your intelligence and not arrest its progress towards the truth. I must also respect your liberty ; perhaps even I owe it to you more than I do to myself, for I have not always the right to prevent you from making a mistake. " I must respect you in your affections, which are a part of yourself ; and of all the affections none are more holy than those of the family. To violate the conjugal and paternal right is to violate what a person holds most sacred. " I owe respect to your body, inasmuch as belonging to you, it is the instrument of your personality. I have neither the right to kill you nor to wound you, unless in self-de- fense. " I owe respect to your property, for it is the product of your labor ; I owe respect to your labor, which is your very liberty in action ; and if your property comes from inherit- ance, I owe respect to the free will which has transmitted it to you. * Victor Cousin, TJie True, the Beautiful, and the Good (lectures xxi. and xxil.). 48 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. " Justice, that is, the respect for the person in all that con- stitutes his personality, is the first duty of man towards his fellow-man. Is this duty the only one ? " When we have respected the person of others, when we have neither put a restraint upon their liberty, nor smothered their intelligence, nor maltreated their body, nor interfered with their- family rights nor their property, can we say that we have fulfilled towards them all moral duties 1 A wretch is here suffering before us. Is our conscience satisfied if we can assure ourselves that we have not contributed to his suf- ferings? 'No ; something tells us that it would be well if we should give him bread, help, consolation ; and yet this man in pain, who, perhaps, is going to die, has not the least right to the least part of our fortune, were this fortune ever so great ; and if he were to use violence to take a farthing from us, he would commit a crime. We shall meet here a new order of duties which do not correspond to rights. Man, we have seen, may resort to force to have his rights respected, but he cannot impose on another a sacrifice, whatever that may be. Justice respects or restores : charity gives. "One cannot say that to be charitable is not obligatory ; but this obligation is by no means as precise and as inflexible as justice. Charity implies sacrifice. Now, who will furnish the rule for sacrifice, the formula for self-renunciation ? For justice, the formula is clear : to respect the rights of others. But charity knows neither rule nor limits. It is above all obligation. Its beauty is precisely in its liberty." It follows from these considerations that justice is absolute, without restricti(jn, without exception. Charity, whilst it is as obligatory as justice, is more independent in its applica- tions ; it chooses its place and its time, considers its objects and means. In a word, as Victor Cousin says, " its beauty is in its liberty." Let us not hesitate to borrow from the Apostle St. Paul his admirable exaltation of charity : " Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and GEKERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 49 have not charity, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal." " And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing,"* " And though I bestowed all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me mothing." " Charity suffereth long, and is kind ; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself ; is not puffed up. " " Doth not behave itself unseemely ; seeketh not her own ; is not easily provoked; think eth no evQ." " Beareth all things ; belie veth all things ; en dure th all things."! * Which is to say that the acts are nothing if the heart is absent, t St. Paul, 1 Cor., xiii., 1-7. o> ^ CHAPTEE III. \ 'O' DUTIES OF JUSTICE — DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAl^ LIFE. SUMMARY. Division of the duties of justice. — Four kinds of duties : 1, towards the life of others ; 2, towards the liberty of others ; 3, towards the honor of others ; 4, towards the property of others. Duties towards human life. — Avoid homicide, acts of violence, and mutilation. Pascal and the Provinciales. The right of self-defense. — Right to oppose force to force. Limits of this right. Problems. — Four very grave problems are bound up in the question of self-defense : 1, the penalty of death; 2, political assassination; 3, the duel ; 4, war. The penalty of death. — The penalty of death is the right of self- defense exercised by society : it is just so far as it is efficacious. Political assassination. — Murder is always a crime, under whatever pretext it may conceal itself. The duel. — The duel is at the same time a homicide and a suicide; it is ialsely considered justice, since it appeals to chance and skill. War. — War is the only mode of self-defense existing among nations ; it is desirable for the sake of humanity that it may some day disap- pear ; but humanity cannot now exact this sacrifice of the country. 23. Division of social duties. — According to the fore- going distinctions, we will first divide duties into duties of justice and duties of charity. Let us begin by expounding the duties of justice. These duties may be summed up in a general manner in the res^ject fur the person of others, and for all that is necessary DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAI^ LIFE. 51 for the preservation and development of that person. Hence four kinds of duties : 1. Towards the life of other men. 2. Towards their liberty. 3. Towards their honor. 4. Towards their property. Besides these duties, purely negative, which consist only in doing others no harm, there are also the duties of justice, which may be called positive ; and which consist not only in not injuring others, but also in granting each what he has a right to. This is called distrihutive or remunerative justice, and is the duty of all those who have others under them, and who are commissioned to distribute rewards, titles, or functions. 24. Duties towards the life of men. — We have seen above that self-preservation is the duty of every one, and that one should not attempt one's own life, nor mutilate one's self, nor injure one's health. jSTow, all these obligations which we have towards ourselves, we have equally towards others ; for that which each owes to himself, he owes it to his quality, as man, to his quality as a free and reasonable being, a moral person. It is, as Kant says, humanity itself that each one must respect in his own person ; and it is also humanity which each must respect in others. We should not do to others what we do not wish that they should do to us, or what we should not wish to do to ourselves. Now, no one wishes others to attempt his life ; no one should wish to attempt it himself. For the same reason he should not wish to attempt the life of others. 'These are such self-evident considerations that it is useless to insist on them. Let us add that this duty rests, besides, on one of the most powerful instincts of humanity, the instinct of sympathy for other men, the horror of their sufferings, the horror of spilt blood. Those who are wanting in this senti- ment are like monsters in the midst of humanity. One of the corollaries of this principle is to avoid the blows and wounds which might, through imprudence and unex- 5^ ELEMENTS OF MORALE. pectedly, cause death, and which, besides, are in themselves to be condemned, inasmuch as they contribute, if not towards destroying, at least towards mutilating, the person and render- ing it unfitted to fulfil its duties and functions. In a word, to avoid scuffles, bodily quarrels, which are unworthy, more- over, from their very brutality, of a reasonable being ; all this is comprised in the duty of avoiding homicide. All may be summed up in these words of the Decalogue : " Thou shalt not kill.'''' Pascal, in his letter on homicide (xiv. Provinclale), expressed most eloquently the duty concerning the respect for human life: "Everybody knows, ray fathers, that individuals are never permitted to seek the death of any person, and that, even if a man should have ruined us, maimed i^, burnt our houses, killed our parents, and was preparing to murder us, to rob us of our honor, that our seeking his death would not be listened to in a court of justice. So that it was necessary to establish public functionaries who seek it in the name of the king, or rather in the name of God. Suppose, then, these public functionaries should seek the death of hira"Avho has committed all these crimes, how would they proceed ? Would they plunge the dagger in his breast at once ? No ; the life of man is too important ; they would proceed with more consideration ; the law has not left it subject to the decision of all sorts of people ; but only to that of the judges, whose integrity and sufficiency have been ascertained. And think you that one alone is enough to condeinn a man to death ? No ; there are at least seven required ; and among these seven there must not be any one whom the criminal has in any way offended, for fear that his judgment be affected, or corrupted by anger. In short, they can judge him only upon the testimony of witnessses, and according to the other forms prescribed to them ; in consequence of which they can conscientiously pronounce upon him only according to law, or judge worthy of death only those whom the law condemns." After having thus expoundcid the innumeralde precautions which society has taken, out of respect for human life, touching tlie i)ersons of criminals, Pascal continues as follows: " Heliold ill wliat way, in the order of justice, the life of man is dis- DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAK LIFE. 53 posed of ; let us see now how you dispose of it. * In your new laws there is but one judge, and this judge is the offended party. He is at the same time judge, accuser, and executioner. He seeks himself the death of his enemy ; he commands it, he executes him on the spot ; and, without respect for either the body or soul of his brother, he kills and damns him for whom Christ died ; and all this to avenge an affront, or slander, or an insulting word, or other similar offences for which a judge, although clothed with legal authority, would be considered a criminal if he should condemn to death those who had committed them, because the laws themselves are very far from condemning them. " Finally, gathering into one word all the evils which homi- cide comprises, Pascal ends by saying " homicide is the only crime which at the same time destroys the State, the Church, nature, and piety." 25. The right of self-defense. — None of the foregoing principles would present the shadow of a difficulty to any except those who are nearer the brute than man, if it were not for an apparent exception to the rule, which is the case of legitimate self-defense. To understand properly the solu- tion of this question, it is necessary to examine carefully the nature of the relations which bind men to each other. Every man is a moral person; that is to say, a free being, and for that very reason inviolable in his dignity and in his rights. He is, as Kant says, an end to him- self, and should not be treated as a means. The things of nature are to us but means to satisfy our wants ; we may therefore mutilate and destroy them, not as our whims may dictate, but as our wants require. Thus can we cut the finest trees of a forest to make fire of, or for furniture. We even claim a similar right over animals, although it may, perhaps, not be so evident. But we have no such right over man. We can neither mutilate nor destroy him for our use. And, in fact, to destroy or mutilate through sheer force a member of humanity, is to apply to him the law of compulsion, which is the law of physical nature, and which without reserve * In the Provinciales this apostrophe is addressed to the Jesuits, whom Pascal accuses of loose maxims on the subject. 54 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. governs all physical phenomena : it is to make of man a thing of nature, to see in him the body only, and ignore the soul. The consequence of such conduct is evident : it is that whosoever employs against another the law of compulsion means thereby that he does not recognize between himself and other men any other law but that. Treating them as if they were purely physical agents, he gives us thereby to understand that he recognizes himself, and expects to be treated, as such ; he means to take advantage of his strength as long as he is the strongest, but gives us to understand thereby that he is satisfied to submit to strength if he is the weaker. It is here that the i^ight of self-defense comes in. He who is violently attacked, has the right to oppose to violence just as much strength as there is employed against him. Other- wise, in allowing himself to be knocked down by strength, he would consent to the abasement, to the suppression of his own personality ; he would in some respect be the accomplice of the violence he is made to suffer. Some Christian sects, straining this point, go so far as to condemn absolutely the right of self-defense ; they do not see that this would infallibly bring with it the triumph of brute force, and the suppression of all justice. Such sects may, to a certain extent, manage to exist in civilized societies ; but the principle is self-destructive, since not to resist violence is in some respect to be its accom- plice. Yet, whilst admitting the right of self-defense, it is necessary to recognize its limits. " This agent," says M. Kenouvier, " whom the right of self-defense treats as a brute, this being is a man, nevertheless, or has been one, or may become such. Hence the doctrine of conscience is to admit this right only when necessary, and not beyond what is necessary. " {Moral Science, Ch. lvi.) This is, to begin with, a natural conse- (pience of the duties towards one's self , since it is already a sur- render of one's dignity to be obliged to act in the capacity of a physicid agent, and renounce one's character of a moral per- son; it is also a duty towards humanity in general, which is DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAN" LIFE. 55 represented by every man, even the most violent and the most uncultivated. 26. Problems. — The right of legitimate self-defense gives rise to a certain number of problems relative to the law of homicide. M. Jules Simon"^ reduces them to five : homicide in case of self-defense, penalty of death, political assassination, duel, and war. In the first case it is implied in what pre- cedes, that legitimate self-defense may go so far as to deprive another man of life ; but only in case of absolute necessity. There remain the four other cases, which are not all of the same order. 27. The penalty of death. — The penalty of death in these days has been very much contested, and several States have tried to abolish it. f The following arguments are brought to bear against it : 1. Tlie inviolability of human life. — The State, it is said, should not give the example of what it proscribes and punishes. Now, it punishes homicide ; then it should not itself commit homicide. 2. The possible mistakes, which in all other cases can be corrected, but which in this case alone are irreparable. 3. Experience, which, it is said, tells against it in certain countries by proving that the number of crimes has not been increased by the suppression of the penalty of death. 4. Finally, the refinement of manners, which can no longer bear the idea of capital punishment. 1^0 one of these arguments is wholly decisive. 1. The inviolability of human life is not an absolute thing, at least not for those who admit the right of legitimate self- defense. We shall examine this presently. 2. Judiciary mistakes are very rare, and will become more * Le Devoir. Part iv., Ch. iii. t In Tuscany the penalty of death was abolished in theeighteentli century by the Grand Duke Leopold. It was again established with the Grand Duchy's annexation to the Kingdom of Italy. In Switzerland, after being abolished by the Confeder- ation, the penalty of death was finally left to be determined by each particular can- ton. 56 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. and more so, as justice becomes more respectful towards the rights of the accused, and through greater publicity, by the intervention of a jury, etc. 3. Experience is not so much of a test as it is said to be, and is often made on too small a scale. The attempts at abolition have not been very numerous. In Tuscany murders have always been very rare on account of the gentleness of man- ners. In Switzerland, on the contrary, crime is on the in- crease, and certain cantons have asked for a return to the death penalty. Besides, it is a very difficult experiment to make. How could a society as complicated as ours dare to trust its security to so hazardous an experiment ? 4. The refinement of manners may gradually bring about, thanks to the institution of the jury, the diminution, perhaps some day the suppression, of the penalty of death, without its being necessary for the State to lay aside this powerful means of defense and intimidation. The penalty of death, in fact, can be considered legitimate only in the light of the right of self-defense. If society needs this penalty to protect the life of its members, it may be said that it is authorized to use it, on the same ground as each in- dividual to whom we have conceded the right to repel force by force, and to deprive of his own life one who should threaten to take his life. But, it will be objected, the right of self-defense, when end- ing in homicide, is justifiable only at the moment of the attack, and to ward off a sudden aggression itself threatening murder ; but tlie deed once committed and the criminal in the hands of the law, there is no reason to fear a new aggression from him, and his chances of escape from justice through evasion are too few to justify the violation of a duty so absolute as the re- spect for human life. It may be answered that society, by the death penalty, not only defends itself against the criminal himself, but against all tliose who miglit be inclincMl to imitate him. The penalty of death is above all a precautionary means of defense, that DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAK LIFE. 57 is to say, a means of intimidation. The future criminal is warned beforehand of the risks he runs ; lie accepts volun- tarily the punishment he will incur. If society should catch him in the Sict^iagrante delicto — it would certainly, in order to prevent the crime, since it is the representative of all indi- viduals, have the same rights as the individual of defending himself. But the difficulty of seizing upon the criminal at the moment of commission, can it be considered a circumstance in favor of the criminal, and does society lose its right, be- cause, through the skill and precautions of assassins, it can but very rarely, and scarcely ever, catch them in the act? The right of society to defend itself by the death penalty does not seem to us, then, to admit any doubt. The whole question is to know whether such a means of defense is really necessary and efficacious. It is, as as we have said, a question of experience which it is very difficult to settle, for the rea- son that we dare not make the experiment. All that can be said is that, as a principle, every man fears death ; it is the greatest of fears. There is, therefore, reason to believe that it is the most powerful of the means of intimidation. Be- sides, it is known that professional criminals estimate with great accuracy offenses and crimes proportionably to their penalties. Thus, those who steal know that they expose themselves to such or such punishment, but they go no far- ther in order not to incur a more severe punishment ; for these the penalty of death is certainly a great item in their plans, and it would be dangerous to relieve them of this menace. We do not mean to say that in future society may not reach a state of organization strong and enlightened enough to be able to do without such means ; but in the present state of things we should consider the attempt to abolish them danger- ous for society. 28. Of political assassination. — Concerning this pre- tended right, so shockingly promulgated in these days by 58 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. savage factions, we cannot do better than quote the words of M. Jules Simon in his book on Duty : " PoHtical assassination," he says, " is essentially worthy of condem- nation from whichever side one looks at it. It has the same origin as the penalty of death, Avith this double difference that, in the applica- tion of the penalty of death, it is the State that pronounces the sentence conformably to the law, whilst in political assassination it is the same man who makes the law, pronounces the sentence, and executes it. Now, society, though badly constituted, and the law, though bad, are nevertheless a guaranty, whilst there is none at all against the caprice, passion or false judgment of a single individual. Besides, the legiti- macy of the penalty of death is connected with the legitimacy of the power that pronounces it, and the uniformity of the law. Let some tyrannical authority cause a man to be shot at the corner of a street, without form of legal process, that cannot be called penalty of death ; it is called murder ; and even when the victim should have deserved his death, the government would not be the less criminal for having executed him without trial. If these principles are just, how can we admit the theory of political assassination, which allows the destiny of all to depend upon the conscience of a single individual. We reflect so little upon the rights of men that there are those who will condemn the death penalty and yet approve of political assassination. We judge so badly, that under the Restoration a monument was erected to Georges Cadoudal, and we hear every day the eulogy of Charlotte Corday. The guiltiness of the victim does not legitimate the act of the murderer. It is both unwise and criminal to furnish hatred with such excuses." 29. The duel. — Does the duel come under the head of legitimate self-defense ? No ; whatever custom and prejudice may say in its favor. 1. We must first lay aside without discussion all duels bearing on frivolous causes, and they are the largest in num- ber. 2. In many other cases reparation may be obtained through the law, and prejudice alone can prevent having recourse to it. If I am willing to have recourse to law in a case of rob- bery, why should I not appeal to this same law when my honor is attacked ? 3. The duel is an absurd form of justice, because it puts DUTIES TOWAKDS HUMAi^ LIFE. 59 the offender and the one offended on the same level. It is not the guilty one that is punished ; it is the awkward one. 4. Social justice has degi-ees of penalty in proportion to the gravity of the offense, and is applied only after a very severe examination. The aim of the duel is to apply to very un- equal offenses one and the same penalty, death (Jules Simon, Le Devoir, IT.), or if there are any degrees, since it does not always residt in death, these degrees are the effect of chance. Finally, if in a duel the parties agree to use skill enough to hurt each other as little as possible, is it not as if they con- fessed to the injustice and insanity of the proceeding ? 5. The duel had its origin in superstition : in the Combat of God, in the belief, namely, that God himself would arbi- trate by means of the combat, and give the victory to the in- nocent and strike the guilty. 6. The duel is a homicide or a suicide. It is, therefore, contrary to the duty towards others and the duty towards our- selves. Finally, the duel is contrary to the duty towards so- ciety, which forbids each to be Ms own judge. J. J. Kousseau, in the NouvelJe Heloise, has written on the duel and suicide (see further on, Chapter xi.,) a letter often quoted, of which we will briefly give the principal passages. 1. One must distinguish between real honor and apparent honor : What is there in common between the glory of killing a man and the testimony of a righteous soul ? What hold can the vain opinion of othei-s have upon true honor, the roots of which are in the depths of the heart ? What I the lies of a slanderer can destroy real virtues ? Do the insults of a drunkard prove that one deserves them ] And can the honor of a sensible man be at the mercy of the first rufl&an he meets ? 2. The use of force cannot be a title to virtue : Will you tell me that one must show courage, and that courage suf- fices to efface the shame and reproach of all other vices ? In this case a rogue would have but to fight a duel to cease to be a rogue ; the words of a liar would become true if maintained at the point of a sword ; and if you were charged with having killed a man, you would go and kill a 60 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. second one to prove that the charge is not true. Thus, virtue, vice, honor, infamy, truth, falsehood, all derive their being from the event of a fight ; a fencing-hall becomes the seat of all justice ; might makes right. 3. Antiquity, so rich in heroes and great characters, knew nothing of the duel. There may then exist societies civilized and refined where a man may defend his honor without having to resort to the duel. This is a remarkably striking argu- ment :* Did ever the valiant men of antiquity think of avenging their per- sonal insults by single combats ? Did Csesar send a challenge to Cato, or Pompey to Csesar ? "Other times, other manners," you'll say, I know, but true honor does not vary ; it does not depend on times or places or prejudices ; it can neither pass away nor be born again; it has its eternal source in the heart of the just man and in the unalterable rule of his duties. If the most enlightened, the bravest, the most vir- tuous nations of the earth knew nothing of the duel, I say that it is not an institution of honor, but rather a frightful and barbarous fashion worthy of its savage origin. 4. It is not true that a man of honor incurs contempt by refusing a duel : The righteous man whose whole life is pure, who never gave any sign of cowardice, will refuse to stain his hand by a homicide, and will be only the more honored for it. Always ready to serve his country, to protect the feeble, to fulfil the most dangerous duties, and defend in all just and honest encounters, and at the price of his blood, what he holds dear, he will reveal in all his transactions that resolute firmness which always accompanies true courage. In the security of his conscience he walks with head erect ; he neither flies from nor seeks his enemy ; one can easily see that he fears less to die than to do wrong, and that it is not danger he shuns, but crime. 30. War. — War is the most serious and the most solemn exception to the law which forbids homicide. Not only does ♦ It answers the frequent assertion that the courtesy and regards which men owe eacli other reciprocally, would soon disappear if they were not protected by the re- source of the duel. DUTIES TOWAEDS HUMAN LIFE. 61 it permit homicide, but it commands it. The means thereto are prepared in public ; the art of practicing them is a branch of education, and it is glorious to destroy as many enemies as possible. One cannot fail to see the sad side of war, and how contrary it is to the ideal tendencies of modern society. It is still to be hoped that there will come a time when nations will find a more rational and more humane means of conciliating their differences. But there is no indication of this good time as yet, nor even that it is near, and it is necessary to guard against a false philanthropy, which would imperil the sacred rights of patriotism. The problem of war in itself belongs rather to the law of na- tions than to morality properly so called. It will be in studying later the relations of the nations between each other that we shall have to establish as a rule that the right of self-defense exists for them as well as for the individual. The only ques- tion in a moral point of view is to know whether the indi- vidual, by the sole fact of the order of society, is released from the duty imposed on him not to shed blood. Some re- ligious sects in the early times of Christianity, others in modern times in England and in America (the Quakers), be- lieve that the interdiction of homicide is an absolute thing ; they claim the right to be exempt from military duty. The State, of course, never recognized the legitimacy of such a scruple, which would prevent all social subordination and de- prive the defense of the country of aU its strength. But neither does morality recognize such a right. As a part of a society which is commissioned to defend us, and wliich can do so only by using force, it is evident that each one should share in the acts by which it undertakes to defend us. For how can malefactors be prosecuted without employing force 1 The same may be asked as to enemies from without, Now, as society defends every one equally, it cannot make any excep- tion in favor of such or such scruple. It can grant exemp- 62 FLEMEN"TS OF MORALS. tions, but cannot admit that each should exempt himself by the scruples of his conscience. Certainly it ought not to be maintained that any order given by society releases the individual conscience from all consider- ation. But obedience to the law is the foundation of social order, and co-operation in the public defense is a duty of ab- solute necessity. Of course one assumes in this view im- plicitly the legitimacy of war ; but this question will be treated later on by itself, and in accordance with the reasons belonging to it. CHAPTEE lY. DUTIES coi^cer:n'ii^g the propeety of others. SUMMARY. Of property. — Its fundamental principle ; work sanctioned by law. Communistic Utopia. — Inequality of wealth : it is founded on nature, but should not be aggravated by the law. — Different forms of the rights of property : loans, trusts, things lost, sales, ino^perty 'properly so called. Loan. — Is it a duty to loan ? — The interest of money. — The question of usury. — Duties oi creditor and debto7\ — Failures and bankruptcies. — The commodate or things loaned for use. Trust. — Duties of the depositary and the deponent. Of the possession in good faith. — The thing lost. Sales. — Obligations oi seller and buyer. Of property In general. — Violation of property or theft. — The ele- ments which constitute t\ieit.— Simple thefts and qualified thefts. — Abuse of confidence, swindling. — Restitution. Promises and contracts. — Differences between these two facts. — Strict obligation to keep one's promises : rare exceptions (practical impos- sibility, illicit promises, etc. )— Different kinds of contracts. —CowcZi- tions of the contract : consent, capacity of contracting parties, a real object, a licit cause. — Rules for the formation of contracts. — Rules for the interpretation of contracts. The immediate consequence of the right of self-preservation which each has, etc., implies the right of propei'ty. 31. Property. — What is property? What is its origin and principle 1 What objections has it raised 1 What moral and 64 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. social reasons justify it, rendering its maintenance both sacred and necessary ? " Property," says the civil code, " is the right to enjoy and dispose of things in the most absolute manner, provided no use is made of them prohibited by the laws or the rules." (Art. 544.) "The right of property," says the Constitution of '93, " is that which belongs to every citizen : to enjoy, and dispose at will of his property, his income, of the fruit of his labor and industry." (Art. 8.) These are the judicial and political definitions of property. Philosophically, it may be said, that it is the right each man has to make something Ms oion, that is to say, to attribute to himself the exclusive right to enjoy something outside of himself. We must distinguish between possession and property. Possession is nothing else than actual custody : I may have in my hands an object that is not mine, which has either been loaned to me, or which I may have found ; this does not make me its proprietor. Property is the right I have to exclude all others from the use of a thing, even if I should not be in actual possession of it. 32. Origin and fundamental principle of property.— The first property is that of my own body, but thus far it is nothing else than what may be called corporeal liberty. How do we go beyond that 1 How do we extend this primitive right over things which are outside of ourselves 1 I^et us first remark that this right of appropriating external things rests on necessity and on the laws of organized beings. It is evident, in fact, that life cannot be preserved otherwise than by a perpetual exchange between the parts of the living body and the particles of the surrouading bodies. Nutrition is assimilation, and, consequently, appropriation. It is, then, necessary that certain things of the external world should be- come mine, otherwise life is impossible. Property is then necessary ; let us now sec by what means it becomes legitimate. DUTIES COJs^CERXlNG THE FROPERTY OF OTHERS. 65 Property has been given several origins : occupation, law, icork. According to some, property has for its fundamental principle the right of the first occupant. It is said that man has the right of appropriating a thing not in possession of some one else ; the same as at the theatre, the spectator who comes first has the right to take the best place. (Cicero.) So be it ; but at the theatre I occupy only the place occupied by my own body : I have not the right to appropriate the whole theatre, or even the pit. It is the same with the right of the first occupant. I have certainly a right to the place my own body would occupy, but no further : for where would my right then stop ? " "Will the setting one's foot," says J. J. Rousseau, " on a piece of com- mon ground be sufficient to declare one's self at once the master of it? When Xunez Balboa took on landing possession of the Southern Sea, and of the whole of Southern America in the name of the CroAvn of Castile, ■was that enough to exclude from it all the princes of the world ? At that rate the Catholic king had but to take all at once possession in his study of the whole miiverse, relying upon subsequently striking otf from his empire what before was in possession of the other princes. " (Contrat social, Hv. ler, Ch. ix. ) The law. — If occupation of itseK alone is insufficient in foimding the right of property, will it not become legitimate by adding to it convention — that is to say, the laic ? Property, we have seen, is necessary ; but if every one is free to appro- priate to himself what he needs, it becomes anarchy ; it is, as Hobbes said, " the war of all against all." It is necessary that the law should fix the property of each in the interest of all. Property, under this new hypothesis, would then mean the part Avhich public authority has fixed or recognized, whether we admit a primitive division made by a magistrate, or a primitive occupation more or less due to chance, but conse- crated by law. Certainly, the reason of social utility plays a great part in the establishment and consecration of property ; and it woidd be absurd not to take this consideration into account. Cer- 66 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. tainly, even if property were but a fact consecrated by time, by necessity, and by law, it would already by that alone have a very great authority ; but we believe that that is not saying enough. Property is not only a consecrated fact, it is also a right. It finds in the law its guaranty, but not ii^ foundation. The true principle of property is work ; and property be- comes blended with liberty itself : " lihei'ty and property, ^^ say the EngHsh. Work. — If all the things man has need of were in unlimited number, and if they could be acquired without effort, there would be no property. This, for example, takes place in the case of the atmosphere, of which we all have need, but which belongs to no one. But if the question is of things that can- not be acquired except by a certain effort (as in the case of animals running wild), or even that can be produced only by human effort (as a harvest in a barren ground), these things belong by right to him who conquers them or brings them about. " I take wild wheat into my hand, I sow it in soil I have dug, and I wait for the earth, aided by rain and sunshine, to do its work. Is the growing crop my property ? Where would it be without me ? I created it. Who can deny it ? . . . This earth was worth nothing and produced nothing : I dug the soil ; I brought from a distance friable and fertilizing earth ; I enriched it with manure ; it is now fertile for many years to come. This fertility is my work . . . The earth belonged to no one ; in fertilizing it, I made it mine. According to Locke, nine tenths at least of the produce of the soil should be attributed to human labor. " * It has been said that work is not a sufficient foundation to estalDlish the right of property ; that occupation must be added thereto, for otherwise work alone would make us the pro- prietors of what is already occupied by others ; the farmer would become the proprietor of the fields he cultivates from the fact alone that he cultivates them. Occupation is there- fore a necessary element of property. ♦Jules ISimon, La Liberie, ii. part, cli. iii. /nI / DUTIES COXCER]S"I>^G THE PROPEETY OF OTHERS. 67 Certainly ; but occupation itself has no value except as it already represents labor, and inasmuch as it is labor. The fact of culling a fruit, of seizing an animal, and even of setting foot upon a desert land, is an exercise of my activity which is more or less easy or difficult to accomplish, but which in reality is not the less the result of an effort. It is, then, work itself which lays the foundation of occupation and consecrates it. But when the thing once occupied has become the prop- erty of a man by a first work, it can no longer without con- tradiction become the property of another by a subsequent work. This work applied to the property of others is not the less itself the foundation of property, namely : the price received in exchange of work, which is called salary, and which again by exchange can obtain for us the possession of things not ours. 33. Accumulation and transmission. — The right of ap- propriation, founded as we have just seen on work, carries mth it as its consequence, the right of accumulation and that of transmission. In fact, if I have acquired a thing, I can either enjoy it actually, or reserve it to enjoy it later ; and if I have more than my actual wants require, I can lay aside what to-day is useless to me, but which will be useful to me later. This is what is called saving; and the successive additions to savings is called accumulation. This right cannot be denied to man ; for that would be ignoring in him one of his noblest facul- ties, namely, the faculty of providing for the future. In suppressing this right, the very source of all production, namely, work, would dry up ; for it is his thought of the future which, above all, induces man to work to insure his security. The right of transmission is another consequence of prop- erty ; for if I have enjoyment myself, I ought to be able to transmit it to others ; finally, I can give up my property to obtain in its place the property of others which might be more agreeable or more useful to me ; hence the right of ex- 68 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. change, which gives rise to what is called purchase and sale. Of all transmissions, the most natural is that which takes place between a father and his children : this is what is called inheritance. If we were to deprive the head of a family of the right of thinking of his children in the accumu- lation of the fruits of his labors, we should destroy thereby the most energetic instigation to work there is in the human heart. 34. Individual property and the community. — The ad- versaries of property have often said that they did not attack property in itself, but only individual property. The soil which, if not the principle, is at least the source of all riches, belongs, they say, not to the individual, but to society ; to the State, that is to say, to all, as common and undivided property : each individual is but a consumer, and receives his share from the State, which alone is the true proprietor. This is what is called the community system, or communism, which takes two forms, according as it admits the division to be made in a manner absolutely equal among the co-members of the society, which is the eqiiality system {systeme egalitaire) ; or by reason of capacity and works. It is this form of communism which the school of Saint-Simon maintains at this day. We need not point out the practical impossibility of realiz- ing such a system. Let us confine ourselves to showing its essential vice. If communism means absolute equality (and true communism does), it destroys the main induceuient to work : for man assured of his living by the State, has nothing left to stimulate him to personal effort. Work, deprived of the hope of a legitimate remuneration, would be reduced to a strict minimum, and civilization, which lives by work, would rapidly go backward : general wretchedness would be the neces- sary consequence of tliis state of things ; all would be equally poor and miseraljle ; humanity would go back to its primitive state, to get from whicli it struggled so hard, Jind from which it emerged by means of work and property alone. Moreover, as it is absolutely impossible to dispense with work, the State DUTIES CON"CERKIKG THE PROPERTY 71 would be obliged to enforce it upon those whox did not spontaneously incline to it; from beii would become servile, and the pensioners of the in reality be but its slaves. As to the inequality-communism {communisme int . e) which recommends a remuneration from the State, proportioned to merit and products, that is to say, to capacity and luorks, it certainly does not so very seriously impair the principle of property and liberty ; but, on the one hand, it does not satisfy the instincts of equality,* which have at all times inspired the communistic Utopias ; on the other, it attacks the family instincts by suppressing inheritance ; now, if man is interested in his own fate, he interests himself still more, as he grows old, in the fate of his children; in depriving him of the responsibility for their destinies, you deprive him of the most energetic stimulus to work ; and the tendency woidd be, though in a lesser degree, to produce the same evil of general impoverishment, as would communism properly so called. But the principal vice of all communism, whether of equality or inequality, is to substitute the State for the individual, to make of all men functionaries, to commit to the State the destinies of all individuals ; in one word, to make of the State a providence.! 35. Inequality of riches. — Yet there will always arise in the mind a grave problem : Wliy are goods created for all, distributed in so unequal and capricious a manner ? Why the rich and the poor 1 and if inequality must exist, why is it not in proportion to inequality of merit and individual work] A\niy are the idle and prodigal sometimes rich % Wliy are the poor overwhelmed by both work and poverty 1 There are two questions here : 1. Why is there any in- equality at all? 2. AMiy, supposing this inequality must * Tlius we see Saint Simonian ideas completely disappear from the modern social- istic sects which all tend to blend with the equality-communism pure and simple. t On the question of property, see Thiers, La ProprUte (1S4S) and the Harmonies economiques de Bastiat, oh. viii 6d ELEMENTS OF MORALS. exist, has it no connection with merit or the work of the in- dividual 1 Regarding the first point, we cannot deny, unless we should wish to suppress all human responsibility, all free and per- sonal activity — in a word, all liberty — we cannot deny, 1 say, that the inequality of merit and of work does not authorize and justify a certain inequality in the distribution of prop- erty. But, it is said, this inequality is not always in proportion to the work. It may be answered that as civic laws become more perfect (by the abolition of monopoly, privileges, abuse of rights, such as the feudal rights, etc.,) the distribution of riches will tend to become more and more in proportion to individual merit and efforts. There remain but two sources of inequality which do not proceed from personal work : 1, accidents ; 2, hereditary transmission. But in regard to acci- dents, there is no way of absolutely suppressing the part chance plays in man's destiny ; it can only be corrected and diminished, and thereto tend the institutions of life-assur- ances, savings-banks, banks of assistance, etc., which are means of equalization growing along with the general pro- gress. As to the inequality produced by inheritance, one of two things is to be considered : either the heir keeps and in- creases by his own work what he has acquired, and thus suc- ceeds in deserving it ; or, on the contrary, he ceases to work and consumes without producing, and in this case he destroys his privilege himself without the State's meddling with it. Besides, the question is less concerning the relative well- being of men than their absolute well-being. What use would it be to men to be all equal if they were all miserable ? There is certainly more equality in a republic of savages than in our European societies ; but how many of our i)oor Europeans are there who would exchange their condition for an existence among savages'? In reality, social progress, in continually in- creasing general wealtli, increases at the same time the well- being of eacli, without increasing the sum of individual ellbrts. DUTIES co:n'cerj^ixg the property of others. 71 This snperaddition of well-being is in reality gratuitous, as Bastiat has demonstrated. " Hence," as he says, " with a community increasing in well-being,* as by property ever better guaranteed, we leave behind us the community of misery from which we came." " Property," says Bastiat, "tends to transform onerous into gratuitous utility. It is that spur which obliges human intelligence to draw from the inertia of matter its latent natural forces. It struggles, certainly for its own benefit, against the obstacles which make utility onerous ; and when the obstacle is overthrown, it is found that its disappearance benefits all. Then the indefatigable proprietor attacks new obstacles, and continually raising the human level, he more and more realizes community, and with it equality in the midst of the great human family. " 36. Duties concerning the property of others. — After having estabhshed the right of general property, we have to expound the duties relative to the property of others. The property of others may be injured in various ways, and in different cases. These cases are: 1, loans; 2, trusts; 3, things lost ; 4, sales ; 5, property strictly so-called. 37. Loans. — Debts. — The inequality of riches is the cause that among men some have need of what others possess, and yet cannot procure by purchase, for want of means. In this case, the first turn to the second to obtain the temporary en- joyment of the thing they stand in need of ; this is called borrowing ; the reciprocal act, which consists in conceding for a time the desired object, is called loaning. He who borrows, and who by this very act engages himself to return the thing again, is called debtor (who owes), and he who loans is called creditor ; he has a credit on his debtor. Several questions spring from this, some very simple, others very delicate, and often debated. 38. Rights and duties of the cpeditop.— IVIoney interest. — Usury. — -And first, is it a duty to loan to any that ask you 1 It * See in the Harmonies economiques viii., that ingenious and substantial theory which shows the growing progress of the community by reason of property. 72 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. is evident that if it is a duty it can be only a duty of charity, or friendliness, but not of strict justice. One is no more obliged to loan to all than to give to all. The duty of loaning, like the duty of giving without discrimination, would be tantamount to the negation of property; for he who would open his money-chest to all unconditionally, however rich he might be, would in a fe^v days be absolutely despoiled. Besides, the same duty weighing equally on those who have received, they in their turn would be obliged to pass their goods over to others, and no one would ever be proprietor. In this case, it would even be better to hand all property over to the State, that it might establish a certain order and fixity in the repar- tition of it. It is this doctrine which a Father of the Church, Clement of Alexandria, has expressed in these terms in his treatise : Can any rich man he saved ? " What div^ision of property could there be among men if no one had anything ? If we cannot fulfil the duties of charity without any money, and if at the same time we were commanded to reject riches, would there not be contradiction ? Would it not be to say at the same time give and not give, feed and not feed, share and not share ? " It is therefore not a strict duty to loan to all ; it is a form of benevolence, and we must put off to another chapter (ch. vi.) the conditions and the degrees of this duty. But a question which necessarily presents itself here, is to know if, when one loans, it is a duty to deprive one's self of all remuneration ; or if it is, on the contrary, permitted to exact a price over and beyond the sum loaned. This is what is called money interest ; and when this interest is or appears excessive, it is called usury. This question, discussed during the whole middle ages, was, before its true principles were established, first resolved by practice and necessity. It is to-day evident to all sensible minds, that capital, like work, has a right to remuneration. Why ? Because without the expectation of this remuneration, the possessor of the DUTIES CONCERKING THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 73 capital would forthwith consume it himself or allow it to waste away without use. This will be better understood in considering the two principal forms of remuneration for cap- ital : interest and rent. Interest and rent are both the pro- duct of a capital loaned, but with this difference, that rent is the product of a fixed capital (house, field, workshop) ; while interest is the product of a circulating capital (money or paper). The interest of capital represents two things : 1, the depri- vation of him who loans, and who might consume his capital ; 2, the risk he incurs, for capital is never loaned except to be invested, and consequently it may be lost. These are the two fundamental reasons which establish the legitimacy of interest, despite the prejudices which have long condemned it as usury, and the Utopias which would establish the gratuity of credit."^ The principal reason against the legitimacy of interest is deduced from the sterility of money. " Interest," says Aris- totle, "is money bred from money ; and nothing is more con- trary to nature." But, as Bentham remarks {Defense of Usury, letter 10), "if it be true that a sum of money is of itself in- capable to breed, it is not the less true that with this same borrowed sum, a man can buy a ram and a sheep, which, at the end of a year, will have produced two or three lambs." In other terms, as Calvin says, " it is not from the money it- self that the benefit comes, it is from the use that is made of it." It has been said that he who loans does not deprive him- self of his money, since he can do without it. (Proudhon, Letters to Bastiat, 3d letter.) But he does deprive himself of it, since he might have consumed it himself. The proof that a loan is a privation, is the pain men have in economiz- ing and in investing their money. How many men are there * See especially about the question of interest, the controversy between Proudhon and Bastiat. (Works of Bastiat, vol. v., Gratuity of Credit.) 4 74 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. who, in possession of a sum of one hundred francs, would not rather spend it than place it on interest ? As to what is called gratuitous credit, it could be possible only by being reciprocal. In fact, if I loan you my house, and you loan me in return your land, supposing they are of equal value, it is evident that, the one being worth as much as the other, and the two services equivalent, we need not pay each other anything ; for it would be only an exchange of money. But nothing can be inferred from this, touching the most usual case : namely, where the capital is loaned by the possessor to him who does not possess ; for then there is no reciprocity, consequently no gratuity. As to the rate of interest it varies like all values according to the law of supply and demand in the money market. (See the Cours d'Economie Politique.) The greater the supply of capital the less dear it is. It is, then, the increase of capital that is to diminish interest and bring about a sort of relative gratuity. Every enterprise against capital will produce a contrary result. As to the rent of capital, it has generally raised fewer objections than interest ; for it is easier to understand that if I give myself the trouble to build a house, it is that it will bring me in something; but it is, on the whole, the same thing, with this difference, that circulating capital, running more risks than fixed capital, seems to have a still better right to remuneration. The lender has then the right to exact a certain amount over and above the sum loaned. Certainly, he cannot exact it, as it often occurs among friends, and for very small sums. But as a principle, one is no more obliged to lend gratuitously, than to give to others gratuitously what they 'need. In admitting that the interest of money is a legitimate thing, is one obliged also to admit that the money-lender has a right to fix the rate of interest as high as he wishes ? Beyond a certain limit, will not the interest become what we call usury ? To which may be replied : DUTIES CON-CERis^II^G THE PROPEETY OF OTHERS. 75 "1. If the one borrowing consents to pay the price, it is that this service done him does not appear to him too dear. One may borrow at 20 and even 30 per cent., if one foresees a gain of 40. 2. Why not look at the thing from the lender's standpoint ? If the return of the funds appears more or less doubtful, why should he not have the right to protect himself?" [Dictionary of Politics, by Maurice Block.) These arguments prove, in fact, that it is impossible to determine beforehand and absolutely the rate at which it may be permitted to lend, and there are many cases where a very high interest may be legitimate : for instance, in what is called hottomry-loan, which consists in advances made to shipping merchants on their ships; the law here sanctions very high interest, because of the exceptional risks this kind of enterprise runs. Does it, however, follow, as some economists seem to think, that there is no occasion to speak of usury, properly so called, that the term usurer is an insult, invented by ignorance, which has no real basis 1 This we cannot admit. Political economy and morality are two different things. Even if one should admit that there is no reason for legally fixing the rate of interest, because money is a merchandise like all others which should be left to free circulation, to the free appreciation of the parties, it would not follow that there could be no abuse made of the required interest. Experience proves the contrary. It is not so much the rate of the interest which constitutes the injustice thereof, as the reasons and circumstances of the loan. If, taking advantage of the pas- sions of youth, one loans to a prodigal, knowing him unable to refuse the conditions, because he only listens to pleasure ;• or if, seducing the ignorant, one dazzles him with magnificent bargains ; or, lastly, if profiting by the common desire among peasants to enlarge their grounds, we advance them money, knowing they cannot return it, and secure thereby the prop- erty they think they are buying, in all such cases, or similar ones, there is always usury, and morality must condemn such hateful practices. 76 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. The hatefnlness of usury is brought into strong relief in Mohere's celebrated scene in The Miser (Act ii., Sc. i.) : La FLfecHE : Suppose that the lender sees all the securities, and that the borrower be of age and of a family of large property, sub- stantial, secure, clear and free from any incumbrances, there will then be drawn up a regular bond before a notary, as honest a man as may be found, who to this effect shall be chosen by the lender, to whom it is of particular importance that the bond be properly drawn up. Cleante : That's all right. La Fleche : The lender not to burden his conscience with, any scruples, means to give his money at the low rate of denier eighteen* (5, 9 per cent. ) only, Cleante : Denier eighteen ? Jolly ! That's honest indeed ! No fault to find there ! La Fleche : No. But as the said lender has not with him the sum in question, and, to oblige the borrower, he will himself be obliged to borrow from another at the rate of denier five (20 per cent), it will be but just that the abovesaid first borrower should pay that interest without prejudice to the other, for it is only to oblige him that the said lender resorts to this loan. Cleante : The devil ! "What a Jew ! What an Arab is that ! That would be at a greater rate than denier four (25 per cent. ). La FlJiche : That's so : it is just what I said. Cleante : Is there anything more ? La FLliCHE : But just a small item. Of the fifteen thousand francs that are asked, the lender can give in cash only twelve thousand, and for the thousand crowns remaining, it will be necessary that the bor- rower take the clothes, stock, jewelry, etc., of which here is the list. Cleante : The plague on him ! The next scene shows with remarkable energy the spend- thrift and the usurer in conflict with each other, f 39. Duties of the debtor — After the duties of the lender and the creditor, let us point out those of the borrower or the debtor. The only duty for him here is to return what he has borrowed : it is the duty of paying one^s debts. For a long time, the duty of paying one's debts appeared to be one of those vulgar and commonplace duties intended for ♦ Mode of reckoning in the time of Louis XIV. t The scene between father and son in The Miser (Sc. ii., Act iii.). DUTIES COXCERXIXG THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 77 the generality of men, but from wliicli the great lords freed themselves easily. The poor creditors have been the laughing stock in comedies."^ But it is not doubted nowadays that to refuse to pay what one owes, is really taking from the prop- erty of others, and appropriating what does not belong to us. This duty, besides, is so simple and stringent that it is necessary only to mention it without further development. The same principles apply to the various ways in which one may make use of property, and particularly to the three kinds indicated in the Civil Code — the usufruct, the umge^ and the right of action. The common obligation in these three cases, mentioned by the Code, is to use the thing belonging to others as a prudent father would, which is to say, to use it as the proprietor himself would use it, without injuring the object, and even improving it as much as possible. It is especially in commerce that the act of paying one's debts, is not only more obligatory morally, but socially iftore necessary than anywhere else. The reason of it is that commerce is impossible without credit. By exacting of every merchant the payment of cash, the springs of exchange would dry up ; besides, most of the time it would be useless ; for in com- merce merchandise is constantly bought against merchandise. It would be loss of time, loss of writing, limitation of the market. In commerce one cannot say of him who owes that he is a borrower ; for the next day, according to the fluctua- tions of demand and supply, he may be the lender. But it is just because credit is indispensable in commerce, that the obligations of the debtors are in some respect more stringent ; for the greater the confidence, the more stringent the duty. So that commercial honor is like military honor — it does not admit of breaking promises. 40. Failures and bankruptcies. — However strict one should be in commerce in regard to keeping promises, there is nevertheless in the Code cause for distinguishing two different * See, in Moliere's Don Juan, the charming scene between Don Juan and Mr. Dimauche. 78 ELEMEN"TS OF MOKALS. cases of promise-breaking — failure and bankruptcy ; and in this second case, there is simple bankruptcy and fraudulent bankruptcy. Failure is purely and simply the suspension of payments resulting from circumstances independent of the will of him who fails. Bankruptcy, on the contrary, is suspension of pay- ments resulting either from imprudence or from mistakes of the bankrupt. Simple bankruptcy occurs in the following cases : 1. If the personal expenses of the merchant or the expenses of his house are judged excessive ; 2. If he has spent large sums of money in operations of pure chance either in fictitious opera- tions or extravagant purchases ; 3. If with the intention of putting off his failure, he has made purchases to sell again below par ; 4. If after cessation of payment, he has paid a creditor to the prejudice of all others. (Code of Commerce.) Bankruptcj** is called fraudulent, when the bankrupt has abstracted his books, misrepresented a portion of his assets, or declared himself debtor for sums he does not owe. It is useless to say that this third case is but another case of theft and deserves the severest denunciation. Simple bankruptcy is already very culpable ; and failure itself should be regarded by all merchants as a very great misfortune, which they must avoid at any cost. 41. The commodate op gratuitous loan. — The gratuitous loan or commodate is a contract by which one of the parties gives to the other a thing to be made use of, on the condition that it be returned after having served its purpose. (Code Civ., Art. 1875.) As a fundamental principle, the receiver must return to the lender the very thing he has loaned him. But in case of loss or deterioration of the thing loaned, resulting from the use made of it, on whom is to fall the loss ? "It cannot be presumed, says Kant (Doctrine of the Law, French translation, p. 146), that the lender should take upon himself all the chances of loss or deterioration of the thing loaned ; for it IDUTIES CONCEBHIKG THE PROPEKTY OF OTHERS. 79 stands to reason that the proprietor, besides granting to the borrower the use of the thing he loans him, would not agree to insure him also against all risks. If, for instance, during a shower, I enter a house, where I borrow a cloak, and this cloak gets to be forever spoiled from coloring matters thrown upon me by mischance, from a window, or if it be stolen from me in a house where I laid it down, it would be considered generally absurd, to say that I had nothing else to do than to send back the cloak, such as it is, or report the theft that has taken place. The case would be very different if, after having asked per- mission to use a thing, I should insure myseK against the loss in case it should suffer any damage at my hands, by begging not to be held respon- sible for it. No one would think this precaution superfluous and ridic- ulous, except perhaps the lender, supposing he was a rich and generous man ; for it would then be almost an offense not to expect from his generosity the remission of my debt." 42. The trust. — Trust, in general, is an act by which one receives the thing of another on condition to keep it and restore it in kind. (Code Civ., Art. 1915.) He who deposits is called deponent (or bailor in England) ; he who receives the trust is called depositary (in England bailee). The obligations of the depositary are morally the same as those found in positive law. We have then nothing better to do here than to reproduce the precepts of the Code on this matter. 1. The depositary, in keeping the thing deposited with him, must exercise the same care as with the things belonging to himself (Art. 1927). 2. This obligation becomes still more stringent in the fol- lowing cases : {a), when the depositary offers himself to receive the thing in trust; {h), when he stipulates for a compensation for the keeping of the thing deposited ; (^), Avhen the trust is to the interest of the depositary ; (c?), when it has been ex- pressly agreed upon that the depositary be answerable for all kinds of mistakes (Art. 1928). 3. The depositary cannot make use of the trust without the express or presumed consent of the deponent (Art 1929). — 80 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. For example, if a library has been left in my trust, it may be presumed that the deponent would not object to my using it ; but if the trust consists in valuable jewelry, it can be only by the express wish of the deponent that I could wear it. The difference is simple and easily understood. 4. The depositary should not seek to know what the things deposited with him are, if they have been left with him in a closed trunk or a sealed envelope (Art. 1931). 5. The depositary must return the identical thing he has received. Thus the trust consisting in specie, must be returned in the same specie. The obligation to restore the thing deposited in kind, and such as it Avas when delivered, is evident, and constitutes the very essence of the trust. However, we should take into account the following cir- cumstances : 1. The depositary is not held responsible in cases of insuper- able accidents (Art. 1929). 2. The depositary is only held to return the things deposited with him, in the state wherein they are at the moment of restitution. Deteriorations, through no fault of his, are at the expense of the deponent (Art. 1935). Such are tlie obligations of the depositary ; as to those of the deponent, they resolve themselves into the following rule : The deponent is held to reimburse the depositary for any expense he may have incurred in the keeping of the trust, and to idemnify him for any loss the trust may have occasioned him (Art. 1947). 43. Possession in good faith. — Possession in good faith is analogous to trust. In fact, he who possesses in good faith a thing that is not his, is in reality but a depositary, but he is so without knowing it. Hence analogies and differences between these two cases, which it is well to point out. The following arc some rules proposed on this subject by Orotius (T)e la paix et de la guerre, B. 11, ch. xii., §3) ; and Pullendorf (Droit de la Nature et des Gens, B. iv., ch. xiii., DUTIES CONCERKIKG THE PEOPERTY OF OTHERS. 81 § 12). But as these rules appeared excessive to other juris- consults, we give them here rather SiS problems than solutions: 1. A possessor in good faith is not obhged to restore a thing which, against his wish, has come to be destroyed or lost, for his good faith stood to him in Heu of property. 2. A possessor in good faith is held to return not only the thing itself, but also its fruits still existing in kind. 3. A possessor in good faith is held to return the thing itself, and the value of the fruit thereof which he has con- sumed, if there is reason to believe that he would have other- wise consumed as many similar ones. 4. A possessor in good faith is not held to return in kind the value of the fruit he has neglected to gather or to grow. 5. If a possessor in good faith, having received the thing as a present, should afterwards give it to another, he is not obliged to return it, unless he would otherwise have given one of the same value. 6. If a possessor in good faith, having acquired a thing by an onerous title, should afterwards dispose of it in some way or other, he need return but the gain it procured him. It is necessary to remark here that in this matter morality should be more severe than the strict law ; for if morality demands that a possessor be above all mindful of the rights of others, the law should also consider the rights of him who in good faith and ignorance enjoys what belongs to others. Hence, an essential difference betvv^een this case and that of the trust. 44. Things lost. — The question of things lost is related to that of possession in good faith. If the thing lost should fall into my hands by a regular acquisition, by purchase, contract, etc. (as, for instance, buying' a horse in the market), it is evi- dent that this case comes under possession in good faith, and that it is the business of the law to decide between proprietor and possessor. But if I appropriate to myself the thing lost, knowing it to be lost, and consequently not mine, there is fraud and converting to my own use the property of others. 82 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. Public opinion was for a long time indulgent towards this kind of appropriation. It seemed that luck gave a certain title to property. The difficulty, moreover, of finding the true owner, seemed to give to him who had found the object a certain right to it. But to-day society plays the part of intermediary, and assumes the duty of restoring the thing lost to its owner. It is, therefore, to the authorities the object must be returned.* For a long time a misjudgment of the same kind allowed wreckers a pretended right to the objects thrown on the strand by the tempest following a wreck. 45. Sale.— Sale is a contract by which one of the parties engages to deliver a thing, and the other to pay for it (Civ. Code, Art. 1982). There are, then, two contracting parties — the seller and the buyer. They are subject to different obligations. Obligations of the seller.— The seller is held clearly to explain what he engages to do. An obscure and ambiguous agreement is interpreted against the seller (Civ. Code, Art. 1602). Such is the general and fundamental obligation of a sale. It implies, moreover, two others, more particular : 1, that of delivering ; 2, that of guaranteeing the thing sold. The first is very simple, and raises only questions of fact, as in regard to delays, expenses of removal, etc. ; it is the business of the law to regulate these details. The guaranty, in a moral point of view, is of greater importance. The two essential principles in this matter are expressed by the Code in the following terms : 1. The seller is held to his guaranty in proportion to the concealed defects of the thing sold, rendering it improper for the use for which it was destined, or so diminishing this use, that the buyer would not have bought it, or would not have given so much for it, had he known of these defects. » " Things lost cannot give rise to an action for theft, when the finder, after liaving looked for their proprietor in vain, and only retained them when his researches proved fruitless, has ascertained that the proprietor will not present himself. i3ut if the thing has been taken with the intention of appropriating it, if it has an owner, although unknown, tliere is no doubt about the delinquency." (Faustin-ileli(;, Droit pi nal, iv. edit., Legon v., p. (30.) 1 DUTIES COKCERNIKG THE PROPEETY OF OTHERS. 83 2. The seller is not held to the obvious defects which the buyer may have been able to see himself. It is to this question of guaranteeing the thing sold, that the conscience-case mentioned by Cicero, in his treatise on Duties, is applicable : An honest man puts up for sale a house, for defects only known to him ; this house is unhealthy and passes for healthy ; it is not known that there is not a room in it where there are no serpents ; the timber is bad and threatens ruin ; but the master alone knows it. I ask if the seUer who should not say anything about it to the buyers, and should get for it much more than he has a right to expect, would do a just or unjust thing. "Certainly he would do wrong," says Antipater ; "is it not, in fact, leading a man into error knowingly?" Diogenes, on the contrary, replies : ' ' Were you obliged to buy ? You were not even invited to do so. This man put up for sale a house that no longer suited him, and you bought it because it suited you. If any one should advertise : Fine country-house well huilt, he is not charged with deceit, even though it was neither the one nor the other. And whilst one is not responsible for what he says, you would make one responsible for what he does not say ! What would be more ridiculous than a seller Avho would make known the defects of the thing he puts up for sale ? What more absurd than a public crier who, by order of his master, shoulder}^: " Unhealthy house for sale ! " Despite Diogenes' railleries, Cicero decides in favor of Antipater and the more rigorous solution. The truly honest man, he says, is he Avho conceals nothing. If it is a fault not to reveal the defects of the thing sold, it is a still graver one, and one Avhich becomes a fraud, to ascribe to it qualities or advantages it has not. Cicero cites on this subject a charming and well-known anecdote. The Roman patrician, C. Canius, a man lacking neither in personal attractions nor learning, having gone to Syracuse, not on business, hut to do nothing,* as he expressed it, said everywhere that he wished to buy a pleasure-house, to which he might invite his friends, and amuse himself with them away from intruders. Upon this report, a certain Pythius, a Syracuse banker, came to tell him that he had a pleasure- house which was not for sale, but which he offered him and begged him * The play in Latin is on the words otiandi and negfoe Fwrtxs. DUTIES CON"CERN"IKG THE PEOPERTY OF OTHERS. 87 and in deceiving the victim by fraudulent maneuvers ; for in- stance, in making him beheve in the existence of false enter- prises, in an imaginary power or credit, in calling forth the hope and fear of a chimerical event, etc. Emhezzlement is a sort of swindling, with this difference, that " if the criminal has betrayed the confidence which has been placed in him, he has not solicited this confidence by criminal maneuvers." Among these may be classed : 1, taking improper advantage of the wants of a minor ; 2, misuse of letters of confidence ; 3, embezzlement of trusts ; 4, the ab- straction of documents produced in court. We have to point out still* several other kinds of theft : for example, theft at gamhling or cheating ; theft of public moneys or peculation,^ etc. In one word, under whatever form it may be concealed, misappropriation of another's goods is always a theft. In popular opinion it often seems, as if theft reaUy takes place only when the criminal takes violent possession of another's property. Yery often a few false appearances suffice to con- ceal to the eyes of easy consciences the hatefulness and shamefulness of fraudulent spoliations. One who would scruple to take a piece of money from the purse of another, may have no scruple in deceiving stockholders with fictitious advertisements, and appropriate capital by fraudulent man- euvers. Theft thus committed on a large scale is still more cidpable, perhaps, than the act of him who, through want, ignorance, hereditary vices, never knew of any other means of hving than by theft. 48. Restitution. — He who has taken possession of any- thing that belongs to another, or retains it for any cause, is held to restitution as a reparation of his fault. This restitu- tion must be made as soon as possible ; otherwise it is neces- sary to obtain an extension of time from the injured person. If the thing has been lost, restitution should no less be made under some form of compensation. Eestitution is independent of the penalty attached to the damage and fault, 88 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 49. Promises and contracts. — AVe have seen above that it is an absolute obligation for man to use language only so as to express the truth. Hence every word given becomes essentially obligatory. But it is as yet only a duty of the man towards himself. We have to see wherein and how the word given may become a duty towards others. This is the case with. 2^romises and contracts. Promises. — A promise is the act whereby one gives his word to another either to give him something or do something for him. According to jurists, a promise is obligatory only when accepted by him to whom it is nj^de. Pollicitation {^rormsQ) says Pothier, * produces no obligation properly so called, and he who has made such a promise may, as long as that promise has not been accepted by him to Avhom it was made, revoke it ; for there can be no obligation without a right acquired by the person to whom it has been made and against the one under obligation. Now, as I cannot of my own free will, transfer to any one a right over my property, if his own will does not concur with mine in accepting it ; so I cannot, by my promise, grant any one a right over my person, until that one's will concurs with mine in acquiring it by the acceptance of my promise. It may be true that in strict law, and from the standpoint of positive law, the promise may be obligatory only and capable of enforcement when it has been accepted, and accepted in an obvious and open way ; but in natural law and in morality, the promise is obligatory in itself. Of course, it is understood that the promise bears on something advantageous to him to whom we make it ; for if I promise some one a thrashing, it cannot be maintained that I am obliged to give it to him ; and if he to whom I make the promise will not receive what I offer, I am by that very fact relieved from my promise ; for one cannot give anything to another against his will; I am under no obligati(m to liim who will not receive anything from me. But if the promise bears on something advantageous to any one, I am obliged to keep it without asking myself whether he to whom ♦ Traiti des obligations, Part I., ch. i., f 2, DUTIES COXCERXIXG THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 89 I made it, is disposed to accept it ; presuming still that lie will accept it. It is therefore not the explicit acceptance of a thing that renders the promise obhgatory ; it is the explicit refusal which rehcves one of the promise ; and together with that it woidd be necessary that the refusal be absolute and not contingent ; for even then the promise may remain obliga- tory, at least in its general principles, while undergoing some modification in the execution. Is one obhged to keep his promise Avhen the fultillment of it is injurious to those to whom it was made ] " Xo," says Cicero ; for example : Sol had promised Pliaethon, his son, to fulfil all his wishes. Phae- thon wished to get on the chariot of his father ; he got his wish, but at the same instant he was struck with lightning. It would have been better for him had his father not kept his promise. May we not say the same of the one Theseus claimed of Xeptune ? This god having made him the promise to grant him three wishes, Theseus wished for the death of his son Hippolytus, whom he suspected of criminal love. * How bitter the teal's he shed when his wish was accomplished ! "What shall we say of Agamemnon ? He had made a vow to immolate the most beautiful object in his kingdom ; this was Iphigenia ; and he un- molated her : this cruel action was worse than perjury. The truth of tliis doctrine cannot be contested. However, it is necessary to understand this exception in the strictest sense, and not to seek in the pretended interest of the person one obliges, a pretext to change one's mind. For example, if you have promised any one a post which he accepts and desires, you cannot be allowed to relieve yourself of it, by supposing that the post Avill in reality be a disadvantage to him, and that you will give him a better one another time. Some other exceptions are pointed out by the moralists and jurists ; for example : 1. Necessity relieves of aU promise. If, for example, I have promised to go to a meeting and am kept in bed by a serious illness, it is impossible for me to go, and hence I am reUeved of my promise. * See Racine's tragedy of Phedre, 90 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 2. One is not obliged to perform illicit acts : " for," says Pufifendorf, " it would be a contradiction, to be held by civil or moral law, to perform tilings wliicli the civil or moral law interdicts. It is already doing wrong to promise illicit things, and it is doing wrong twice to perform them." * 3. One cannot promise what belongs to another : for I can- not promise what I cannot dispose of. 50. Contracts. — A contract is an agreement by which one or several persons engage to do or not to do a certain thing for one or several others. (Code Civ., Art. 1101.) Conditions of the contract (Art. 1108). — Four conditions are necessary to constitute a valid and legitimate agreement : 1. The consent of the parties. 2. The capacity of the contractors. 3. A sure object as a basis for the contract. 4. A licit cause in the obligation. (1). The consent. — The consent is the voluntary acceptance of the charges implied in the contract. It is express or im- pjlied : express, when it is made manifest by words, writing, or any other kind of expressive signs. It is implied, when, without being expressed by outward signs, it may be deduced, as a manifest consequence of the very nature of the thing, and other circumstances. All consent presupposes, 1, the use of reason: the insane cannot contract any obligation ; children neither ; f 2, neces- sary knowledge. Therefore all real consent excludes error, at least " when it falls on the very substance of the thing which is its object." | It is, besides, for the jurists to define with precision what is to be understood by error in matter of contract ; 3, the liberty of the contracting parties : * Puffendorf, Of the Duties of Man and the Citizen, ii., c. ix., § 18. t In the United States cliildren can, in the case of neglect by their parents, njake contracts which are obligatory for whatever is necessary for them. X Our Code does not admit that a mistake touching the person, vitiates the con- sent of the contractors, unless this consideration be the principal cause of the agree- ment. DUTIES COXCEEKIIn'G THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 91 whence it follows that consent extorted by constraint and violence is not valid. (2.) The capacity to make a contract is deduced from the foregoing principles. All those who are not supposed to be able to give an intelligent and free consent, are incapable and cannot make contracts : for instance, persons under age, per- sons interdicted, insane or idiots, etc. (3.) The matter of a contract. — "All contract has for its object something that a certain party engages to give, or do or not do." It is evident that a contract without subject-matter and bearing on nothing, is void, and does not exist. (4.) The cause of the contract must be real and legal. Contracts are subject here to the same rules as are promises. The preceding distinctions are all borrowed from the civil law ; but they express no less principles of justice and equity which may be resolved into the following rules : 1. Xo one shoidd take by surprise or extort a consent through artifice or violence. 2. Ko one should make a contract with one whom he knows to be incapable of understanding the value of the engage- ment he is called upon to make : for example, with one under age, incapable before the law, but of whom it is known that the parents will pay the debts ; or with one feeble-minded, though not yet an interdicted person, etc. 3. No one should contract a fictitious engagement bearing on matters non-existing, or such as have only an imaginary or illegal cause. Interpretation of contracts. — Jurists give the following rules regarding the interpretation of obscure clauses in contracts. The rules which are to guide the judge in regard to the law are the same as those which are to enlighten the consciences of the interested parties : "1. One should, in agreements, find out the mutual inten- tion of the contracting parties, rather than stop at the literal sense of the words." (Art. 1156.) " 2. When a clause is susceptible of a double meaning, one 92 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. should understand it in the sense in which it may have some effect, rather than in the one in which it would not have any." (Art. 1157.) " 4. That which is ambiguous is to be interpreted by what is customary in the country where the contract is made."' (Art. 1159.) " 5. One should supply in a contract its customary clauses, though they be not therein expressed." (Art. 1160.) " 6. All the clauses of agreements are to be interpreted by one another, giving each the sense which results from the en- tire document." (Art. 1161.) " 7. If doubtful, the agreement is to be interpreted against the stipulator, and in favor of him who contracted the obliga- tion." (Art. 1162.) CHAPTER Y. DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY AND TOWAPDS THE HONOR OF OTHERS. — JUSTICE, DISTEIBUTIVE AND RE- MUNERATIVE; EQUITY. SUMMARY. Liberty in general.— Natural rights. Slavery. —Arguments of J. J. Rousseau against slavery, servitude; op- pression of work under diveis forms. The honor of others.— Backbiting and slander. Rash judgments. — Analysis of a treatise of Nicole. — Envy; rUncor ; delation. Justice, distributive and remunerative. — To each according to his merits and his works. Equity. After self-preservation, the most sacred prerogative of man is liberty — that is to say, the right of using his faculties, both physical and moral, without injury to others, at his own risks and perils, and on his own responsibility. 51. Liberty— Natural rights. — The word liberty sums up all that is understood by the natural rights of man, namely, the right to go and come, or individual liberty ; the right to use his physical faculties to supply his wants, or liberty of work; the right to exercise his intelligence and reason, or liberty of thought ; the right to honor God according to his lights, or liberty of conscience ; the right to have a family, a wife and children, or the family right, and finally the right to keep what he has acquired, or the right of property. 52. Slavery. — The privation of all these rights, of all these liberties in an individual, is called slavery. Slavery is the suppression of the human personality. It consists in 94 ELEMEIS^TS OF MORALS. transforming man into a thing. It takes away from him the right of property and makes of himself a property. The slave is bought and sold as a thing. The fruits of his labor do not belong to him ; he cannot come and go at will ; he can neither think nor believe freely ; in some countries he is interdicted the right of instructing liimself ; he has no family, or has one temporarily only, since his wife or children may be separately sold ; and since the women belong to their masters as their property, there is no bridle against the license of passions. Although slavery is at the present day well-nigh abolished in the world, still as it is not yet wholly so, and as this abo- lition is quite recent, and tends constantly to be renewed under one form or another, it is important to sum up the principal reasons that show the immorality and iniquity of this institution. 53. Refutation of slavery — Opinion of J. J. Rousseau. — J. J. Rousseau, in his Contrat Social (I., iv.), combated slavery with as much profundity as eloquence. Let us sum up his arguments with a few citations : 1. Slavery cannot arise from a contract between the master and the slave ; for to consent to slavery is to renounce one's manhood, of which no one can dispose at his will. To renounce one's liberty is to renounce one's manhood, and the rights of humanity, even one's duties. There is no reparation possible for him that renounces everything. Such a renunciation is incompatible with the nature of man, and is depriving his actions of all morality, and his will of all liberty. 2, Such a contract is contradictory, for the slave giving himself wholly and without reserve, can receive nothing in return. It is a vain and contradictory agreement to stipulate an absolute au- thority on one side, and on the other unlimited obedience. Is it not clear that one can be under no obligation towards him of whom one has a right to demand everything ? and does not this single condition, with- out eeen made, and liave led to the suppression, or at least to a great diminution, of the slav«-trad». DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 97 amount of money ; but the ground which he cultivated could never belong to him ; and above all he could not leave this ground, nor make of his work and services the use he wished. It was certainly less of an injustice than slavery ; but it was still an injustice. However, this injustice exists to-day no longer than as an historical memory. Morality has no longer anything to do with it. It is the same with the restrictions formerly imposed on the freedom of work under the old administration (rtncien regime), the organization of maitrises and jurandes,'^ namely, and that of corporations ; the work was under regulations : each trade had its corporation, which no one could enter or leave without permission. No one was allowed to encroach upon his neighbor's trade ; the barbers defended themselves against the wig-makers ; the bakers against the pastry-cooks ; hence much that was wrong, and which those who regret' this administration have forgotten. But here again, it is the object of history to inquire into the good or the evil of these institutions ; and these questions belong rather to political economy than to morals. It is not the same regarding the abuse made of the work of children and minors, or the work of women. Severe laws have forbidden such ; but it is always to be feared that man- ners get the better of the laws. The work of children and women being naturally cheaper than the work of men and adults, one is tempted to make use of it ; but the work of children is improper because it is taking advantage of and using up beforehand a constitution not yet established, and also because it is thus depriving cliildren of the means of being educated. As to girls and women, in abusing their strength, one compromises their health, and contributes thereby to the impoverishment of the race. * By maUrise was understood the rank or degree of master ; and jurancles was the name of an annual office by means of which the affairs of the corporation were administered : it also meant the assembly of workmen, who had lent the customary oath. 5 98 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. Among the violations tlie liberty of work may suffer, we must not forget the threats and violences exercised by the workers themselves and inflicted upon eacli other. It is not rare, in fact, in times of strikes, to see the workmen who do not work try to impose, by main force, their will on those that are at work. Such violences, which have their source in false ideas of brotherhood (a mistaken esjprit de corps), and in a false sense of honor, constitute, nevertheless, even when free from the coarse enmity of laziness and vice, waging war with work and honesty — a grave violation of liberty ; and it may be considered a sort of slavery and servitude to suffer them. It is the same with the attempts by which men try to for- bid to women factory Avork, under pretext that it brings the wages down. Tliis reason, in the first place, is a bad one, because the wo- man's earnings come in the end all back to the family, increas- ing by that much more the share of each. But by what right should work be prohibited to woman more than to man ? Cer- tainly it would be desirable if the woman could stay at home, and busy herself exclusively with the cares of the household ; but in the present state of things such an ideal is not possible. It is then necessary that w^oman, Avho has, like man, her rights as a moral personality, should be allowed by her every- day work to make a living, under the protection of the laws, and at her own risks and perils. 55. Moral oppression — Inward liberty and responsi- bility. — The question is not only one of corporal liberty, the liberty to work ; the laws in a certain measure provide for that, and one can appeal to their authority for self-protection. But there may exist a sort of moral bondage, which consists in the subordination of one will to another. It is here that the respect we owe to others calls for a more delicate and a more strict sense of justice : for this sort of slavery is not so obvious, and the love we bear to others may be the very thing to lead us into error. DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 99 56. Violation of the honor of others — Backbiting and slander. — Among the first rights of a man, there is one sometimes forgotten, although it is one of the most essential, and this is his right to honor. In our ignorance of most men's acmons, and in all cases of the real motives of these actions, it is a duty for us to respect in others what we wish they should respect in us : namely, our honor and our respectability. In fact, it is very difficult for men to form true judgments regarding each other. For fear of committing an injustice, it is better not to judge at all than to judge wrongly. There are two ways of violating other people's honor : hack- hiting and slander. Backbiting consists in saying evil of others, either deservedly or undeservedly ; but when unde- servedly, and especially when one knows it to be so, backbiting becomes slander. Backbiting may arise from ill-will or thoughtlessness, and slander is the work of baseness and perfidy. Backbiting which consists in saying evil of others de- servedly, is not in itself an injustice : there is to be recognized the right and jurisdiction of public opinion. The honest man should be held in greater esteem than the rogue, even though the latter cannot be reached by the law. IsTevertheless, backbiting becomes an injustice through the abuse that is made of it. It is not a question of severe judgments touching actions deserving blame and contempt. It is a question of thoughtless and unkind judgments, and which we are all too easily and readily inclined to pronounce upon others, forgetting that we deserve ourselves as many and severer ones. How shall we conciliate, however, the just severity which vice deserves, with the spirit of kind- ness which charity and brotherly love demand of us? On the one hand, an excess of kindness seems to weaken the horror of evil, to put on the same level the honest man and the rogue ; on the other, the habit of speaking evil weakens the bonds of human society, sets men against each other, and is always, in a certain measure, a shortcoming of sincerity ; for 100 ELEMENTS OP MORALS. one hardly ever tells to people's faces the evil one says of them in their absence. It is not easy to find the just medium between these two extremes. It may be laid down as a princ^'ple that, except the casfe where notorious vices, contrary to honor, comes into question, it is better absolutely to abstain from speaking evil of others. For, either the question is of persons one does not know, or knows imperfectly, and then one is never surenot to be mistaken ; and most of the time one judges people on the testimony of others only, or one speaks of persons whom one knows, and with whom one stands in more or less friendly relations ; and then backbiting becomes a sort of treason. Even deserved blame should not be a favorite subject of conversation : it is an unwholesome and ungenerous pleasure to lay any stress upon the weakness of others. If, at least, one accepted with it the right of others to judge us with the same severity, such reciprocal liberty might prove of some utility; but the back biter nowise admits that he may be himself the subject of backl)iting ; and at the very moment when he criticises others, he would himself be very much offended if he learned that the same persons had, on their side, been doing the same in regard to him. As to slander, it is not necessary to say much on the subject to show to what degree it is cowardly and criminal. What makes it, above all, cowardly is that it is always very difficult to combat and refute slander. Often, and for a long time, it is not known : at the moment when one hears of it, it has taken roots which nothing can destroy. One does not know who spread it, nor whom to answer. It is, besides, often impossible to prove a negative thing : namely, that one has done no harm, that one has not committed such and such an action, and said such or such a word. One always confronts the well-accredited saying : " There is no smoke without fire." The wrong done by slander will be better understood by the description Beaumarchais has given of it : " Slander, sir — you hardly know how great a thing you hold in con- DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 101 tempt : I have seen the best of people crushed by it. Believe me, there is no flat malice, no hateful story, no absurd tale Avhich a skillful mischief-maker cannot make the idlers of a large town believe. ... At first, a slight report, just grazing the ground as a swallow does before the storm : murmuring 23ianissivio, and spinning away, it launches in its course the poisoned arrow. A certain ear is open to take it in, and it is deftly whispered piano, piano, to the next. The harm is done ; it sprouts, crawls, makes its way ; and rinforzando from mouth to mouth, goes like wildfire ; then all at once, you scarcely know how, you see the slander rise before you, whistling, blowing, growing while you look at it. It starts, takes its flight, whirls about, envelops, pulls, carries everything along with it, bursts and thunders, and becomes a general cry, a public crescendo, a universal chorus of hatred and proscription. '''' 57. Rash judgments. — We call rash judgments ill-natured remarks made about others without sufficient knowledge of facts. It is through rash judgments one becomes often the accomplice of slander, without knowing it and without wishing it. Mcole, in his Essais de Morale, has thoroughly treated the question of rash judgments. We have but to give here a short resume of his Treatise on this subject. 1. Eash judgments are a usurpation of God's judgment. Rash judgments being always accompanied by ignorance and want of knowledge, are a manifest injustice and a presumptuous usurpation of God's authority. 2. This sin has degrees according to the quality of its object, the causes from which it springs, and the effects it pro- duces. The quality of the object increases it or diminishes it, because the more things are important the more is one obliged to be circumspect and reserved in the judgments one pronounces, t » The causes may be very different : One falls into it sometimes simply from over-hastiness. Sometimes * Beaumarchais, Barbier de Seville. t Nicole does not give any examples ; but it is evident, for instance, that it is a graver fault to rashly incriminate the integrity of a functionary than his incapacity, the chastity of a woman than her economy. 102 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. we are led into it through the presumptuous attachment we have for our sentiments. But the most ordinary source of this ignorance is the maliciousness which causes us to see stains and defects in persons which a single eye would never discover in them. ... It causes us to feel strongly the least conjectures, and enlarges in our eyes the slightest appearances. We believe them guilty because we should be very glad if tliey were. The conseqitences of rasli judgments are sometimes terrible and fatal. The divisions and hatreds which disturb human society and extin- guish charity come generally only from a few indiscreet words that es- cape us. Moreover, we do not always confine ourselves to simple judg- ments. We pass from the thoughts of the mind to the promptings of the heart. We conceive aversion and contempt for those we have thoughtlessly condemned, and we inspire the same sentiments in others. Rash judgments are the source of what'we call prejudices ; or, rather, prejudices are but rash judgments fixed and permanent. . . . We portray human beings to ourselves from the inconsiderate remarks made about them before us, and we then adjust all their other actions to the ideas we have formed of them. It serves us as a key whereby to explain the conduct of these persons, and as a rule for our conduct towards them. .3. We are apt to delude ourselves as to the Uiotives of the judgments we pronounce. The manner in wlii(;li we conceal from ourselves this defect is very delicate and very difficult to avoid. For it comes from tlie bad use we make of a maxim very true in itself when viewed generally, but which in private we imperceptibly pervert. This maxim is, that whilst it is forbidden to judge, it is not forbidden to see- -that is to say, to give one's self up to convincing evidence. Thus, in making our judgments pass for views or evidences, we shield them from all that can be said against the rashness of our judgments. To enable us to distrust this pretended evidence, it would only be necessary to call our attention upon those whom we think guilty of rasli judgments in regard to us. Tliey think as we do, that the rashest of their judgments are from observation evidently true. Who, then, will assure- us that it is diflcrent with us, and that we are the only ones free from this illusion '( DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 103 4. It is inaintamed that one cannot help seeing the faults of others : so be it ; but one need not make it voluntarily an object. It may be said that we cannot help but see. But that is not true. It is rare that our mind is so violently struck that it cannot help de- ciding. It is generally obliged to make an effort to look at things, and it is this voluntary looking at the faults of others which Christian pru- dence should correct in the ]>ersons whose function it is not to correct them. 5. Besides, even if we knew the evil for certain, it is not for us to make it known to others. Whatever evidence we may think we bave of the faults of our neigh- bor, Christian prudence forbids us to make these known to others when it is not incumbent on us or useful so to do. . , . This exercise does not only sei-ve in regulating our s|)eech and forestalling the conse- quences of rash judgments, but it is also of infinite service in regulating the mind and con-ecting the rashness of judgment at its very source ; for one hardly ever allows one's mind to judge the faults of others, ex- cept to speak about them, and if one did not speak of them, one would insensibly stop trying to judge them. 6. But as it is not always possible to avoid judging, it be- comes necessary to employ other remedies against the abuse of rash judgments. (a.) "The remedy for malignity is to fiU one's heart with charity ; to think often about the virtues and good quaUties of others. (6.) "The remedy against haste is to accustom one's self to judge slowly and to take more tune in looking at things. (c.) "The remedy against the too ■strong attachment to our own sen- timents is to continually remember the weakness of our minds and the frequent mistakes we, as well as others, make." Xicole goes so far in proscribing rash judgments, that he even forbids them recrardimj the dead (xxxv.), reinirdincr our- selves (xxx^-i.), even when they have good rather than evil for their object (xxxvii.), even regarding abstract maxims of morality (xli.) : and he concludes by saying that the only reasonable method is silence ! We recognize here the rig- 104 ELEMEITTS OF MORALS. orism of the Jansenists.* It suffices to say that, as a general principle, one should neither judge nor pronounce without in- vestigation ; but one must allow a little more latitude and liberty than does Nicole ; for if all men agreed to keep silent, human society would be nothing but a semblance, a word void of sense. How could men get to love each other if they did not know each other 1 And how could they know each other if they did not talk to each other ? We must, therefore, ad- here to certain general principles without pretending to bring all words and thoughts under regulations. 58. Of envy and delation. — Among the vices which may lead to the greatest injustices, and which already in them- selves are odious as sentiments, the most blameworthy and the vilest is the passion of envy. We call envious him who suffers from the happiness of others, him who hates others because of the advantages they possess and the superiority they enjoy. In the first place, this sentiment is an injustice ; for the happiness of one is not the cause of another's misfor- tune ; the health of one does not make the other sick ; Vol- taire's wit is not the cause of the mediocrity of our own talents ; beautiful women are not answerable for the ugliness of other women. Let the ill-favored one accuse nature or Providence, and there will be some reason in it, though it is a bad feeling ; for it is a want of resignation to a wisdom the motives of which we cannot always divine ; but to accuse the favored of fortune, is a shocking baseness of the heart. It is the hateful feature of a celebrated sect of these present days ; they desire not the happiness of all, but the misfortune of all. Unable to procure the same advantages to all men, their ideal is general destruction. Their utopia is just the reverse of all other Utopias. These believed they could se- cure to all the advantages reserved to a few. This new utopia, persuaded of the impossibiHty of tlie tiling, liave overthrown the problem and propose to reduce the more fortunate to the ♦ Nicole belonged to the sect of the Jaiiscnists, celebrated for the harshness and rigidity of their morality. DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 105 wretchedness of the less happy ; and as among the number of heads they hit there are still some which retain a few advan- tages over the others, the work of destruction will go on till they shall have reached the level of universal degradation. But, without speaking of the social envy, which has had so large a share in the revolutions of our time, what we ought above all to fight against is the individual envy whicli each of us has so much trouble in defending liimsolf against in presence of the success of his neighbor. It is above all dan- gerous when disputed goods are in question — things all can- not have at the same time — and which he who is in the en- joyment of them seems thereby to rob the others of : as, for instance, a situation one obtains at the expense of another, be it that he is more deserving of it, or more favored by fortune. In the first case, one should be just enough to recognize the rights of others to these tilings, and in the second, generous enough to forgive them the favors of chance. It is wanting in personal dignity to begrudge men their chances and good fortune ; and even were these chances undeserved, it is still lowering one's self to do them the honor of envying them. Envy comes close to another sentiment, less odious perhaps, and less unjust, but whicli is, nevertheless, unworthy of a right-feeling man ; this is reb-ejitme?it, rancor, a vindictive spirit. If we are commanded to return good for good, we are, on the other hand, forbidden to return evil for evil. For centuries it has been said : Eye for eye and tooth for tooth. This is called retaliation (lex talionis). Christian morality has reformed this law of barbarous times. "It is written : eye for eye, tooth for tooth ; but I say unto you : Eove those who hate you ; pray for those who persecute you and speak evil of you." Without insisting here on the love for enemies (which is a duty of charity and not of justice), we will simply say that the spirit of vengeance is even contrary to justice. Nature, when we have been offended, calls forth in our hearts a spon- taneous emotion, which inspires in us an aversion for the cause of the offense. This is a mere revolt of nature, inno- 106 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. cent in itself, since it is the principle of the right of self- defense. But we should not yield to this thoughtless impulse ; we should combat the desire to return evil for evil ; for other- wise we place ourselves on a level with him whom we hate. And here again we should distinguish between anger and rancor. Anger is the immediate impression we receive from the \vrong committed, and which may induce us to return evil for evil on the spot ; but rancor is hatred coldly kept up ; it is the slow and calculated preparation for a revenge ; it is the remembrance of wrong carefully nursed : and it is this which is contrary to human dignity. Man should remember good, not evil : he who is capable of hatred is worthy of hatred, and would seem to have beforehand deserved the wrong he has been made to suffer. We do not go so far as to say that wrong must be pardoned as wrong, for that would be siding with injustice ; but it should be pardoned to human nature, because it is weak, and we are no less liable to sin than others. From these feelings of hatred, envy, rancor, coveteousness, springs sometimes a vice which lowers the soul and corrupts it : this is delation. To report to one the wrong done by another ; to superiors the wrongs done by our colleagues ; to friends the evil said of them in their absence ; to inform the authorities of the presence and lodgings of an outlaw, such are the faults designated by the term delation, and the essen- tial characteristics of which are, that they are committed with- out the knowledge of the interested parties. It is evident, besides, that this term can nowise be applied to functionaries commissioned to watch and discover faults, or to those who complain of injustice done them, and finally where great crimes committed against society are in question, to those who, knowing the criminals, report them to the author- ities. 59. Distributive and remunerating justice Equity.— All the acts wc have thus far enumerated, and whicli consist DUTIES TOWAEPS THE LIBEETY OF OTHEES. 10? in doing no wrong to others, relate to what may be called negative justice.* There is another kind of justice, more positive, which con- sists, like charity, in doing good to others, not in the sense of liberality and a gift, but as a debt ; only the Cjuestion then is not a material debt, which obliges to return a thing loaned, or intrusted, or the venal value of that thing ; but it is a moral debt in proportion to the merit and services it relates to. This kind of justice, which distributes goods, advantages, praises in proportion to certain efforts, capacities, virtues, is what is called distrihutive justice, and, inasmuch as it rewards services, remunerating. Distributive justice goes into effect every time when there is occasion to classify men, to distribute among them offices, ranks, honors, degrees, etc. It is that which especially administrators who distribute places, have to exercise ; also, examiners who give diplomas, learned societies who grant prizes, or take in new members ; finally, critical judges who appreciate the merit of books, works of art, dramatic pro- ductions. The administrators who have to fill posts, must above all consider the interests of the situation wliich is to be filled. Favoritism should be strictly excluded : the misuse of testi- monials ha5 been often pointed out ; it is the plague of our administrations. They have not always all the influence attributed to them ; but it is enough that it is thought they have any, to give rise to bad habits and a very serious laxity of morals. They make you believe that success does not whoUy depend on conscientious work, and that it requires, above all, the favor of the great (protections). It is, there- * It is also called commutative justice, some-what improperly, in taking for its t>"i)e the act of exchange, where one gives the equivalent of what he receives ; but this expression is only truly correct when it touches upon property, and particularly upon sale, trus4» loan. But the term commutative has no longer much meaning when applied to the respect due to the life, the liberty, or the honor of others. Nevertheless, it is necessarj" to be familiar vrith the expression, as it is usually opposed to distributive justice. 108 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. fore, the duty of administrators to consider the merit of func- tionaries only, and not their patrons. But even this rule is far from being sufficient : for personal merit is not everything ; is not the only element to be con- sidered ; age, length of service, have also their value ; for, in order that the State be well served, it is necessary that those who work for it, shoidd have faith in the future ; should know that their past services will be taken account of, that as they grow older and their burdens heavier, the State will come to their assistance in raising their functions. Thus must length of service be combined with merit and be itself a part of the merit. In many administrations, the division between these two elements is made by granting vacant posts half to length of service, half to choice. But the choice itself depends on various elements ; for personal merit is itself composed of many elements : for example, which should be considered the higher, talent or work ? A lively mind will accomplish more work in less time ; but it may be negligent, forgetful, disor- derly : a substantial mind, always ready, industrious, consci- entious, offers better guarantees and more security ; yet in difficult transactions, talent offei^ more resources. This shows how many practical difficulties have to be met in the choice of men. It is for experience and conscience to decide in each particular case. Morality can give no general rules, except negative rules : to avoid ne2X)tisrn, simany* guard against the arbitrary, against favor, testimonials, etc. In examinations there are the same dangers to avoid : for here, also, it is unfortunately too much a general belief that favoritism is the nde, and that testimonials go for everything. The first duty is to set aside all personal interest, worldly influence, pressure from without. But all does not * Nepotism is the custom of advancing to desirable posts the members of one's family ; simomj (which has especially to do with the Church) consistoaying one's debts, in order to exercise charity), commit the same injustice as if they appropriated what belongs to others. Thus, when Sylla and Ceesar transferred to strangers the property of lawful owners, they were not generous ; liberality may exist then where justice is absent. 2. The second precaution is to exercise our benevolence according to our means. Those who wish to be more benevolent than they can afford, are in the first place unjust to their family ; since the property, to the inheritance of which it has a right, goes thus over to strangers. Such generosity often leads, moreover, to the enricliing of one's self at the expense of others, hi order to provide for liberalities. One sees, thus, many people, more vain than generous, pass for being benevolent. It becomes then a borrowed \drtue, which has more of vanit}^ than liberality. 3. The third rule is, whilst dispensing our liberalities, to proportion them to merit ; to consider the morals of him who is their object, the attachment he shows us, the different relations he may have with us ; lastly, the services he may have rendered us. It were desirable he had all these titles to our benevolence ; but if he has them not all, the greatest and largest in numbers should weigh most in the scales. 71. Self-devotion — Self-abnegation — Sacrifice. — When charity reaches the highest degree ; when it requires we should give to others what we hold most dear — as, for instance, 128 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. life, fortune, etc. — it takes another name and is called devo- tion, self-abnegation , sacrifice. These three words, with various shadings, express the idea of a precious gift of which one deprives himself to benefit others. One may devote one's self to others in various ways, in choosing for one's object either the life, or Avelfare, or liberty, or the morality and intelligence of others. Let us examine these various forms of devotion. 72. The nature of the benefit. — Diverse forms of self- devotion. — The life, the welfare, the morality of others, etc. — Sacrificing one^s life for others. — Justice requires we should not attack the life of others ; charity requires more : it demands that we make every effort to save the life of our fellow-beings, even sometimes at the cost of our own. This duty, which is a duty of charity for men in general, is a duty of justice for the physician and all those who have care of the sick. The physician owes his devotion to the patient, as the soldier owes his to his country. In both these cases medical duty, military duty, devotion is a strict duty. It is at the same time a duty toAvards men and a duty towards the profession. It is in both cases what may be called the honor of the fiag. Thus do we every year see a certain number of young hospital physicians die, like soldiers on the field of honor. The duty of attending the sick and being thereby exposed to contagion, falls alike on all who have chosen this profession : sisters of charity, the nurses, the male and female attendants in infirmaries. It is also a duty in the family ; the parents owe themselves to their children ; the servants themselves should assume in a certain measure the same responsibility, although it is the duty of the masters to spare them as much as possible. Moreover, it is known how common this devotion is, especially with mothers, and how many of them die of the illness they have contracted at tlie bedside of their children. In all these circumstances, it is of course not forbidden to be cautious, and wisdom requires one should not go beyond tlie DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 129 strictly necessary ; but the necessary is obligatory ; and on whom should it fall more naturally than on the parents ? Besides the illnesses which threaten the lives of men, there are dangers more sudden, more violent, more terrible, which arise from the invasion of the forces of nature : fire and water are the most terrible ; conflagi-ations, inundations, shipwrecks, catastrophes of all kinds imperil the lives of men. Here the question is no longer one of slow and leisurely attentions. To save a life which a minute later will be ex- tinguished, there is wanted a sudden resolution, a well-tested courage, and the will to risk one's life for that of another. In these terrible circumstances there are some men who seem to be more naturally called than others to sacrifice themselves ; for example, firemen and sailors. It is certain that it is those who are the more familiar with the element it is necessary to combat, that are most called to do so, and for whom self-de- votion becomes a greater duty. But it is not always possible to have them immediateh^ at hand ; in a sudden catastrophe, all must take their share of the peril ; all must be ready to give their life for others if they can do so with some utility. Devotion towards the u'retched. — Xext to health and life, what men most esteem are material goods and that which is called fortune. Certainly, we should not encourage this estimation men have for material goods ; one should as much as possible teach them to do without them ; and the saying that happiness resides rather in a small competence than in riches, is most true. But it is not less true that the material things are absolutely necessary to life, and that the absence of these things is in every respect prejudicial to man, since health, life, and even the interests of the soul and mind, depend on these material goods. How can we educate ourselves with- out eating? How can we improve the heart and soul when want impels us to all sorts af temptations ? Finally, suffering itself, though morality commands us to bear it with courage, is a legitimate object of sympathy. From all these consider- ations arises, for those who possess anything, the obligation to 130 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. come to the assistance of those who have nothing : this is what is called gift. This obligation can be satisfied in many ways, but the mode should certainly consist with the dignity and responsibility of those who are the object of the gift. Ex- perience has shown that an ill-understood charity encourages idleness and often rewards and perpetuates vice. It is there- fore work which should above all be furnished to the poor : the loan should generally be preferred to the gift ; but finally, whatever precaution3 one may take, and whatever be the causes of the misery, there comes always a moment when, in presence of hunger, illness, supreme want, one must give ; must deprive himself for others. As to the particular rules which govern benevolence, we have given them above in speaking of bene- factions. ; /^^v.. '. Consolatioyis, exhortations, instructions. After the duties toward the body come the duties toward the soul : and this distinction has place for others as for ourselves. It is not enough to insure and save the lives of men, and give them the daily bread ; one must also nourish their souls, their intelligences, their moral weaknesses, which also need suste- nance. Thence three different obligations : to console the afflicted ; to exhort the weak ; to instruct the ignorant. The consoling of the afflicted is a virtue, which needs no rule, and does not admit of any. One does not console by order, by processes, by principles. Here the heart is better than strict laws. Listen to your heart ; it will teach you how to be merciful without being indiscreet; how to touch without wounding ; how to say enough without saying too much. In respect to poor people, one often consoles them by relieving their misery, and the duty here blends with benevolence. After the consolation come the exhortations. The duty here becomes more and more delicate. It is no easy thing to ad- vise men ; we have not even always a right to do so ; for it is attributing to ourselves a certain superiority over them. This duty of exliortation is therefore an affectation of pride rather than an inspiration of fraternity. It is especially with DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. l3l children, with young people, that good exhortations properly made can be useful. In a few words, moderate and just, one may often recall to them their duties of respect towards them- selves, and of economy, sobriety, devotion towards their rela- tives. Finally comes the duty of instruction. Here it is not the office of all, but only of those who are charged with this function. Yet may we contribute our share towards the in- struction of children either by money-contributions, or by visiting the schools, or by encouragement-societies; in a word, by all sorts of auxiliary means. Such are the principal duties in regard to souls. 73. Clemency. — Pardon of injuries. — Love of enemies. — The foregoing duties consist not only in returning good for evil, but also in doing good to those who have not done us any. A superior degree of charity, which is called generosity, consists in returning good for evil, in forgiving the wicked, — not the wrong they have done to others, but the wrong they have done to ourselves. This, in the case of sovereigns, is called clemency. The saying of Louis XII. is well known, having pardoned the enemies he had had before taking the crown : " The king," said he, " should forget the injuries done to the duke of Orleans." The great Conde was moved to tears over Corneille's celebrated lines in Cinna : " Let us be friends, Cinna ; it is I who invite tliee : I gave thee thy life as to my enemy, And despite the fury of thy cowardly designs, I still give it thee, as to my murderer. " The duty of returning good for evil goes even further than clemency and the pardon of injuries : for this is nothing more than to abstain from wronging one's enemies. But we should do more : we must be capable of doing good to our enemies when they deserve it, or need it ; and further still, we should try to carry the virtue even so far as to interdict ourselves any feeling of pride, which would naturally arise in a heart great enough to avenge itself by benefits. 132 ELEMEKTS OF MORALS. The philosopher Spinoza has admirably expressed this doctrine : " Hatred must be overcome not by hatred, but by love and generosity." 74. Duties of kindness towards animals.— Among the moralists, there are some who do not admit that we have any duties towards beings inferior to man, namely, animals ; others, on the contrary, do not admit any duties towards any above man, consequently towards God ; others, in fine, deny that man has any towards himself. There are scarcely any duties, except those towards our fellow-beings, that have not been questioned by one or the other of the moralists : some con- necting the latter with the duties towards ourselves, or the duties towards God. According to us, there are four classes of duties, and these four classes are not reducible the one to the other. "^ No one can deny from a practical point of view that there are duties towards animals ; for we know very well that it is not permitted to maltreat them or cause them unnecessary pain ; and every enlightened conscience condemns cruelty to animals. Therefore can there be here question only of a spec- ulative scruple. It can be very well seen that there is a duty here ; but it is, they say, a duty towards ourselves ; for it is our duty not to be cruel, and cruelty toward animals accustoms us too easily to cruelty toward men. But this is a very use- less subtlety, and too roundabout a way to express a very simple thing. We prefer simply saying that kindness toward an animal is a duty toward that animal. Besides, the reasons given against the duties toward animals, appear to us more specious than substantial. It is said that animals, having neither will nor intelligence, are not persons, but tilings ; tliat, consequently, they have no rights, and that we can have no duties toward what has no rights. These are inadmissible subtleties. One can, in law terms, divide all objects of nature into i)ersons and things; and * See our Morale, liv. II., ch. v. DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 133 animals, not being persons, are things, in the sense that they can be appropriated. But, strictly speaking, can a being en- dowed with sensibility be called a thing ? Is it true, moreover, that an animal has no intelligence, no will — that consequently it has not any vestige of personahty? Is it true again that an animal has no kind of rights ? This, in the first place, is to suppose what is in question. And, moreover, does not con- science say to us that an animal which has served us long years with affection has thereby acquired a certain right to our gratitude ? And, finally, is it really true that we have only duties towards those that have duties towards us 1 That were a very perilous maxim in social morality. "We are told not to be cruel to animals in order not to become cruel towards men. But if one were sure not to become cruel towards men, would it follow therefrom that it is permitted to be so towards ani- mals ? IsTo, it will be said ; but it is because cruelty, though its object be only animals, is in itself a vice, base and un- worthy of man. One should not conclude from that, that cruelty is a direct crime against them. But for the same reason it might be maintained that we have no duties toward others, and only toward ourselves ; injustice, cruelty, are odious vices in themselves ; goodness and justice, noble qualities ; we should shun the one and avoid the other out of respect for ourselves, and regardless of the object of these vices and virtues. If, despite these considerations, it is then thought better to make, nevertheless, a distinction between the duties toward others and those toward ourselves, there should for the same reason be made a distinct class of the duties toward animals. Finally, if we owe nothing to animals, it is not very clear why acts hypothetically indifferent should be treated as cruelties ; nor why such acts should be considered as lowering and dis- honoring the character. On the whole, and to avoid all theoretical difficulties, it may be said that we have duties, if not toward animals, at least in regard to animals. Our duties in regard to animals, are they, however, of a kind 134 ELEMENTS OE MORALS. to make us doubt our riglit to destroy or reduce them to servitude? The destruction of animals may have two causes ; it may be for our defense, it may be for our subsistence. As to the first there is no difficulty ; the right of legitimate self-defense authorizes us to destroy what ^vould otherwise destroy us. Between us and beasts injurious to man there is evidently a state of natural war, and in that state the law is that might makes right. This same law is the one which regulates the relations of the animals between themselves : it is also their law in regard to us. The lion, for instance, might not always be as tenderly inclined as the lion of Androcles or the lion of Florence : it would not be well to trust it. We need not, therefore, even theoretically, entertain any scruples concerning the destruction of injurious animals. Is it the same with the destruction of animals intended for our nourishment ? Is this destruction innocent, or must we, as did the Pythagoreans or Brahmins of old (for superstitious reasons, however), interdict all animal food 1* This question has been so well solved by general usage that it is scarcely necessary to raise it. It is not likely men will ever think of giving up animal food, and no one regrets having eaten of a good roast. Yet for those who like to find out the reason of things, it is a problem to know whether we have the right to do what we do without remorse and scruples ; and whether a universal and apparently indestructible practice is also a legiti- mate and innocent practice. Man, according to us, in living on flesh, is justified by nature herself, who made him a car- nivorous creature. Every being is authorized to perform the acts which result from its organization.! The human organi- zation, as the nature of the teeth and the whole digestive sys- tem indicate, is prepared to nourish itself with flesh. In many countries even all other nourishment is impossible ; * Abstinence from the flesh of animals was based by Pythagoras, as it was with tli(: l^rahmiiis, iii)()n tlie doctrine of nictempsycliosis. t Tiie question is as to tlie acts themselves, and not their abuse. DUTIES OF CHAEITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 135 there are peoples whose very situation makes them necessarily hunters, fishermen, or shepherds ; it is only in some countries highly favored, and, thanks to scientific cultivation, the result of civilization, that vegetable food could be made abundant enough to suffice, and hardly that for large masses of popula- tion ; for we know quite well what disasters follow upon a scarcity of crops. What would be the result if the human race were deprived of half its means of subsistence 1 Add to this that, whatever may have been said against it, animal food mixed in a certain measure with vegetable food, is indispen- sable to the health and vigor of the human race. .. ^' ^'"^ As to the servitude of animals and the labor we impose on '^J * '^ them, its justification lies first in the principle of legitimate self-defense, to which we have just now alluded. Many of our domestic races would, in a savage state, become veritable wild beasts. The wild hog is, they say, the wild boar ; the wild dog, the jackal ; the wild cat belongs to the leopard and tiger family. In reducing these sorts of animals to servitude, • and in making of them companions and help-mates in our work, we thereby deliver ourselves from dangerous enemies. Domestication is better than destruction. Add to this, that if we except the first animals which have passed from the savage state to the domestic state (which, as to our domestic races, is lost in the night of time and escapes all responsibility), the present animals, born in servitude, know no other state, do not suffer froui a want of liberty, and find even, thanks to our cares, a more certain subsistence than if they were free. They are, it is true, sacrificed by us to our wants, but they would be so by other animals in the savage state. Whether a sheep be eaten by men or wolves, it is not to be more pitied for that, one way or the other. The right- of man over animals being set aside, there re- mains an essential duty respecting them, namely : not to make them sufi'er without necessity. Fontenelle relates that, having gone one day to see Male- 136 ELEMENTS or MOKALS. branche,* at the fathers of the Oratoire, a dog of the house, big with young, entered the room and rolled about at the feet of the father. After having tried in vain to drive it away, Malebranche gave the dog a kick which caused it to utter a cry of pain and Fontenelle a cry of compassion : " Oh, pshaw! " said father Malebranche, coolly, " do you not know that these things do not feeH" How could this philosopher be sure that these things did not feel 1 Is not the animal organized in the same manner as man ? Has he not the same senses, the same nervous system ? Does he not give the same signs of impressions received? Why should not the cry of the animal express pain as does the cry of a child 1 When man is not perverted by custom, cruelty, or the spirit of system, he cannot see the sufferings of animals without suffering himself, a manifest proof that there is something in common between them and us, for sympathy is by reason of similitude. Animals, then, suffer ; this is undeniable ; they have, like ourselves, a physical sensibility ; but they have also a certain moral sensibility ; they are capable of attachment, of gratitude, of fidelity ; of love for their little ones, of reciprocal affection. From this physical and moral analogy between men and ani- mals, there obviously results the obligation of inflicting upon them no useless suffering. Madame Necker de Saussuref re- lates the story of a child who, finding himself in a garden where a tamed quail was freely running about beside the cage of a bird of prey, yielded to the temptation of seizing the poor quail and giving it to the bird to devour. The hero of this adventure relates himself the punishment inflicted on him : " At dinner — there was a great deal of company that day — the master of the house began to relate the scene, coolly and without any remarks, simply naming me. When he was * A philosopher of the school of Descartes, who, like his master, taught that ani- rnals are machines, f Education progressive, VI., iv. DUTIES OF CHARITY AKD SELF-SACRIFICE. 137 through, there was a moment of general silence, where every one looked at me with a kind of horror. I heard some words exchanged among the guests, and without any one's directly speaking to me, I could understand that everybody thought me a monster." Connected with the cruelty toward animals are certain barbarous games where animals are made to fight with each other for our pleasure. Such are the bull-fights in Spain; the cock-fights in England ; we do not go so far as to rank the chase among inhuman games, because, on the one hand, it has for its object to destroy the animals injurious to our forests and crops, and to furnish us useful food; and on the other, it is an exercise favorable to health, and exercises certain facul- ties of the soul ; but the chase must at least not be a mas- sacre, and must have for its end utility. Brutality toward the animals which render us the greatest services, and which we see every day loaded beyond their strength, and beaten to bear up under the load, is also an odious act, and doubly wrong, as it is both contrary to hu- manity and contrary to our interests, since these animals, overloaded and beaten, will not be long in succumbing to the violence of their persecutors. JN^or can we consider as absolutely indifferent the act of killing or selling (except in cases of extreme necessity) a do- mestic animal that has served us a long time, and whose attachment we have experienced. "Among the conquerors at the Olympic Games," the ancients tell us, " many share the distinctions which they receive with the horses which have helped to procure them ; they provide for them a happy old age ; they accord them an honorable burial, and some- times even raise a monument over their graves." " It is not reasonable," saj^s Plutarch, "to use things which have life and feeling, as we would use a shoe or any other instrument, throwing it away when worn out and ruined by dint of service done ; if it were for no other cause than to induce and stimulate us to constant compas- sion, we should accustom ourselves to gentleness and charitableness, 138 , ELEMEl^TS OF MOEALS. even to performing the humblest offices of kindness ; as for me, I should never have the heart to sell an ox who for a long time had ploughed my land, because, by reason of old age, he can no longer work. " A very serious question has been raised these latter times, namely, the question of vivisection, and how far, in a scientific point of view, we have a right to practice on living animals. The point is not to interdict to science what is the indispen- sable condition of its progress and propagation ; but we should limit ourself to the strictly necessary, and not with revolt- ing prodigality multiply sacrifices that are not absolutely useful. One of the principal reasons for condemning cruelty toward animals, is that through the instinct of imitation and sym- pathy men may get into the habit of doing to others what they have seen practiced on animals. Tliere is a story of a child who caused his brother to suffer the same death he had just seen inflicted on an animal.* The men who are brutal toward animals are likewise so toward each other, and treat with the same cruelty their wives and children. It is by reason of these considerations of social utility and humanity that the law in France decided to interfere to pre- vent and punish the bad treatment inflicted upon animals ;t and the consequences of this measure have been most happy. * Bulletin de la Societe Protectrice des Animaux. June, 1868. t Law of the 2d July, 1850, called Grammont Law: "Shall be punishable by a fine of from five to fifteen francs, or from one to five days' imprisonment, any one who .shall publicly and abusively have maltreated domestic animals. In case of repeti- tion of the offence, imprisonment. A society— Socici^ Protectrice des AniTriMuoo— has been formed to come in aid to .the law. The principal articles of its statutes arc : " The aim of the society is to ame- liorate, by all the means in its power, and conformal)ly to the law of the 2d of July, 1850, the condition of animals. The society awards recompenses to any propagating its work and inventing proper means to the relief of animals ; to the agents of the police, pointed out by their chiefs as haviiig enforced the laws and regulations for tl)e ])revention of cruelty and ill-treatment towards animals ;— to the agents of agri- culture, shepherds, farm-help, farmers, leaders of cattle ;— to coachmen, butcher- boys, smiths— in short, to any person who, in some high degree, shall have given proof of good treatment, intelligent and contirmed care and compassion toward ani- mals." See in its Bulletins, the useful results obtained by this interesting society. J CHAPTEK YII. DUTIES TOWAKD THE STATE. SUMMARY. Three groups of societies among men : Humanity, the family, the country, or the State. Analysis of patriotism. Foundation of the State. — Law and rights. Public authority : dis- tinction between society and the State. The three powers. Sov- ereignty. The right of punishment. Duties toward the State: 1. Obedience to the laios.—T\\e Crito of Plato. Pretended exceptions to this principle. Criticising -the laws is not disobedience. 2. Respect to ^nagistrates. — The magistrates being the representa- tives of the laws, to respect them is to respect the law itself ; to insult them is to insult the law. 3. The ballot. — Obligation to vote. The character of the ballot: 1, disinterested; 2, free; 3, enlightened. 4. Taxes. — Immorality of frauds against the State. 5. Military service. — Legal and moral obligation. Attempts to escape it : 1, by mutilations ; 2, by simulated infirmities ; 3, by deser- tion ; want of discipline. 6. Educational obligation. Civil courage.— Noted example : Boissy d'Anglas. 75. Three groups of societies.— Cicero and Fenelon remark that there are three sorts of societies among men : the first comprises the whole of humanity; the last, which is the most circumscribed, is what is called the family. But between the family and the human race in general, there is an inter- mediate society, larger than the one and more circumscribed than the other, and this is what is called the country. 140 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 76. Palpiotlsm. — The sentiment which binds us to the country, and which, articulated, becomes a duty, is what is called patriotism. We have already given elsewhere,* an analysis of patriotism. Let us repeat what we have said : Patriotism is one of our most complex sentiments : it is in fact com- posed of many distinct elements : it is, in the first place, the love of the soil where we were born ; and this soil is at first the narrow territory where our youth passed, and which we embraced entire with the eyes and recollections : it is the native village, the native city. But if this is the first sense of country, it falls far short of embracing the whole country. The love for the native church steeple is not patriotism : it is even its opposite often. The soil must extend, Aviden, and from the natal house, must gradually embrace, by successive additions, the village, the town, the county, the province, the whole country. But what is to determine the extent of this territory ? Who is to decide that it shall go so far and no farther ? There enter into it many ele- ments : first, the inhabitants, the fellow-citizens, fellow-countrymen ; a soil deserted would not be a country ; to the love of the territory there must be added the love of those who inhabit it with us, or of our felloio- countrymen; to the nomadic people the country is only their tribe. Conversely, the citizens without the soil are not the country either, for exile in common is not the less exile. Finally, the union of soil and fellow-citizens may still not be the country, at least not all the country ; a conquered nation may preserve its soil and its inhabitants, and have lost the country : as Poland, for instance. What, then, are the ties to determine the existence of a country ? There are a large number of them, such as the unity of language, the unity of laws, the unity of the flag, historic tradition, and, finally, above all, the unity of government and of an accepted government. A country exists only where there is an independent political state. This political unity does not suffice when the other ties are wanting ; when it is a constraint, when peoples united under the same government have ditterent manners, customs, traditions ; conversely, unity of language and community of habits, will neither be sufficient when the political unity or a certain form of polit- ical unity is wanting. But what, before everything else, constitutes the country, is a common spirit, a common soul, in short, a cominon name, which fuses into one all these separate facts of which no single one is absolutely necessary, but of which each forms an additional ele- ment to the strength of the country. Finally, as a last condition, the Traite ilimcntaire de philosophic, p. 262, DUTIES TOWARD THE STATE. 141 association which is to become a country must not, as was the case \vith the Roman empire, extend over too much territory ; for beyond certain limits, patriotism relaxes. Nature has endowed us with this sentiment of patriotism. There is no one that does not love his country better than other countries, that is not flattered by national glory, that does not suifer from the humiliations and miseries of his native coimtry. But this sentiment is more or less strong, according to temperaments. Often it is nothing more than a sentiment, and does not express itself in actions. It is the reflective faculties which make of patriotism a duty, which duty demands that sentiment pass into action ; demands of all the citizens the same acts, whatever be the personal inclina- tions of each. The duties imposed on each man in regard to the particular society of which he is a member, are called civil duties. He, himself, in regard to this society, is what is called a citizen ; finally, the society itself, considered as one and the same per- son, of which the citizens are the members, is what is called the State or the city. On the whole, there is no difi'erence between country and Stnie. Country is at the same time Society and soil. It is called by that name (State) when looked upon in the light of a family of which the citizens are the children, and also when considered in its relations with other nations and other societies. The State is that same society considered interiorly and in itself, not as to its soil and territory, but as to the members that compose it, and in as far as these members form one and the same body and are governed by laws. The country is a more concrete and more vivid expression, whicli appeals more to the feelings ; the State is a more abstract ex- pression, which addresses itself to reason. Besides, we shall understand better what is meant by the State, when we shaU have explained the nature of public authority and the laws. 77. Foundation of the State — Rights.— To understand the U2 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. nature of the State and what is called authority, sovereignty, magistracy, law, one must begin with the notion of rights and of the different kinds of rights. Duty is the law which imposes on us obligations either to- ward ourselves or toward others ; it is a moral necessity (p. 11). Bights is the power we have to exercise and develop our faculties conformably to our destiny, provided we allow other men the same power : it is a moral power (Leibnitz). Each man, by reason of his enjoying liberty and intelligence, is a person, and should not be treated as a thing. " Man is a thing sacred to man," said the ancients. He is inviolable in his personality and in all that constitutes the development of his personality. Thence follows an immediate consequence : it is, that every man being man by the same title, no one can claim for him- self a right which he is not willing to recognize at the same time in another ; hence the equality of rights. Besides, the liberty of one cannot, without contradiction, suppress the lib- erty of another, whence this other definition : Eight is the accord of liberties. 78. The rights of man. — What are the principal rights of man ? They are : the right of self-preservation ; the right of going and coming, or individual liberty ; the liberty of work ; the right of property ; the liberty of thought ; the liberty of conscience ; the right of family, etc. We have also seen that man (p. 52) has a final right which is the guaranty and the sanction of all others ; it is the right of preventing by force every attempt at his rights ; to con- strain others to respect his rights, and lastly, to punish every violation of his rights. This is what is called the right of self-defense. 79. Public authority.— Man having, as we have just seen, the right of self-defense by opposing force to any attack, pos- sesses, when alone, and far from all human help, this right in all its plenitude. But it is easy to see the dangers and inex- p(3diency of such a right in a society. Eacli man, in fact, DUTIES TOWARD THE STATE. 143 when he meets with opposition to his will and desires, always thinks himself injured in his rights. If every one were free to defend himself in all circumstances, the right of self-defense would keep men constantly under arms ; and society, without a regulating power to check their doings, would soon, as the philosopher Hobbes expressed it, be " the war of all against all.'''' Hence the necessity of the State — that is to say, of a disinter- ested poioer — taking in hand the defense of all, and insuring the proper exercise of the right of self-defense by suppressing its abuses. This is what is called public autliority. 80. Society and the State.— We must distinguish be- tween society and the State, or ncdural society and civil so- ciety. Society is the union which exists between men, without distinction of frontiers — without exterior restraint — and for the sole reason that they are men. An Englishman and an Indian, as Locke says, meeting in the waste forests of America (Robinson and Friday), are, from the fact alone of their com- mon nature, in a state of society. The civil society or Stcde is an assemblage of men subject to a common autliority, to common laws — that is to say, a so- ciety whose members may be constrained by public force to respect their reciprocal rights. 81. The three powers. — There results from that, that two necessary elements enter into the idea of the State : laws and force. The laws are the general rules which establish before- hand and fix after deliberation, and abstractly, the rights of each ; force is the physical restraint the public power is armed with to have the laws executed. Hence two powers in the State, the legislative power and the edcecidive power — one that makes the law ; the other that executes it, and to which may generally be added a third, namely, judiciary power, which, on its part, is empowered to apply and interpret the law.* 82. Sovereignty. — These three powers emanate from a * Concerning these three powers, see Montesquieu, Esprit des lots, I., xi. 144 ELEMEKTS OF MOKALS. common source which, is called sovereign. In all States, the sovereign is the authority which is in possession of the three preceding powers and delegates them. In an absolute mon- archy, the sovereign is the monarch, who of himself exercises the legislative and executive power, sometimes even the ju- dicial power. In a democrac}^, the sovereign is the univer- sality of the citizens, or the 2^eople, which delegates the three powers, and even in some cases exercises them. As to the basis of sovereignty, two systems face each other : the divine right and the sovereignty of the people. In the first, the authority emanates from God, who transmits it to chosen families ; in the second, societies, like individuals, are free arbiters, and belong to themselves ; they are answerable for their destinies ; and this can only be true of the entire society ; for why should certain classes rather than others have the privilege to decide about the fate of each 1 The sovereignty of the people is then nothing else than the right of each to participate in public power, either of himself or through his representatives. This principle tends more and more to pre- dominate in civilized States. 83. Political liberty. — Political liberty means all the guaranties which insure to every citizen the legitimate exer- cise of his natural rights ; political liberty is, then, the sanc- tion of civil liberty. The principal of these guaranties are : 1, the right of suf- frage^ wdiich insures to every one his share of sovereignty; 2, the separation of powers, which puts into different hands the executive, legislative, send judicial powers; 3, the liberty of the press, which insures the right of minorities, and allows them to employ argument to change or modify the ideas and opin- ions of the majority. 84. The right of punishment. — The right of punishment in a State is nothing else than the right of restraint, which, as we have already seen, is inherent in the very idea of the State ; for the State only exists to insure to each the exercise of his rights, and it can only do so by restraint and the use of DCJTIES TOWAED THE STATE. 145 force. How far can this right of force go ? Can it, for ex- ample, go so far as the taking of life even ? This is a mooted question between publicists, and upon which we have, more- over, already expressed ourselves (p. 55 et seq.). After having in these summary views resolved the principle upon which the State rests,"^ and the essential elements which enter into the idea, we are better prepared to approach what constitutes the object proper of civil morality, namely, the duties of citizens toward the country or the State. 85. Civil duties. — These duties are the following: Obedi- ence to the laws; respect of magistrates ; the ballot ; military service ; educational obligations. 86. Obedience to the laws. — The first of the civil duties, is obedience to the laws. The reason is evident. The State rests on the law. It is the law which substitutes, for the will of individuals, always more or less carried away by passion or governed b}" self-interest, a general, impartial, and disinterested rule. The law is the guaranty of all: it opposes itself to force, or rather puts force in the service of justice, instead of making of justice the slave of force. Pascal says : " Xot being able to make that which is just, strong, men have wished that what is strong should be just." This is the jest of a misanthrope. Certainly the laws are not always as just as they might be, despite the efforts made to render them so : the reason of it is, the extreme complexity of interests be- tween which it is difficult to find a true balance and just equi- librium ; but such as they are, they are infinitely more just than the right of the strongest, which would alone reign if there were no laws. The empire of the laws is then that which secures m^der in a society, and consequently procures for each of its members security and peace, and through these, the means cf devoting himself to his work, whether intellectual or material, and of reaping the fruits thereof. * See on this subject the Notions d' instruction civiq-ue. ' 7 146 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. At the same time that the law guarantees order within, it also insures the independence of the nation from without. For a nation without laws, or which no longer obeys its laws, falls into anarchy and becomes the prey of the first conqueror who presents himself, as is shown by the history of Poland. It is especially in democratic or republican states, that obedience to the laws is necessary, as it is there the most difficult. Montesquieu has shown with great sagacity the difficulty and thereby the necessity of obedience to the laws in a democ- racy ; in fact, what in other governments is obtained by con- straint, in a democracy depends only upon the will of the citizens. "It is clear," says Montesquieu, "that in a monarchy, where he who causes the laws to be executed is above the laws, there is less virtue requisite than in a popular government, where he who causes the laws to be executed, feels that he is himself subject to them, and will have to bear the consequence of their violation. " It is further clear that a monarch who, through bad advice or negli- gence, ceases to have the laws executed, may easily repair the evil ; he has but to change counselors or correct himself of his negligence. But when in a popular government, the laws have ceased to be executed, as this can only happen through the corruption of the republic, the State is already lost." Montesquieu then describes, in the strongest and liveliest colors, a republican state where the laws have ceased to be enforced. "They were free with the laws ; they wish to be free without them. Each citizen is as a slave escaped from the house of his master. What before was called maxim, is now called severity ; what was rule is now annoying restraint ; what was attention, is now fear. The republic has become booty, and its strength is no longer anything more than the power of a few and the license of all." In the r(;))ublics of Athens and Rome, as long as they were prosperous and great, the empire of the laws was admirable. Socrates, in his })i'is()u, gave of this a siil)Iinio exa-nq)l('. Ho DUTIES TOWARD THE STATE. 147 was unjustly condemned by his fellow-citizens to drink the hemlock, namely, to die by poison. Meanwhile, his friends pressed him to resort to flight ; and everything leads to the belief that this would have been quite easy, as the judges themselves almost wished to be relieved of the responsibility of his death. Yet Socrates resisted, and refused to employ this means of safety. The principal reason given by him was, that, having been condemned by the laws of his country, he could save himself only by violating these laws. This is what Plato has expressed in the dialogue entitled Onto. The laws of the country are represented as addressing a speech to Socrates ; it is called the Prosoipoj^oeia * of Crito : " Socrates," they will say to me, "was that our agreement, or was it not rather that thou shouldst submit to the judgments rendered by the republic ? . . . What cause of complaint hast thou against us that thou shouldst try to destroy us ? Dost thou not, in the firet place, owe us thy life ? Was it not under our auspices that thy father took to himself the companion that gave thee birth ? If thou owest us thy birth and edu- cation, canst thou deny that thou art our child and servant ? And if this be so, thinkest thou thy rights equal to ours ; and that thou art permitted to make us sutler for what we make thee suffer ? What ! in the case of a father or a master, if thou hadst one, thou wouldst not have the right to do to him what he would do to thee ; to speak to him in- sultingly if he insulted thee ; to strike him, if he struck thee, nor any- thing like it ; and thou shouldst hold such a right toward thy country ! and if we had sentenced thee to death, thinking the sentence just, thou shouldst undertake to destroy us ! . . . Does not thy wisdom teach thee that the country has a greater right to thy respect and homage, that it is more august and more wise before the gods and the sages, than father, mother, and all ancestors ; that the country in its anger must be respected, that one must convince it of its error through persuasion, or obey its commands, suffer without murmuring whatever it orders to be suffered, even to be beaten and loaded with chains ? . . . What else then dost thou do ? " they would proceed to say, ' ' than violate the treaty that binds thee to us, and trample under foot thy agreement ? * Prosopopoeia in rhetoric is the form of expression which consists in animating physical or abstract things, in lending them "a soul, a mind, a visage" (Boileau), in making them speak or being siioken to as if they were present and living. In Crito, the laws are personified, and it is they that speak. 148 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. ... In suffering thy sentence, thou diest an honorable victim of the iniquity, not of the laws, but of men ; but if thou takest to flight, thou repellest unworthily injustice by injustice, evil by evil, and thou vio- latest the treaty whereby thou wert under obligation to us : thou im- perilest those it was thy duty to protect, thou imperilest thyself, thy friends, thy country, and us. We shall be thy enemies all thy life ; and when thou shalt descend to the dead, our sisters, the laws of Hades, knowing that thou hast tried thy best to destroy us here, will not re- ceive thee very favorably."' Pretended Exceptions. — The duty of obedience to the laws must then be admitted as a principle ; but is this duty abso- lute? is it not susceptible of some exceptions? A learned theologian of the XYI. century, a Jesuit, Suarez {Traite des lots, III., iv.), admits three exceptions to the obedience due to the law : 1, if a law is unjust — for an unjust law is no law — not only is one not obliged to accept, but even, when accepted, one is not obliged to obey it ; 2, if it is too hard ; for then one may reasonably presume that the law was not made by the prince with the absolute intention that it should be obeyed, but rather as an experiment ; now, under this sup- position one can always begin by not observing it ; — 3, if, in fact, the majority of the people have ceased to observe it, even though the first who had commenced should have sinned ; the minority is not obliged to observe what the majority has abandoned : for one cannot suppose the prince to intend obliging such or such individuals to observe it, when the com- munity at large have ceased observing it. These exceptions, proposed by Ruarez, are inadmissible, at least the two first. To authorize disobedience to unjust laws is introducing into society an inward principle of destruction. All law is supposed to be just, otherwise it is arbitrariness and not law. Every man finds always the law that punishes him unjust. If there are unjust laws, which is possible, we must ask their abrogation ; and, in these our days, the liberty of the press is ready to give satisfaction to the need of criticism ; but, in the meantime, we must obey. The second exception is not tenable either. To say that it is permitted to disobey DUTIES OF CHAEITY AKD SELF-SACEIFICE. 149 a law when it is too hard, in supposing that the prince only made it for an experiment, is to permit the eluding of all the laws : for every law is hard for somebody ; and there is, besides, no determining the hardness of laws. Such an ap- preciation is, moreover, fictitious ; a prince who makes a law is supposed a priori to wish it executed : to say that he only meant to try us therewith is a wholly gratuitous invention. Certainly one may by such conduct succeed in wearing a law out when the prince is feeble ; but it is not the less unjust, and no State could resist such a cause of dissolution. As to the third exception, it can be admitted that there are laws fallen into disuse, and which are no longer applied by any one because they stand in contradiction to the manners, and are no longer of any use ; but, except in such case, it is nowise per- mitted to say that it is sufficient for the majority to disobey to entitle the minority to do the same. For instance, if it pleased the majority to engage in smuggling, or to make false declarations in the matter of taxes, it would nowise acquit the good citizens from continuing to fulfill their duty. Xow, if it is an absolute duty to obey a law, we must, at the same time, admit as a corrective, the right of criticising the law. This right is the right of the minority, and it is recognized to-day in all civilized countries. A law may, in fact, be unjust or erroneous : it may have been introduced by passion, by party-spirit ; even Avithout having been originally unjust, it may have become so in time tlirough change in manners; it may also be the work of ignorance, prejudice, etc. ; and thereby hurtful. Hence the necessity of what is called the liherty of tlie press, the inviolable guaranty of the minori- ties. But the right of criticising the law is not the right of insulting it. Discussion is not insult. Every law is entitled to respect because it is a law ; it is the expression of the public reason, the public will, of sovereignty. One may try to persuade the sovereign by reasoning, and induce him to change the law ; one should not inspire contempt which leads unavoidably to disobedience. 150 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 87. Respect for magistrates.— Another duty, which is the corollary to obedience to the laws, is the resjped for the magistrate. The magistrate — that is, the functionary, whoever he be, in charge of the execution of the laws — should be obej^ed, not only because he represents force, but also because he is the expression of the law. For this reason, he should be for all an object of respect. The person is nothing ; it is the authority itself that is entitled to respect, and not such or such an individual. Many ignorant persons are always dis- posed to regard the functionary as a tyrant, and every act of authority, an act of oppression. This is a puerile and lament- able prejudice. The greatest oppression is always that of in- dividual passions, and the most dangerous of despotisms is an- archy : for then it is the right of the strongest which alone predominates. Authority, whatever it be, makes the mainten- ance of order its special interest, and order is the guaranty of every one. The magistrate is, moreover, entitled to respect, as he represents the country ; if the country be a family, the authority of the magistrate shoidd be regarded the same as that of the head of the family, an authority entitled to respect even in its errors. 88. The ballot. — Of all the special obligations which we have enumerated, the most important to point out is that of the ^f^ZZo^, because it is free and left entirely at the will of the citizens. In regard to the other obligations, constraint may, up to a certain point, supply the good will ; he who does not pay his taxes from a sense of duty, is obliged to pay them from neces- sity ; but the ballot is free ; one may vote or not vote ; one may vote for whom he pleases : there is no other restraint than the sense of duty ; for this reason, it is necessary to insist on tliis kind of obligation. 1. It is a duty to vote. What in fact the law demands, in granting to the citizens the right of suffrage, is that the will of the cttizens be made manifest, and that the decisions about to be taken, be those of the majority. This principle of the right of the majorities has often been questioned : for, it is DUTIES OF CHAKITT AHD SELF-SACRITICE. 151 said, why might not the majority be mistaken 1 Certainly, but why might not the minority be also mistaken ? The majority is a rule which puts an end to disputes and forestalls the appeal to force. The minorities certainly may have cause for complaint, for no rule is absolutely perfect ; but they have the chance of becoming majorities in their turn. This is seen in all free States, where the majority is constantly being modified with the time. If such is the principle of elective governments (whatever be the measure or extension of the electoral right), it can be seen of what importance it is that the true majority show itself; and this can only take place through the greatest possible number of voters. If, for example, half of the citi- zens abstain, and that of the half that vote, one-half alone, plus one, constitute the majority, it follows that it is a fourth of the citizens that make the law ; which would seem to be reversing the principle of majorities. This is certainly not absolutely unjust, for it may be said that those who do not vote admit implicitly the result obtained ; but this negative compliance has not the same value as a positive compliance. To abstain from voting may have two causes : either indif- ference, or ignorance of the questions propounded, and conse- quently the impossibility of deciding one way or another. In the first case, especially is the abstaining culpable. No citi- zen has the right to be indifferent to public affairs. Skepti- cism in this matter is want of patriotism. In the second case, the question is a more delicate one. How can I vote ? it may be said. I understand nothing about the question ; I have no opinion ; I have no preference as to candidates. To com- bat this evil, it is, of course, necessary that education gain a larger development, and that liberty enter into customs and manners. There will be seen then a greater and greater num- ber of citizens understandingly interested in public afflxirs. But even in the present state of things, a man may still fulfill his duty in consulting enlightened men, in choosing some one in whom he may have confidence ; in short, in making every effort to gain information. 152 ELEMEISfTS OF MORALS. 2. The vote should be disinterested. The question here is not only one concerning the venality of the vote, which is a shameful act, punishable, moreover, by the laws ; but it em- braces disinterestedness in a wider sense. One should in voting consider the interests of the country alone, and in nowise, or at least, only secondarily, the interests of localities, unless the question be precisely as to those latter interests, when voting for municipal officers. 3. The vote should be free. The electors or representatives of an assembly should obey their conscience alone : they should repel all pressure, as well that from committees arrogating omnipotence, as from the power itself. 4. In fine, the vote should be enlightened. Each voter should gather information touching the matter in hand, the candi- dates, their morality, their general fitness for their duty, their opinions. In order to vote with knowledge of the facts, one must have some education. That, of course, depends on our parents ; but what depends on us, is to develop the education already obtained ; we must read the papers, but not one only, or we may become the slaves of a watch- word and of bigoted minds ; we must also gather information from men more enlightened, etc. 89. Taxes. — It is a duty to pay the taxes ; for, without the contributions of each citizen, the State would have no budget, and could not set the offices it is commissioned with, to work. How could justice be rendered, instruction be given, the territory be defended, the roads kept up, without money? This money, besides, is voted by the representatives of the country, elected for that purpose. But if the State is not to tax the citizens without their consent and supervision, they in their turn should not refuse it their money. Certainly, this evil is not much to be feared, for in the absence of good will, there is still the constraint which can be brought to bear upon refractory citizens. Yet there are still means of defrauding the law. The common people believe too readily that to deceive the State is not deceiving ; they do not scruple to DUTIES OF CHAEITT AKD SELF-SACRIFICE. 153 make false declarations where declarations are required, to pass prohibited goods over the frontier, etc. ; which are so many ways of refusing to pay the taxes. 90. Military service, as are the taxes, is obligatory by law, and consequently does not depend on individual choice. But it is not enough to do our duty because we are obliged to do it ; we must also do it conscientiously and heartily. " It is not enough to pay out of one's purse," says a moralist ; * " one must also pay with one's person. " Certainly, it is not for any one's pleasure that he leaves his parents and friends, his work and habits, to go to do military service in barracks, and, if needs be, to fight on the frontiers. But who will defend the country in case of attack if it be not its young and robust men ? And must they not learn the use of arms in order to be eificient on the day Avhen the country shall need them ? This is why there are armies. Certainly, it would be a thou- sand times better if there were no need of this, if all nations were just enough never to make war with each other. But whilst this ideal is being realized, the least any one can do is to hold himself in readiness to de- fend his liberty, his honor. . . . Thanks to a good army, one not only can remain quiet at home, but the humblest citizen is respected wher- ever he goes, wherever his interests take him. In looking carefully at the matter it can be seen that even in respect to simple interests, the time spent in the service of the flag, is nothing in comparison with the advantages derived from it. Is it not because others have been there before us that we have been enabled to grow up peacefully and happy to the age of manhood ? Is it not just that we should take their place and in our turn watch over the country ? And Mdien we return, others will take our place, and we, in our turn, shall be enabled to raise a family, attend to our business, and lead a quiet and contented life. Let us add to these judicious remarks that military service is a school of discipline, order, obedience, courage, patience, and as such, contributes to strengthening the mind and body, to developing personality, to forming good citizens. The principal infractions of the duty of military service are : 1, mutilations by which some render themselves improper for service ; 2, simulated infirmities by which one tries to escape from the obligation ; 3, desertion in times of war, and what * Droits et devoirs de riiomme, Henri Marion, Paris, ISSO, p. 67, 154 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. is more criminal still, passing over to the enemy ; 4, insuhor- dination or disobedience to superiors. This latter vice is the most important to point out, the others being more or less rare ; but insubordination is an evil most frequent in our armies, and a most dangerous evil. Mil- itary operations have become so complicated and difficult in these days, that nothing is possible without the strictest obedience on the part of soldiers. In times when individual valor was almost everything, insubordination might have pre- sented fewer inconveniences ; but in these days, all is done through masses, and if the men do not obey, the armies are necessarily beaten because they cannot oppose an equal force to the enemy. Suppose the enemy to be 50,000 men strong in a certain place, that you yourself belong to a body of 50,000, and that you all together reach the same place at the same time as the enemy : you are equal in numbers, one against one, and you have at least as many chances as they; and if, besides, you have other qualities which they have not, you will have more chances. But if in the corps you belong to, there is no discipline, if every one disobeys — if, for example, Avhen the order for marching is given, each starts when he pleases, and marches but as he pleases, you wil] arrive too late, and the enemy will have taken the best positions ; there is then one chance lost. If, moreover, through the disorder in your ranks, you do not all arrive together, if there are but 25,000 men in a line, the otliers remaining behind, these 25,000 will be overwhelmed. As for those who do not reach the spot, think you they will escape the consequences of the battle ? By no means ; the disorder wiU not save them ; it will deliver them defenseless into the hands of the pursuing enemy. Now, all dis()rde^is followed by similar consequences. On the other hand, the obedience of the soldier being sure, the army is as one man who lends himself to all the plans, all the combinations ; who takes advantage of all the happy chances, who runs less dangers because the business proceeds nnjre rapidly, and tliat with less means one obtains more re- DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 155 suits. Such are the reasons for the lumctilious disciphne required of soldiers. We are treated as machines, you will say. Yes ; if you resist : for then constraint becomes indis- pensable ; but if you understand the necessity of the disci- pline, if you submit to it on your own accord, then are you no longer machines : you are men. The only way of not being a machine is then precisely to obey freely. It has often been asked, in these days, whether the soldier is always obliged to obey, even such orders as his conscience disapproves of. These are dangerous questions to raise, and they tend to imperil discipline without much profit to morality. No doubt if a soldier were ordered to commit a crime — as, for example, to go and kill a defenseless man — ^he would have the right to refuse doing it. At the time of the massacre of St. Bartholomew, an order was sent to all the provinces to follow the example of Paris. One of the governors, the Viscount Orthez, replied that his soldiers did not do executioner's ser- vice ; and this answer was admired by all the world. But these are very rare cases ; and it is dangerous for such uncer- tain eventualities to inspire mistrust against order and disci- pline, which are the certain guaranties of the defense and inde- pendence of a country. 91. Educational obligation. — The duty to instruct children results from the natural relations between parents and children. The obligation to raise children implies, in fact, the obligation to instruct them. There is no more education without instruc- tion than instruction without education. To-day educational obligation is inserted in the law, and has its sanction therein. But parents owe it to themselves to obey the law without constraint. 92. Civil courage. — We have already spoken above of civil courage as opposed to mihtary courage. But here is the place to return to this subject. Let us recall a fine page by J. Barni in his book on Morality in Democracy : The stoics defined courage admirably : ViHue combating for equity. Civil courage might be defined : virtue defending the liberty and rights 156 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. of citizens against tyranny, whether this tyranny be that of the masses or a despot's. As much courage, and perhaps more, is demanded in the first case as in the second ; it is less easy to resist a crowd than a single man, were there nothing more to be feared than unjJoiJularity, one of the disadvantages hardest to brave. How much more difficult when it comes to risking a popularity already acquired ? Yet must one, if neces- sary, be able to make the sacrifice. True civil courage shows itself the same in all cases. Thus, Socrates, this type of civil virtue, as he was of all other virtues, refused, at the peril of his life, to obey the iniqui- tous orders of the tyrant Critias ; and he resisted with no less courage the people, who, contrary to justice and law, asked for the death of the generals who conquered at Arginusse. Another name presents itself to the memory, namely, that of Boissy d'Anglas, immortalized for the heroism he showed as president of the National Convention, the 1st Prairial, year II. (20 May, 1795). Assailed by the clamors of the crowd which had invaded the Assembly, threatened by the guns which were pointed at him, he remains impassible ; and without even appearing to be aware of the danger he is running, he reminds the crowd of the re- spect due to national representatives. They cry : ' ' We do not Avant thy Assembly ; the people is here ; thou art the president of the people ; sign, says one, the decree shall be good, or I kill thee ! " He quietly replied : ' ' Life to me is a trifle ; you speak of committing a great crime ; I am a representative of the people ; I am president of the convention ; " and he refused to sign. The head of a representative of the people who had just been massacred by the populace for having attempted to pre- vent the invasion of the Convention, is presented to him on the end of a j)ike ; he salutes it and remains firm at his post. This is a great ex- ample of civil courage. CHAPTER YIII. PEOPESSIONAL DUTIES SUMMARY. Professional duties : founded on the division of social work. The absence of a profession— Leisure. — Is it a duty to have a pro- fession ? Rules for the choice of a profession. Division of social professions. — Plato's theory ; the Saint Simonian theory ; Fichte's theory. Resume and synthesis of these theories. Mechanic and industrial professions. — Employers and employees. — "Workmen and farmers. Military duties. Public functions. — Elective functions ; the magistracy and the bar. Science. — Teaching. — Medicine. — The arts and letters. 93. Division of social work. — Independently of the gen- eral duties to which, man is held, as man or member of a par- ticidar group (family, country), there are still others relating to the situation he holds in society, to the part he plays therein, to his particular line of work. Society is, in fact, a sort of great enterprise where all pursue a common end, namely, the greatest happiness or the greatest morality of the human species ; but as this end is very complex, it is neces- sary that the parts to be played toward reaching it be divided ; and, as in industrial pursuits, unity of purpose, rapidity of execution, perfection of work, cannot be obtained except by division of labor, so is there also in society a sort of social division of labor, which allots to each his share of the com- mon work. The special work each is appointed to accomplish 158 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. in society is what is called a profession, and the peculiar duties of each profession are the professional duties. 94. The absence of a profession — Leisure. — The first question to be considered is, whether a man should have a profession, or if, having received from his family a sufficient fortune to live without doing anything, he has a right to dis- pense with all profession and give himself up to what is called leisure. Some schools have condemned leisure absolutely, have denounced what they call idlers as the enemies of society. This is a rather delicate question, and concerning which one must guard against arriving at a too absolute conclusion. And, in the first place, there cannot be question here of approving or permitting that sort of foolish and shameful leisure to which some young prodigals, without sense of dignity and morality, are given, who dissipate in disorder hereditary fortunes, or the wealth obtained by the indefatigable labor of their fathers. It is sometimes said that this does more good than harm, because fortunes pass thus from hand to hand, and each profits by it in his turn. But who does not know that to make a good use of a fortune is more profitable to society than dissipation ? However that may be, nothing is more unworthy of youth than this nameless idleness, Avhere all the strength of the body and soul, the energy of character, the life of the intelligence, all the gifts of nature are squandered. There have been sometimes seen superior souls who rose from such disorders victorious over themselves, and stronger for the combat of life. But how rare such examples ! How often does it not, on the contrary, happen that the idleness of his youth determines the whole course of the man's life ? Sometimes, it is true, one may choose a life of leisure designedly, not with an idea of dissipation, but, on the contrary, with that of being free to do great things. Certain independent minds believe that a profes- sion deprives a person of his liberty, narrows him, fastens him down to mean and monotonous occupations, suljjects him to conventional and narrow modes of thinking — in short, that a positive kind of Avork weak- ens and lowers the mind. Tliere is some truth in these remarks. Every- body has observed how men of different i)rofessions differ in their mode of thinking. What more different than a physician, a man of letters, a soldier, a merchant ? All these men thought about the same in their youth ; they see each other twenty years later ; each has undergone a j)eculiar bent ; each has his ])articular physiof);noniy, costume, etc. Not only has the profession absorbed the man, but it has also deadened his 1»R0FESSI0NAL DUTIES. 159 individuality. One may conceive, then, how some ambitious minds may expect to escape the yoke and preserve their liberty in renouncing all professions. To be subject to no fixed and prescribed occupation, to depend upon no master, to nobly cultivate the mind in every direc- tion, to make vast experiments, to be a stranger to nothing, bound to nothing, is not that, seemingly, the height of human happiness ? Some men of genius have followed this system, and found no bad results from it. Descartes relates to us in his Discours sur la Methode (Part I. ), that, during nine years of his life, he did nothing but "roll about the world, hither and thither, trying to be a spectator, rather than an actor, in the comedies played therein." He tells us further, that he emj^loyed his "youth in traveling, in visiting courts and armies, in associating with people of various humors and conditions, in gathering divers experi- ences, in testing himself in the encounters chance favored him with, etc." That this may be an admirable school, a marvelously instructive arena for well-endowed minds, no one will doubt ; but what is possible and useful to a Descartes or a Pascal, ^\\\\ it suit the majority of men ? Is it not to be feared that this wandering in every direction, this habit of having nowhere a foot-hold, may make the mind superficial and weaken its energy ? He who renounces being an actor, to be only a spectator, as did Des- cartes, takes too easy a part ; he frees himself from all responsibility : this may sharpen the mind, but there will always remain some radical deficiency. Force of character, however, and personal superiority may set at naught all these conclusions — sound as they in general are in theory. * It may, therefore, be doubtful whether a life of leisure, with some exceptions, be good for him who gives himself up to it ; but what is not legitimate, is the kind of jealousy and envy which those Avho work often entertain against those who have nothing to do. There is a legitimate leisure and nobly employed. For example, a legitimate leisure is that which, obtained through hereditary fortune, is engaged in gratuitously serving the country, in study, in the management of property, the cultivation of land, in travels devoted to observation and the amelioration of human things, in a noble intercourse with society. It is a grievous error to wish to blot out of societies all existence that has not gain for its end, and is not connected * The preceding quotation is from our Philosophie du bonheur. 160 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. with daily wants. Property and riches are true social func- tions, and among the most difficult of functions. Those who know how to use them with profit, fill one of the most useful parts in society, and cannot be said to be without a professioiL 95. Of the choice of a profession. — If it is necessary in society to have a profession, it is important that it be well chosen. He who is not in his right place, is wanting in some essential quality to fill the one he occupies : ' ' If the abhe de Carignan had yielded to the wishes of Madame de Soissons, his mother, what glory wouhl not the^ house of Savoy have been deprived of ! The empire would have been deprived of one of its greatest captains, one of the buhvarks of Christianity. Prince Eugene was a very great man in the profession they wished to interdict him ; what would he have been in the profession they wished him to em- brace ? M. de Retz insisted absolutely that his youngest son should be an ecclesiastic, despite the repugnance he manifested for this profession, despite the scandalous conduct he indulged in to escape from it. This duke [M. de Retz] gives to the church a sacrilegious priest, to Paris a sanguinary archbishop, to the kingdom a great rebel, and deprives his house of the last prop that could have sustained it. " * One should, therefore, study his vocation, not decide too quickly, get information on the nature and duties of different professions ; then consult his taste, but without allowing him- self to be carried away by illusory, proud, inconsistent fancies ; consult wise and enlightened persons; finally, if necessary, make certain experiments, taking care, however, to stop in time. 96. Division of social professions.— It would be impos- sible to make a survey of all the professions society is com- posed of : it were an infinite labor. We must, therefore, bring the professions down to a certain number of types or classes, which alloAv tlie reducing of the rules of profHsmyrial morality to a small number. Several philosophers have busied themselves in dividing and classifying social occupations. We shall recall only the principal ones of these divisions. Plato has reduccjd the different social functions to four ■* Philosophie sociale, Kasai sur los dovoirs <1(! riioiiune et du citoyon, i)ar I'abbd DiirosDi (Paris, 1783). PKOFESSIONAL DUTIES. 161 classes, namely: 1, magistrates; 2, warriors-, ?>, farmers ; 4, artisans. The two first classes are the governing classes ; the two others are the classes governed. The two first apply themselves to moral things : education, science, the defense of the country ; the others to material life. This classification of Plato is somewhat too general for our modern societies, which comprise more varied and numerous elements : these divisions, nevertheless, are important, and should be taken account of in morals. Since Plato, there is scarcely any but the socialist Saint- Simon who attempted to classify the social careers. He reduces them to three groups : industrials, artists, and scien- tists (savants). The meaning of this classification is this : the object of human labor, according to Saint-Simon, is the cultiva- tion of the globe — that is to say, the greatest possible produc- tion; but this is the object of productive labor; it is what is called industry. Now, the cultivation of nature requires a knowledge of nature's laws, namely, science. Science and invention are, then, the two great branches of social activity. According to Saint-Simon, work — that is to say, industry — must take the place of war ; science, that of the laws. Hence no warriors, no magistrates ; or, rather, the scientists (savants) should be the true magistrates. Science and industry, how- ever, having only relation to material nature, Saint-Simon thought there was a part to be given to the moral order, to the beautiful or the good ; hence a third class, which he now calls artists, now moralists and philosophers, and to whom a sort of religious role is assigned. It will be seen that this theory is absolutely artificial and Utopian, that it has relation to an imaginary system, and not to the order of things as it is : it is an ingenious conception, but quite impracticable. One of the greatest of modern moralists, the German phil- osopher Fichte, assigned, in his Practical Morality, a part to the doctrine of professional duties ; and he began by giving a theory of the professions more complete and satisfactory than any of the preceding ones. « 162 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. Fichte makes of the special professions two great divisions : 1, those which have for their object the keeping up of mate- rial life ; 2, those which have for their object the keeping up of intellectual and moral life. On the one side, mechanical labor ; on the other, intellectual and moral labor. The object of mechanical labor is production, manufa,cture, and exchange of produce ; hence three functions :. those of producers, manufacturers, and merchants. The moral and spiritual labor has also three objects : 1, the administration of justice in the State ; 2, the theoretic culture of intelligence ; 3, the moral culture of the will. Hence three elasses : 1, public functions ; 2, science and instruction ; 3, the Church and the clergy. Lastly, there is in human nature a faculty which serves as a link between the theoretical and the practical faculties : it is the esthetic sense ; the sense of the beautiful ; hence a last class, that of artists. This theory is more scientific than that of the Saint-Simo- nians, but it is still somewhat defective ; it is not clear, for example, in a moral point of view, that there is a great differ- ence of duties between the producers, manufacturers, and mer- chants : they are economical rather than moral distinctions. Plato's division is better, when he puts the farmers in oppo- sition to the artisans. It is certain that there are, es- pecially in these days, interesting moral questions, which differ according as the workmen live in the city or in the country. We therefore prefer on this point Plato's division ; and we will treat, on the one side, industry and commerce, and on the other agriculture; and in each of these divisions we will dis- tinguish those Avho direct or remunerate the work, namely, contractors, masters, proprietors, capitalists in some degree, and those who work Avith their hands and receive wages. In characterizing the second class of careers, those which have moral interests for their objectj we will again borrow of Plato one of the names of his division, namely, the defense of tlte State. As to the administration of justice in the State, it is divided, as we have already said, into three powers : the PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 163 executive, legislative, and judicial powers. Hence three orders of functions : administration, depidation, and the magistracy, with which latter is connected the ba7\ As to science, it is either sj^ecidative or practical. In the first case, it only concerns the individual ; we have spoken of it under individual duties (ch. iv.). In the second case, it has for its object application, and bears either on things or on men. Applied to things, science is associated with the industry we have already spoken of. Applied to men, it is medicine, in respect to bodies ; morality or religion, in respect to hearts and souls. Lastly, along with the sciences which seek the true, there are the letters and the arts which treat of and produce the beautiful. Hence a last class, namely, poets, writers, artists. Such is about the outline of what a system of social pro- fessions might be. A treatise of professional morality which would be in harmony with this outline, would be all one science, the elements of which scarcely exist, being dispersed in a multitude of works, or rather in the practice and interior life of each profession. We will content ourselves with a few general indications. 97. I. Mechanical and industrial professions. — 1. Em- ployers and employees. — The professions which have for their object the material cultivation of the globe, and particularly industry and commerce, are divided into two great classes : 1, on one side, those who, having capital, undertal-e and direct the works ; 2, those who execute them with their arms and receive wages. The first are the employers ; the second the employees. What are the respective duties of these two classes 1 98. Duties of employers. — The duties of all those who, by virtue of their capital legitimately acquired, or by virtue of their intelligence, command, direct and pay for the work done by men, are the following : 1. They should raise the wages of the workmen as high as 164 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. the state of the market permits ; and they should not wait to be compelled to it by strikes or threats of strikes. Conversely, they should not, from weakness or want of foresight, yield to every threat of the kind ; for in raising the wages unreason- ably high, one may disable himself from entering into foreign competition, or may cause the ruin of the humbler manufac- turers who have not sufficient capital. 2. Capitalists, employers and masters should obey strictly the laws established for the protection of childhood. They should employ the work of minors within proper limits, and according to the conditions fixed by the law. 3. Their task is not done when they have secured to the workmen and their children the share of work and wages which is their due, even when they are content to claim noth- ing beyond justice. They have yet to fulfill toward their sub- ordinates the duties of protection and benevolence ; they must assist them, relieve them, be it in accidents happening to them in the work they are engaged in, or in illness. They must spare them suspensions of work as much as possible ; in short, they must, through all sorts of establishments — schools, mutual-help societies, workmen-cities incites oiivrieres), etc. — encourage education, economy, property, yet without forcing upon them anything that would diminish their own responsi- bility or impair their personal dignity. 99. Duties of workingmen. — The duties of workingmen should corrGSi)()nd to those of the employers. 1. The workingmen owe it to themselves not to cherish in their hearts feelings of hatred, envy, covetousness, and revolt against the employers. Division of work requires that in in- dustrial matters some should direct and others be directed. Material exploitation requires capital; and those who bring tliis capital, the fruit of former work, are as necessary to the workingmen to utilize their work as these are to the first in utilizing tlioir capital. 2. The workingmen owe their work to tlic establishment which pays them ; it is as much their interest as their duty. PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 165 The result of lazi ne.$s,&.nd intemperance is misery. We cannot enough deplore the use of what is called the Mondays — a day of rest over and beyond the legitimate and necessary Sunday. It is certain that one day of rest in a week is absolutel}' a necessity. Xo man can nor ought (except in circumstances unavoidable) work ^\dthout interruption the whole year through. But the week's day of rest once secure, all that is over and above that, is taken from what belongs to the family and the provisions against old age. 3. Supposing that, in consequence of the progress of in- dustry, the number of hours of rest could be increased — that, for example, the hours of the day's work could be reduced — these hours of rest should then be devoted to the family, to the cultivation of the mind, and not to the fatal pleasures of intoxication. The workingmen have certainly a right to ask, as far as they are worthy of it, equality of consideration and influence in society ; and all our modern laws are so constituted as to insure them this equahty. It rests with them, therefore, to render themselves worthy of tliis new equality by their morals and their education. To have their children educated; to educate themselves ; to occupy their leisure with family inter- ests, in reading, in innocent and elevating recreations (music, the theatre, gardening, if possible), it is by all such pursuits that the workingmen will reduce or entirely remove the in- ecjuahty of manners and education wliich may still exist be- tween them and their superiors. 4. Workingmen cannot be blamed for seeking to defend their interests and increase their comforts ; in so doing they only do what all men should do. They have also the right, in order to get satisfaction, to attach to their work such con- ditions as they may reasonably desire : it is the law of de- mand and supply, common to aU industries. In short, as an individual refusal to work is a means absolutely inefficacious to bring about an increase of wages, it must be admitted that the workingmen have a risrht to act in concert and collect- 166 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. ively to refuse to work, and, collectivel;^to make their con- ditions ; hence the right of strikes recognized to-day by the law. But tliis right, granted to the principle of the hberty of work, must not be turned against this principle. The work- ingmen who freely refuse to work should not stand in the way of those who, finding their demands ill-founded, persist in continuing to work under the existing conditions. All violence, all threats to force into the strike him who is opposed thereto, is an injustice and a tjTanny. This ^dolence is con- demned by law ; but as it is easily disguised, it cannot always be reached ; it is, therefore, tlirough the morals one must act upon it — through persuasion and education. The workmen must gradually adopt the morals of liberty, must respect each other. For the same reason they should respect women's work ; should not interdict to their wives and daughters the right of improving their condition by work. Unquestionably it is much to be desired that woman should become more and more centred in domestic duties, the care of her household and family. This is her principal part in the social work. But as long as the imperfect condition of the laboring classes does not permit this state of things, it may be said that the work- men Avork against themselves in trying to close the held of industry to women. The tendency toward the equality of wages, as the ideal of the remuneration of work, is also to be condemned. Nothing is more contrary to the spirit of the times, which demands that every one be treated according to his Avork. Capacity, painstaking, personal efforts, are elements that demand to be proportionately remunerated. Let us add, that it is the duty of head masters, in the case of a good will, succumbing to physical inability, to conciliate benevolence and equity with justice ; this, however, is only an exceptional case. But, as a principle, each one should be rewarded only for Avhat he has done. Otherwise there would be an inducement to indiffer- ence and idleness. 100. Workmen and farmers. — Having considered work- PEOFESSIOXAL DUTIES. 167 men in their relations with, their masters, let lis consider them now on a line with farmers ; for, according as one Uves in the city or in the country, there is a great difference in manners, cind consequently in duties. The workmen who live in the city are for that very reason more apt to acc|uire new ideas and general information ; they have many more means of educating themselves ; the very pleasures of the city afford them opportunities to cultivate their mind. Besides, living nearer to each other, they are more disposed to consider their common interests and turn them to account. Hence advan- tages and disadvantages. The advantages are, the superiority of intellectual culture, the greater aptitude in conceiving gen- eral ideaSy a stronger interest in public affairs ; in all these respects, city-life presents advantages over country-life. But hence also arise great dangers. The workingmen, quite ready to admit general ideas, but without sufficient information and poKtical experience to control them, abandon themselves readily to Utopian preachings and instigations to revolt. Further, very much preoccupied with their common interests, they are too much disposed to think only of their own class, and to form, as it were, a class apart in society and in the nation. Hence for the workmen a double duty : 1, to obtain enough information not to blindly follow aU demagogues ; 2, to learn t^ consider their interests as connected with all those of the other classes and professions. Farmers are indebted to the country-life for certain advan- tages, which carry with them, at the same time, certain dis- advantages. The farmer is generally more attached to social stability than the more or less shifting inhabitants of the towns : he thinks much of property ; he does not like to change in his manners and ideas. He is thereby a powerful support to conservatism and the spirit of tradition, without which society could not live and last. He has, moreover, had till now the great merit of not singling himself out, of not separating his interests from those of the country in general. Thus, on these two points — opposition to Utopias, preservation 168 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. of social unity — the countryman serves as a counterpoise to all the opposite tendencies in the workmen. But these very qualities are, perhaps, the result of certain defects : namely, the absence of information and enlightenment. The country- man sees not very much beyond his church-steeple ; material life occupies and absorbs him wholly ; individual and personal interests are absolutely predominant in him. He is but little disposed to give his children any education ; and he is dis- posed to look upon them as so many instruments of work less expensive than others. The idea of a general country, general interests surpassing private interests, is more or less wanting in him. What it is necessary to persuade the countryman of, is the usefulness of education. He should be inspired with a taste for liberty, which is a security to him and his family, as well as to all the other classes of society. The workman in becoming better informed, the farmer more informed, they will gradually blend with the middle classes, and there will then be no longer those oppositions of classes and interests so dangerous at the present day. (See Appendix,,) 101. II- Military duties. — We have already considered military duties, as the duty of citizens toward the State ; we have now to consider here military duties in themselves, as special duties, peculiar to a certain class of citizens, to a certain social profession. 1. It is useless to say that the peculiar virtue and special duty of the military class is courage. We have but to refer the reader to what will be said further on (ch. xiv.), touching the virtue of courage, in regard to the duties of man toward himself. 2. Patriotism is a duty of all classes and all professions ; but it is particularly one with those who are commissioned to defend the country : it is, therefore, the military virtue par excellence. 3. Fidelity to the flag.—T\\\?> duty is implied in the two precetling ones. The duty of courage, in fact, implies that one Pliould not flee before the enemy : it is the crime of deser- PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 169 tion ; that one should not pass over to the enemy : it is the crime of defection or treason. This latter crime has become very rare, and has even wholly disappeared in modern France. Formerly there was seen a Conde, the great Conde fighting against the French at the head of Spanish troops ; and so great a fault scarcely injured his reputation ; in our days, a simple suspicion, and that an unjust one, blackened the whole life of a Marshal of France."^ 4. Obedience and discipline. (See above, Duties toward tlv^ State, preceding chapter.) 102. III. Public functions— Administration — Deputation — Magistracy — The Bar. — The public functions are the divers acts which compose the government of a State. We even include the elective functions (deputation, general councils, town councils, etc.), because, whilst they have their origin in election, they are, nevertheless, functions, the purpose of which is the common loeal, public interests. For the same reason, though the bar is a free profession, it is so con- nected with magistracy, it is so necessary a dependency of the judicial power, that it is thereby itself a sort of public power. 103. Functionaries. — We call functionaries, more particu- larly, those who take part in the administration of the country and the execution of its laws. This admitted, the principal duties of functionaries are : 1. The Knoivledge of the laws they are commissioned to exe- cute. Power is only legitimate as far as it is guaranteed by com- petency. Ignorance in public functions has for its results injustice, since arbitrariness takes then the place of the law ; administrative disorder, since the law has precisely for its object to establish rules and maintain traditions ; negligence, since ignorant of the principles by which affairs ought to be settled, conclusions are kept off as much as possible. But one must not defer obtaining administrative information till called * Marshal Marmont was accused of treason for having accepted the capitulation of Essonne, which was perhaps imposed upon him by necessity. 8 170 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. to take a share in the administration. A general information should be acquired beforehand ; for, once engaged in adminis- trative affairs, there is then no longer time to acquire it. To go to loork is, therefore, the first duty of those who would be prepared for public functions ; and this duty of work continues with the functions ; for after general information has been obtained, comes the special and technical informa- tion, where there is always something new to learn. 2. The second duty of functionaries of any degree, is exac- titude and assiduity. The most brilliant qualities, and the largest and amplest mind for public affairs, will render but inefficient service — at any rate, a service very inferior to what could be expected of them, if these qualities are counterbal- anced and paralyzed by negligence, laziness, disorder, inexact- ness. One must not forget that all negligence in public affairs is a denial of justice to some one. An administrative decision, whatever it be, has always for its result to satisfy the just, or to deny the unjust, claims of some one. To retard a case through negligence, may therefore deprive some one of what he has a right to. There are, of course, necessary delays which arise from the complication of affairs, and order itself requires that everything come in time ; but delays occasioned by our own fault are a wrong toward others. 3. Integrity and discretion are also among the most impor- tant duties of functionaries. The first bears especially upon what concerns finances ; but there are everywhere more or less opportunities to fail in probity. For example, there is nothing more shameful than to sell one's influence ; this is what is called extortion. An administrator given to extortion is the shame and ruin of the State. As to discretion, it is again a duty which depends on the nature of tilings. It is especially obligatory when persons are in question, and still more so in certain careers — as, for example, in diplomacT/. 4. Justice. — The strict duty of every administrator or func- tionary, is to have no other rule than the law; to avoid arbitrariness and favor, to have no regard to persons. This « PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 171 duty, it must be said, whilst it is the most necessary, is also the most difficult to exercise, and one which requires most courage and will. Public opinion, unfortunately, encourages in this respect, the weaknesses of officials ; it is convinced, and spreads everywhere this conviction, that all is due to favoritism, that it is not the most deserving that succeed, but the best recommended. Everybody complains of it, and every- body helps toward it. There is unquestionably much exag- geration in these complaints. Favor is not everything in this world. It is too much the interest of administrators that they should have industrious and intelligent assistants, and that they should employ every means to choose them well ; and in public affairs, the interests of the common weal always predominate in the end. It is, nevertheless, an evil that so unfavorable a prejudice should exist ; and it is absolutely a duty with func- tionaries to uproot it, in showing it to be false. 104. Elective functions— Deputation — Elective councils. —There is a whole class of functionaries, if it be permitted to say so, who owe their origin to election, and who are the man- dataries of the people, either in municipal councils, or in gen- eral councils, or in the great elective bodies of the State, the Senate and House of Representatives. (See Civil instruction.) The principle of the sovereignty of the people requires that for all its interests, communal, departmental or national, the country have a deliberative voice by means of its representa- tives. The duties of these mandataries are generally the same in any degree of rank. 1. Fidelity to the mandate. — The representative is the in- terpreter of certain opinions, of certain tendencies, and al- though the majority which have elected him comprise very diverse elements, there exists an average of opinions, and it is this average which the deputy represents, or should represent. He would, therefore, fail in his duty if, once elected, he passed over to his opponents, or, if wishing to do so, he did not ten- der his resignation. However, this fidelity to the mandate should not be carried so far as to accept what is called the im- 172 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. perative mandate, which is the negation of all liberty in the representative, and makes of him a simple voting machine. The representative is a representative precisely because he is empowered, on his own responsibility, to find the best means to carry out the wivshes of his constituents. 2. Independence. — The deputy, senator, municipal, or de- partmental officer should be independent both in regard to the authorities and in regard to the electors. From the au- thorities he should receive no favors ; he should not sell his vote in any interest whatsoever ; from 'the electors he has to receive advice only, but no orders. Outside their office as electors, the electors are nothing but simple individuals. As such they may try to influence representatives, but they have otherwise no other title before the representatives of the elect- oral corps. The representative should, above all, avoid mak- ing himself the servant of the electors, for the satisfaction of their private interests and passions. It is often thought that independence only consists in resisting courts and princes; there is no less independence, and sometimes even is there more merit and courage required to resist the tyranny of the masses, and especially that of popular leaders. The deputy should, we have said, be faithful to his trust — that is to say, to the general line of politics adopted by the political party to which he belongs ; but within these general limits it is for him to assume the responsibility, for it is for this very reason that he is elected a representative. Let us, moreover, add that fidelity to opinions should not degenerate into party spirit, and that there is an interest which should supersede all others, namely, the interest of the country. 3. The spirit of conciliation and the spirit of discipline. — Political liberty, more than any other political principle, re- quires the spirit of concession. If each, indexed, fortifies him- self in his own opinions, without ever making a concession, all having the right to do the same, it is evident that no com- mon conclusion can be arrived at. The consequence of the PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 173 liberum veto* pushed to excess, is paralysis of power or anarchy, Xothing is done ; and in politics, when nothing is done, all becomes disorganized, dissolved. It is, therefore, necessary that whilst preserving their independence, the rep- resentatives sent forth by the electors should endeavor to ren- der government possible ; they should not overstep the limits of their trust by confounding legislative power with executive power ; they should try to harmonize with the other bodies of the State — in short, they ought each to sacrifice the necessary amount of their individual opinion to bring about a common opinion. In a free government it is no more a duty to belong to the majority than to the opposition, since the opposition may, in its turn, become majority ; but whether belonging to the one or to the other, the representative should subordinate his particular views to the common interest ; otherwise the parties scatter, which, in the long run, can only be profitable to des- potism. 105. Judicial power. — The magistracy and the bar. — The judicial power is exercised by magistrates called ,yW^e->^' it is they who decide about quarrels between individuals : this is what is called civil justice ; they also decide about the punishments inflicted on criminals who have made attempts upon a life or property ; and this is penal justice. The duties of the magistrate are easily deduced from these obliga- tions. 1. Impartiality and neutrality. — The judge must neces- sarily remain neutral among all parties ; he should have no regard to persons, should render equal justice to the rich and to the poor, to the high and to the low. Equality hefore the law, which is one of the principles of our modern institutions, should not only be a principle in the abstract ; it should also be a practical principle, and be brought before the eyes of the judges as one among the first of their obligations. ♦ The liberum veto in Poland was the right of each representative to oppose the veto of the laws which were voted unanimouslv. 174 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 2. Integrihj and disinterestedness. — Xo less strict a duty for the judges, and which it is scarcely necessary to point out, is integrity. The magistrate should be free from all suspicion of venality. Under the old regime, as may be seen in Racine's comedy of The Pleaders, the judges were not always free from such suspicion. Of course, it is but a comedy ; but such a comedy could no longer be written now- adays ; it would no longer be understood ; our morals are too much improved for that. The obligation should, neverthe- less, be pointed out. 3. Impartiality and integrity concern above all civil justice. The duty which more especially concerns criminal justice, is equity ; namely, a moderate justice, intermediary between a dangerous lenity and an excessive severity. In truth, in most cases, at least in the graver cases, the judge has scarcely any- thing more to do than to apply the law. It is for the jury, a sort of free and irresponsible magistracy, to decide upon the culpability or innocence of the prisoners. It is for the jury to find a just medium between harshness and lenity. But the juryman who, above all, judges as a man, and often recoils from responsibility, should fear the excess of lenity : the judge, on the contrary, accustomed to repression, and above all pre- occupied with the interests of society, should rather defend himself against excess of rigor and severity. 4. Knowledge. — What is for most men but a luxury, be- comes in such or such a profession a strict duty. The knowledge of the Urns, for example, is, for the magistrate, as the knowledge of the human body for the physician, a strict obligation. He who wishes to enter the magistracy, should therefore carry the study of the law as far as his youth permits it ; but he should not stop his studies the moment he has entered upon liis career. He has always something to learn ; he sliould keep himself informed of the progress jurisprudence is making. Tt is useless to say tliat, independently of this general work, the s[)e(;ial and thorough st\uly of each case brought before him is for the judge a duty still more strict. PROFESSlO>s'AL DUTIES. 175 Alongside of the magistracy, and co-operating witli it, is placed the bar, which is charged with the defense of private interests from a civil or criminal point of view. From a civil point of view, the trial is between two citizens, each claiming his right in the case; they are what is called plerAclers, and the trial itself is called a law-suit. The pleaders, not knowing the laws, need an intermediary to explain and defend their cause, bring it clearly to the comprehension of the magistrates and enforce its reasons. This is the part of the lawyers. From a criminal point of view, the trial is not between two individuals ; but between society and the criminal. Society, to defend itself, employs what is called a public prosecutor ; the criminal needs a counsel. The part of a counsel belongs again to the lawyers. The duties of lawyers are varied according as the cases are civil or criminal cases. In civil law-suits, the absolute duty is the following : not to take up bad cases. Only it is necessary to understand well tliis principle. It is generally believed that a bad case is the losing one, and a good case the winning one. Thus would there in every law-suit be a lawyer who failed in his duty : the one, namely, who lost the case. This is a false idea, which very unjustly throws in many minds discredit upon the profession of the law. Certainly there are cases where the law is so clear, juris- prudence so established, the morality so evident and imperious, that a suit having the three against itself, may be called a bad case ; and the lawyer who can allow his client to believe the suit defensible, and who employs liis skill and eloquence in defending it, fails in his professional duty. But this is not generally the case. In most cases, it is very difficult to tell beforehand who is right, who wrong, and precisely because it is difficult, are there judges whose proper function it is to de- cide. Xow, in order that the judge may decide, he must be acquainted with all the details of the case ; all possible reasons 176 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. from both sides must be laid before him. Everybody knows that one can never of one's own account find in favor of a solution or conclusion, all the reasons which the interested party can ; now, it is just that these reasons be set forth : this is the business of the lawyers. One must not forget that in every law-suit there is a pro and a con. It is for this very reason there is a suit. The lawyers are specially here to plead for the pro and con, each from his own standpoint. One could very well understand, for example, that the court should have at its disposal functionaries commissioned to prepare the cases and plead for the contending parties: one would take up Peter's cause, the other, Paul's ; this is just the part of the lawyers, with this difference, that the choice of the lawyer is left to the client, because it is but just that a deputy be chosen by him he is supposed to represent. In criminal cases there are equally very delicate questions. How can a lawyer defend as innocent one who is guilty? Were it not an actual lie ? And yet society does not allow that any accused, whoever he be, be left without counsel ; and when none present themselves, it provides one, charging him to save the life of the accused if he can. It is the interest of society that no innocent person be condemned, and that even the guilty should not be punished beyond what he deserves ; in short, it takes care that all the reasons that can be brought forth to attenuate the gravity of an offense be well weighed, and even set forth in a manner to arouse pity and sympathy. Such is the business of the lawyers. It is evident that these considerations, which show the lawyer's profession to be one so legitimate and exalted, should not be improperly understood. These general rules must be interprcited with dcHcacy of feeling and conscience. 106. IV. Science — Teaching — Medicine— The letters and arts. — Beside the 80C'/(d powers which make, execute and ((j)!)!;/ tlie laws, there is science, which instructs men, en- lightens them, directs their work, and whicli even, setting utility aside, is yet in itself an object of disinterested research. J»E0FESSI0KAL DUTIES. 177 Side by side with the sciences are the letters and arts, which pursue and express the heautiful, as science pursues the true. Finally, to science and art are added morality and religion, whose object is the good. The moralists, it is true, do not constitute a particular profession in society, or at least their part is blended with teaching in general ; religion has its in- terpreters, who find in their dogmas and traditions the rules of their duties. It is not the business of lay morality to teach these. Let us, therefore, content ourselves with a few prin- ciples concerning the sciences and letters. 107. Science — Duties of Scientists. — Science may be cultivated in two different ways and from two different stand- points : 1, for itself ; 2, for its social advantages — for the ser- vices it renders to men. There is but a small number of men who have a natural taste for pure science, and the leisure to give themselves up to the love of it ; but those who choose such a life contract thereby certain duties. The first of all is the love of truth. The only object for the scientist to pursue is truth. He must, therefore, lay aside all interests and passions antagonistic to truth ; and, above all, personal interest which inclines one to prefer one theme to another, because of the advantages it may bring ; this is, how- ever, so gross a motive, that it would not be supposed to exist with a true scholar ; yet are there other causes of error no less dangerous — for example, the interest of a cause — of a convic- tion which is dear to us ; the interest of our self-love, which makes us persist in error known to be such ; the spirit of sys- tem, by which one shows his peculiar forte, etc. All these passions should give way before the pure love of truth. 108. The communication of science— Teaching.— The principal duty of those who are possessed of science is to com- municate it to other men. Certainly, all men are not called to be scholars ; but all should in some degree have their intelli- gence cultivated by instruction. Hence the duty of teaching im- posed upon scholars ; but this duty brings with it many otliers. 1. The masters who t(^ixch others should themselves first be 178 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. educated. Hence the duty of intellectual work, not merely to acquire knowledge, Avitliout wliicli one cannot be a teacher, but to preserve and increase it. The teacher should, there- fore, set an example to his pupil of assiduous and continuous intellectual work. 2. The teacher should love his pupils — children, if he is called upon to teach children ; young men, if he is to address young men. The teacher should not only think of the science he teaches, but of the fruits his pupils are to reap from it ; one can only be interested in what he loves. A teacher in- different toward the young, will never make the necessary effort to lead and educate them. 3. The teacher, in teaching, should unite in a just measure discipline and Uhey^ty. Instruction naturally presupposes one that knows and one that does not know ; and it is necessary that the one should direct the other ; hence the necessity of discipline. But the purpose of instruction is to teach to do without the master — to be one's own master in thought and conduct ; hence the necessity of liberty. This liberty should grow along with the instruction, and, of course, proportionately to age ; but, at any age, one should take advantage of the faculties of a child, and make it as much as possible find out by itself what is within its reach. 4. The teacher should not separate iristrudion from educa- tion. He should not only communicate knowledge — he should above all form men, characters, wills. Instruction is, besides, ah'cady in itself an education. Can one instruct without ac- customing young minds to work, to obedience, to correct habits of thought ; without putting into their hands good IxDoks ; without giving them good examples 1 It is most true tl\at one does not form men with pure and abstract science alon(!, — it is necessary to add the letters, history, morality, religion. The t(!acher, besides, should study the character of his ])U])ils, sliould, through work and moral and ))hysical exer- cises, put down })resuni])tion, correct unmanliness, combat sellishness, anticipate or restrain the passions. PEOFESSIOis'AL DUTIES. 179 109. Applied science — Industry — Medicine. — Science may tiud its application in two ways, either to tilings, or to men. Applied to things, it is called industrij ; applied to men, medi- cine. There are no special duties concerning industrial pursuits. Engineers, private or in the service of the State, employed in civil or military works, have no other duties then the general duties of functionaries, military-men, employees, etc. It is not the same Avitli medicine. There are here obligations of a special and graver nature. 110. Duties of the physician— His knowledge. — Knowl- edge is an obHgation in every profession ; everywhere it is in- dispensable to know the thing one is engaged in; but, in medicine, ignorance is of a much more serious character : for it may end in manslaughter. How can any one attend the sick if he knows nothing of the human body ; if he is ignorant of the s}Tnptoms of a disease ? He has, it is true, the resource of doing nothing ; but might not this also be manslaughter ? Does he not then take the place of him who knows and might save the patient ? 2. Secrecy. — The physician is above all held to secrecy. He must not make known the diseases which have been revealed to him. This is what is called mediccd secrecy. This obligation may in certain cases give rise to the most serious troubles of conscience; but, as a principle, it may be said that secrecy is as absolute a duty for the physician as it is for the father-confessor. 3. Courage. — The physician, we have seen, has liis ^oint d'honnefiir, like the military -man ; he often runs equally great dangers : he must, if necessary, devote himself and risk his life. He requires also a great moral courage, when he is brought before a serious illness where, at the moment of a dangerous operation, when his hand must be as firm as his mind, he needs all the self-possession he can command. 4. Duties toward the sick : Kindness and severity. — The physician should be firm in the treatment of his patients ; he should insist that his prescriptions be unconditionally fol- 180 lELEMENtS OF MORALS. lowed, for his responsibility rests on this : he should rather give up the case than consent to a dangerous disobedience. At the same time he must encourage the patient, raise his strength by inspiring him with confidence, which is half the cure. He must also, without deceiving it, uphold the courage of the family. In some cases it may be necessary to tell the patient the danger he is in. III. Writers and artists. — The morality of writers and artists is, as in all the preceding cases, determined by the object these persons devote their lives to. The object of the writer and artist is the realization of the beautiful, either in speech or writing (literature), or through color and lines (painting, sculpture), or tlijough sound (music). In all these arts, the leading thought should be the interests of the art one is culti- vating. One should as much as possible beware turning it into a trade — that is to say, into a mercenary art, having gain only for its object. Certainly one must live, and it is rare that writers, poets, artists, have at their command resources enough to do without the pecuniary fruit of pen or hand ; but the attainment of the beautiful should be preferred to that of the useful : study, the imitation of the great masters, contempt for fashion, striving after all that is delicate, noble, pure, the avoiding of all that is low, frivolous, factitious : such are the principles which should regulate the morality of artist and writer. It is useless to add that they should seek their suc- cess in what elevates the soul, and not in what corrupts and degrades it. Coarseness, brutality, license, should be absolutely condemned. Better to devote one's self to a useful and humble profession than employ one's talent in depraving morals, and degrading souls. The duties of the poet have been eloquently expressed by Boileau in his Art poetique. 1. It is a duty to devote one's self to poetry and the fine arts only when one has a d(;cid(Ml vocation for them. " ^ii rather a mason, if that be your talent." I>ROtESSIONAL DUTIES. 181 2. The poet should listen to good advice. " Make choice of a sohd and wholesome censor." 3. The poet and artist should, in their verses and works, the interpreters of virtue. " Let your soul and your morals, depicted in your works, Never present of you but noble images." Love, then, virtue ; nourish your soul therewith. " The verse always savors of the baseness of the heart." 4. They must avoid jealousies and rivalries. " Flee, above all, flee base jealousies." 5. They must prefer glory to gain. " Work for glory and let no sordid gain Ever be the object of a noble writer." CHAPTEE IX. Drrrns of s'Aiio^rs a^ioxg themseltes — ^esteb- >rATIO>'AL LAW. SUMMARY. General principles of international law. — Tliev are the principles of zhi ninu-jJ. liw applieii to tiie relations nations sustain to each other. Of war. — "^ar fijundeii on the right of self-defense. The reasons for a yziz A-or. Defensive and offensive wars. — This ilivision UTIES RELATING TO THE IKTELLECT. 2?*^ to see nothing but good qualities in the woman he loves,* shuts his eyes to the most obvious defects. " The inward lie is then an unpardonable weakness, if not a real baseness, and we must conclude from this that it is the same with the outward lie — the lie, namely, which expresses itself in words. Here it may be objected that speecli is not an integrant part of the mind, that it is only an accident, that whatever use w^e may make of speech we do not destroy thereby the principle of intelligence, for I may use my mind to discover and possess myself of truth, even though I should not make known the same to others, or make them believe otherwise than I think. From this standpoint falsehood would still remain a sin as a violation of the duty toward others, though not as a shortcoming in regard to one's self. But this would be a very false analysis of the psychological fact called communication of thought. Speech is never wholly independent of thought. The very fact that I speak, implies that I think my speecli : there is an inner affirmation required. I cannot make sophisms to deceive men without having first inwardly combined these sophisms through the faculty of thinking which is in me. I think then of one thing and another at the same time ; I think at the same time of both the true and the false, and I am conscious of this con- tradiction. I employ then knowingly my mind in destroying itself, and I fall, consequently, into the vice pointed out above. Kant gives another deduction than ours to prove that false- hood is a violation of duty toward one's self. But his deduc- tion is, perhaps, not sufficiently severe : ** A man who does not himself believe what he tells another, is of less worth than is a simple thing ; for one may put the usefulness of a simple thing to some account, whilst the liar is not so much a real man as a deceiving appearance of a man. . . . Once the major principle of veracity shaken, dissimulation soon runs into all our relations with others." * See the celebrated lines in the Misanthrope, act ii., sc. v. a5'J'8 elements of morals. This deduction is very ingenious ; but it lacks strictness, inasmuch as it is based on the use a man may be made of, which principle is contrary to the general principle of Kant's morals, and also because it rests on the standpoint of social interest, which lies outside the point in question. 155. Discretion. — It is evident that the duty not to lie, does not carry with it, as its consequence, the duty of telling all. Silence must not be confounded with dissimulation, and no one is obliged to tell all he has in his mind ; far from it ; Ave are here before another duty toward ourselves, which stands in some respect in opposition to the preceding one, namely, discretion. The babbler who speaks at all times and under all circumstances, and he who tells what he should not, must not be confounded with the loyal and sincere man, who only tells what he thinks, but does not necessarily tell all he thinks. Silence is obviously a strict duty toward others, when the matter in question has been confided to us under the seal of secrecy. But it may also be said that it is a duty toward our- selves, and for the following reasons : 1. To use one's mind, as does the babbler, in giving utter- ance to barren and frivolous thoughts, is degrading : not all that accidentally crosses one's mind is worthy of being ex- pressed ; and it is simply heedlessness to fix one's mind on fleeting things, and give them a certain fixity and value through words ; 2, there are, on the other hand, other thoughts, too precious, too personal, too elevated, to be indiscreetly ex- posed to the curiosity of fools or indifferent persons. Thus will it be heroic, unquestionably, to confess one's faith before the executioner, if there is need ; but it is not necessary to proclaim it all round when there is no occasion for it : I be- lieve such and such a thing ; I belong to such or such a church ; I liold such and such a doctrine ; I belong to such or sucli a party, unless, of course, there is an interest in spread- ing one's belief ; and even tlien it will be necessary to choose tlie riglit place and the right moment. As to using discretion DUTIES EELATIXG TO THE i:srTELLECT. 279 in regard to our sentiments, our moral qualities, or our defects, it is in one instance a duty of modesty and in another one of personal dignity. 156. Perjury. — If falsehood is in general an abasement of human dignity, it is a still greater abasement when it is of the kind called ■i)eTiiiry, and a transgression which might be de- fined as a double falsehood. Perjury is of two sorts : it either means swearing falsely or violating a former oath. In order to understand the meaning of perjury, one must know what constitutes an oath. The oath is an affirmation where God is taken as a witness of the truth one is supposed to utter. The oath consists, then, in some respect, in invoking God in our favor, in mak- ing him speak in our name. We, so to say, attest that God himself, who reads the heart, would, if he were called in testimony, speak as we speak ourselves. The oath indicates that one accepts in advance the chastisements God does not fail to inflict upon those who invoke his name in vain. It will be seen by this how perjury, namely, false SAvearing, may be called a double lie. For perjury is a lie, first in affirming a thing that is false, and second, in affirming that God would bear testimony if he were present. Let us add that there is here a sort of sacrilege Avhich consists in our making God, in some respects, the accomplice of our he. It is true that men, in taking an oath, forget often its sacred and religious character, and, consequently, there is not always a sacrilegious intention in their false swearing. But it may stiU be said that perjury is a double lie ; for in every oath taken, even though stripped of all religious character, there is always a double attestation : first we affirm a thing, and next we affirm that our affirmation is true. It is thus that in that form of speech long since worn out, which is called icovd of honor, we give our word and engage our honor to attest that such or such affirmation is true. To break this word is, then, to lie twice, for it is affirming a false affirmation. It is for 280 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. \this reason that falsehood, which is always culpable, must, in this case, be regarded as particularly dishonorable. As to perjury, considered as a violation of a former oath, it belongs to the class of promise or word-breaking, which is especially contrary to the duty toward others. Yet, even in this kind of falsehood, there is also a violation of personal duty ; for he who breaks a promise (with or without oath) would seem to indicate by it that he did not intend keeping his promise, which is destructive to the very idea of a promise; it is then, once more, using speech, not as a necessary symbol of thought, but simply as a means of obtaining what we want, reserving to ourselves the liberty to change our minds when the moment comes for fulfilling our promise. This is abasing our intelligence, and making it serve as a means to satisfy our wants, whilst it belongs to an order far superior to these very wants. CHAPTEE XIY. DUTIES RELATIYE TO THE WILL. SUMMARY. Duties relative to the will. — Strength of soul. — All duty in general is relative to the will : for there is not any which does not require the control of the will over the inclinations. Virtue, especially when considered from the latter standpoint, — the control of the will over the inclinations, — is strength of soul, or cou7uge. Of courage and its different forms : military courage ; civic courage ; patience, moderation in prosperity ; equanimity, etc. Of anger and its different kinds. — Generous anger. Dxxty oi personal dignity. — Respect for ones self True 'pride and false pride. — Of o^just esteem of one's self. — Oi modesty. Duties relative to sentiment. — Have we any duties in regard to our sensibilities? — Kant's objection : no one can love at will. Reply. — To distinguish sensibility from sentimentality. 157. Duties relative to the will.— Strength of soul. — One may justly ask whether there are any duties relating particu- larly to the will : for it would seem that all duties are gener- ally duties of the will. There is no one that does not require the control of the will over the inclinations ; and if we say that it is a duty to cultivate and exercise this control, is it not as if we said that it is a duty to learn to do our duty ? But why could we not also suppose a third duty, commanding us to observe the former, and so ad infinihim ? We may then say that the duty to exercise one's will and triumph over the passions, is nothing more than duty per se, the duty par excellence, of which all the other duties 282 ELEMElil'TS OF MOEALS. are but parts. This virtue, by which the soul commands its passions and does not allow itself to be subjugated by any of them, may be called courage or strength . of soul. Courage thus understood is not only a virtue ; it is vir- tue itself.* In fact, what is temperance, if it is not a cer- tain kind of courage before the pleasures of the senses ? what economy, if not courage before the temptations of fortune ? what veracity, if not the courage to tell the truth under all circumstances ? what justice and benevolence, if not the cour- age to sacrifice self-interest to the interest of others ? We have already (page 87) made a similar observation in regard to prudence and wisdom, namely, that virtue in general is both wisdom and courage : for it presupposes at the same time strength and light. As strength, it is courage, energy, great- ness of soul ; as light, it is prudence and wisdom. All special virtues would, then, strictly speaking, be only factors, or component parts, of those two. 158. Courage. — Yet if courage, in its most general sense, is virtue itself, usage has given it a special meaning which defines it in a more particular manner, and makes of it a cer- tain distinct virtue, on the same conditions as all the others. As of all the assaults which besiege us in life, death appears to be the most terrible and generally the most dreaded, it is not to be wondered then that this kind of energy which con- sists in braving death and, consequently, all that may lead to it, namely, peril, has been designated by a particular name. Courage, therefore, is the sort of virtue which braves peril and even death. Then, by extension, the same word was applied to every manifestation of strength of soul before misfortune, misery, grief. A man can be brave in poverty, in slavery, under humiliation even — that is, a humiliation wliich is due to outward circumstances, and which he has not deserved. This courageous virtue seems to have been the particular feature of the ancients, and by dint of its excellence, still re- tains its hold on us, dazzling our imagination, as a privileged * Virtus in Latin has botli meanings. DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 283 prestige. Yet is it only an illusion, and modern times are as rich in heroes as were ancient times : only we pay less atten- tion to it perhaps ; but, whether it be real superiority in this kind of virtue, or literary reminiscences and habits of educa- tion, nothing will ever erase that lively picture of ancient heroism so celebrated under the name of Plutarch's heroes, and which has always captivated all great imaginations. Stoicism, that original philosophy of the Greek and Roman world, is above all the philosophy of courage. Its character proper is the strength to resist one's self, to hold pain, death, all the accidents of humanity, in contempt. Its model is Her- cules, the god of strength ; all the great men of antiquity, whether consciously or not, were stoics : such were especially the ancient Roman citizens ; they were austere, inexorable ; slaves to duty and discipline, faithful to their oath, to their country ; — Brutus, Regulus, Scsevola, Decius, and thousands more like them. Wlien stoicism came in contact with the last great Romans, it found material all ready for its doc- trines ; it then became the philosophy of the last republicans, the last heroes of a world which was fast disappearing. The courage which most impresses men is military courage. "The most honorable deaths occur in war,*' says Aristotle, *' for in war the danger is the greatest and most honorable. The public honors that are awarded in states and by monarchs attest this. " Properly, then, he who in the case of an honorable death, and under circumstances close at hand which cause death, is fearless, may be called courageous ; and the dangers of war are, more than any others, of this description. " * In looking at it from this somewhat exclusive standpoint, Aristotle refuses to call courageous those who brave sickness and poverty ; " for it is possible," he says, " for cowards, in the perils of war, to bear with much firmness the losses of fortune ;" nor does he allow to be called courageous " him who firmly meets the strokes of the whip he is threatened with." This is but a question of name and degree. Wherever * Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics. Translated by R. W, Browne, III., vi. 284 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. there are any evils to brave, the firmness which meets and bears these evils can be called courage ; on the other hand, the sense of the word can, if preferred, be restricted to mili- tary perils ; but what Aristotle has most justly defined, and of which he makes a very subtle analysis, is the difference be- tween apparent and true courage. Thus the courage of con- straint and necessity — as, for instance, that of soldiers who would be mercilessly killed, if they retreated before the en- emy — is not true courage, for one cannot be brave through fear. Nor should anger be confounded with courage : this were but the courage of wild beasts obeying a blind impulse under the sting of pain. At that rate, the donkeys even, when hungry, would be brave. That which determines true courage is the sentiment of honor, not passion. We should neither call brave him who is so only because he feels himself the strongest, like the drunkard full of confidence in the be- ginning, but who runs away when he does not succeed. For this reason is there truer courage in preserving one's intrepidity and calm in sudden dangers, than in dangers long anticipated."^ Finally, ignorance cannot be called courage either : to brave a danger one is ignorant of, is only to be apparently brave. Aristotle finds also in courage an excellent opportunity to apply his celebrated theory of the golden mean. Courage is for him a medium between temerity and cowardice. But it is not the too much or too little in danger which determines what we ought to call courage. There are cases where one may be obliged to brave the greatest possible danger without being for that rash ; other cases where, on the contrary, one has the right to avoid the least possible peril without being for that a coward. The true principle is that one should brave necessary jierils, be they ever so great ; and likewise avoid useless perils, be they ever so slight. Yet, the question of de- gree should not be wholly overlooked. There are some * This idea of Aristotle may be questioned ; for, in a sudden peril, one may be sustained by a natural impulse, and the feeling of self-defense, whilst anticipated peril allows all the impressions of fear to grow : it requires, therefore, a greater effoi-t to overcome them. DUTIES EELATITE TO THE WILL. 285 perils ^liich, ■v^'ithout being necessary, it is useful to brave (were it but to train one's self for greater ones). Such are, for example, tlie dangers connected with bodily exercises. Peril and utility must, of course, be compared with each otlier; for example, he who from considerations of utility would wish to avoid all kinds of perils, wall be wanting in courage ; and he who, on the contrary, would lightly brave an extreme peril, will naturally deserve to be called rash. Thus must we first consider the nature of the peril, and, secondly, the degTee. 159. Civic courage. — Although military courage is the most brilliant and popidar form of courage, it may be asked whether there is not a higher and nobler form still, namely, civic courage. Cicero, who, to say the truth, was not sufficiently disinter- ested in the matter, persists in showing that civic virtues are equal to military virtues, and demand an equal amount of courage and energy.* A firm and high-souled man, he says, has no trouble in difficult circumstances, to preserve his pres- ence of mind and the free use of his reason, to provide in ad- vance against events, and to be always ready for action when necessary. This is a sort of courage more difficult perhaps than the one required in a hand-to-hand struggle with the enemy. Civic hfe, besides, has itself trials Avhich often imperil one's existence. Antiquity has left us innumerable and admirable exam- ples of civic courage against t}Tanny. Helvidius Priscus was thought to look with disapproval upon Vespasian's administra- tion. The latter sent liim word to keep away from the Sen- ate : " It is in thy power," replied Helvidius, " to forbid my belonging to the Senate, but as long as I belong to it, I shall attend it." — " Go, then," said the emperor, " but hold thy tongue." — " If thou ask me no questions I wiU make thee no answers." — " But I must ask thee questions." — "And I must answer thee what I think just." — " If thou dost, I shall have * Dc Officiis, I., xxiii. 286 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. thee put to death." — " When have I said to thee that I was immortal?" But nothing ever surpassed the intrepidity of Socrates, either before the Thirty Tyrants who wished to inter- dict him free speech,* or before the people's tribunals which condemned him to death : Plato in his Apology makes him say : "If you were to tell me now, * Socrates, we will not listen to Anytus : Ave send thee back absolved on condition that thou ceasest philosophizing and givest up thy accus- tomed researches,' I should answer you without hesitation, *0 Atheni- ans, I honor and love you, but I shall obey God befoi-e I obey you. ' " Then, after having been condemned to death, he closes with these admirable words : " I bear ray accusers, and those who have condemned me, no resent- ment, although they did not seek my good, but rather to injure me. But I shall ask of them one favor : I beg you, when my children shall be grown up, to persecute them as I have myself persecuted you, if you see that they prefer riches to virtue. . . If you grant us this favor, I and my children shall have but to praise your justice. But it is time we go each our way : I to die, you to live. Which of us has the better part, you or I ? This is known to none but God." 160. Patience. — One of the most difficult forms of courage is that which consists not only in l^raving or repelling a threatening danger (which presupposes some effort and activity), but in bearing without anger, without any sign of vain revolt, the ills and pains of life : tliis is patience. There is a kind of patience which is but a part of our duty in regard to others : one must learn to bear a great deal from others, they having often a great deal to bear from us. But we speak here of that inner patience which is our strength in grief ; the patience of the invalid in his daily sufferings ; that of the poor man in his poverty ; the patience, in short, which all must exercise amidst the innumerable and inevitable accidents of life. It is, above all, that sort of virtue which the Stoics meant when they said with Epictetus : " You sliould not wish things to happen as you want them ; but you See Xenophon's Memorabilia of Socrates, I., i. t DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 287 should wish them as they do happen." A maxim which Descartes translated substantially, saying : " My maxim is rather to try to overcome myself than fortune, and rather to change my own wishes than to change the order of the world." Which he explained by saying : " If we regard the goods which lie outside of us as unattainable as those we are deprived of from our birth, we shall no more grieve at not possessing them, than we should in not possessing the empires of China or Mexico ; and, making, as it is said, a virtue of necessity, we shall not any more desire to be healthy when ill, or to be free when in prison, than we desire now to have bodies of as incorruptible a stuff as diamonds, or to have wings to fly with like birds." * It is this kind of courage which at every moment of life is most in requisition, and which is the rarest ; for there will be found plenty of men capable of braving death when the occasion presents itself ; but to bear with resignation the in- evitable and constantly renewed ills of human life, is a virtue all the more rare as one is scarcely ever ashamed of its op- posite vice. One would blush to fear peril, one does not blush for rebelling against destiny ; one is willing to die if necessary, but not to be thwarted. Yet will it be admitted that to succumb under the weight of destiny, is a kind of cowardice. It is for this reason that it would be justly said that suicide is also a cowardly act ; for whilst it is true that it demands a certain physical courage, it is also true that the moral courage which bears the ills of life is of a still higher order. "You take a journey to Olympia," says Epictetus, "to behold the work of Phidias, and each of you thinks it a misfortune to die without a knowledge of such things ; and will you have no inclination to see and understand those works, for which there is no need to take a journey ; but which are ready and at hand, even to those who bestow no pains ! "Will you never perceive what you are, or for what you were born, or for what purpose you are admitted to behold this spectacle ? But there are in life some things unpleasant and difficult. And are there none at Olympia ? Are you not heated ? Are you not crowded ? * Discours de la Mcthodc, part III. 288 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. Are you not without good conveniences for bathing ? Are you not wet through, when it happens to rain ? Do you not have uproar and noise, and other disagreeable circumstances ? But, I suppose, by comparing all these with the merit of the spectacle, you support and endure them. Well, and have you not received faculties by which you may support every event ? Have you not received greatness of soul ? Have you not received a manly spirit ? Have you not received patience ? What signifies to me anything that happens, while my soul is above it ? What shall disconcert or trouble or appear grievous to me ? Shall I not use my powers to that purpose for which I received them ; but lament and groan at every casualty ? " * But we should not confound true strength, true courage, true patience, with false strength and ridiculous obstinacy. " An acquaintance of mine," says again Epictetus, "had, for no reason, determined to starve himself to death. I went the third day, and in- quired what was the matter. He answered : * I am determined. ' — ' Well ; but what is your motive ? For, if your determination be right, we will stay, and assist your departure ; but if unreasonable, change it. ' — ' We ought to keep our determinations. '— ' What do you mean, sir ? Not all of them ; but such as are right. Else, if you should fancy that it is night, if this be your principle, do not change, but persist and say, " We ought to keep to our determinations." ' What do you mean, sir ? Not to all of them. Why do you not begin by first laying the founda- tion, inquiring whether your determination be a sound one, or not ; and then build your firmness and constancy upon it. For, if you lay a rotten and crazy foundation, you must not build ; since the greater and more weighty the superstructure, the sooner will it fall. Without any reason you are wthdrawing from us, out of life, a friend, a companion, a fellow-citizen both of the greater and the lesser city ; and while you are committing murder, and destroying an innocent person, you say, "We must keep to our determinations." Suppose, by any means, it should ever come into your head to kill me ; must you keep to such a determination ? ' " With difficulty this person was, however, at last convinced; but there are some at ])resent, whom there is no convincing ... a fool will neither bend nor break." t ^ 161. Moderation. — The ancients always associated with pa- tience! in adversity another kind of courage, no less rare and * Tlic Works of Epictetus. T. W. Ili^'Kiiisou's translation, eh. vi., p. 21. t The Works of Epictetus. T. W. IIij,'ginson's translation, eh. xv., page l.W. DUTIES BELATIVE TO THE WILL. 289 difficult, namely, moderation in prosperity. It was for them, in some respects, one and the same virtue, exercised in two opposite conditions, and this is what they call equanimity. " 'Now, during our prosperity," says Cicero, " and while things flow agreeably to our desire, we ought, with great care, to avoid pride and arrogance ; for, as it discovers weakness not to bear adversity with equanimity, so also with prosperity. That equanimity, in every condition of life, is a noble attri- bute, and that uniform expression of countenance which we find recorded of Socrates, and also of Caius Lselius. Panse- tius tells us, his scholar and friend, Africanus, used to say that as horses, grown unruly by being in frequent engagements, are delivered over to be tamed by horse-breakers, thus men, who grow riotous and self-sufficient by prosperity, ought, as it were, to be exercised in the traverse * of reason and philoso- phy, that they may learn the inconstancy of human affairs and the uncertainty of fortune.! IsTothing occurs more frequently among the ancient poets and moralists than this idea of the vicissitude of human things. The metaphor of Fortune's wheel, which sometimes lowers to the greatest depth those it raised highest, is well known. We need scarcely dwell upon this commonplace say- ing which has never, for an instant, ceased to be true ; although the more regular conditions of modern society have introduced more security and uniformity in life, at least for those who live Mdsely and with moderation. Yet is no one secure against the changes of fortune ; there are unexpected elevations as there are sudden falls ; and firmness in either bad or good fortune will always be necessary. 162. Equality of temper; anger. — To equality of temper or possession of one's self, there is still another obligation at- tached : that of avoiding anger, a passion which the ancients with reason considered the principle of courage, | but wliich * Latin, gy7'^^s, the ring in which colts are driven round by horse-breakers, t Cicero, De Officiis, I., xxvi. t Plato's Beimllic, I., iv. : A man deserves to be called courageous Avhen that part of his soul in which anger resides obeys the commands of reason. 290 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. of itself is without any rules, and is more proper to beasts than men. Aristotle has described the irascible disposition Avith great accuracy. He justly distinguishes two kinds of anger ; one where a man is easily carried away, and as easily appeased again, and the other where resentment is nursed and kept up for a long time. The tirst is the irascible dispo- sition ; the second, the splenetic or vindictive disposition. " Irascible men," says Aristotle, " are easily angered, with improper objects, on improper occasions, and too much; but their anger quickly ceases, and this is the best point in their character. And this is the case with them, because they do not restrain their anger, but retaliate openly and visibly, because of their impetuosity, and then they become calm. — But the bitter are difficult to be appeased, and retain their anger a long time, for they repress their rage ; but there comes a cessation, when they have retaliated ; for revenge makes their anger cease, because it produces pleasure instead of the previous pain. But if they do not get revenge, they feel a weight of disappointment : for, owing to its not showing itself, no one reasons with them ; and there is need of time for a man to digest his anger within him. Persons cf this character are very troublesome to themselves, and to their best friends. " * Seneca, in his treatise on Anger, has conclusively shown all the evils this passion carries with it, and of which Horace justly said : " Anger is a short madness." Yet, if anger is an evil, apathy, absolute indifference, is far from being a good. Whilst there is a brutal and beastly anger, there is also a noble, a generous anger, namely, that which is at the service of noble sentiments. Plato describes it in the following terms : " When we are convinced that injustice has been done us, does it not plead the cause of what appears to it to be just 1 Instead of allowing itself to be overcome by hunger, by cold, by all sorts of ill-treatments, does it not overcome them 1 It never ceases a moment to make generous efforts toward obtaining satisfaction, and nothing but death depriving it of its power, or reason persuading or silencing it, as the shepherd silences his dog, can stop it."t * Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, R. W. Browne's traiisl., IV., v. t Plat(/8 Ilepublic, I., iv. DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 291 Aristotle also approves of this generous anger, and blames those with souls too cold : "One can only call stupid those who cannot be aroused to anger about thmgs where real anger ought to be felt. . . He who does not then get angry appears insensible and ignorant of what just indignation means. One might even believe him, since he has no feeling of courage, unable to defend himself when necessary. But it is the cowardice of the slave's to accept an insult and to allow his kin to be attacked with impunity." * But that which is not easy, as Aristotle remarks, is to find an exact and proper medium between apathy and violence : " It is difficult to determine with accuracy the manner, the persons, the occasions, and the length of time for which one ought to be angry, and at what point one ceases to act rightly or wrongly. For he who transgresses the limit a little is not blamed, whether it be on the side of excess or deficiency : and we sometimes praise those who fall short, and call them meek ; and we call the irascible manly, as being able to govern . . . the decision must be left to particular cases, and to the moral sense." f 163. Personal dignity. — A generous anger, as has been seen, has its principle in the sentiment of ijersonal dignity, with which the duty of self-resiJed is connected. Man's free will is what essentially constitutes the dignity of human nature, the moral personality. Man's duty toward himself as a moral personality is then dependent upon his will. This duty of self-respect, of the moral personality, has been admirably expressed by Kant, and we can do no better than transcribe here the passage : " Man, considered as an animal, is a being of but mediocre importance, and is not worth any more than other animals. His utility and worth is that of any marketable thing. — But, * Anger is still nobler when provoked by injustice done to others. t Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, IV., v. 29^ ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. considered as a personality, he is priceless ; he is possessed of a dignity which can claim the respect of all other reasonable creatures, and which allows him to measure himself with each of them, and consider himself their equal, " But this respect, which he has a right to exact of every other man, he should not despoil himself of. He can, and should, therefore, estimate himself both in ratio to his great- ness and littleness, according as he considers himself a sen- suous being (in his animal nature), or an intelligent being (in his moral nature). But as he should not only consider him- self as a person in general, but also as an individual man, his lesser worth as animal-man should not impair the conscious- ness he has of his dignity as reasonable man, and he must hold on to the moral estimate he makes of himself as such. In other words, he should not pursue his aims in a lowly and servile manner, as if he solicited favors : this w^ould be abdi- cating his dignity ; he should always uphold within himself the consciousness of the nobility of his moral faculties, for it is this estimate of one's self which constitutes the duty of man toward himself. " The consciousness and conviction of our little moral worth, compared with what the law requires of us, is moral humility. The contrary consciousness and conviction, namely, the per- suading ourselves, for want of this comparison, that we are of very great worth, may be called the pride of virtue. — To reject all claim to any moral worth whatsoever, in the hope of acquiring thereby a hidden worth, is a false moral humility and an abasement of the mind. To undervalue one's own moral worth for the purpose of obtaining thereby the favor of another (through hypocrisy or flattery, namely), is also a false humility, and, moreover, an abasement of one's personality. True liumility should of necessity be the result of an exact and sincere comparis(m of on(;'s self with the moral law (with its sanctity and severity). This duty relative to the human dignity in our personality may be more or less clearly stated in the following precepts : Be no man's slave ; let not your DUTIES KELATIVE TO THE WILL. 293 rights be trampled under foot ; contract no debts for which you cannot give full security ; accept no gifts which you can do without : be neither a parasite, nor a flatterer, nor a beggar; complaints and lamentations, even a single cry wrung from us by bodily pain, are things unworthy of us (still more unworthy if the pain is deserved). Therefore is a criminal's death en- nobled by the firmness with which he meets it. Can he who makes himself a worm complain if he be crushed ? " * 164. True and false pride. — We should, however, not confound a true and noble pride, without which man is but a thing and a slave, with a passion which looks like it, but wdiich is but its phantom ; I mean false pride. True pride is the just feeling man has of his moral dignity, and which in- terdicts him to humble the human personality in others, or to allow it to be humbled in himself. False pride is the exag- gerated feehng we entertain in regard to our own advantages and superiority over other men. True pride is related to what there is sacred and divine in us ; false pride, on the contrary, feeds and grows fat on the trifling and petty con- cerns of our mere individuality. There is in man, the stoics said, an inner god : the human essence, namely, of which the individual is but the depository, and which he ought to keep sacred and holy as a divine host. This respect for the human personality, religious morality calls holiness ; Avorldly morality calls it honor ; it is one and the same prin- ciple under different forms ; it is the idea of something sacred in us which we must neither stain nor debase. True pride rests then on what there is common among all men, on what makes tliem equals. False pride, on the contrary, regards chiefly our peculiarities, and what we call more especially our own. True pride asks for nothing more than to be free from oppression ; false pride wants to oppress others. True pride is noble ; false pride, brutal and insolent. Of course it has its degrees according to the nature of the advantages of * Kaut, Doctrine de la Vertu, trad, f rang., p. 96. ^94 ELEMENTS OE 3I0RALS. which it boasts. The pride, for example, which boasts of material advantages, is the grossest of all ; pride of birth and ancestry is more pardonable, but if he who is proud of them shows it too much he becomes disgusting, and true pride will have a right to protect itself against that kind of false pride. He, again, who is proud of his intellectual advantages is less blameworthy than the former, for these advantages belong, at least, to his personality ; but as they are not due to the man, and as, however great they may be, they have still their weak sides, this also is an inexcusable pride. The pride which might appear to be the most pardonable is the pride of virtue, if there were not in some respects a sort of contradiction of terms in drawing advantage and honor from a good the essentiality of which consists in self-forgetfulness and the pure and simple observance of the law. The diminutive of false pride is vanity. False pride looks to great things, at least to such as appear great to men; vanity boasts of the smallest. False pride is insulting ; van- ity wounding. The one is odious, the other ridiculous. The lowest order of vanity is foppishness, or the vanity of external advantages — the person, the toilet, superficial accomplishments. This diminutive of false pride is one of the most pitiable of passions, and should be combated by manly efforts. 165. Modesty. — The virtue opposed to false pride, and which, besides, is nowise irreconcilable with true pride, is modesty, a correct feeling, namely, of one's just worth. Mo- rality does not forbid us a proper estimate of our merits ; tliese merits, besides, having but a relative value, and representing but faintly the high ideal we should always keep before our eyes. To fail to appreciate the advantages we owe to nature, is often indicative only of laziness and apathy. He who depreciates himself is not disposed to turn what there is in him to account. This self-depreciation, in order to avoid the re- sponsibility of using his faculties, is often but a subterfuge and the sophistry of indolence. There is nothing contrary to duty in the acknowledgment of our worth, so long as we do DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 295 not boast of it, but thank Providence for it, and put to use the gifts it has conferred on us. If, on the contrary, the question is of virtues we have acquired by our own efforts, the satisfaction we experience from it is but the just recompense of these efforts ; and such a feeling could not be condemned ; for such condemnation would be a virtual protest against the moral conscience, which consists as much in the satisfaction we derive from good actions as in the regrets which accompany the bad. Unquestionably, " the left hand should not know what the right hand doeth ; " which means that we should not every- where proclaim aloud our good actions, and that we should as much as possible forget them. But this forgetting should not go so far as indifference ; for our morality depends upon our consciousness. But if it is lawful for man to rejoice over his natural or ac- , quired gifts, it is on the condition that he do not exaggerate their import : this is easy enough if we compare ourselves to those who are still better gifted than we are, or think of what we should and could do with greater efforts, more courage, better will ; or in recognizing the narrow scope, limits, and defects of these gifts, or in keeping, above all, our eyes more open to our faults than our good qualities. Beware of the beam of the Gospel. Modesty should not only be external, but internal also ; ex- ternally, it is above all a duty we owe others, whom we should not humble by our superior advantages ; internally, it is a duty to ourselves, for we should not deceive ourselves about our own worth. One is sometimes modest externally without being so internally, and conversely. I may pretend before men to have no great opinion of myself, whilst internally I am full of conceit : this is sheer hypocrisy. I may, on the other hand, externally attribute to myself advantages which my con- science altogether denies : this is bragging. One should be modest both inwardly and outwardly, in words and actions. But how, in what manner, and to what degree must we be 296 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. modest ? It is impossible in matters so delicate to establish definite rules, and the decision must be left to our own judg- ment. There is another virtue to be distinguished from modesty, namely, liumility. Humility should not be an abasement ; for it is never a virtue in man to lower himself. But, even as dignity and true pride are virtues which spring from a proper sense of human greatness, so humility is a virtue which springs from a proper sense of human weakness. Kemember that thou art a man and do not degrade thyself : this is self- respect. Remember that thou art but a man and do not allow thyself to indulge in vain pride ; this is humility. Modesty relates to the individual ; humility to human nature in gen- • eral. As to that false humility which consists in lowering one's self before men unnecessarily, and without any occasion for it (like Tartufe, for example : "Yes, brother, I am a sinner and a wretch ! " *), it is but the falsehood of virtue, and should be rejected by all manly and generous morality. 166, Duties relative to sentiment. — A last point which should not be neglected is this : lias man, as far'as he is en- dowed with moral sensibility — that is to say, as far as he is a susceptible being — capable of love, enthusiasm, affection, any duties toward himself ? Kant maintains that love cannot be an object of duty ; that no one is obliged to love : that sentiment is phenomenal and belongs to the order of nature, and can neither be produced nor prevented ; that, consequently, it has nothing to do with morals. The only love admitted by Kant in morals is what he calls practical love : namely, the love which consists in actions and does others good, or any kind of sentiment accom- panying benevolence, provided it be a disinterested sentiment. " All other love," he says in his odd and energetic language, *' is pathological^'' that is, sickly. ♦ Moliere's Tartufe. DmEii RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 297 Kant, no donbt, is right if he means that false sentimen- taiity or feeble softness,^ which the poet Gilbert has so well described, and which ^le enerrating Hteratnre of the latter part of the ei^teentii century made so ndiculons. We should take care not to fall into an effeminate tenderness or a sill j phLLan- thropj which sacrifices josdce to a mawkish sensibiLitj. But all danger and defects set aside, there still remains the ques- tion whether we owe anything to our own heart, and whether the only thing dizecdy commanded ns, be action. It is qmte true that it is not an effect of onr will if our heait is more or less tender, more or less sympathetic Xatnre has made some sonls gentle and amiable, otheis ansteie and cold, others again heroic and hard, etc.; the moralists should not forget these differences, and the de^ee of sensibility obli- gatoiy on all cannot be abeolutelj determined. But there are two facts which certainly oblige' us to ^t some restrictions upon Eanf s too har^ doctrine. The first is that moral emotion (alEection, enthusiasm for the b^utiful, for our coun- tbry) is never wholly absent in any human soul ; the second is that sensibility does not altogether lie outside our wilL We can smother our good feelings as we can smother our eyil pas- sions ; we can also cultiTate them, develop them, encourage them ; give them a greater or less share in our lives, by plac- ing oorselves in circumstances which favor them. For ex- ample, say such or such a person is but slightly endowed with sensibility or sympathy for the sufferings of the wretched ; yet is it impossible that he be entirely deprived of them : let him overcome his repugnance and indifference ; let him visit the poor, put himself at the service of human misery ; the dormant sympathy will inevitably awaken in his heart. By « And dan I ^eak of £98, lofvd and pniaeil liy an ? Ak ! wtafc keart ! all E vtefc kort ! hminBity itadf ! A wonded liHttBdIy eaSi fDrtk Oe tniesfc teais E Ak,yes; IntvkeB to deaut it can also be said that the love of men is incomplete if it does not g(^t its su'tenance from a higher source, which is the love of God. We can, in fact, love men in two ways : I HELIGIOUS MORALITY. 309 first, because they are men, because they are like us, because there is between them and us a natural bond of sympathy. But we can also love them because they are, like ourselves, members of the universe of which God is the sovereign ruler, members of a family of which God is the father, because, like ourselves, they reflect some of the attributes of supreme per- fection, because they ought, like us, to strive after all per- fection. We can then love men religiously, love them in God in some respect. Thus conversely to love men will be loving God. 170. The idea of God in morals. — AVe have, in a former course of lectures, seen how the moral law is related to God : this law is certainly not dependent on his will alone, but on his hoHness and supreme perfection ; and it is still further related to him as to a supreme sanction. "We have to consider here only the practical epicaci/ of the idea of God — that is to say, the additional strength moral belief receives by a belief in absolute justice and holiness. It is on this condition and from this standpoint that Kant has called the existence of God the postulate * of the moral law. The moral law, in fact, supposes the world able to conform to this law ; but how are we to believe in such a possibility if this world were the eff'ect of a blind and indifferent necessity? " Since it is our duty," says Kant, " to work toward the realization of the supreme good, it is not only a right, but a necessity flowing from this duty, to suppose the possibility of this supreme good, which good is only possible on the condition of God's existence! . . . — "Suppose, for example," lie says elsewhere, "an honest man like Spinoza, firmly convinced that there is no God and no future life. He will, without doubt, fulfill disinterestedly the duty that holy law imposes on his activity ; but his eff'orts will be limited. If here and there he finds in nature ac- cidental co-operation, he can never expect of this co-operation * A postulate is a truth which, although it cannot be rigorously demonstrated should, neveilheless, by reason of the necessity of its consequences, be practically admitted. t Kaut, Critique de la raison pratique, II., ii. Trad, de J. Barni, p. 334. 310 tlLEMEKTS OF MORALS. to be in perfect and constant accordance with the end he feels himself obliged to pursue. Though honest, peaceful, benev- olent himself, he will always be surrounded by fraud, vio- lence, envy ; in vain do the good people he meets deserve to be happy ; nature has no regard for their goodness, and ex- poses them, like all the rest of earth's animals, to disease and misery, to a premature death, until one vast tomb — the gulf of blind matter from which they issued — swallows them all up again. Thus would this righteous man be obliged to give up as absolutely impossible the end which the law imposed on him ; or, if he wished to remain true to the inner voice of his moral destiny, he will, from a practical point of view, be obliged to recognize the existence of a moral cause in the world, namely, God." Thus, according to Kant, is religion, namely, the belief in the existence of God, required, not as a theoretical basis for morality, but as a practical basis. " The righteous man can say : I will that there be a God." "^ It may be objected that moral law can dispense with out- ward success ; that it does not appear to be essential to the idea of that law ; that the wise, as far as their own happi- ness is concerned, need not consider it, can ignore it. But what they are obliged to consider, and are not allowed to ig- nore, is the happiness of others, and what is generally under- stood by progress — the possible improvement of the race. If, as some pessimistic and misanthropic philosophers seem to think, men will never be anything more than monkeys or tigers given to the lowest and most ferocious instincts, do you believe that any man, be he ever so well endowed morally, ever so deeply convinced of the obligation of the law of duty, could, if he believed such a thing, be able to continue doing his duty, a duty followed by no appreciable or perceptible results? The first condition for becoming or remaining vir- tuous, is to ])elieve in virtue. But to believe in virtue means to believe tliat virtue is a fact, tliat it exists in the Avorld, that it can do it good ; in other words, it is to believe that tlie ♦ Critique de la raison pratique ; trad, fr., p. 363. EELIGIOUS MORALITY. 311 human race was created for good ; that nature is capable of being transformed according to the law of good; it is, in short, to believe that the universe obeys a principle of good, and not a principle of evil — an Oromazes, not an Ahrimanes. As to believing in an indifferent being, one that were neither good nor evil, we should not be any better off; it would leave us just as uncertain in regard to the possible success of our efforts, and just as doubtful about the worth of our moral beliefs. In one word, and to conclude, if God were an illusion, why could not virtue be an illusion also ? In order that I may be- lieve in the dignity and excellence of my soul and that of other men, I must believe in a supreme principle of dignity and excellence. Xothing comes from nothing. If there is no being to love me and my fellow-men, why should I be held to love them ? If the world is not good, if it was not created for good, if good is not its origin and end, what have I to do here in this world, and what care I for that swarm of ants of which I am a part ? Let them get along as well as they can ! Why should I take so much trouble to so little purpose 1 Take any intelligent man, a friend of civil and political liberty, and ready to suffer anything to procure these to his country, as long as he believes the thing possible, both wisdom and virtue will command him to devote himself wholly to it. But let experience prove to him th-at it is a chimera, that his fellow- citizens are either too great cowards or too vicious to be worthy and capable of the good he wishes to secure to them ; suppose he sees all around him nothing but cupidity, servility, unbridled and abominable passions ; suppose, finally, that he becomes convinced that liberty among men, or at least among the people he lives with, is an illusion, do you think he could, do you even think he should, continue Avasting his faculties in an impossible enterprise 1 Once more, I can forget myself, and I ought ; and I should leave to internal justice or divine goodness the care to watch over my destinies ; but that which I cannot forget, that which cannot leave me indifferent, is the 312 ELEMENTS OF 3I0RALS. reign of justice on earth. I must be able to say : Let Thy kingdom come / How can I co-operate witli the Divine Idea if there is no God, who, in creating us for the furthering of his kingdom, made it, at the same time, possible for us 1 And how am I to believe that out of that great void whereto athe- ism reduces us, there can come a reign of wills holy and just, bound to each other by the laws of respect and love 1 Kant, the great stoic, without borrowing from theology, has more strongly than any other, described the necessity of this reign of law ; but he fully understood that, this abstract and ideal order of things would remain but a pure conception, if there were not conjoined with it what he justly calls " the prac- tical, the moral faith " in the existence of God. 171. Religious rights. — Religious duties imply religious rights : for if it is a duty to honor the Creator, it is also a right. Even those who do not admit obligations toward God, ought to respect in those who do admit them, their liberty to do so. The right of having a religion, and practicing it, is what is called liberty of conscience. " The first right I claim,", says an eloquent writer, " is the right of adopting a free belief touching the nature of God, my duties, my future ; it is a wholly interior right, which governs the relations of my will or conscience alone. It is tlie liberty of conscience in its essence, its first act, its indispensable basis. It is the liberty to believe, ox faith. Free in the innermost of my thought, shall I be confined to a silent worship 1 Shall I not be allowed to express what I tliink ? Faith is communi- cative, and will make itself felt by others. I cannot control its expressing itself without doing it violence, without offend- ing God, without rendering myself guilty of ingratitude. I cannot, moreover, worship a God that is not my God. The freedom of belief, without the freedom of prayer — that is to say, without free worship — is only a delusion. " Now, is prayer sufficient 1 Does this solitary expression of my faith, my love, my ignorance, suffice tlie wants of my heart and my duties toward God 1 Yes, if man were made to RELIGIOUS MOEALITY. 313 live alone ; but not if he has brethren. I am a social being ; 1 have duties toward society as well as toward God ; my creed commands me to teach as well as to pray. My voice must be heard, and I must, following my destiny, and ac- cording to the measure of my powers, carry along with me all those who are inclined to foUow me. This is the liberty of promulgating one's creed, or, in other words, the liberty of propagandism. " Worship, then, means to believe, to pray, to teach. But, can I consider myself a free believer, if praying in public be denied me ; if by praying, and teaching, and confessing my doctrine, I risk the loss of my rights as man and citizen ? There are other means for checking public worship and apostleship than burning at the stake. It is obvious that, in order no injustice be done to my particular creed, I should risk nothing by it ; that I be not deprived of any of my civil or political rights. All tliis is included in the term liberty of conscience : it is at the same time the right to believe, the right to pray, and the right to exercise this triple liberty with- out having to suffer any diminution in one's dignity as man and citizen."* 172. Religious society. — Religious duties and rights give rise to what may be called religious society. Fenelon has magnificently described the ideal religious society where all would form but one family united by the love of God and men. "Do we not see," he says, "that the external worship follows necessarily the internal worship of love ? Give me a society of men who, while on earth, would look upon each other as members of one and the same family, whose Father is in heaven ; give me men whose life was sunk in this love for their heavenly Father, men who loved their fellow-men and themselves only through love for Hini ; who were but one heart, one soul : will not in so godly a society the mouth always speak from the abundance of the heart ? They will sing the praises of * Jules Simon, La Liierte de Conscience, 4^ legou (Paris, 1S57).— We have borrowed some few passages of another book of the same author. La Liberie (Vol. ii., 4*, part 1, ch. 1). 14 314 ELEMEI^TS OF MORALS. the Most High, the Most Good spontaneously ; they will bless Him for all His bounties. They will not be content to love Him merely, they will proclaim this love to all the nations of the world ; they will wish to correct and admonish their brethren when they see them tempted through pride and low passions to forsake the Well-Beloved. They will lament the least cooling of that love. They will cross the seas, go to the uttermost parts of the earth, to teach the benighted nations who have forgotten His greatness the knowledge and love of their common Father. What do you call external worship if this be not it ? God then would be all in all ; He would be the universal king, father, friend ; He would be the living law of all hearts. Truly, if a mortal king or head of a family wins by his wisdom the esteem and confidence of his children, if we see them at all times pay him the honors due him, need we ask wherein consists his service, or whether any is due him ? All that is done in his honor, in obedience to him, in recogni- tion of his bounties, is a continuous worship, obvious to all eyes. What would it be then if men were possessed with the love of God ! Their society would be in a state of continuous worship, like that de- scribed to us of the blessed in heaven." * The great ancient moralist, Epictetus, has as superbly as Fenelon expressed the same sentiments : "If we had any understanding," he says, "ought Ave not, both in public and in private, incessantly to sing and praise the Deity, and re- hearse His benefits ? Ought we not, whether we dig, or plough, or eat, to sing this hymn to God ? Great is God, who has supplied us with these instruments to till the ground ; great is God, who has given us hands and organs of digestion ; who has given us to grow insensibly, to breathe in sleep. These things we ought forever to celebrate, and to make it the theme of the greatest and divinest hymn that He has given us the power to appreciate these gifts, and to use them well. But be- cause the most of you are blind and insensible there .must be some one to fill this station, and lead in behalf of all men the hymn to God ; for what else can I do, a lame old man, but sing hymns to God ? Were I a nightingale, I would act the part of a nightingale ; were I a swan, the part of a swan. But since I am a reasonable creature it is my duty to praise God. This is my business. I do it. Nor will I ever desert this post, so .long as it is permitted me ; and I call on you to join in the same song." f * F6n61on. Lettrcs sur la mitaphysique et la religion. Letter II., ch. i. t The works of Epictetus. T. W. Higginson's transl., I., xvi. n CHAPTER XYL MORAL MEDICINE AKD GYMI^^ASTICS. SUMMARY. Means and end. — Moral science should not only point out the end ; it should also indicate the means of attaining that end. There is, as of the body, a culture of the soul : as, in medicine, we distinguish between tenipermnenis, diseases and their treatments, so do we distinguish in morals, chai'octers, passions, and remedies. Of character. — Character as compared with temperament : four prin- cipal types. Character at different ages : childhood, youth, manhood, and old age. Passions. — Passions may in one respect be considered as natural affec- tions; but in a moral point of view they should be considered as diseases. The law of passions considered from this last standpoint Enumer- ation and analysis of these various passions. Culture of the soul, or moral treatment. — On the government of passions. — Bossuet's advice : not directly to combat the passions, but to turn them off into other channels. Of the formation of character. —Rules of Mai ebranche : 1, acts produce habits, and habits produce acts ; 2, one can always act against a ruling habit. How is one habit to be substituted for another ? — Aristotle's rule : To go from one extreme to the other. — Bacon's rules : 1, to proceed by degrees ; 2, to choose for a new virtue two kinds of opportunities : the first when one is best disposed, the second when one is least so ; 3, not to trust too much to one's conversion and distrust opportuni- ties. Benjamin Franklin's Almanac. — Other practices. — Kant's moral catechism. We have done with practical morals, the morals, namely, which have for their object the setting forth of man's duties and olG ELEMEIfTS OF MORALS. the principal applications of the moral law. Tlie second part of this course of study shall be devoted to the tlipjyry of morals, which has for its object the elucidation of principles. But to pass from the one to the other, it seemed to us j>roper, by way of conclusion, to introduce here an «.>rder of researches which belongs to both practical and theoretical morals, the study, namely, of the means man has at his disposal in liis moral self-perfection, either by curing himself of vice, or in advanc- ing in virtue : this is what we call moral medicine and gym- nastics. Bacon justly remarks that most moralists are like writing- masters who lay fine copies before their pupils, but tell them nothing of the manner of using the pen and tracing charac- ters. Thus do the philosophers set before us very fine and magnificent models, very faithful and noble pictures of good- ness and virtue, of duties, of happiness ; but they teach us nothing about the means of attaining to such perfection. They make us acquainted with t>ie erid, and not with the road that leads to it.* Then, presenting us himself a sketch of that portion of mo- rality which does not confine itself to precepts only, but to instructions also, and which he calls the Georgics of the foul (science of the culture and the soul), he tells us that it should be like medicine w^hich considers first the constitution of tlie patient, then the disease, then the treatment. Tlie same in regard to the soul : there are moral temperaments as there are physical temperaments : these are the characters; moral dis- eases as there are physical diseases ; these are the ])assions ; and finally there is a moral treatment as there is a physical treatment, and it is the treatment of morality to indicate this treatment. Now, one cannot treat a disease without knowing it and without being ac(|uainted with the temperament and constitution of the patient. " A coat cannot be litted on a body without the tailor's taking first the measure of him for wliom he makes it." Hence, it follows tliat before deciding * Dc Aug'nvc'n.lii^ Zcicniiaruvii^ III., i. andiii. MORAL MEDiril^E AXD GTMXASTICS. 317 on a remedy, one must acquaint himself with the characters and passions. 173. Of character. — The study of character is liardly sus- ceptible of a methodical classification. Passions, manners, habits are so complicated and so intermixed in individuals that they afford scarcely a chance to faithfully describe them, and this subject, though very fertile, is more of the province of literature than of science. Theophrastus among the ancients, and La Bruyere among the moderns, have excelled in this kind of description ; hut it would be very difficult to analyze their works, as they have nothing didactic : they are better suited for reading. Theophrastus describes dissemblers, flat- terers, intruders, rustics, parasites, babblers, the superstitious, misers, the proud, slanderers, etc. All these are unquestion- ably principal types of human character, but they cannot be strictly brought down to a few eh^mentary types. La Bruyere is still further removed ; he does not only treat character, but manners also ; he describes individuals rather than men in general, or it is always in the individual that he sees the man. Hence the charm and piquancy of his pictures ; but moral sci- ence finds scarcely anything to borrow from him. Kant tried to give a theory of character, and he started with the same idea as Bacon, namely, the analogy between characters and temperaments; thus did he confine himself to taking up again the old physiological theory of temperaments and apply it to the moral man. He distinguishes two kinds of temperaments : temperaments of sentiment, and tempera- ments of adivitij ; and in each of these two kinds, two degrees or two different shades : exaltation or abatement. Hence, four different kinds of temperaments : the sanguine and tlie melancholy (temperament of sentiment), the choleric and phlegmatic (temperament of activity). Kant describes these four temperaments or characters as follows :* " The sanguine disposition may be recognized by the fol- lowing indications : The sanguine man is free from care and * Kant, Anthropologic, Trad, frauc. de Tissot, p. 27. 318 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. of good hope ; he gives to things at one moment undue im- portance ; at another, he can no longer think of them. He is splendid in his promises, but does not keep them, because he has not sufficiently reflected whether he will be able to keep them or not. He is well enough disposed to help others, but is a poor debtor and always asks for delays. He is good company, cheerful, lively, takes things easily, and is everybody's friend. He is not usually a bad person, but a confirmed sinner, hard to convert, and who, though he will repent, will never allow this repentance to turn into grief : it is soon again forgotten. He is easily tired by work ; yet is he constantly occupied, and that, for the reason that his work being but play, it proves a change which suits him, as perseverance is not in his nature. "The melancholy man gives to everything concerning him a vast importance ; the least trifles give him anxiety, and his whole attention is fixed upon the difficulties of things. Con- trary to the sanguine, always hopeful of success, but a super- ficial thinker, the melancholy is a profound thinker. He is not hasty in his promises because he intends keeping them, and he considers carefully whether he will be able to do so. He distrusts and takes thought of things which the sanguine passes carelessly by ; he is no philanthropist, for the reason that he who denies himself pleasure is rarely inclined to wish it to others. "The choleric man is easily excited and as easily a])peased ; he flares up like a straw fire ; but sulmiission soon softens him down; he is then irritable without hatred, and loves him who readily gives up to him, all the more ardently. He is prompt in his actions, but his activity does not last long ; he is never idle, yet not industrious. His ruling passion is honors ; he likes to meddle with public affairs, to hear himself praised ; lie is for show and ceremonial. He is fond of playing the part of a protector and to appear generous ; but not from a feel- ing of afl'ection, but of pride, for he loves himself much more than he loves others. He is passionately given to money MORAL AlEDICIXE AXD GYMNASTICS. 319 making ; in society he is a ceremonious courtier, stiff, and ill at ease, and ready to accept any flatterer to serve liim as a shield : in a word, the choleric teinpemment is the least happy of all because it is the one that meets with most opposition. " The phlennudic temper. Plilegm means absence of emo- tion. The phlegmatic man to whom nature has given a cer- tain i]^uantum of reason, resembles the man who acts on prin- ciple, although he owes this disposition to instinct only. His happy temperament stands to him in lieu of wisdom, and often in ordinary life he is called a philosopher. Sometimes even he is thought cunning, because all abuse launched at him bounces back again, as a ball from a sack of wool. He makes a pretty good husband, and, whilst pretenchng to do every one's will, he governs both wife and servauts as he likes, for he knows how to bring their wishes in agreement with his own indomitable but thoughtful will."' There are then, according to Kant, four essentially distinct characters : the sanguine, pla^-ful, kindly, superhcial; the mel- anclwly, profound, sad, egotistical ; the choleric, ardent, pas- sionate, ambitious, covetous; the phlegmatic, cold, moderate, inflexible. Kant denies that these four kinds of temperaments can combine with each other ; " there are but four in all,'' he says, " and each of them is complete in itself." It seems to us, on the contrary, that experience shows that no one of these characters exists separately in an absolute manner ; there is always to some degree a mixture, and different men are gener- ally distinguished by the leading feature in their character. AVe must, however, make a distinction between dis2M){>ition and character. To be of such or such a disposition is not always being a man of character. The first of these two ex- pressions signifies the various aptitudes, inclinations, or habits which distinguish a man from others ; the second signifies that strength of will, that empire over himself which enables a man to follow faithfully the line of conduct he has chosen, and to bravely resist temptations. Character is not always 320 ELEMEKTS OF MORALS. virtue (for it may be controlled by false and vicious princi- ples), but it is its condition. " That tendency of the will which acts according to fixed principles (and does not move from this to that, like a fly) is something truly estimable, and which deserves all the more admiration as it is extremely rare. The question here is not of what nature makes of man, but of what man makes of him- self. Talent has a venal value which allows making use of the man therewith endowed ; temperament has an affection- value which makes of him an agreeable companion and pleas- ant talker ; but character has a value which places him above all these things." * 174. Age. — To this classification of characters according to temperaments, may be added that founded on age. In fact, different ages have, as it is well known, very different char- acteristics, Aristotle f was the first to describe the differences in men's morals according to their ages, and he has since been very often imitated. " I. T]ie young. — The young are in their dispositions prone to desire, and of a character to effect what they desire. And they desire with earnestness, but speedily cease to desire ; for their wishes are keen, without being durable ; just like the hunger and thirst of the sick. And they are passionate and irritable, and of a temperament to follow the impulse. And they cannot overcome their anger ; for by reason of their ambition, they do not endure a slight, but become indignant, and fancy themselves injured ; and they are ambitious indeed of honor, but more so of victory ; for youth is desirous of su- periority, and victory is a sort of superiority. And they are credulous, from their never having yet been much imposed on. And they arc sanguine in their expectations ; for, like those who are atfected by wine, so the young are warmed by their nature ; and at the same tinie from their having never * Kant gives ingenious examples of these three degrees of action. See his An- thropologische charakterist ik. t Aristotle's Rhetoric, book II., ch. xii., xiii., xiv., Bohn's translation. MORAL MEDICIXr AXD GTMXASTICS. ?i21 yet met Tvitli many repulses. Their life too, for the most part, is one of hope ; for hope is of that wliich is yet to be, while memory is of that which is passed : but to the young, that which is yet to be is long ; but that which has passed is short And they are brave rather to an excess ; for they are irritable and sanguine, qualities, the one whereof cancels fear, and the other inspires courage ; for while no one who is af- fected by anger ever is afraid, the being in hope of some good is a thing to give courage. And they are bashful ; for they do not as yet conceive the honorable to b? anything distinct • and they are high-minded ; for they have not as yet been humbled by the course of life, but are inex}}erienced in per- emptory circumstances ; again, high-mindetlness is the deemiug one's self worthy of much ; and this belongs to persons of san- guine expectations. And they prefer succeeding in an honor- able sense rather than in points of expediency ; for they live more in conformity to moral feeling than to mere calculations ; and calculation is of the expedient, moral excellence, however, of that which is honorable. Again, they are fond of friends and companions, by reason of their delighting in social inter- course. And all their errors are on the side of excess ; for their friendships are in excess, their hati-eds are in excess, and they do everything else with the same degree of earnest- ness ; they think also that they know everything, and hrml}^ asseverate that they do ; for this is the cause of their pushing everything to an excess. They are likewise prone to pity ; and they are also fond of mirth, on which account they are also of a facetious turn." " II. The old. — Those who are advanced in life are of dis- positions in most points the very opposite of those of the young. Since by reason of their having lived many years, and having been deceived in the greater number of instances, and having come to the conclusion, too, that the majority of human affairs are but worthless, they do not positively asseverate anything, and err in everything more on the side of defect than they ought. And they ahvays ' t^iippose ' but 322 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. never * know ' certainly ; and questioning everything, they always subjoin a ^ perliajps^ or a '■ jjossihly.^ Moreover, they are apt to be suspicious from distrust, and they are distrustful from their experience. And they are pusillanimous from their having been humbled by the course of life ; for they raise their desires to nothing great or vast, but to things only which conduce to support of life. And they are timid and apprehensive of everything ; for their disposition is the reverse of that of the young ; for they have been chilled by years ; and yet they are attached to life, and particularly at its closing day. [They are apt to despond.] And they live more in memory than in hope ; for the remnant of life is brief, and what has passed is considerable. And their desires have, some, abandoned them, the others are faint. They are neither facetious nor fond of mirth. " III. Mature age. — Those who are in their prime will, it is evident, be in a mean in point of disposition between the young and the old, subtracting the excesses of each : being neither rash in too great a degree, nor too much given to fear, but keeping themselves right in respect to both. And they are of a tempering coolness joined with spirit, and are spirited not without temperate coolness. And thus, in a word, what- ever advantages youth and age have divided between them, the middle age possesses both." We must admit that Aristotle, who has so admirably de- ])icted young and old men, is weak on the subject of man- liood. Boileau, translating Horace, makes of it a far more clear and exact picture : " Manhood, more ripe, puts on a wiser look, succeeds with those in power, intrigues, and spares itself, thinks of hold- ing its own against the blows of fate, and far on in the now looks forth to the to be." 175. Passions. — Character, considered from a strictly philosophical standpoint, is nothing more than the various combinations which the i)assions, wliether natural or ac- <[uired, which exist in man, form in each individual, so that MORAL MEDICINE AXD GYMNASTICS. 323 there is, in some respect, double reason for treating these two subjects separately. But, in the first place, the divers move- ments of the soul take, by usage, the name of passions, only when they reach a certain degree of acuteness, and, as Bacon puts it, of disease. In the second, passions are the elements which in divers quantities and proportions compose what is termed character ; it is from this double point of view that we must speak of them separately. If we consider the passions from a psychological* stand- point, we shall find that they are nothing more than the natural inclinations of the human heart. We have to consider them here especially from a patholog- ical point of view (if it may be permitted to say so), that is, as diseases of the human heart. The character of passions regarded as diseases, is the fol- lowing : 1. They are exclusive. A man who has become enslaved by a passion, will know nothing else, will listen to nothing else ; he will sacrifice to that passion not only his reason and his duty, but his other inclinations, and even his other passions also. The passion of gambling or of drinking Avill stifle all the rest, ambition, love, even the instinct of self- preservation. 2. Passion, as a disease, is in a violent condition ; it is im- petuous, disordered, very like insanity. 3. Although there may be fits of passion, sudden and fleet- ing, which rise and fall again in the same instant, we generally give the name of passions only to movements which have be- come habitual. Passions then are habits ; applied to things base, they become vices. 4. There is a diagnosis! of passions as there is of diseases. They betray themselves outwardly by external signs which are their symptoms (acts, gestures, pliysiognomy), and in- * Psychology is the science which treats of the faculties and operations of the soul. t Diagnosis in medicine is the art of determining a disease by means of t!ie sjinp- toms or signs it presents. 324 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. wardly, by first indications or what was formerly called 2^rod- TOw.es, which are their forerunners (disturbance, agitation, etc. ). 5. Passion, like disease, has its history : it has its regular course, its crisis, and termination. The Imitation of Jesus Christ gives in a few words the history of a passion : " In the beginning a simple thought presents itself to the mind ; this is followed by a vivid fancy ; then conies delectation, a bad impulse, and finally the consent. Thus does the evil one gradually enter the soul." ^' 6. It is rare that a passion arises and develops without ob- stacles and resistance. Hence that state we have called fluctuation (Vol. I., p. 167), and which has so often been com- pared to the ebb and flow of the sea. These general features of the passions being stated, let us make a brief sketch of the principal passions. It may be said that our passions pass through three distinct states ; they are at hrst natural and unavoidable affections of the mind : inclinations, tendencies ; they become next vio- lent and unruly movements : these are the passions properly so-called ; they become habits and embodied in the character, and take the name of qualities and defects, virtues and vices. But it is to be noted that whilst we can always distinguish these three states theoretically, language is, for the most part, inadequate to express them ; for men have designated these moral states only according to the necessities of practice, and not according to the rules of theory. The three states which we have just pointed out, can be very clearly distinguished in the first of the affections of human nature, namely, the instinct of self-preservation. This instinct is at first a natural, legitimate, necessary affection of tlie human heart ; but by the force of circumstances, tlie in- fluence of age, disease, temperament, it develops out of propor- tion into a state of passion, and becomes what we caWfear; ov else it turns into a habit and becomes the vice we call cowardice. * Iinitation of Jesus Christ, L, xii. MORAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS. 325 Physical self-preservation is inseparable from two appetites called hunger and thirst. These two appetites, too much in- dulged in, become passions, which themselves may become vices. But language fails here to express their various shades : there is only one word to express the passion or vice related to eating and drinking : it is on the one hand gluttony, and on the other drunkenness ; * both these vices, and in general all undue surrender to sensual pleasures, is called intemperance. The source of all our personal inclinations is the love for ourselves or self-love, a legitimate instinct when kept within bounds; but when carried to excess, when exclusive and pre- dominant, it becomes the vice we call selfishness. Self-esteem, developed into a passion, becomes, when it turns upon great things, false pride; when upon small, vanity. The love of liberty degenerates into a spirit of revolt ; the legitimate love of power, into ambition ; the instiyid of "property becomes greed, cupidity, passion for gain, and tends to run into the passion for gambling or the desire to gain by means of chance. The desire for gain engenders the fear of loss, and this latter passion developing into a vice and mania, becomes avarice. Human inclinations are divided into benevolent and mcdevo- lent inclinations. The first may develop into a passion, but not into a vice ; the second alone become vices. There is not a single benevolent inclination which, carried too far and beyond reason, may not become a more or less blameworthy passion. But, in the first place, we have no terms in our language to express the exaggerations of these kinds of passions,! and in the second, though they be exag- gerations, we shall never call the tenderer affections of the human heart, however foolish they may be, vices, if they are sincere. *'We should, however, make a distinction between the passion for wino and drunkenness. One can have this passion without giving up to it. Drunkenness is the habit of yiehling to it. t Sentimentality is false sensibility, and not exaggerated sensibility. Softness is a vague expression. Patriotism may by exaggeration become fanaticism ; but this is equally true of other sentiments— of the religious sentiment, for example. 326 ELEMEN'TS OF MORALS. Yet, may some of these affections become vices when they unite with personal passion. For example, good nature or the desire to please may lead to ohseqidous sei^vility, the desire to praise, to fiattery, and esteem, to hypocrisy. But these vices partake more of the nature of self-love than of benevolent in- clinations. ^ Malevolent passions. — Malevolent inclinations give rise to the most terrible passions. But are there, indeed, in man naturally malevolent inclinations? Reid, the philosopher, disputes it and justly thinks, as we do, that malevolent pas- sions are but the abuse of certain personal inclinations in- tended to serve as auxiliaries in the development of our activity. There are two principal malevolent passions, emulation and anger. Emulation is but a special desire for success and superiority. This desire, induced by the thought that other men around us have attained to such or such degree of public esteem or power, is not in itself a malevolent inclination. We may wish to equal and surpass others without, at the same time, wishing them any harm. We can experience pleasure in ex- celling them, without exactly rejoicing in their defeat ; we can bear being excelled by them without begrudging them their success. Emulation then is a personal but not a malevolent senti- ment ; it becomes malevolent and vicious when our feelings toward others become inverted : w'hen, for example, we regret, not the check we have been made to suffer, but the advan- tage our rivals have gained over us, and when we are unable to bear the idea of the good fortune of others; or again when, conversely, we experience more pleasure at their defeat than joy at our own victory. This sentiment, thus perverted, be- comes what is called envy : and envy is generally the pain we feel at the good fortune of others ; it is then a sentiment im- plying tlie wish to see others unhappy ; and is therefore an actual vice, as low as it is odiou.s. Envy wliich has some analogy with jealousy must be dis- MORAL MEDICINE A^D GYMlfASTICS. 327 tingiiished from the latter. Jealousy is a kind of envy which bears especially upon affections it is not allowed to share ; envy, upon material goods, or goods in the abstract (fortune, honors, power). The envious man wants goods he does not possess ; the jealous man refuses to share those which he has. Jealousy is then a sort of sellishness, not as base as envy, since higher goods are in question, but which for its consequences is nevertheless one of the most terrible of passions. Anger is a natural passion, which seems to have been be- stowed on us to furnish us an arm against peril; it is an effort the soul makes to resist an evil it stands in danger of. But this inclination is one of those which cause us the quickest to lose our self-possession, and throws us into a sort of moment- ary insanity. Yet, although it is a passion of which the con- sequences may be fatal, it is not necessarily accompanied by hatred (as may be seen by the soldier who will fight furiously and who, immediately after the battle or during a truce, will shake hands with his enemy). Anger then is an effort of nat- ure in the act of self-defense; it is a fever, and as such it is a fatal and culpable passion, but it is not a vice. Anger becomes hatred when, thinking of the harm we have done or could do to our enemy, we rejoice over the thought of this harm ; it is called resentment or rancor when it is the spiteful recollection of an injury received ; finally, it becomes ihQ passion of vengeance (the most criminal of all) when it is the desire and hope to return evil for evil. Pleasure at the misfortune of others, when it reaches a certain refinement, even though free from hatred, becomes cruelty. Hatred changes into contem'pt when there is joined to it the idea of the baseness and inferiority of the person who is hated. Contempt is a legitimate sentiment when it has for its object base and culpable actions ; it is a bad and blameworthy passion when it bears u]wn a pretended inferior- ity, either of birth, or fortune, or talent, and then belongs to false pride. False pride, however, is not always accompanied by contempt. We see men full of self-satisfaction, who yet 328 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. know liow to be polite and courteous toward those they regard their inferiors ; others, on the contrary, who look down upon their inferiors and treat them like brutes. Contempt, with such, is added to false pride. A gentler form of contempt is disdain, a sort of delicate and covered contempt. Contempt when it appHes itself to set off, not the vices, but the peculi- arities of men, trying to make them appear ridiculous, be- comes raillery or irony. Such are the principal affections of the soul viewed as diseases, that is to say, inasmuch as they have need of rem- edies. Let us now, to continue Bacon's comparison, pass to their treatment. 176. Culture of the soul. — After having studied charac- ters and passions, we have to ask ourselves by what means passions may be governed and characters modified or cor- rected. 177. Bossuet's rule. — As to the first point, namely, the government of the passions, Bossuet gives us in his Connais- sance de Diea et de soi-meme, * excellent practical advice : it is obviously based on his study of consciences. He justly observes that we cannot directly control our pas- sions : " We cannot," he says, '* start or appease our anger as we can move an arm or keep it still." But, on tlie other hand, the power we exercise over our external members gives us also a very great one over our passions. It is, of course, but an in- direct power, but it is no less efficacious : " Thus can I put away from me a disagreeable and irritating object, and when my anger is excited,! can refuse it the arm it needs to satisfy itself." To do this it is necessary to will it; but there is notliing so difficult as to will when the soul is possessed by a passion. The ([uestion is then to know how one may escape a ruling l)assion. To succeed in it one should not attack it in front, l)ut as much as possible turn the mind upon other objects : it is witli passion " as with a river which is more easily turned » Chap. III., 10. MOllAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS. 320 off from its course than stopped short." A passion is often conquered by means of another passion, " as in a State," says Bacon, " where a prince restrains one faction by means of another." Bossuet says even that it may be well, in order to avoid criminal passions, to abandon one's self to innocent ones.* One should also be careful in the choice of the persons he associates with : " for nothing more arouses the passions than the talk and actions of passionate men ; whilst a quiet mind, provided its repose be not feelingless and in- sipid, seems, on the contrary, to communicate to us its own peace. We need something lively that may accord with our own feelings. In a word, to conclude with Bossuet, " we should try to calm excited minds by diverting them from the main object of their excitement ; approach them obliquely rather than directly in front ; that is to say, that when a passion is already excited, there is no time then to attack it by reasoning, for one drives it all the stronger in. Where wise reflections are of greatest effect is in the forestalling of passions. One should therefore fill his mind with sensible thoughts, and accustom it early to proper inclinations, so that there be no room for the objects of passions." 178. Imppovement of charactep. — Bossuet has just in- formed us how we are to conduct ourselves in regard to the passions, as diseases of the soul. Let us now see how char- acter, namely, temperament, may be modified. * Plato in the Phsedo (trad, de Saisset, p. 31) seems to condemn the idea of com- bating passion by passion : " To exchange one sensual pleasure for another," he says, ''one grief for another, one fear for another, and to do like those who get small change for a piece of money, is not the path which leads to virtue. Wisdom is the only true coin against whicli all the others should be exchanged. . . . Without wis- dom all other virtues are but shadows of virtues, a virtue the slave of vice, wherein there is nothing wholesome nor true. True virtue is free from all passion." Nothing more true and more noble ; but there is in this doctrine nothing coutrary to that of Bossuet. The question is not to exchange one passion for another, for su(;h an act is devoid of all moral character, but to exchange passion against wisdom and virtue ; and all we want to know is thcmeans. Now experieiu-e confirms what Bossuet has said, namely, that one cannot immediately triumph over a passion, especially when at its zenith, and that it is necessary to turn one's thoughts n]nm other objects and appeal to more inno(rcnt passio'is or to passions, if not less ai-ucrit, at least more noble, such as patriotism or the religious scntimcut. 330 ELEMEN-TS OF MORALS. 1 The character is a collection of habits, a great part of which belong, imquestionably, to our natm-al inclinations, but which, nevertheless, are also largely formed under the influence of education, circumstances, indulgence of passions, etc. It is thus character, " this second nature," as it has often been called, gradually develops. Character being, as we have seen above, a habit, and virtue, on the other hand, being also a habit, the problem which presents itself to him who wishes to improve his character and exchange his vices for virtues, is to know how one habit may be substituted for another, and how even a painful habit may be substituted for an agreeable habit, sometimes for a habit which has lost its charm, but not yet its empire over one. This problem may be found analyzed and most pathetically described in the Confessions of St. Augustine : *' I was," he tells us, " like those who wish to get awake, but who, overcome by sleep, fall back into slumber. There is certainly no one who would wish to sleep always, and who would not rather, if he is healthy of miml, prefer the waking to the sleeping state ; and yet there is nothing more difficult than to shake off the languor which weighs our limbs down ; and often, though the hour for waking has come, we are against our will maile captives by the sweetness of sleep. . . I was held back by the frivolous pleasures and foolish vanities which I had found in the company of my former friends : they hung on the ventures of my flesh, whispering, ' Art tliou going to abandon us ? ' . . . If, on the one hand, virtue attracted and persuaded me, pleasure on the other captivated and enslaved me. . . I liad no other answer for the former, than : ' Presently, presently, wait a little.' But this ' presently' had no end and this ' Avait a little ' was indefinitely prolonged, Wretch that I am ! who will deliver me from the body of this death ? " * At SO painful a juncture, the Christian religion offers its children an all-powerful and efficacious remedy : this is what it calls grace. But of this means moral j^hilosophy cannot dispose ; all it can do is to find in the study of human nature the exclusively natural means God has endowed it with, to elevate man to virtue. Now, these means, limited though * Covjcsaions, VIII., v. MOEAL MEDICi:J>rE AND GYMNASTICS. 331 they be, should not be considered inefficient, since for many centuries they sufficed the greatest men and sages of antiquity.* 179. Rules of Malebranche and Aristotle.— We may take for a starting point this maxim of Malebranche, which he bor- rowed from Aristotle : Acts prod tLce habits, and habits prod ace acts.-\ A habit, in fact, is induced by a certain number of often repeated actions ; and once generated, it produces in its turn acts, so to say, spontaneous and without any effort of the will. Thence spring vices and virtues ; and the problem is to know how the first may be corrected, and the second retained : for the question is not only to pass from evil to good, but we should also take care not to slide from good into evil. If the first maxim of Malebranche were absolute, it woidd follow that the soul could not change its habits, nor the bad man improve, nor the good become corrupt ; it would follow that hope would be interdicted to the one, and that the other would have nothing more to fear; consequences which experi- ence shows to be entirely false. Some fanatical sects may have believed that virtue or holiness once attained could never again be lost, J and this belief served as a shield to the most shameful disorders. Facts, on the contrary, teach us that there is no virtue so infallible as to be secure against a fall, and no vice ever so deeply rooted that may not be less- * The virtues of the pagans have been often depreciated, and St. Augustine himself, great an admirer as he was of antiquity, called them, nevertheless, splendid vices (vitia splendida). They are often regarded as induced by pride rather than by a sincere love of virtue. We should beware of such interpretations, for once on the road of moral pessimism, there is no reason for stopping at anything. We may as well maintain that there are a thousand forms of pride, and that self-love often sets its glory in pretending to overcome itself. " We must therefore not wotider to find it coupled with the gi-eatest austerity, and, in order to destroy itself, make us bravely a companion of it, for whilst it ruins itself in one place, it starts up again in jinother." It may be seen by this passage, of La Rochefoucauld, that it is of no use to interpret the pagan virtues in a bad sense, for tlie argument can be retorted. It is better to regard virtue as sincere and true wherever we meet with it, so long as there are no proofs to the contrary. t Traite de morale, III., 2. I The theory of inadmissible sanctity consisted in maintaining that man, having reached a state of sanctity, could never again, whatever he might do, fall from it. 332 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. ened or destroj^ed. In fact, and this is Malebranche's second maxim : One can always act agaiyist a ruling liahit. If one can act contrary to a positive habit, such acts often repeated may, according to the first maxim, produce, by the effort of the will, a new habit which w^iU take the place of the preced- ing one. One can thus either corrupt or correct one's self. Only, as the virtuous habits are the more painful to acquire, and the vicious habits the more agreeable, it will always be more easy to pass from good to evil than from evil to good. How shall we proceed to substitute a ^ood habit for a bad one ? Aristotle says that when we have a defect to get rid of, ■we should throw ourselves into the opposite extreme, so that after having removed ourselves with all our might from the dreaded fault we may in some respects, and through natural elasticity, return to the just medium indicated by reason, just as a bent wand straightens itself again when let go. This maxim may do in certain cases and with certain characters, but it would have to be applied cautiously. One may, under the influence of enthusiasm, throw himself into a violent extreme, and remain there for some time ; but at the moment of reaction it is not impossible that, instead of stop- ping at the desired medium, he may fall back into the first extreme again. 180. Rules of Bacon and Leibnitz. — Bacon,* who did not find Aristotle's maxim suflicient, tries to complete it by a few additional ones : 1. One should beware of beginning with too difficult tasks, and should proportion them to his strength — in a ^yoy(\., proceed hy degrees. For example, he who wishes to correct himself of his laziness, should not at once im]:>ose too great a work ii[)on himself, but he should every day v/urk a little longer than the day before, until the habit is formed. In order to render these exercises less painful, it is })er- raittcd to employ some auxiliary means, like some one learn- * The Dignity of Sciences, VII., iii. MOEAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS. 333 ing to swim will use bladders or willow supports. After a little while the difficulties will be purposely increased, like dancers who, to acquire agility, practice at first with very heavy shoes. " There is to be observed," adds Bacon, " that there are certain vices (and drunkenness is one of them) where it is dangerous to proceed by degrees only, and where it is better to cut short at once and in an absolute manner. 2. The second maxim, where the question is of acquiring a new virtue, is to choose for it two different opportunities : the first when one feels best disposed toward the kind of actions he may have in view ; the second, when as ill disposed as possible, so as to take advantage of the first opportunity to make considerable headway, and of the second, to exercise the energy of the will. This second rule is an excellent one, and truly efficacious. 3. A third rule is, when one has conquered, or thinks he has conquered, his temperament, not to trust it too much. It were well to remember here the old maxim : " Drive away temperament,''' etc., and remember ^Esop's cat, which, meta- morphosed into a woman, behaved very well at table until it espied a mouse. Leibnitz also gives us some good advice as to practical prudence, to teach us to triumph over ourselves, and ex- pounds in his own way the same ideas as Bossuet and Bacon : " Wlien a man is in a good state of mind he should lay down for himself laws and rules for the future, and strictly adhere to them ; he should, according to the nature of the thing, either suddenly or gradually turn his back upon all occasions liable to degrade him. A journey undertaken on purpose by a lover will cure him of his love ; a sudden retreat will relieve us of bad company. Francis Borgia, general of the Jesuits, who was finally canonized, being accustomed to drink freely whilst yet a man of the world, when he began to withdraw from it gradually reduced his 334 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. allowance to the smallest amount by dropping every day a piece of wax into the bowl he was in the habit of empty- ing. To dangerous likings one must oppose more innocent likings, such as agriculture, gardening, etc. ; one must shun idleness ; make collections of natural history or art objects ; engage in scientific experiments and investigations ; one must make himself some indispensable occupation, or, in default of such, engage in useful or agreeable conversation or reading. In a word, one should take advantage of all good impukes toward forming strong resolutions, as if they were the voice of God calling us.* 181. Franklin's Almanac. — To these maxims concerning the formation and perfecting of character, may fittingly be added the moral method which Benjamin Franklin adopted for his own improvement in virtue. He had made a list of the qualities which he wished to acquire and develop within himself, and had reduced them to thirteen principal ones. This classification, which has no scientific value, appeared to him entirely sufhcient for the end he had in view. These thirteen virtues are the following : temperance, silence, order, resolution, frugality, industry, sincerity, justice, moderation, cleanliness, tranquillity, chastity, humility. This catalogue, once drawn up, Franklin, reflecting that it would be difficult to fight at the same time tliirteen defects and keep his mind on thirteen virtues, had an idea similar to that of Horatius in his combat with the Curiatii : he resolved to fight his enemies one by one ; he applied to morality the well-known principle of politicians : " Divide if thou wilt ride:' " I made a little book," he says, " in which I allotted a page for each of the virtues. I ruled each page with red ink, so as to have seven columns, one for each day of the week, mark- ing each column with a letter for the day. T crossed these columns with thirteen red lines, marking the beginning of each line with the first letter of one of the virtues ; on which ♦ Essays on the Human Understanding, II., xxi. MORAL MEDICIXE AND GYMKASTICS. 335 line, and in its proper column, I might mark, by a little black spot, every fault I found upon examination to have been committed respecting that virtue upon that day. " I determined to give a week's strict attention to each of the virtues successively. Thus, in the first week, my great guard was to avoid even the least offense against temperance ; leaving the other virtues to their ordinary chance, only mark- ing every evening the faults of the day. Thus, if in the first week I could keep my first line, n>arked T, clear of spots, I supposed the habit of that virtue so much strengthened, and its opposite weakened, that I might venture extending my at- tention to include the next, and for the following week keep both lines clear of spots. Proceeding thus to the last, I could get through a course complete in thirteen weeks, and four courses in a year. And, like him, who, having a garden to weed, does not attempt to eradicate all the bad herbs at once, which would exceed his reach and his strength, but works on one of the beds at a time, and, having accomplished the first, proceeds to a second ; so I should have, I hoped, the en- couraging pleasure of seeing on my pages the progress made in virtue, by clearing successively my lines of their spots ; till, in the end, by a number of courses, I should be happy in viewing a clean book, after a thirteen weeks' daily examina- tion." 182. Maxim of Epictetus. — The wise Epictetus gives us the same advice as Franklin : "If you would not be of an aijgry temper," he says, " then do not feed the habit. Be quiet at first, then count the days where you have not been angry. You will say : ' I used to be angry every day ; now every other day ; then every third or fourth day, and if you miss it so long as thirty days, offer a sacrifice to God." * He said, moreover : " If you will practice self-control, take, when it is warm and you are thirsty, a mouthful of fresh water, and spit it out again, and tell no one." 183. Individual character— Cicero's maxims.— The phi- * Epictetus, II., xviii. ^T. W. Hi^ginson'a tVJtnsl.). 33 G ELEMENTS OF MORALS. losophers whom we have just cited give us rules to combat and correct our temperament when it is vicious. Cicero, on the contrary, gives us others to maintain our individual char- acter and remain true to it ; and these rules are no less useful than the others. He justly observes that every man has his own inclinations which constitute his individual and original character. " Some," he says, " are more agile in the foot- race ; others stronger at wrestling ; these are more noble, those more graceful ; Scaurus and Drusus were singularly grave ; Lselius, very merry ; Socrates was playful and amusing in conversation. Some are simple-minded and frank, others, like Hannibal and Fabius, more crafty. In short, there is an infinite variety of manners and differences of character without their being for that blamable."* Now, this is a very sensible principle of Cicero, that we ought not to go against the inclinations of our nature when they are not vicious : ^' In constraining our talents We do nothing gracefully " said the fabulist. " Let each of us then know his own dis- position, and be to himself a severe judge concerning liis own defects and qualities. Let us do as the players who do not always choose the finest parts, but those best suited to their talent, ^sopusf did not often play the part of Ajax." Cicero in this precept, " that every one should remain true to his individual character," goes so far as to justify Cato's sui- cide, for the reason that it accorded with his character. " Others," he says, " might be guilty in committing suicide ; but in the case of Cato, he was right ; it was a duty ; Cato ought to have died." \ This is carrying the rights and duties of the individual character somewhat far; but it is certain that, aside from the great general duties of humanity, which are the same for all men, each individual man has a role to * De Officiis, I., xxx. + The gr(!atf;.st tragic, actor at Rome, and a contemporary of Roscius, the greatest comic actor. — Translator. X De Officiis, I., xxxi. MORAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS. 337 play on earth, and this role is in part determined by our natural dispositions ; now, we should yield to these disposi- tions, when they are not vicious, and should develop them. 184. Self-examination. — Finally, what is especially im- portant, considered from a practical standpoint and in the light of moral discipline, is, that each one should render him- self an exact account of his own disposition, his defects, oddi- ties, vices, so that he be able to correct them. Such was the practical sense of that celebrated maxim formerly inscribed over the temple at Delphi : " Know thyself." This is Socrates' own interpretation of it in his conversations with his dis- ciples : " Tell me, Euthydemus, have you ever gone to Delphi?" — " Yes, twice." — -"And did you observe what is WTitten somewhere on the temple-wall : Know Thyself ? " — - "I did." — "Think you that to know one's self it is enough to know one's own name 1 Is there nothing more needed ? And as those who buy horses do not think they know the animal they wish to buy till they have examined it and discovered whether it is obedient or restive, vigorous or weak, swift or slow, etc., must we not likewise know ourselves to judge what we are really worth?" — -"Certainly." — "It is then obvious that this knowledge of himself is to man a source of much good, whilst being in error about himself exposes him to a thousand evils. Those who know themselves well, know what is useful to them, discern what they can or cannot do ; now, in doing what they are capable of doing, they procure the necessaries of life and are happy. Those who, on the con- trary, do not know themselves, fail in all their enterprises, and fall into contempt and dishonor."* 185. Examination of the conscience. — To know one's self Avell, it is necessary to examine one's self. Hence a practice often recommended by moralists, and particularly Christian moralists, known also by the ancients, namely, the examina- t/o:i of the conscience. There is a fine picture of it in Seneca's writings : " We * Memorabilia of Socrates, IV., iv. 15 338 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. should," says the philosopher, " call, every day, our conscience to account. Thus did Sextius ; when his daily work was done, he questioned his soul : Of what defect hast thou cured thy- self to-day 1 What passion hast thou combated 1 In what hast thou become better 1 What more beautiful than this habit of going thus over the whole day ! . . . I do the same, antl be- ing my own judge, I call myself before my own tribunal. When the light has been carried away from my room, I begin an inquest of the whole day ; I examine all my actions and words. I conceal nothing, allow myself nothing. And why should I hesitate to look at any of my faults when I can say to myself : Take care not to do so again : for to-day I forgive thee?"* To designate all the practices which experience of life has suggested to the moralists, to induce men to better, correct, perfect themselves in right doing, would be an endless task. No better method in tliis respect than to read the Christian moralists: Bossuet, Fenelon, Nicole, Bourdaloue. The advice they give concerning the proper use of time, opportunities, temptations, false shame, loose conversations, perseverance, can be applied to morals as well as to religion. Reading, medita- tion, proper company, good advice, selection of some great model to follow, etc., are the principal means we should em- ploy to perfect ourselves in the right : " If we extirpated and uprooted, every year, a single vice only, we should soon be- come perfect men." f 186. Kant's Catechism. — An excellent practice in moral education is what Kant calls a moral catechism, in which the master, under the form of questions and answers, sums up the jH'inciples of morality. The pupil learns thereby to account , for ideas of which he is but vaguely conscious, and which he often confounds with principles of another order, with the in- * Seneoa, on Anger, III., 38. To tell tlio truth, Seneca forgave himself sometimes too easily perhaps, as, for example, on the day when he defended the murder of Agrippina ; we are often too much disposed to imitate him. t Imitation of Jems Christ I., xi. MORAL MEDICIKE AJ^D GYMNASTICS. 330 stinct of happiness, for example, or the consideration of self- interest. The following are some extracts from Kant's Moral Cate- chism.* Teacher. — What is thy greatest and even thy only wish on earth 1 The pupil remains silent, f Teacher. — Is it not always to succeed in everything accord- ing to thy wishes and will ? How do we call such a state ? The pupil remains silent. Teacher. — We call it happiness (namely, constant prosperity, a life all satisfaction, and to be absolutely content with one's condition). jSTow, if thou hadst in thy hands all possible earthly happiness, wouldst thou keep it wholly to thyself, or share it with thy fellow-beings 1 Pupil. — I should share it with them ; I should make others happy and contented also. Teacher. — This already shows that thou hast a good heart. Let us see now if thou hast also a good judgment. Wouldst thou give to the idler soft cushions ; to the drunkard wine in abundance, and all else that will produce drunkenness ; to the rogue agreeable manners and a line presence, that he might the more easily deceive ; to the violent man, audacity and a strong fist '] Pupil. — Certainly not. Teacher. — Thou seest then that if thou heldst all happiness in thy hands, thou wouldst not, without reflection, distribute it to each as he desires ; but thou wouldst ask thyself how far he is worthy of it. Would it not also occur to thee to ask thyself whether thou art thyself worthy of happiness 1 Pupil. — Undoubtedly. * Doctrine de la Vertu, trad. fr. p. 170. We give here this catechism as an example of what might be done in a course of morals. The teacher can modify its form and developments as he thinks best. t We can see by this that Kant understood youth. In a Socratic interrogation of this kind, the pupil, distrusting his powers, will always begin by being silent. It is only when he perceives that he knows what was asked him, that he ventures to an- swer, and answers well. 340 ELEMENTS OF MORALS Teacher. — Well, then, that which in thee inclines to happi- ness, is called inclination; that which judges that the first condition to enjoy happiness is to be worthy of it, is the rea- son ; and the faculty thou hast to overcome thy inclination by thy reason, is lihertij. Eor example, if thou couldst without injuring any one procure to thyself or to one of thy friends a great advantage by means of an adroit falsehood, what says thy reason ? Pupil. — That I must not lie, whatever great advantage may result from it to me or to my friend. Falsehood is degrading, and renders man unworthy of being happy. There is in this case absolute necessity imposed on me by a command or pro- hibition of my reason, and which should silence all my incli- nations. Teacher. — ^^'hat do we call this necessity of acting conform- ably to the law of reason 1 Pupil. — We call it duty. Teacher. — Thus is the observance of our duty the general condition on which we can alone be worthy of happiness. To be woHhy of happiness and to do one's duty is one and the same thing. APPENDIX* TO CHAPTER VIII. THE UKIOI^ OF CLASSES. A SUBJECT which has attracted much attention, and which is often referred to in conversation, in books, in political assemblies, is the various classes of society ; there are upper and lower classes, and be- tween these two, a middle class. We speak of laboring classes, poor classes, rich classes. These are expressions which it were desirable should disappear. They relate to ancient customs, ancient facts, and in the present state of society correspond no longer to situations now all clearly defined. They are vestiges which last long after the facts to which they corresponded have disappeared, and which retained are often followed by grave consequences. They give rise to misunderstanding, false ideas, sentiments more or less blame wortliy. I should like to show that in the present state of society, there are no longer any classes, that there are only men, individuals. The word classes, in a strict sense, can be applied only to a state of societ}' Avhere social and natural advantages are conferred by the law to certain men at the expense of others ; where some can procure these advantages whilst others never can ; where the public burden weighs on a certain class, on a certain number of men, whilst the others are entirely free from it, and this, I repeat, by the sanction of law, and by social organization. This state of things has existed, with more or less differences and notably great changes, in all past centuries. Its lowest degree is, for example, that where it is impossible for certain men to procure to them- selves the goods desired by all, where they can never own any kind of property, however small, where they are themselves considered j)rop- erty ; where, instead of being allowed to sell and buy, they are them- selves sold and bought, themselves reduced to an object of commerce. This state is that called slavery. Slavery, in its strict sense, is the state where man is the property of * We give this as a useful supplement to Chapter VIII. It is a lecture formerly delivered on the Union of Classes (18(57, Rexnie des cours litteraires, v., p. 42). . . "We beg to be pardoned for what negligences of style may have cn'.pt into the improvisa- tion. 342 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. other men, is a thing ; where he is bought antl sold, and where his work does not belong to him, but to his master. This state of things existed through all anti([uity. Society, with the ancients, was divided into two great classes (the term is here perfectly in its place), classes very unequal in numbers, where the more numer- ous were the property of the least numerous. The citizens, as they were called, or freemen, who constituted a part of the State, the Republic, had no need of working to make a living, because they owned living instruments of work — men. This state of things, you well know, did not only exist in antiquity ; it was perpetuated till our days, and it is not very long since it still existed in some of the greatest societies of the world. We may consider it at present as wholly done away with. A notch higher, we find the state called serfdom, where man is not wholly interdicted to owm property, and where he is allowed a family, which fact constitutes the superiority of serfdom over slavery. It is ob- vious that in a state of slavery, there can be no family : a man, the prop- erty of another, liable to be bought and sold, can have no family. Serf- dom, which in the Middle Ages existed in all European societies, and but recently was abolished in Russia, allowed the individual a family, and in a certain measure even the right of property ; but he was a part of the land on which he was born, and, like that land, belonged to a master, a lord. The serf then was, as it is commonly called, attached to the glebe, to the land, unable to leave it, unable to buy or sell except under extremely restricted conditions, and thus a part of the soil on which he was born, he belonged with that soil to his lord. This state of things was gradually bettered. The serfs, little by little, ac(|uired by their work a small capital ; they succeeded in buying their liberty from their lords. It is this which gave rise to that ancient society, called ancien rigime, which preceded the French Revolution. But all men were not serfs ; things had not reached that point ; serfdom had already been abolished by means of certain contracts, certain sums of money which the work- ing-men paid as a sign of their former thraldom. Yet was there still in force much that was iniquitous, forming what is called an aristocratic society, where, for example, some men had the exclusive right of hold- ing and transmitting to their childron territorial property, which they were not allowed to put in trade, the exclusive right of holding jmblic functions, of having grades in the army, the right of hunting and fish- ing, etc. And conversely, on the other hand, whilst the minority enjoyed so exclusively all these privileges, the costs of society rested on the greater number, and these costs the serfs were obliged to pay. Hence a society in which there were classes, since the law conferred APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VIII. 343 social advantages on some in preference to others, and heavy burdens resting on some Avithout resting on others. As it is not my purpose to write here the history of modern society, I need not enter into all the details of these facts, which are, besides, quite well known. You all know that these great social injustices and iniquitous prac- tices disappeared at the time of the Revolution, and that the principal object of the French Eevolution of 1789 was precisely to suppress all these privileges conceded to some, and these burdens unequally imposed on others. From that moment, there was equality in law, that is to say, that all men belonging to our present society are allowed to accumu- late property, exercise public functions, rise to higher grades — in a word, are considered fit to obtain all the advantages which society has to offer, and which nature allows them to desire and acquire. Since 1789, society, as a matter of course, has continued to move in the same grooves, and, thanks to work and competition, all that which still existed by way of social inequalities has gradually disappeared ; if, by chance, there still remain in our laws such vestiges of former inequal- ity, they will in time, and with the help of all enlightened men, disap. pear ; for it is now a truth fully recognized that the good of humanity demands that at least all legal inequalities should be done away Avith, and that all men, without distinction, should be allowed to acquire any -advantages which their special faculties, and the conditions wherein they are placed, enable them to acquire. I say, then, that this being the case, there is no reason why, in the present state of society, men should any longer be designated by classes. They are men, and men alone, and as such they should be allowed to enjoy common advantages, to live by their work — namely, to constitute themselves into families, to cultivate their intelligence, to worship God according to their conscience — in a word, to enjoy all the rights we call the rights of a man and citizen. But when in a society all legal inequalities have been suppressed, does it necessarily follow that an absolute e(]uality will be the final result ? No. Society can only do away with ine([ualities of its own making ; inequalities which, from causes we have not time here to set forth, were added to the already existing natural inequalities. For there are natural inequalities ; inequalities which may be called individual inequalities, there being no two pereons in the world exactly the same. From this fact alone — men being in a thousand ways different from each other — it necessarily follows that each man's (;ondition is different from that of his fellow-men. Hence an infinite multitude of inequalities which have always existed and always will exist, because they result from the 'nature of things ; and such inequalities must be clearly distinguished from those dependent on the law. 344 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. What noAV are the principal causes of these inequalities, which I call individual inequalities ? They are of two kinds : the inherent faculties of the individual, and the circumstances wherein he is placed. The faculties of the individual are the work of nature : they spring from his moral and physical organization ; and, as I have said above, there being no two men exactly alike, either physically or morally, it naturallj^ follows that there are differences, and these differences bring Avith them inequalities. Let us, for instance, take the most important of all these differences, namely, physical strength, health. Man is a living being, an organized being, and his organization is subject to the most delicate, most numerous, most complicated conditions. Hence many differences. Some are born strong, robust, able to brave all kinds of temperatures, all sorts of trials — trials of work, of outside events, sometimes the trials of their own excesses even. Others, on the contrary, are born with a feeble constitution ; they are weak, delicate, they cannot bear trials the same as the others. This is a first difference, and this difference, you well know, may be subdivided into a multitude of others ; for there are no two individuals equally healthy, equally strong. What will be the natural result ? This, for example : that where strength is required (and every one needs more or less physical strength to accomplish certain heavy works), the strongest \vill have the advantage over the others ; and, after a certain time, of two men wlio started at the same time, under the same condi- tions, with equal moral advantages, one, owing to his physical strength, shall have accomplished a great deal, and the other less ; one shall have earned much, the other little : their career is unequal. But it is not always the greater physical strength and health which determine in man his capacity for Avork ; and it is a notable fact, and a matter upon which it is well to insist, namely, that all differences are compensated for, balance themselves, so to say ; that such a one, for example, who, in some respect and from a certain point of view, may be inferior to anotlier, may from another standpoint be superior to him ; which, again, is as much as to say that tliere are no classes in society ; for if the one who in one respect is inferior to his fellow-man, is in another superior to him, they are equals. In the class called the laboiing class, for example, we see every day tliat it is not always the strongest and the liealthiest that produce the largest amount of work ; and love of v.'ork is a notable factor in this scale of physical strength, making the balance pretty even. For some delicate men are iiidustiious, Avhilst others Avho arc stronger are not ; some have a natural liking for their Avork, Avhilst others again have not. Hence a dilfcrence in the character of their work, and, conse- fiuently, in the remuneration of it. APPENDIX TO CHAPTER YIII. 345 A third difference is that of the intelligence. All men have received from nature a special pjift Avhich distinguishes them from the animals, and which we call intelligence ; but they have not received it all to the same degree. Not all men have the same intellectual faculties, and every one knows how great an element of success intelligence is in all functions, in all departments of human activity, even in those requiring above all physical strength and the use of the hands. It is w^ell known that even the latter find in intelligence their best auxiliary ; that it procures them an invaluable advantage, even over those Avhose physical strength, facility, ardor, tenacity in work, would seem to forestall all rivalry. There is finally a fourth element which is also inherent in the indi- vidual man, and wdiich distinguishes one man from the other, and this is morality. We all know that morality, independently of its oavu merit, its incomparable, intrinsic merit, a merit which cannot be esti- mated by its fruits, is of itself alone one of the greatest factors in bring- ing about important results in practical life. We all know that even setting aside the intrinsic woi'th of morality — honesty, virtue — the work resulting from our physical efforts is greatly enhanced by this precious element. We all know that economy, sobriet}', a spirit of peace and concord, devotion to the family — in short, all moral elements — give to him who exercises them a vast superiority over his fellows who do not, despite his intellectual and physical disadvantages. When I say that morality is an element of inequality, I wish to be understood rightly. There are, it is true, moral inequalities among men ; and from these moral inequalities spring others ; but morality is not in itself a pi'inciple of inequality, for Avhat precisely constitutes morality, is that all men can equally attain to it ; that it wholly depends on the individual man to attain to it or not. So that if, on this point, a man finds himself inferior to another, he can blame no one for it but himself. Here, then, is a point Avhere the law is of no avail ; where it is evident that man is the master of his actions, and gains for himself what mo- rality he wishes ; if, then, there results from this a certain inequality among men, this inequality is to be attributed to the free-will of the individual man, who did not profit by the admirable gift Providence has endowed him with — namely, moral liberty — and by means of Avhich he can choose between the right and the wrong. You see, then, that there are many causes differentiating men from each other, and in such a manner that it is impossible to define them strictly. Vrc cannot say : there are on the one hand the strong, and on the other the weak ; on the one the intelligent, on the other the feeble- minded, because all these elements so combine as to compensate for one 346 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. another. Once more, he who is least favored in one direction, may be better favored in another ; he who has an inferior share of intelligence and physical strength, may be the first in will-power. We can thus always fill out natural inequalities, and correct and overcome them by an effort of the will. Still, however that may be, and despite all effort of individual will- power and moral energy, there unquestionably result from these indi- vidual differences a multitude of different conditions among men. Be- sides, and independently of these purely inward causes due to both the physical and moral constitution of the individual man, there are yet outward causes of inequality. These are the circumstances, the condi- tions wherein we are born and live. We are all more or less dependent on the physical and social condi- tions which surround us. It is quite certain that birth, for example, is a circumstance wholly independent of the will of man. Some are born in the most favorable, some in the least favorable social conditions — some rich, some poor ; facts which depend neither on their constitution nor on their will. There are, moreover, still other outward circum- stances. One may be born in a rich, a civilized, an enlightened, a pro- gressive country, or in a poor, barbarous, benighted country. One may live in a place Avhere there is every means of education, of making a living, of improving one's self, where there may be a thousand favorable openings for a man, and again, on the contrary, in a i)lace far away from all civilization, without opportunities for work, without enlightenment, without means of communication with other men. All such circumstances are independent of the will of the individual man, and can only be corrected in time and through the progress of civilization, which gradually equalizes all countries. There are yet, besides all this, what is generally called the happy and unhappy chances of life. Everybody knows that human events do not always run as one would wish them, that things turn out more or less fortunately, as circumstances, and not men, order them. One may, for instance, get sick, when he has most need of health ; a wife loses her husband, the support of her family, when she has most need of him ; one may engage in an enterprise apparently founded on the best condi- tions of success : this enterprise fails on account of unexpected events, and without its being any one's fault. In commerce, for instance, we see every day the most unfortunate consequences of outward circum- stances, against whitdi one is utterly helpless, because, in commerce espe- cially, there is a large share to be left to chance, to the unknown, which no one can calculate beforehand. Now, all such unexpected events, as they are realized, overthrow all our jdans, and are cause that some attain to wealth, and others fall into poverty. Farmers particularly know but APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VIII. 347 too well how dependent they are on outward circumstances. Cold, heat, rain, are for them elements of fortune or misery, and they are elements over which they have no control whatsoever. Now these elements, working blindly, as it would seem, are the chief cause of the great diversity of human conditions. Some, it is said, are lucky ; others are not ; some meet with favorable circumstances, others with contrary and fatal circumstances. Everything seems to co-operate toward crushing some, whilst everything again favors the success of others. These causes are innumerable, and could be rcultiplied ad in- finitum ; they explain the infinite variety of human conditions, how there are none exactly similar, and how there are consequently no two men exactly alike. They are equals as men, in the sense that they have the same rights to justice, to truth ; the same rights of conscience ; but they are not equals as to their circumstances, which circumstances, as we have seen, vary in every respect. But, it may be asked, why all these inequalities ? Why are some happy and others unhappy ? Why some rich, fortunate, powerful, intelligent, virtuous even ? (for it would almost seem that up to a certain point, virtue also depends on social position, since those who are born in a more elevated condition have greater facilities to exercise virtue) ; why are others, on the contrary, unfortunate, obliged to work so hard to arrive at such poor results ; to be scarcely able to make a living for themselves or their family ? Certainly these are indeed most grave and serious questions. But, what I contend for is, that it is not to so- ciety we should put these questions, but to Providence, who has made life what it is. Society can do but one thing, namely, not to add to natural inequalities, social ones. It can also, to a certain degree, lessen the natural inequalities ; but it is not wholly responsible for man's moral and physical constitution ; it is not wholly responsible for the course of events in the world ; so that if we would know why things are thus fashioned, we must rise higher ; we must not make our fellow-men or society in general answerable for them. I only add that, as legal inequalities disap- pear, so will the natural inequalities also vanish, and this is the essen- tial point. Natural inequalities cannot be wholly corrected, for the reasons above stated ; but as society, in doing away with legal in- equalities, strives to lessen the share of responsibility it has heretofore had in these inequalities, the natural inequalities must necessarily gi'ow less, and for the simple reason that avenues being opened to man to enjoy the fruit of his labor, and acquire the rights society holds now out to him, he will be able to fill out these natural inequalities. The inequality of intelligence was largely due to want of culture. As soon as men shall be educated, enlightened, shall themselves endeavor to learn, the differences in human intelligence will gradually disappear ; for it has been observed 348 • ELEMENTS OF MORALS. that as civilization progresses, the number of great men diminishes, and what was formerly called genius, is lost in the larger development of society. This may be only an illusion, for genius never changes ; only ias the existing ditierences among men become lessened, the inequalities which separated the great men from the rest are less obvious. Thus, the more you shall put into the hands of men, and if possible of all men, means for educating themselves, the more you will find these differences vanish ; the more will they grow like each other, the more will human intelligence become equalized. On the other hand, as social and legal inequalities disappear, public prosperity, public wealth, public comforts, will increase at the same rate. As the physical strength of men develops, so will the means of combating infirmities, diseases, all that weakened, enervated, depraved the populations, develop also. As the moral differences diminish (not indeed in the sense that every one will reach the same degree of virtue — that is impossible), the rudeness, the brutality, certain odious vices due to ignorance, to barbarous manners, to the insufficient means of com- munication with each other, will gradually disappear ; and thus, in respect to civilization also, will men grow more like each other. You see, then, that by culture, by the progress of civilization, all these inequalities due to outward circumstances, may be combated. Society at the present time, being more ingenious, more enlightened, more clever than in past days, has at its command a multitude of means wherewith, if not to destroy, at least to reduce the ill effects of outward chances. That, for example, which we call life-insurance, is very effective indeed in combating misfortune. By means of a small sacrifice, every man may in some respect protect himself against chances which formerly reduced a large part of the population to misery. It is the same with other similar societies of mutual assistance and benefit ; they will in- crease in proportion to general progress, and will largely counteract the un- happy results of such inequalities as may be combated by human industry. I go still further ; I maintain that the inequalities above noted not only should not be imputed to society, but not even to Providence. They are legitimate and useful ; they are the necessary stimulant to work. It is because of that very great variety of conditions that men make the proper efforts to better them, and that by these efforts, by this common labor, society progresses. Why does every one work ? Is it not that each sees above him a position he covets, and which he seeks to secure ? It is not the first of positions, nor the highest, for man does not think of those too far above him, nor should he ; but the next best, such as others like him occupy, he can attain. If he earns a little money only, he tries to earn more ; if he is only a workman, he may become a foreman ; if only a APPENDIX TO CHAPTER YIII. 349 foreman, a master ; if only a master, a capitalist. He who is but a third clerk will want to be second clerk ; he who is second will want to be first ; and thus through the whole series of degrees. Now, it is just the possibility of securing a better situation than the one we are in that stimulates us to work and make the necessary efibrts. Suppose (a thing, of course, impossible) that all men could be assured of a sufficient quantity of daily bread equally distributed among them, human activity would at once come to a stop, human work would cease ; society would consequently become impoverished, and, becoming impoverished, even the small portion each one is satisfied with could no longer be possible, and they would have to fall back upon work again. "Work requires a stimulant, and it is the inequality of human conditions which furnishes this stimulant. Societies are like individuals. Every society has always before its eyes a condition better than the one it is in, a state of greater material prosperity, of greater intellectual development ; and it is because we long to reach that superior state that society strives after improvement. There are, indeed, societies that are indifferent to this ; that do not experience such a want ; but such peoples remain stagnant in their bar- barous ignorance ; they never advance. It is the civilized nations who are not satisfied with their condition, and where every one endeavors to better his own. "VVe should, therefore, look upon the inequalities which favor individual development, which assist the progress of the race, which excite every man to make an effort to better his condition, as truly desirable. I have demonstrated how the great legal inequalities which, before the French Revolution, authorized the division of society into classes, have now disappeared, and that what remains, and must of necessity remain, are the natural inequalities resting, on the one hand, on indi- vidual faculties, and on the other, on the diversity and the inequality of the conditions wherein we are placed. Let us now see whether in these conditions there is something requiring society to be divided into parts : — some people above, some below, some in the middle, and whether each of these parts should be called a class. I look in vain for anything whereon such distinctions could be based. Let us take the most natural fact which could serve as a basis for such distinctions — namely, fortune, wealth. It is said : there are the rich and the poor. But what more vague than such terms ? AYhere does poverty stop ? Undoubtedly, there are wretched people in all societies. There is no society wholly free of poor unfortunates, so unfortunate as to require the assistance of others. It is what we call beggary, and it exists in all societies. But this is not an element which may be said to constitute a class. It is not any more 350 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. correct to say the class of beggars than the class of invalids. There are invalids in all societies, and we are all subject to becoming invalids, but we cannot say tliat there is a class of invalids. Those who are ill are to be pitied, but they do not, I repeat, constitute a class, which would allow us to divide society into two parts : a class of people that are well and people that are sick. The same with beggary ; it is an anomaly, an unfortunate exception to the rule, and very sad for those who are its victims, but it does not constitute a class. Yet it is not this we gener- ally understand by the poor and the rich classes. We understand by rich those who have a certain appearance of well-being ; and by poor those who work more or less with their hands. Now, there is nothing more false than such a distinction, for, among those called rich, there are many that are poor, and wealth and poverty are not generally abso- lutely different. It depends on the relations between the wants and the means of satisfying them. How many among physicians, lawyers, artists, for example — among men who belong to what we call the middle class — are, I ask, not only poor, but wretched ? How are we to know them ? What is it marks in society the rich and the poor ? Here we have, for instance, country people, good folks, who have never opened a book, who do not know A from B, and who are rich ; and again others of the middle class who are poor. The conditions in society so intertwine that it is impossible to cut it in two and say : these are the rich classes, these the poor. There is an infinite variety of degrees, each having some sort of prop- erty, the one more, the other less. In such a number of degrees it is impossible to distinguish precisely the beginning or the end. We admit these individual inequalities, and as many different conditions as there are individuals ; but there are no classes, and no one could tell their beginnings and ends. How could you determine the amount of property requisite to belong to either of these categories — the rich or the poor ? Shall you say that the rich man is he who has any capital, and the poor, he who has not any ? There are many people with capi- tal that are poor, and many without who are very well off. These are but arbitrary distinctions. Upon what, then, shall we base class differences ? On the profes- sions ? On those who exercise public functions and those who do not ? But this would, in the first jdace, be a very unequal division ; for the number of public functionaries is very small in comparison with the immense mass of people who have no public profession. And again, wherein is the public functionary superior to this or that merchant, this or that big farmer, this or that great builder or contractor ? It is impossible to say ; for in the hierarchy of functionaries there is also a top, a middle, a bottom, with an infinite variety of degrees in each. APPENDIX TO CHAPTEK VIII. 351 Take the nobility. But Avho in these days troubles himself about aris- tocratic names 'i They are, unquestionably, valuable souveiiirs for those who can boast of them — of great historical names, for instance ; names which have played a part in history ; they are grand recollections to cherish and respect, but they give him who possesses them but very feeble advantages. It is not very long since there might have been found some legitimate ground for the class distinctions we are examin- ing, namely, in political rights, at a time when some few enjoyed polit- ical rights and a great many had none ; but this time has gone by, this inequality is also wiped out ; there are no more political classes than there are social classes. Shall we take material work — work of hand, as a class distinction among men ? We hear often the term laboring classes — men, namely, who live by work of hand ; but are not those who work with their brains, workers also ? There are a thousand kinds of work, and it is not absolutely necessary one should work with his hands to be a worker. Besides, there are many people working with their hands, who do not belong to what is usually understood by the laboring class : the painters, sculptors, chemists, surgeons ; all these people work with their hands. You see, then, that, look at it as you will, it will be very difficult to find distinctive signs whereby society could be divided into classes. There are groups of workers ; groups formed by the variety of work which has to be done. Everybody cannot do the same thing in society. Political economy teaches a very true and necessary law, called division of labor. In order that a certain piece of work be well done, its differ- ent parts must be distributed among those who are capable of executing them ; and the more each one will exclusively attend to the portion allotted to him, the better will the work be done. It is the same with society. Society is a great work-shop, a vast factory, where there are a great many different kinds of work to be done. Each must do his share. Hence various groups of workers. Some cultivate the land, because men must be fed ; some engage in industrial pursuits, for men must be clothed, must be housed against the inclem- encies of the weather ; then there is justice to be rendered ; there are some needed to protect the laborers ; men must also be educated and need educators. There are roads to be made, railroads to be laid, laws to be enforced, and all this gives rise to a multitude of functions, a large number of groups of workers, each working in the line which has been determined, more or less, by birth, circumstances, or natural ability. Shall we still say that each of these groups forms a class? Shall it be the military class, because it is composed of soldiers ; the class of ec- clesiastics, because composed of priests ; the teaching class, because 352 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. composed of teachers ? In no wise. Then should we neither speak of the laboring classes — of the middle classes. There is, I repeat, but one societ}^ and that society coniposed of an infinite number of individuals ; all differing from each other by reason of their various natural endowments and the outward conditions in Avhich they are placed. They are subdivided into groups which more or less blend with each other, are more or less dependent on each other. There is, however, a sign whereby men may be distinguished from each other, and that is education : difference in instruction and culture ; and this is in these days the only kind of difference that can still exist among them. How is this to be remedied ? In two ways : in observing the duties of society and the duties of individuals. Society at this present moment is doing all in its power to bring education within the reach of all, and according to the particular need of each. Of course all are not obliged to learn the same things. Even among the most enlightened, there are some who, relatively to others, are quite ignorant. So that there are degrees here also. But still there is a certain common ground of customary, useful, necessary knowledge, which brings all together : — the education common to all, and which is as a bond between them. Society is doing its best in extending this education, propagating it, developing it ; and men should do their best toward it. It depends, therefore, on the individual man to do away with this last inequality. It behooves us, then, to disseminate education and instruction, as far as it lies in our power ; and it behooves those who have not yet enjoyed it to make every effort to improve themselves. Finally, connected with education, there is a feature wliich also es- tablishes a certain difference between men : good manners ; good habits ; good morals ; all of which are distinguishing, differentiating, traits. On whom is it incumbent to do away with such inequalities ? On us all. Each of us, in his own individual s[)here of life, must break down the barrier that separates him from the one above him ; he must rise up to him, not so much through morality, for morality is the same below as above, but through his manners, his habits, his dignity, sobriety, politeness, he must win his esteem. This is accomplished rather through education than instruction, for it is education that makes men good-natured, so that it will be through education that the last inequality between men will be effaced. I say, then, that we should as much as possible work toward this end, and above all avoid using expressions which tend to separate men from each other. These expressions belong to a past age ; they were per- petuated by usage, and still uphold certain imaginary rights, and modes of thinking — certain prejudices and sentiments wliich divide society into APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VIII. 353 two parts, and cause it to believe that it is so divided from necessity. In indulging in such prejudices, what in fact is but an imaginary divi- sion becomes a real one. It is, therefore, this imaginary division of classes which must be done away with ; for it is from the imagination tha.t all these feelings of distrust, and jealousy, and ill-will generally spring ; and they should be combated resolutely, for they carry with them very lamentable conse- quences. The remedy is where the evil is. These old prejudices residing in the imagination, it is the imagination we should correct. AYe must accustom ourselves to think differently ; we must look upon ourselves not as belonging to a particular class, but to one and the same society, a society of men, men all equals and in different social condi- tions, all entitled to the same rights. It is, therefore, in reciprocal good feeling, in the heart of men rather- than in any legal reform, that the true safety of society resides. We must give up those old notions which cause some to imagine that they are oppressed, or threatened, or prevented to rise in the social scale, and others, that they run the danger of being dispossessed of their privileges. There is in such antagonism far greater danger than in the actual evils both sides complain of. To do away with it only requires reciprocal good- will, kindness, readiness to understand each other. The reform which has taken place in our laws, must take place in our minds also. Class feeling must be suppressed, and there will then appear a truly human society, all being united by brotherly love.