NVOl QdOOBli 01 s-rroi iSiini3ii 3S\fflld isoi dl 3AOW3il idN 0(T 3SV21d T^Qta^i^v^ BOOK 170.P83 c. 1 PORTER # ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE 3 11S3 a00b5b2T 3 VQ B a a a a at o a S B 2 gJ Ol £9 8 8 El ai s< :d a I THE WORKS OF NOAH PORTER, D.D., LL.D. THE HUMAN INTELLECT. With an Introduction upon Psychology and the Human Soul. 8vo, - - $5.00 ELEMENTS OF INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE. A Man- ual for Schools and Colleges. Abridged fronn "The Human Intellect." Crown 8vo, - - - - 3.00 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. Theoretical and Practical. Crown 8vo, .... - 3.00 BOOKS AND READING. An Enlarged and Revised Edition. Crown 8vo, 2.00 THE AMERICAN COLLEGES AND THE AMERICAN PUBLIC, WITH AFTER-THOUGHTS ON COLLEGE AND SCHOOL EDUCATION. 12mo, - - 1.50 SCIENCE AND SENTIMENT. Papers Chiefly Philo- sophical. Crown 8vo, _ - . - - 2.50 BISHOP GEORGE BERKELEY. Limited edition of five hundred copies, printed on Holland paper. Small quarto, net, 2.00 FIFTEEN YEARS IN THE CHAPEL OF YALE COL- LEGE. Crown 8vo. W/th Portrait, - - - 2.50 63 THE ELEMENTS "^"^^ MORAL SCIENCE THEORETICAL AND PRACTICAL BY NOAH PORTER, D.D., LL.D. PRESIDE ST OF YALE COLLEGE NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1895 Copyright, 1884, Bv CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS. THIS VOLUME IS GRATEFULLY IXSCRIBED BY THE WRITER TO THE MAXY HUNDRED PUPILS WHOM HE HAS INSTRUCTED FOR NEARLY FORTY YEARS, SO MANY OF WHOM HAVE BEEN AND ARE is TILL HIS JOY AND PRIDE FOR THEIR FIDELITY AND ZEAL IN LIVES OF DUTY AND USEFULNESS. PREFACE. The treatise now offered to the public was written prima- rily for the use of college and university students in their preparation for the class-room. It supposes some familiarity with psychological and philosophical studies, and a willingness to think closely and earnestly concerning the important ques- tions which relate to man's duties and his moral responsibil- ity. In preparing this volume, the author has endeavored to meet the wants of those students and readers, who, though somewhat mature in their philosophical thinking, and disci- plined in their intellectual habits, still require expanded defi- nitions and abundant illustrations, involving more or less of repetition. Had it been his design simply to state and defend his own views of the theory and practice of morals, in a strictly scientific form, he would have written a somewhat different book. It is not, and was not designed to be, in form a scholastic treatise ; although it tr.lies cpgnizance of both the psychological and metaphysical foundations of ethics, and aims to trace all its conclusions to ultirnate facts and principles. For the opipions e^^pressed ia this treatise, the treatise itself is responsible ; and it must stand or fall with the rea- Vi PREFACE. SODS which ax-e offered in support of its leading positions. Both the opinions, and the grounds of them, are the fruits of more or less reading and reflection ; and none of them have been inconsiderately adopted. It is possible that the theory of morals will be thought by some to have been treated with too great fulness and minuteness. But, in the view of the writer, the most, if not all, of these theoretical questions have a more or less directly practical bearing, and are sure to be important in the crises of actual life. For the completeness of tins part of the work, a somewhat full and critical exhibi- tion of the progress of ethical speculation is also required. Such an historical sketch the author had intended to furnish, but was deterred by the fear of making his treatise incon- veniently large, and was therefore compelled to content himself with a few scanty and incomplete historical notices. The practical discussions and enforcements may seem to some of his readers to be too long ; to others, too brief. The author has aimed to treat all questions of this kind in the light of the principles which underlie them, and to leave to his readers to supply many of the special applications which would naturally suggest themselves. He earnestly hopes that the discussion of many of these practical questions may be a healthful logical and moral discipline to many persons of both sexes, and lead them to invest a life of duty with the dignity and respect wdiich properly belong to it. Especially does he desire that the enforcement of social obligations may awaken in the minds of young persons a more enlightened judgment, a more fervid faith, and a more ardent zeal with respect to those institutions which give to Christendom its organic life. PREFACE. Vii To one topic he has endeavored to do ample justice, and that is the theoretic import and value of the Christian ethics, — a topic which seems to him to have been surprisingly neglected by English writers, notwithstanding that the English literature is so abundant in ethical treatises, the most of which were written by Christian theologians, and from the stand- point of supernatural Christianity. While the author has scru- pulously avoided urging its claims to superiority from any higher than its human excellence and human authority, he sees no reason why the New Testament should not be fairly considered, in regard to its ethical rank and significance, by the side of the NicomacJiean Ethics^ the De Officiis, Butler's Sermons, or Spencer's Data of Ethics. With these remarks, the treatise is commended to the favor- able judgment of thoughtful readers, at a time and in a coun- try when and where ethical questions ought to be seriously considered, wisely answered, and fearlessly applied to public and private life. NOAH PORTER. Yale College, January, 1885. CONTEKTS. PAGB Introductory 1 § 1. Moral Science defined. Definition provisional and imperfect. Popular use of the term. Scientific supposes a popular knowledge. Also a practical application. — § 2. What is dut\' ? Sense in which action is used. Includes the character and habits. Moral Science is a science of the ideal as truly as of the actual. —§ 3. Grounds for believing duty to be a reality, or at least worthy our study. — § 4. The analytic method gives the divisions of Moral Science. (1) Ethics, or classified rules of practice. Ethics includes casuistry. (2) Moral Science proper. Involves psychology of the moral pow- ers. (3) Involves a theory of conscience. (4) Psychology carries us to a philosophy. — § 5. Synthetic method changes the order, and gives us (1) Moral Science proper, including psychology. (2) Pro- ceeds to ethics. (3) Includes and develops the doctrine of rights. (4) Casuistry. (5) Recognizes Christian ethics. — § 6. The study important. (1) The subject-matter legitimate. (2) Especially for professional and public men. Every educated man must discuss questions of duty. (3) Conducive to faith in duty. (4) Practically useful. Especially on critical occasions. (5) Moral Science not superseded by a supernatural revelation, (6) Is favorable to faith in the Christian revelation PART I. —THE THEORY OF DUTY, CHAPTER I. Man a Moral Person, psychologically considered 21 § 7. The moral nature. How misconceived. Moral experiences in- volve man's threefold powers. — § 8. The sensibility, other appella- tions for. Act of, distinguished from the intellect. (1) Subjective. ix X CONTENTS. PAOB (2) Dependent on the intellect. A possible exception. Opposing views and objections. (3) Uniformly pleasant or painful. Appella- tions for power, acts, and states. — § 9. The element of desire dis- tinguished from the element of emotion proper. Object of each of these elements. Special use of "desire." — § 10. Consciousness attests the analysis given of emotion and desire. Desire of an object for its own sake. — § 11. Possibly exceptional instinctive impulses. — § 12. Objections to the position taken. (1) "We are not conscious of referring to subjective good. (2) The object desired fills the mind. (3) The instinctive desires do not follow this rule. (4) Much less do the affections. The analysis does not concern the voluntary affections. Testimony of Leibnitz. Of Bishop Butler. Of Jonathan Edwards. Of Dr. J. W. Alexander. — § 13. Desire of happiness not co-ordinate with any of the special affections or desires. No single desire can be resolved into the desire of happi- ness. Why called a rational desire by eminence. Why miscalled "self-love." — § 14. Sensibilities distinguished as simple and com- plex.— § 15. Also as primary and secondary. The love of money. Associated sensibilities. Two classes of. Strength of the second- ary sensibilities. Their number and complexity. CHAPTER II. The Sensibilities classified 42 § 16. Sensibilities not easily classified. Proposed scheme of classifi- cation. Drs. Reid and Stewart. Sir William Hamilton. Dr. Thomas C. Upham. Dr. William Whewell. — § 17. The sensibili- ties differ in the natural quality of the good which they condition. Views of Paley. Jeremy Bentham. John Stuart Mill. No single term for every kind of subjective good. Pleasure and satisfaction, blessedness and happiness, good and well-being. Worth, value, and utility. — § 18. The sensibilities, as emotions, are simply pas- sive. Sensibilities act under certain conditions. Apparent excep- tions in bodily experience. Dependent on attention. — § 19. Effect of repetition. Exception, the bodily appetites. Effect of familiar- ity, the soldier and surgeon. Butler's distinction between active and passive habits. — §20. Sensibilities active, or act,-impelling. Activity used in a variety of significations. Activity not limited to the will. — § 21. Sensibility diverse in different individuals. Differ- ences, natural and acquired. CHAPTER III. The Sensibilities as modified by the Will 57 § 22. Sensibilities not independent of the will. Voluntary power, acts and effects, appellations for. Two and three fold division of the powers. Locke's division. Jonathan Edwards's division. Dr. CONTENTS. xi PAGE Thomas Reid's division. Dr. Thomas Brown's. Dugald Stewart's. Kant's division. Professor Thomas C. Upham's. — §23. The sup- position that man had no will. Might possess a distinctive charac- ter. — § 24. Questions concerning the will are largely psychological. Testimony of consciousness. Special terms in all languages. Emo- tions and desires distinguished from volitions. Self-approbation and self-condemnation imply the belief. Pre-eminently remorse. — § 25. Speculative objections. (I) Involves the denial of causative energy. (2) Is inconceivable. Explained by final cause. (3) Ex- cludes possibility and usefulness of experience. Lessons of expe- rience often held with a proviso. Case of Andrew Marvel. — § 26. How far is history an exact science ? Inconsistent with foreknowl- edge on the part of God. God's foreknowledge unlike that of man. — § 27. Freedom introduces a new element into science. Also into the philosophy of man. The positivist and evolutionist deny free- dom. Argument in reply. Intelligence implies freedom. Freedom leaves a field for historical and political science. Necessary and free phenomena distinguishable. Literature recognizes and requires freedom. The antinomy between the two. CHAPTER IV. The Will defined 77 § 28. What the will is not. (1) Not a power to execute the volitions. Statement of Hobbes. Statement of Locke. Statement of Antony Collins. Statement of Jonathan Edwards. Liberty as properly applied to the intentions as to the actions. Liberty and freedom negative in form, but positive in fact. (2) Not a power to choose without a motive. The greatest apparent good. J. S. Mill distin- guishes the fatalist and necessitarian. (3) Does not exclude mo- tives to the contrary. (4) Not a power to choose to choose, nor to choose to act. Edwards's argument against the infinite series. — § 29. Positive views of the will. (1) In its conditions. (2) The activity sui generis. Attested by consciousness from an emotion. Reason why the activity is least familiar. Objection that consciousness testifies only of acts. Conception of power derived from spiritual activity. — §30, Why does the man choose as he does? Question ambiguous. — § 31. Various senses of will, volition, etc. The force spiritual, not material. Spiritual force not necessarily free. CHAPTER V. Effect of Volition, — Choice, Disposition, and Character. . . 92 § 32. The result or effect of an act of volition. The effects within the soul. A state of choice. Effects upon the emotions. — § 33. (1) Choices that are speedily executed. (2) Choices that are longer in execution. Examples. Choices of ideal excellence. Choices that XU CONTENTS. PAGE affect the character. — § 34. (1) Such choices may rarely or never be repeated. (2) The act may be repeated more or less frequently. A state of choice tends to perpetuity. — § 35. Permanent purposes objects of moral approval and disapproval. Why does the man choose so and so ? The question admits of different senses. Lib- erty of will pertains to moral relations only. CHAPTER VI. The Character as Natural and Voluntary 103 § 36. Pity and fear. Character voluntary and involuntary. Ele- ments of character. Julius Miiller, on character as related to will. — § 37. Disposition as natural and moral. Theory which resolves disposition into habit only. Moral responsibility for character. How far are men responsible for their opinions? — § 38. Changes and culture of character. The man as contrasted with his volitions. The involuntary blends with the voluntary. The involuntary fol- low their own laws. The necessity of moral trial. Relations of moral weakness to the purposes of God. CHAPTER VII. The Intellect, its Functions in the Moral Activities and Expe- riences 112 § 39. Activity of the intellect in moral phenomena. Ethical processes and categories. — §40. Evidence for the reality and importance of moral relations. (1) They are universally recognized. (2) Vocab- ulary found in all languages. (3) Esteemed most important. — § 41. Originate in the individual man. Referred by many to one or more of three sources: (1) the will of God, (2) the civil law, (3) the law of public sentiment. Locke's explanation of the moral law. — § 42. I. Moral distinctions do not originate in the civil law. Rea- sons given: (1) To some it is the only recognized standard. (2) Cer- tain actions are determined by statute. — §43. Reasons against: (1) Obedience to law is enforced by higher authority. (2) Laws them- selves are judged to be right or wrong. (3) Laws are rightfully resisted and disobeyed. — § 44. II. Moral relations do not originate with society. Adam Smith's theory. Objections to the social the- ory. — § 45. Relation of evolutionist to the social theory. Herbert Spencer and Adam Smith. Growth of altruism. Conception and law of duty, how generated. Does not explain the conception of absolute morality. — § 46. III. Moral distinctions not originated by the fiat of the Creator. William Occam, Jeremy Taylor. William Paley. Richard Cumberland. Nathanael Culverwell. Richard Hooker. Stephen Charnock. Reasons against this theory. Com- mands of God prove, but do not make, actions to be right or wrong. CONTENTS. Xiii PAGB Moral analogous to mathematical relations. — § 47. Objections against the independence of moral relations. (1) Variety of specula- tive theories. Difference between the discernment of a concrete and an abstract relation. Argument from the interest manifested in ethical theories. (2) Men find practical difficulties as truly as speculative. Reply. Men are agreed in respect to what their pur- poses should be. Also in respect to many actions. Reasons for y the community. True relation of end to means. Difference be- CONTENTS. XV PAGE tween a change in the terms related, and a change in the relations. — § 79. Direction of the intention. — § 80. The noblest feature of Christian ethics. — § 81. -Esthetic quality in ethics. Moral beauty in feeling and in act. The beauty of virtue, how conceived and de- scribed. Appropriate garb of virtue. Virtue often misrepresented. Vice connected with grace and beauty of manners. CHAPTER XII. Diversity of Ethical, Definitions and Theories 208 § 82. The acknowledged diversity of definitions and theories. Ap- plied to a wider or narrower field. Right and wrong may be lim- ited to a solitary individual. Right and wrong when limited to these relations. — §83. When other beings are introduced. When the Supreme is considered. These groups of relations do not ex- clude one another. Different theories represent more or fewer relations. — §84. Right and wrong applied to different subjects- matter. Primarily only to the voluntary purposes. — § 85. Absolute and relative rightness. — § 86. In what sense is morality eternal and immutable? They always suppose moral beings. Permanent and fixed relations of the inner activities. — § 87. The emotions equally permanent and uniform. CHAPTER XIII. The Education and Development of the Moral Judgments and Feelings 217 § 88. Moral judgments and feelings seem to be dependent on circum- stances. One-sided and extravagant statements in two directions. — § 89. Two lines of inquiry. Ethical development of the individ- ual and the community. — § 90. (1) Ethical growth of the individual. Early lessons of self-control. Lessons of subjection to others. Dis- tinction between responsibility to others and to one's self. The development and recognition of a standard within. Final discov- ery that this law is in his own nature. These steps not independ- ent of instruction. CHAPTER XIV. Social Influences as Helps or Hinderances in Morals . . . .223 § 91. Classes of social influences. Tbe family. Society, law, and religion. — § 92. (1) They do not originate the ethical judgments and emotions. —§ 93. (2) They aid and quicken the intuitional power. These agencies train and discipline. — §94. The relation of extra-ethical to ethical motives. Self-approbation and self- reproach, how modified. Mens conscia recti, etc. — § 95. The sense XVI CONTENTS. PAGE of obligation and the authority of our fello\vs, — § 9G. Standards of moral beauty, how far variable. The fundamental princiijles never openly assaulted. External agencies cannot teach error so effec- tively as the truth. They can partially, but not wholly, mislead in respect to external conduct. Their influences not so effective for evil as for good. —§97. These principles explain the differences in the standards of morality. — § 1)8. Conditions of improvement in ethical standards. (1) Education. Keforination of character and life. — § 99. Reformation of speculative and practical morals. The instrumentalities are rational. The effects are often surpris- ing. They are also permanent. The zeal of reformers is often excessive. CHAPTER XV. The Law of Honor 237 § 100. The product of society. The term social in its import. Sup- poses a limited and special community. — § 101. Rests upon an implied contract. The law more or less definite, though unwritten. Example of lawyers. Of physicians, merchants, thieves, and gam- blers. Among gentlemen. — § 102. Does not respect the motives. Conditions and privileges. Often aj-fplied to the feelings and purposes. — § 103. Its defects. Respects a part of man's nature. Divides and distracts the being. — § 104. Why attractive to the moralist. Is energetic. Is more or less artificial. CHAPTER XVI. The Co^'scIE^'CE 243 § 105. The subject has been anticipated. Often used for the entire moral nature. The reason why. Why improper. Consciousness conspicuous in the moral functions. — § lOG. Conscience limited to the intellect and sensibility. When employed upon a special sub- ject-matter. — § 107. Applied to their products also. Individual and public conscience. Swr^pijo-t?, 2u»'6iSrjo-is, and 'EniKpiai<;. — § 108. As an intellectual power. How far infallible and fallible. Certain, doubtful, and vacillating. — § 109. Conscience as sensibility. Emo- tional experiences on decision. — § 110. Can be cultivated and developed. — § 111. Can be debased and darkened. Cannot be de- stroyed. Reformed under disadvantages. Its independence and supremacy. — § 112. Its supreme authority. —§ 113. Should con- science always be obeyed ? Figuratively characterized. — § 114. May it ever be disobeyed? — § 115. The perverted and dishonest conscience. Methods by which it is misled. — §116. Possible dis- crepancy between the real and fictitious conscience. — § 117. Is it ever best not to reason, and when ? The intuitive tact of con- science. CONTENTS. xvii CHAPTER XVII. PAGE Cases of Conscience, Casuistry, Conflict of Duties, and Tol- eration 260 § 118. Cases of conscience defined. Casuistry as a profession. When especially needful. — § 119. Moral qualitj'^ properly limited to the purposes. — § 120. Certain actions never admit of question. — § 121. When cases of conscience become serious. — §122. Casuistry is concerned with the-effects of actions. Temper in which such ques- tions should be prosecuted. — §123. Tolerance defined. Limited to what questions. Toleration, in its special meaning. CHAPTER XVIII. The Christian Theory of Morals 266 § 124. Our concern with this theory is speculative only. From a nat- uralistic point of view. It is no less ethical because religious. Not scholastic, but popular. —§ 125. Moral distinctions pertain to the intentions. — § 126. As expressing the character. — § 127. Mani- fested in actions. — §128. Not originated by the divine command. — § 129. Though re-enforced by it. — § 130. Appeal to love of happi- ness. Thoroughly unselfish. Ethical and personal motives capa- ble of being harmonized. — § 131. Benevolence comprehends all duties from man to man. — § 132. This benevolence eminently pure and disinterested. Its quality specially unselfish. The cross. — § 133. Duties as qualified by Christian motives. Christian types of benevolence. Justice. Estimate of the value of the individual man. Obligations to justice and veracity. Christian sense of honor. Christian estimate of sexual purity. — § 134, External actions of the greatest and least consequence. Requisitions uncomiiromising. The right and duty of private judgment. Example. Rules which respect the purposes uniform and exacting. — § 135. Christian eth- ics i")rovides for progress. Involves jirogressive enlightenment. The only system that provides for progress. Christian ethics so- cial. Applies to all human relations and duties. — § 136. Gives instruction by principles, rather than by rules. Many are in para- doxical phrase. Liable to be misconstrued. Charged with being weak and effeminate. With overlooking important virtues. Du- ties with respect to property and civil government positively incul- cated. Opposite charges urged against it. Reasons why it did not discuss political duties more minutely. Criticism of Mr. J. S. Mill. — § 137. Christian ethics called impracticable. — § 138. The Chris- tian contrasted with every other ethics. — § 139. Whence did it ori- ginate? — §140. Further questions concerning this system. — §141. (1) Are the ethics of the Old and New Testaments the same ? How far different? — § 142. (2) In what sense is there progress from one to the other ? Every living system must be progressive. The He- brew system specially progressive. — § 143. (3) Are any of the pre- xviii CONTENTS, pAGa cepts of the Old Testament immoral ? Theory of these precepts. — § 144. Ethical interpretation of acts of cruelty and war. Examples and practices should be interpreted by the historic sense. — §145. (4) By what formulae can w^e practically apply scriptural precepts ? — § 146. Questions respecting the application even of positive teachings. PART n.— THE PRACTICE OF DUTY, OR ETHICS. CHAPTER Introductory : Classification of Duties . , 303 § 147. Previous inquiries, and their results. Prepare for other inves- tigations. — §^ 148. Ethics respect the voluntary purposes. Special rules of duty change with circumstances. Induction required in every ethical code. Induction includes tact. — § 149. Materials objective and subjective. Example. — § 150. Objection to using the feelings. Classification of duties. — 151. Duties usually defined by their objects. —§ 152. Why we begin with duties to ourselves. Why, and in what sense, all duties are duties to God. I. CHAPTER II. Duties to Ourselves. — Their General Principle 312 § 153. Fundamental principle. Self-love defined. — § 154. The objec- tive self is also the moral self. Duties which terminate with our- selves. Duties to ourselves not easily defined. — § 155. Good of character and good of condition. Good of character always su- preme. — § 156. Moral importance of simple emotions. Stoic and Christian self-culture. — § 157. Duties which respect the condition. For the present and the future. — § 158. Obligation to prudence. § 159. Relations to the habits important. How designated. — § 160. Asceticism. Christianity not ascetic. — § 161. Objection to ascet- icism. CHAPTER III. Duties which respect the Bodily Appetites and the Bodily Life, 325 § 162. Appetites characterized. — § 163. Distinguished from other sen- sibilities. — §164. Compared with the other sensibilities. — §165. How related to the future. — § 166. Special limitations of the appe- CONTENTS. XIX PAGE tltes. — § 167. Alleged dignity and rights of the appetites. — § 168. How far a man is responsible for the future. — § 169. Social aspects of the appetites. — § 170. The appetites made to be controlled. — § 171. Natural restraints and corrections. Sexual vice and seduc- tion. — § 172. Responsibility for others. Special duties with respect to intoxicating liquors. — § 173. Duties which respect the health and life. — § 174. Tenacity and strength of the desire of life. — § 175. Value of human life under theism. Criminality of suicide. — § 176. Imprudence and recklessness. Preservation of life not a supreme end. Many things are preferable to life. — § 177. In what sense the right to life is inalienable. CHAPTER IV. Duties to Ourselves which respect the Intellect 345 §178. Natural impulses to knowledge. — § 179. Activity the condi- tion of growth. Men enforce this duty. — 180. Each individual has a special sphere of duty. — § 181. The community holds a man to his profession. — § 182. Intellectual duties respecting ethical truth. CHAPTER V. Duties to Ourselves which relate to the Feelings and the Habits 351 § 183. Subjective effects of the feelings. — § 184. General rule in re- spect to the emotions. — § 185. Importance of the emotions that are not expressed. Strength of inward habits of feeling. — § 186. Their relation to subsequent acts. Feelings cultivated by their objects. — §187. Habits of certain desires. Gambling. Gambling in busi- ness. — §188. Speculation defined. Less dangerous than gambling proper. — § 189. Ventures in lotteries. Raffling at fairs. — § 190. Habits as related to the feelings. — § 191. Self-inspection, when useful, and hurtful. — § 192. Asceticism of the feelings. Sentiment- alists a species of ascetics. CHAPTER VI. Duties of Man to Humself, which respect his "Wants, his Rights, and his Moral Claims § 193. Every man has individual wants. Men naturally supply them, and aid one another. Meaning of wants. This supply involves effort and skill. —§ 194. Supposes property, and the duty of acquir- ing it. This duty called in question. — § 195, Certain classes of men supposed to be exempted from this duty. — § 196. Supposed teach- ings of the New Testament. — § 197. The right to property. Rights xxii CONTENTS. PAOE § 237. (2) Mutual co-operation. Co-operation not communism. Ex- treme of re-action. —§ 238. (3) Unavoidable calamity. The impulse of pity. — § 239. Individual effort. — § 240. (4) Ignorance and vice. — § 241. Obligation to prevent, as truly as to recover from, ignorance and vice. — §242. Permanent occasion for individual activity. — §243. Necessity for social movements against ignorance and vice. — §244. Conditions of success: (1) The evil must be justly judged. (2) The occasion may be temporary. (3) No man should be held be- yond his personal convictions. (4) Duty to abstain from the appear- ance of evil. (5) When social movements are strong and weak. CHAPTER XII. Duties to Benefactors, Friends, and Enemies ; or, the Special Personal Affections 444 § 245. The affections and relationships, how characterized. In what sense are they natural and moral. — § 246. Men are unlike in their nature. — § 247. They differ in sympathies and antipathies. — § 248. These lead to voluntary love and dislike. — § 249. The law of duty with respect to both. Eationalistic and sentimental theories. Nei- ther is wholly in the right. No absolute general rule can be laid down. — §250. The law of love does not require us to have the same feelings towards all. We cannot like each of our neighbors equally. — § 251. The indulgence of special affections is salutary. — § 252. Love strengthens the special affections. Special rules founded on general inductions. — § 253. Duties which respect the sympa- thies. The antipathies should be regarded, but controlled. — § 254. Duties of gratitude and resentment. — § 255. Difficulty in regulat- ing resentment. The natural solution. Butler's distinction. Re- sentment founded on a natural impulse. — § 256. Resentment not easily regulated. — § 257. An unforgiving temper. — § 258. Friend- ship as a moral duty. Special friendships not incompatible with the law of love. Mistaken views of the Christian teachings. — § 259. Friendship a sacred contract. Friendship romantic — § 260. Friendship between man and woman. — § 261. Love. — § 262. Friendshij) among the ancients. CHAPTER XIII. Duties to Family and Kindred 464 § 263. Family relations common to all men. Impel to common affec- tions and duties. These affections and duties intelligent and moral. ~-§ 264. Grounds of these duties. (1) Natural to good men. Selfish and perverted family feeling. — § 265. (2) Sanctioned by reason and conscience. Familj'^ friendships peculiar. — § 2()(). (3) Some of them subject to special contracts. The doctrine of free love and CONTENTS. xxiii PAGE elective affinities. Relation of sympathy to duty. —§ 267. The fam- ily implies authority and obedience. — §268. Anticipates and sup- poses the state. Implies reward and punishment. — § 269. Important as a school of morals. — §270. Special duties: the betrothal. Pri- mary conditions. Secondary. — § 271. INIay the promise ever be broken? — § 272. Marriage, its nature. Its social and moral impor- tance. The covenant. Its permanent obligation. — §273. Divorce in earlier times. The law of Christ. The teaching of Paul. Appli- cation to modern life. — § 274. The parental relation: natural basis for. The earliest and constant duty of the parent. Duty to edu- cate. To provide for children. To cherish affection for them. Till the end of their lives. Duties of children to honor their parents. CHAPTER XIV. The State : its Nature, Functions, and Authority 487 § 275. The state grows from the family. Authority naturally dis- cerned and responded to. — § 276. Derives its authority from com- mon consent. — § 277. Different views of its functions. — § 278. (1) Theory limits it to the defence of three natural rights. False, be- cause impracticable. Has never been applied. — § 279. (2) Theory : the paternal and despotic theory. — § 280. (3) The intermediate the- ory. Relation of the state to general and moral culture. Not easy to formulate a theory. The state cannot avoid educational and ethical influences. Practically, must be regulated by pviblic senti- ment.— § 281. " What constitutes a state? " Continuous territory. Defence of the soil.— § 282. Must be supreme in its own domain. Apparent exception in the United States. The state may defend its territory and itself. Lawfulness of aggressive war. War not an unmixed evil. — § 283. The constitution of a state. CHAPTER XV. Law and its Enforcement 502 § 284. Must enforce and execute its laws. Necessity of force. The duty and right of punishment. Non-resistants and doctrinaires. — § 285. Lowest form of punishment. The next highest. The effec- tiveness of punishment. — § 286. Moral relations of jjunishment. The state must consider the intentions. Conclusion. —§ 287. Lim- its of punishment. It may be capital when ? Secondary ends of punishment. Modern theories of punishment. — § 288. The law- fulness and propriety of pardon. — § 289, Theory which adjusts the difficulties. XXiV CONTENTS. CHAPTER XVI. PAGE Duties to the State, Civil axd Political 512 § 290. Duties of the citizen. General obligation of the citizen. Two classes of duties. I. Civil duties. — § 2i)l. (1) To recognize the au- thority of the state. Mistaken and fanatical views. — §292. (2) To cherish sijecial patriotic feelings. — § 293. (3) To pay taxes.— § 294. (4) To support and defend the government. — § 295. (5) To obey every law, with certain exceptions, (a) Suppose the law is unwise. — §296. (^) Suppose the law is mischievous. —§ 297. (c) Suj^pose it requires immoral actions. — § 298. {d) Suppose it commands disobe- dience to God. — § 299. {p) Suppose the law is unconstitutional. Two cases supposed. Obligation in both cases to accept the penalty. — § 300. (/) Suppose the administration to be intolerable. When is a revolution justifiable ? Failure does not imply criminality. — § 301. (6) Patriotism a positive duty and virtue. — § 302. II. Political duties of the citizen. Enumerated in part. Civil and political duties often confounded. — § 303. The state necessarily an organ- ism. As such, supposes personal organs. — §304. The state more than a machine. — § 305. Every civil office a trust. — § 306. The sense of official responsibility in office-holder and voter. — § 307. The ancient and modern state. III. CHAPTER XVII. Duties to Animals 529 § 308. Reasons which enforce these duties. Animals are social. Cap- able of training. Involve and enforce a moral discipline. Animals neither personal nor moral. Duty of training animals. —§ 309. The place of animals subordinate to that of man. — § 310. (1) Beasts and birds of prey. — § 311. (2) Killing animals for food. Decisive argument. — § 312. (3) The use of animal strength. — § 313. (4) Use of animals for sport. — § 314. (5) Use of animals in physiology and pathology. IV. CHAPTER XVIII. Duties which respect the Physical World 539 § 315. These duties are twofold. (1) To discover and apply the resources of nature. Scientific and practical knowledge of nature. Pleasures from nature legitimate. The enlargement and develop- ment of her resources. — § 310. (2) Nature manifests God to the imagination and the conscience. CONTENTS. XXV CHAPTER XIX. PAGE Duties to God 543 § 317. Grounds of these duties. These truths involve certain duties. — § 318. Natural religious affections. — § 319. First supposition: God as absolute and self-existent. Natural worship morally obligatory. — §320. Second supposition: God morally perfect. Third supposi- tion : That God is also a moral Ruler. Two objections against moral rule in God. (1) It is mercenary. (2) Objection that it im- plies punishment. — § 321. Conclusion: Dutj' of every man. Influ- . ence of the moral recognition of God. — §322. Fourth supposition: God forgiving and redeeming. — § 323. Sin and ill-desert univer- sally recognized. — § 324. Comprehensive conclusion. — § 325. Rela- tions of morality to religion. CHAPTER XX. Special Remgious Duties 553 § 326. To possess a religious character which is ethical. This should be manifested in actions. — § 327. Intellectual duties, or duties of faith. — § 328. Duty to use the means for this end. Special obligations in the revision of traditional faith. Possibility and duty of toleration and charity. — § 329. Duties of religious feeling. Forms of religious feeling. Duty of the same. — § 330. Duties of religious activity. —§ 331. Duty of professing our faith. — § 332. Duties of Avorship. Worship is twofold. Social worship and the church. Importance of worship. — § 333. Of worship as prayer. Possibility of spiritual influences. Is prayer a physical force ? Objection. Possible relation of God to the forces and laws of nature. — § 334. Prayer appropriate to every condition of life. Sub- mission essential to pra^'er. THE ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE, INTRODUCTORY. § 1. Moral Science is the science of duty; i.e., the science which defines, regulates, and enforces duty. This jiorai Science definition is preliminary and inadequate, as every defined. Defi- definition must be which is given at the beginning ionai and of a treatise. A satisfactory and adequate defini- ""perfect, tion of any science can only be attained by an exhaustive discussion of the subject-matter of which it treats. For this reason it should be looked for at the end, rather than at the beginning, of our inquiries. The definition with which we begin is seldom that which a more extensive knowledge of the sub- ject requires and justifies. "As much, therefore, as is to be expected from a definition placed at the commencement of a subject, is that it should define the scope of our inquiries." — J. Stuart Mill: Logic, Introductory, § 1. Moral Science, or the Moral Sciences, are not infrequently used in a wider sense as synonymous with psychi- Popular use cal or speculative science or sciences, for the reason ®^ *''^ *^*'™- that these are referred to or assumed in Moral Science proper as furnishing the facts, principles, or methods, one or all, on which Moral Science rests, or which it presupposes. This 1 2 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 1. broader and more general use of the term is, however, not likely to mislead any except superficial thinkers. As a science, Moral Science proposes to give the results of careful observations, subtile and exhaustive analyses, clear and complete definitions, verified inductions, logical deductions, in the form of a consistent, articulated, and finished system. The scientific knowledge of duty at which we aim, also sup- poses that there is a so-called popular knowledge supposes a which IS already possessed and made secure (cf. popular rpj^Q Human Intellect, §435). Duty is a subiect- kiiowledge. / ./ ./ matter which all men acknowledge and believe in, and of which all men think more or less. All men adopt principles of duty which are more or less correct and compre- hensive. All men accept rules of duty for themselves and others which are more or less satisfying and sacred. The transition from common to scientific knowledge may be less abrupt in this than in many other cases ; but it does not follow, for this reason, that it is less desirable to effect it. It may be even more important, because of the greater liability of men to careless thinking and investigation in the treatment of themes with which they imagine themselves to be familiar. Every science is also capable of being applied as an art to ^. some kind of activity for which it furnishes the Also a practi- ^ cai appiica- rules. This is conspicuously true of logic and aesthetics, which, by means of scientific analyses, devise and justify practical rules for the direction of our think- ing and reasoning, and the exercise and improvement of our sense of the beautiful and sublime. In a certain sense, both logic and aesthetics present rules for right conduct ; but this is pre-eminently true of Moral Science, inasmuch as it assumes the control of every description of human activity, so far as it can be modified by the human will under the influence of the highest motives. The results of its scientific knowledge can be applied to the direction of human conduct and the improve- ment of human character, to the well-being of the individual §2.] INTRODUCTORY. 3 and the community, in almost every conceivable variety of circumstances. Moral Science, as a s^^stem of well-grounded rules of human character and conduct, is justly esteemed one of the most important of studies, for the simple reason that questions of duty present themselves to all men, in all circum- stances ; and the consequences of correctly answering these questions are of the utmost practical importance. § 2. Duty is the subject-matter of Moral Science. But ivhat is duty? We reply in general, and provision- ^ 1 J & '1 What is duty? ally. Duty in the concrete is an action, or collection of actions, which ought to be done : in the abstract, it is the quality or relation which is common to and distinguishes such actions. We do not undertake at present to enumerate or designate these actions. We give no definition or theory of the quality which belongs to them. We do not assert that this is the only relation or property which belongs to the acts in question : we simpl}^ recognize it as the one quality, among others, which is designated by the term "duty" in every action which is owed or due, and which may be claimed or enforced. The term "action," as used in the foregoing definition, is obviously not limited to corporeal or external actions, as a word or blow, or even a gesture or look, nor which action indeed to any bodily movement or effect whatever, independently of the intentions ; but it also includes the inner activities, as a wish, or desire, or purpose, whether these are, or are not, made manifest by word or deed. Nor is the term, when thus applied, limited to single and transient states. It ma}^ also be applied to those continued or permanently active conditions of the character man which we call his character, his clisposition, and habits, so far as these admit the relation of moral obligation or moral quality. In Moral Science psychical activities and states are esteemed of no less consequence than any other, if, indeed, they do not constitute its proper sphere. 4 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 3. Moral Science treats of actions as they ought to be, not of Moral Science P^ienomcna or acts as they are: it is therefore a is a science of scieuce of the ideal as truly as of the actual. It is the ideal as ^ •, ^ -, - -, • triiijasof ^^'"C' it founds its conclusious, in respect to what the actual. ought to be, upou its cliscovcries of what actually is. It founds its ideal rules, and proposes its ideal aims, upon a solid basis of fact. It is not in the least romantic, but severe and critical. It inquires what a moral agent is, in his constitu- tion, in order to determine how he ought to choose and feel and act ; but tlie conclusions which it derives from these observa- tions of fact are conclusions respecting what ought to be, not what actually occurs. Hence, though ideal in its aims and rules, it is founded on fact and observation. It investigates the moral constitution of man, and, so far, is an inductive science. Like other inductive sciences, it interprets man's capacities in the light of those intuitions which are essential to scientific knowledge, finding in facts and intuitions its principles and rules. AYithin this sphere it is strictly and severely an inductive science. So far as it derives conclusions from these presumed data as to what man ought to be and to do, so far it is an ideal, a pure or hypothetical science, and is akin to formal logic and the pure mathematics. So far, however, as it adjusts its rules of external conduct to the lessons of experience, so far is it affiliated with the applied mathematics in accommodating its ideal rules to the modifying influence of other forces and laws. § 3. Should it be asked on what grounds we assume that Grounds for ^^^^ ^^ ^ reality, or that the conception of moral believing obligation is not a fiction, we reply, — reauty^orat (^) Duty is universally believed to be a reality, least worthy xiic prcsencB of this relation to all men, and their our study. assent to its authority in some form, are rarely denied. All men acknowledge, with rare exceptions, that they owe certain duties to certain of their fellow-men. All men insist, without an exception, that their fellow-men owe some duties to themselves. §4.] INTRODUCTORY. 5 (2) The conception of duty is not only universally and tenaciously held, but it is esteemed of the highest rank and supreme importance. It arouses the strongest feelings of our nature, and exacts the most costly sacrifices. It awakens the most moving hopes and fears. It has played the most con- spicuous role in human liistor}". Literature and art acknowl- edge its presence and agency as one of the noblest elements of their attractiveness and their power. Moral grandeur and moral beauty are confessed to be the most elevating and attrac- tive forms of grandeur and beauty. For all these reasons, it deserves to be carefully examined, to be exactly defined, and thoroughly grounded and verified. (3) Even if the conception of duty is supposed to be un- real, while yet it is so universally received and confided in, it is the more important that it should be carefully scrutinized, in order that its groundlessness may be satisfactorily exposed, and the speculative and practical errors which have been caused by faith in its truth and sacredness may be effectually dispelled and shunned. § 4. We assume that duty is a reality, and is worthy of scien- tific examination. Followins^ the anali/tic methocL The analytic we find that the following inquiries and methods of method gives investiojation naturally suo-o-est themselves to our *''^ divisions ^ -^ ^^ of Moral thoughts, giving the several forms or subdivisions Science, (i) ^^ ^r 1 o • Ethics, or oi Moral Science. ^,^^^.^;^ (1) A single act is to be performed or avoided ; rules of prac- tice. as, for example, with respect to a parent, a friend, or a benefactor. We are taught, or we believe, that we ought to do or avoid such an act because it is, or is not, one of the duties which we owe to a parent, a friend, or a benefactor, or, it may be, to our country or a suffering fellow-man. Such instruction or enforcement assumes that it is conceded that we ought to perform certain duties to these several classes of per- sons, and that these duties may be defined or determined. But we may never have inquired why these classes of duties are 6 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 4. morally binding. We may have simply been taught, by those in whose wisdom we confide, that all these classes of duties are obligatory, and yet have never reflected on the facts or reasons by which they are enforced. The propositions given in answer seem to require no proof, they seem to be self-evident per- haps, or they have been accepted from childhood as true and binding. AVe may assent to them on the authority of persons older and wiser than ourselves, or as the commands of the Supreme. It is enough that we accept the truth that we owe certain duties to parents, benefactors, or friends, or to God, and that the act in question comes under the rule. The arrangement of duties after such a method, upon a basis of simple authority, is the first step towards their scientific classification and enforcement. Such an arrangement may properly enough be called " the Ethical," and its product "Ethics." The term ' ' Ethics ' ' is often used as a S3"nou3nn of Moral Science. As its etymology indicates, it was originally applied to manners. The epithet "Moral" is similarly derived, in- deed; but the phrases "Moral Science," "Moral Philosophy," have acquired a somewhat profounder signification. It is also true that Ethics is sometimes, in good English usage, distin- guished as theoretical and practical ; but this usage is not fre- quent. The term "Ethics" more commonly suggests what may be called arranged or classified rules of conduct or be- havior, as given for practical convenience, exclusive of any reference to fundamental principles or scientific grounds. Under Ethics Casuistry appears as a special branch of the ^,^. . science of conduct: i.e., as a system of rules for Ethics in- ' "^ eludes Casu. the decision of what are called cases of conscience, *** ^^' under what is called a conflict of duties, or a case of perplexity or doubt in which it is not clear what our duty is ; more frequently under an apparent incompatibility be- tween duties of one class and duties of another, as between duties to family relatives and benefactors, or duties to our- §4.] INTRODUCTOBY. 7 selves and duties to our fellow-men, or duties to our country and duties to God. (2) The scientific thinker is not likely to be content with the ethical classification or explanation of duties. ^ (2) Moral He rises to more comprehensive, or penetrates to Science more profound, inquiries; e.g.. Why do we owe P''*^p®*'' the duties specified, or any duties, to parents, friends, or bene- factors? AVhat characteristic is there, which is common to these classes of actions, which makes them sacred and obliga- tory ? How is this common characteristic defined and enforced ? What are the fundamental principles in respect to human action from which all special and subordinate rules are derived? Inquiries like these introduce us to Moral Science proper, or the scientific treatment of duty. Moral Science again admits a twofold division, — into the X>sycJiological and the philosophical. The one distinguishes and defines the psychical capacities which are the foundation of moral activity and the moral relations : the other defines and arranges the conceptions, and justifies and adjusts the prin- ciples, which are required for the conclusions and laws of Moral Science. Of these, the psychological method is first in time. That a knowledge of psychical phenomena and of the spir- . ' Involves itual nature of man is essential to the scientific psychology knowledoe of duty, is obvious. Moral activities of the moral ° "^ powers. can be performed and moral responsibilities acknowl- edged only by moral persons. Not actions of every descrip- tion are judged to be moral, but those only which are wrought by a person who by his constitution is competent to perform them, and whose circumstances qualify him to originate them. But who is a moral person ? What are the endowments which are essential to moral activity, and what are the circumstances which are the conditions of moral responsibility ? To ascertain these facts of human nature, to distinguish them carefully, to trace their history and orighiation, to show their mutual rela- 8 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 4. tions and their place in what we may call the moral experi- ences of man, are the necessary prerequisites to Moral Science. Such an observation of phenomena or facts is the essential chronological condition to any scientific knowledge of moral- ity. It is equally indispensable to the intelligent application of the principles and rules of science to the needs of individ- uals and communities, on the one hand ; and, on the other, to the definition and justification of the general rules of practice. In point of fact, the analysis of the moral faculties or endow- ments of man has uniformly been acknowledged to be an essential element or condition of Moral Science. The discus- sions in this science are very largely discussions of the actual operations of the human soul, when required to settle moral questions, or occupied with the feelings and purposes which attend the performance or the violation of duty. (3) Prominent among these psychological inquiries are those which relate to the nature and the theory of coil- ed) Involves ^ a theory of science ; e.g., What is its relation to the other en- dowments of man ? Is it a faculty by itself, or only the universally recognized human personality when applied in a special form and to a special subject-matter? Whence, and what, and how extensive, is its authority? Can it be educated? Can it be improved? Can it be destroyed? What place does it hold in respect to custom, tradition, to prevailing opinion, to civil legislation, or to a supposed or actual supernatural revelation? These, and other questions in respect to the conscience, are chiefly questions of fact, and, as such, questions of psychology. (4) But Moral Science does not rest on psychology alone : it also supposes and becomes a philosophy. To science (4) Psychol- ^ 1-1 ■• • I- ^ . ^ ' ogy carries ^^ ^"J l^^^d, ccrtam axioms or fundamental prm- us to a phii- ciples are necessary prerequisites. AVhether these osopliy. principles are original and self-evident, or whether they are derived from experience, reasoning, or association, they must be assumed and asserted in order to any scientific deduction or enforcement. This is especiall}' true of any scien- § 5 ] IN TR OB UCTOR Y. 9 tific knowledge of man, and pre-eminently of his moral consti- tution, for the reason that any thorough or critical study of the moral processes and moral judgments carries us back to those conceptions and truths which are fundamental to all knowledge, and pre-eminently to all philosophy. It forces us to inquire whether the so-called moral axioms and intuitions stand by themselves, as an independent group, co-ordinate with those of the pure intellect, or whether they are resolved into those intuitions which are common to all the scientific judgments, and are fundamental to every form of science. The relation of Moral Science to psychology and philosophy has always been most intimate. The history of every period of human activity attests the fact that the ps^'chology and metaphj'sics of individuals and generations of men have, in fact, modified and determined their view^s of Moral Science. The Ethics have followed the philosophy and psychology by a natural and necessary consequence, more or less rapidly at different times, but invariably with a logical and inevitable sequence. A materialistic or atheistic or agnostic philosophy must inevitably result in a superficial or inconsistent ethical system, and either weaken or mislead the sensibilities and judg- ments of duty in respect to the Family, the State, and the Kingdom of God. § 5. Reversing the order of our inquiries, we give the results of our analj'sis in the following synthetic statement of the principal divisions of Moral Science. (1) We begin with Moral Science proper, or a scientific treat- ment of the unquestioned facts, and the fuudamen- ^ ... Synthetic tal conceptions and principles, which are involved in method the moral relations and phenomena. Such a treat- '^''^"°<^*^ *'*« '- order, and ment necessarily involves a correct Metaphysical or gives us (i) Speculative theory of those relations which are pr^JL,.,*^* "^^ essential to every form of science, including those including relations which man and the universe hold to the Self-existent and the Infinite. 10 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 5. Such a science also presupposes and requires a correct and comprehensive Psychology of those powers of man which are concerned in his moral activities and experiences. It also, by a necessary corollary, gives us a correct theory of tlie Conscience, with the appropriate practical directions in respect to its educa- tion, authority, and guidance. (2) Moral Science naturally and necessarily becomes Ethics (2) Proceeds ^o soon as from these principles and facts it derives to Ethics. those special and secondary principles and axioms of duty, which, when applied, become the rules or directions which are required for the regulation of human conduct. A system of rules of human conduct, when founded on well- grounded reasons, gives us Ethics, which prominently recog- nizes the leading relations of man as an individual and social being, as permanently connected by fixed conditions with nature and with God, and as consequently capable of culture, science, and religion. (3) Ethics implies a science of human Rights^ so far as duties to be performed require certain permanent and welU (3) Includes . . . . ^ and develops sccurcd couditions of humau activity and progress ; the doctrine ^i^idi man is uot oulv permitted, but morally re- ofriglits. -^ ^ '' quired under certain limitations, to assert, and se- cure to himself. (4) Inasmuch as duties seem often to conflict, and to assert incompatible claims. Casuistry arises, or the science (4) Casuistry. . . . , , . . , of conflicting duties, which furnishes the principles and rules by. which these apparent conflicts may be adjusted. (5) Inasmuch, also, as the duties of men are illustrated by (6) Reco . ^^^^ examples, and enforced by the motives, or in- nizes Chris- culcated in the precepts, of Christianity, we have tian Ethics. ^, . ^. -r-i^i • Christian Ethics. These topics comprehend the several divisions into which Moral Science may be developed, and under which it may be separately treated, according to the individual tastes and method of tlie writer. It is sufricient for our desiiiii to divide §6.] IN TR OD UCTOR F. 11 our treatise into Moral Science as a theory, and as a guide for conduct, or, briefly, into Moral Science and P^thics. § 6. The importance and dignity of this study will appear from the following considerations : — (1) Duty is a legitimate and worthy object of scientific in- quiry. Truths of duty constantly present them- tj^^. j.^^^ . j,„. selves for man's assent and faith. The precepts portant. (i) of duty perpetually require his obedience or sacri- ^attl" legiti- fice. Motives of duty never cease to inspire his mate. love and devotion. Questions of duty every day task his under- standing, or distract his conscience. Duty, moreover, is esteemed by most men to be of the high- est consequence. It excites the warmest emotions of hope or fear, of love or hate, of self-complacence or remorse. It exacts the most costly sacrifices of wealth, of the good opinion of others, and of life itself. So far as duty is capable of scientific anal3^sis and justification, in order that our doubts may be resolved, our inquiries answered, our zeal rekindled, or our actions guided, it deserves to be investigated with a thorough and patient scientific spirit. (2) The science of duty is necessary as a preparation for professional and public life. The principles and rules of duty are fertile and never-failing themes ciaiiy for pro- for discussion by educated men. They will never f*^*^^;^"^! and •^ "^ public men. cease to be enforced upon the attention of men in public life by their fellows and by public men upon their gen- eration. Every man whom we shall meet in life will have some claim to urge or some demand to assert. Every social organ- ization, from the family of the household to the great family ^f mankind, asserts rights which can only be responded to by some duty acknowledged or disowned. Ever}^ community and association has its code of dut}^, and its tribunal at which its laws are enforced, its rewards are allotted, or its penalties are exacted. Every form of civil government supposes manifold duties to be owed and confessed by its citizens. Even those 12 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 6. movements which seem to be anti-social, and destructive of social order, are aroused by appeals to some sense of duty or some claim of right. They more commonly profess to be pre- eminently ethical in their reasonings and appeals. Combina- tions, strikes, seditions, and revolutions are usually aroused by some real or imagined violation of rights. They are kindled by some professed call of duty, or are justified by some actual or fancied wrong. Judicial tribunals of every grade are con- stantly trying questions which concern the rights and the conse- quent duties of men. The argument of every lawyer, the charge of every judge, the verdict of every jury, the sentence of every culprit, supposes some principle in Moral Science either asserted or derived, some rule of Ethics that is obeyed or dishonored, some sensibility to right or wrong that is followed or offended, some obligation that is acknowledged or violated. Every educated man who assumes the function of teaching Every edu- ^^' leading his fellow-men finds that one of his cated man principal functions is to discuss and enforce propo- niust discuss . questions of sitions of duty. Clergymen, jurists, publicists, duty. political leaders, teachers, writers, and journalists are, by the nature of their office, expounders of Moral Science. It is true, they ma}^ seem to themselves and to others to have no faith in duty. Tliey may think themselves successful in their doubts and denials in respect to its reality ; but such denials and questionings only respect certain of its forms and relations. They may reduce duty to very narrow limits, and derive it from a very ignoble origin, and enforce it by very unworthy motives ; but no man in public life, no teacher or leader of men, would ever think of denying every form of duty, or cease to use the nomenclature of Ethics. For these reasons a scientific knowl- edge of the foundations and precepts of duty would seem to be a necessary prerequisite for the discharge of the special functions of most of the leaders of society, and masters of the opinions of tlicir fellow-men. Every such person holds and expounds a true or a false, a profound or superficial, theory of morals. §6.] INTEOBUCTORY. 13 (3) The study of JNIoral Science is practically useful. Its natural and almost necessary tendency is to lead -^ -^ (3) The study men to think of duty, and consequently to believe leads to faith in duty. If duty is the solid and sacred thing "^ ^^^^' which it claims to be, then it will bear the closest scrutiny. Not only will it endure this, but the more thoroughly it is ex- amined, the more solid will be its grounds, and the more binding its claims. It is true, speculative studies have their exposures. Science may be pursued in a narrow or a dishonest spirit, and seem to lead to superficial and dangerous conclusions ; but the legitimate ends and efforts of science are truth, made more evi- dent to the inquirer in proportion to the fidelity of his researches and the breadth of his views. The worst of all possible scep- ticisms in the thinking man is the distrust of thorough and bold investigation. The most dangerous enemy of duty is the man who dissuades from an exhaustive examination of its grounds and claims in the light of scientific insight and with the widest possible range of inquiry. No man is so faithless to duty in fact, whatever his intentions may be, as he who loses faith in its capacity to meet and endure the severest scrutiny of scien- tific thought. Moreover, the scientific study of duty must keep pace with the attention given to the scientific investigation of other forms of truth. A man who has been trained to scientific habits in any department of thought, or upon whatever subject-matter, will of course apply these habits in all his thinking. He will require that every conclusion which he accepts shall have been viewed in its scientific relations — more or less profoundly. He must justify to his reflective and matured reason every truth and fact which is liable to be called in question. There may be facts and principles, indeed, which he does not need thus to examine and justify ; but this is not true of the facts and rules of duty. These he must either receive or deny, he must either apply or neglect them, and he must do both intelligently. These truths must also take their place before his intellect, by the 14 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 6. side of those other facts and truths which his scientific thinking has accepted. If he fails thus to connect them with his highest and most careful thinking, he cannot give them the assent of his highest and best intelligence, nor the homage of his most enlightened confidence. He may retain his faith in duty and in conscience, but his faith will by no means be so clear and satisfactory as had it been justified to and by his best intel- lectual activities. His zeal and fervor for the right will lack nerve and confidence, and may collapse from intellectual weak- ness, or evaporate into a harmless or dangerous fanaticism. (4) Moral Science is also often needed as a guide to correct (4) Practi- answers to practical questions of duty. It is often caiiy useful, gj^j^j r^y^^\ believed, by men of high authority, that ]\Ioral Science is of little or no practical use in critical or doubtful circumstances, being oftener a hinderance than a help. An honest intention, it is argued, and an ingenuous mind, are more efficient to lead men to a wise judgment than the most enlarged acquaintance with the history of ethical theories or the acutest examination of ethical principles. We concede, that, so far as the intentions and aims of men are concerned, Moral Science can be of no special Especially , on critical servicc, bccausc all men are or may be sufficiently occasions. informed as to the right and the wrong of their pur- poses and desires. But when a question is raised in respect to the external actions ; when men ask, not what they should desire or purpose, but what they should actually do, — then the utmost wisdom is often required which Moral Science can fur- nish. This wisdom will take the form of a clear statement of solid and well-considered fundamental principles, of a familiar acquaintance with the nature of man, of sagacious inductions from the tendency of the actions which we are to do or avoid, and of a wise forecast of the future, grounded on the largest experiences of the past. But all these are the results of ^the training and knowledge which Moral Science imparts. Standards of duty are like standards of time. In the ordi- §6.] INTnOBUCTOBY. 15 nary exigencies of life, when no special exactness is required, the kitchen clock, or an imperfectly adjusted and not over- accurate watch, will answer. But if we are to determine the longitude, and need to know it within a fraction of a mile, in order to determine in which direction we must steer if we would avoid a reef, or escape a promontory, then we need the best- made and the best-adjusted chronometer that solid science can furnish, or instructed art can employ.^ (5) Moral Science is not superfluous, but is the more neces- sary for those who accept a supernatural revelation of duty. It may be said or thought, that whenever Science not the principles or rules of duty are fixed and declared w'^a'^snper. by authorit}^ whether human or divine, the neces- natural reve- sity of any scientific study of either is superseded. There is no room for science, it is urged, in respect to prin- ciples which are settled, and rules which are prescribed. To this it may be replied, that the so-called principles of duty which are revealed to man are not principles in the scientific sense, but are usually practical maxims or compre- hensive directions which respect the feelings and conduct. Even these, however, imply an underlying philosophy of facts and relations. To develop and state these philosophical truths is the special function of Moral Science, and is as much needed with respect to revealed as to natural Ethics, and perhaps more ; forasmuch as the revealed Ethics must of necessity, and therefore of divine wisdom, be taught in popular language, and after a logic which excludes scientific exactness or systematic completeness. To give these truths the form and authority" of science, to translate them into the conceptions and terms of the schools, and to enforce them by their logic, Moral Science is required. Moreover, the maxims or practical principles by which 1 This illustration was suggested by the observation of Coleridge, that " the conscience bears the same relation to God as an accurate time-piece bears to the sun." — Tlie Friend, Miscellany the First, essay iv. 16 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 6. morality is taught in the Scriptures must of necessity be very general. Morality could not possibly be taught for the human race by any other method. To provide a collection of specific, or even of very general directions for every possible exigency of human existence, would be impossible. The definite rules required to meet the needs of a single individual for a week or a month, if fully written out, would fill a volume, if not a score of volumes. The needs of ordinary and extraordinary life are also A^ery different. Certain principles laid down, and rules provided, might, perhaps, be easily applied to the occa- sions of ordinary experience ; but, so soon as any case becomes doubtful or difficult, not only must the underlying principle be clearly understood, precisely stated, and carefully guarded, but the present exigency must be shown to be similar to the occasion for which the truth or precept was originally uttered. In ordinary life nothing more may be needed to interpret and apply the Ethics of the New Testament than common sense and common honesty. But if a case is doubtful, and the cir- cumstances are complicated, the profoundest reflection and the clearest knowledge may be required to interpret the ethical import of the inspired teachings, when these are to be applied to a perplexed question or a tangled controversy. (6) The study of Moral Science is favorable to faith in the Christian revelation. The most decisive evidence bie to faith in of the truth and authority of this revelation is fur- tiie Christian iiis}je(^j |^y jj^s moral import, and its adaptation to revelation. "^ ^ '■ the moral nature and necessities of man. To feel the force of this argument, and even to understand its import, one must first do justice to the facts on which it rests : i.e., to the moral nature and wants of man, on the one hand, as fur- nishing the occasion for a revelation ; and to the moral import of Christianity, on the other, as adapted to these wants. The study of Moral Science holds the attention to both these data, or terms of argument, in such a way as to lead us to believe in the reality, and appreciate the significance, of both. So far as § 6.] IN TR OD UCTOR Y. 17 it is favorable to belief in duty and to an intelligent and reflec- tive appreciation of its importance, so far must it prepare the mind to judge justly and to measure practically the adaptation to man's moral needs of a revelation, the most decisive argu- ment for which is, that it could never have originated in the invention, or the aspirations or fancies of man alone. PART I. THE THEORY OF DUTY. §7.] MAN A MORAL PERSON. 21 CHAPTER I. MAN A MORAL PERSON, PSYCHOLOGICALLY CONSIDERED. § 7. We may assume that moral relations or qualities pertain only to moral persons and to their actions or char- The moral acter, their dispositions, thoughts, feelings, and nature, words. We inquire then, first of all, who is a moral person, and what are the capacities and faculties which constitute such a person ? — What endowments qualify him for moral activity and its responsibilities ? Following the order of topics already suggested, we begin with the psychological analysis of man's moral constitution or personality. Some conceive these endowments to be special, and additional to those by which the other functions of human Howmiscon- nature are performed. They represent to them- «ei^eain may terminate. "Even m joy itself, that which keeps up the action whereon the enjoyment depends, is the desire to continue it, and the fear to lose it" (Locke: Essay, book ii. chap. 21, § 39). If the feeling is remembered or expected, it awakens a desire that the pleasure may be experienced or the pain may be averted. The two are elements of one apparently indivisible experience, one element passing into the other by a transition quicker than thought can trace, and under a connection which analj'sis cannot discrimi- nate as before and cfter. The element of feeling proper is purely subjective, in which the soul is a receiver or sufferer. 26 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 9. The desire also is subjective in so far as it is occupied with the pleasurable subjective condition which it would retain, or the painful condition which it would exclude or avoid. So soon, however, as any object, whether subject-object or object-object, is known, or recognized as the cause or occasion of the pleasure or pain, the object itself is desired or repelled. Speaking more exactly, as the experience has two elements, each of these ele- ments has its correspondent object or condition set over against itself as its exciting occasion or cause. -^ The object of the feeling f e ch F'^^P^'"' is that agent, be it a thing, or be it a thought, of these eie- imagination or memory, which is capable of exciting the sensibility to a pleasurable or painful affection. The capacity of this object to cause this, and the effect itself, are ultimate facts. Thus light, sound, intellectual activity, the society or sympathy of others, the happiness of others, — each gives pleasure to the sense or soul. Tlie object of the desire that springs out of the feeling, experienced or thought of, is the feel- ing itself, whether pleasurable or painful, and whether the desire is an appetence or aversion. This object is purely subjective, but it is the primary object on which the desire directly termi- nates. Its secondary or mediate object is its occasion or cause, whether it be subject-object or object-object, so soon and so far as it suggests or excites that affection which is the primary and proper object of the attendant desire. Inasmuch as we do not often have occasion to distinguish between the two elements of the subjective experience, it is not surprising that the primary and secondary objects of desire should not always be distinguished, and are frequently interchanged with one another in thought and language. Thus it is said by Dugald Stewart : "As the object of hunger is not happiness, but food, so the object of curiosity is not happiness, but knowledge. . . . Our appetites can with no 1 In the German language, Empfindung is appropriated to the purely subjective element, whether painful or pleasant. § 10.] MAN A MOBAL PERSON. 27 propriety be called selfsJi, for they are directed to their respec- tive objects as ultimate ends, and they must all have operated, in the first instayice, prior to any experience of the pleasure arising from their gratification ' ' (Active and 3Ioral Powers^ book i. chap. i.). In each of these two sentences it is ob- vious that "the object" is used in one of the two senses referred to. Some writers use the term "desire" to designate a limited or special class of the sensibilities, and thereby un- special use of designedly sanction the inference that the element "desire." of desire is limited to these affections, or at least is conspicu- ous in their exercise. Thus Dugald Stewart (Active and Moral Powers, Introduction) divides the active principles into five classes, — appetites, desires, affections, self-love, and the moral faculty, — implying that the element of desire is limited to one only of the five. In his subsequent reasoning, more- over, he expressly excludes desire from the affections and the moral faculty. This classification is not uncommon, the desires being restricted to a class of the sensibilities which are concerned with objects that are intermediate between the mate- rial on the one hand, and the personal on the other, as desire of property, power, esteem, etc. This special limitation of the affection of desire, and the term "desire," is sanctioned by many writers with the mistaken and misleading inference to which we have referred. § 10. The correctness of our analysis of desire is affirmed and attested by the consciousness of every person ^ '^ -^ ^ Conscious- who reflects upon his own psychical states. It is ness attests also confirmed by the language which is uncon- given"of?iuo- sciously used to give expression to these states, tionandde- Not unfrequently this language leaves almost, if not altogether, out of view, the object that conditionates or stimu- lates the subjective emotion proper, and emphasizes this emo- tion as pleasurable or painful, and this only. Thus the friend says to the friend whom he loves most disinterestedly, " I am 28 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 10. most happy to be in your society, or to forego my pleasure for your sake." The compassionate soul expresses his own unself- ish sympathy in terms which describe only his own subjective pain : " Your suffering fills me with grief." The patriot says, '•'- Dulce . . . pro patria mori.'" The lover exclaims, "Can I be so blest? " the devout, " I delight to do thy will, O God ! " In most of these expressions the disinterestedness of the affec- tion is emphasized paradoxically, as it were, — by making prominent the subjective pleasure of the affection as a measure of the strength of its attendant desire. If we ask, in the case of each of these persons, why the object, be it a person, thing, or thought, pleases or displeases, we can give no answer, except that his nature, originally or by habit, is such as spontaneously to respond with pleasure or pain to its presence and its activity. Moreover, we judge of the original or acquired capabilities and tastes of a man by the objects which please or displease him. But if we ask what in the object is desired, or why it is desired, we must answer. For its own original or secondary capacity to please or dis- please. That this is true of all those objects which address the sense-organs will not be denied. It is still further con- firmed by the generally acknowledged truth, that the sensible qualities of material objects are phrased in the categories of causality or adaptation, with reference to the effects which they produce in the sentient soul. Much more is this true of those higher relations which conditiouate the personal emo- tions. To assert that we desire the object, and not the good which ^ . , it occasions, is disproved still further by the well- Desire of an ' ^ "^ object for its knowu fact that we often desire objects under a mistaken judgment of the properties which they are supposed to possess. In every such case the instant that we discover our mistake, our desire is turned into aversion or the converse ; as an apple or orange which looks fair and at- tractive is not unfrequently found, on tasting, to be insipid or § 10.] MAX A MOHAL PEUSOX. 29 offensive,^ or sometimes it liap')eiis that a person's countenance or manners seem to indicate the opposite of his real feelings and character as discovered by closer acquaintance. In such a case our complacency and desire, or their opposites, are sud- denly and consciously reversed. That this law holds good of the personal affections, and even the most disinterested, is evi- dent from the sudden changes which these affections undergo on the discovery of unexpected occasions for the same. We do, indeed, often say that we desire or dislike an object for its oicn salie, as knowledge or food ; but we uniformly mean by the phrase, " for its capacity to affect us directly with pleas- ure or pain." For example : we desire knowledge or society for the pleasure which they give us of themselves, and not for any secondary advantages which will follow, as for the reputation or wealth which knowledge commands, or which society may offer to us. To deny that we desire an object for the pleasure or satisfaction which it gives, would be to deny that it gives pleasure, which would be the same as to deny that we desire it at all. The language used, '• for its own sake," is invariably employed to convey the meaning that the object of itself, and directly, gives pleasure or good. It was a current maxim with the Scholastics, '•'• Ignoti nulla cxjndo," which affirms our position distinctly and fully; viz., that every object desired must be known or believed to stand in some relation to the affectional capacity of the person desiring it, and that this known relation is the direct object of the con- iequent desire, and the remote reason why the object is desired. 1 Thus Milton narrates of the fallen spirits: — " Greedily they phicked The fruitage fair to sight, like that which grew Near that bituminous lake where Sodom flamed; This, more delusive, not the touch but taste Deceived; they, fondly thinking to allay Their appetite with gust, instead of fruit Chewed bitter ashes, which the offended taste With spattering noise rejected." Paradise Lost, bo-k x. 30 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§§ 11, 12. § 11. It may be granted, to those who insist upon it, that man, like other sentient beings, is endowed with certain impulses which ex- Possibly ex- ^^^^ j^jj^ ^^ certain determinate forms of activity, previously . ^.. .'. . to and independently of any conscious experience of the sub- impulses, jective good which they bring, or the ends for which they are provided. It may even be conceded that such an impulse may lie at the root of every one of the conscious sensibilities, and originally prompt it to action. But the impelling force of any such impulse is clearly distinguishable from the exercise of the intelligent desire, when it responds to the good which the sensibility gives, before it is in any sense controlled by the will , and therefore can have no moral quality. If we call that which is purely instinctive a blind impulse (German, Trieh), it is clearly distinguished from intelligent desire. Desire proper is defined by Spinoza {Ethica, part iii. prop. 9, Schol.), " Ciipiditas est appetitiis cum ejusdem conscientia." In this sense, the maxim " Ignoti mdla cvpido " is eminently true and impor- tant. Of mere instinct or impulse, we cannot, indeed, affirm this ; but Ethics takes no account of instinctive inipulses, whether they pertain to the senses or the soul. An able writer (Ludovic Carrau, La Morale Utilitaire, Paris, 2nie partie, chaps, ii., iii.) has ui-ged against the utilitarian philosophy with great energy and ability the critical objection, that it fails to recognize the possibility of those unconscious impulses whic.'h precede all experience, and exclude all knowledge, of the subjective good or evil which their grat- ification involves. The criticism is certainly good against any theory which fails to recognize original susceptibilities in the soul to good and evil, attended it may be by unconscious instincts and impulses to the appro- priate activities, or which seeks to explain the unselfish desires by some secondary relation to the self-centred or unsocial instincts of the individ- ual. But it cannot hold against the analysis which we have given of the intelligent desires, and the place which we have assigned to desire in the conscious experiences of men. "We submit that all impulses which remain forever below consciousness can have no relation to those affections and desires which impel to intelligent and responsible volition. § 12. It is objected against the view asserted, (1) That we „, . ^. . are not conscious, in the act of desire, of referrino' Objections to ' ' o the position to our Subjective good as its direct and proper WeTre not object. Let this be admitted. The fact that we conscious of (\q not consciouslj I'ccognize every element or rela- referring to . , . , . . . , subjective tion of our psj^chical activities by no means proves good. ^Y\at we do not apprehend them in fact. In the judgments of vision by tlie acquired perceptions we do not always distinguish the data by which we judge and perceive. § 12.] MAN A MOBAL PERSON. 31 We look at a distant object, we determine its height or its size, but do not distinguish the indications which give our conchision, and j^et we unquestionably reach that conclusion by means of them. They enter into our conscious experience in the process, tliough we may not notice or recall them in the result. In respect to this point, the examples of desires acknowl- edged to be secondary are pertinent and decisive. The desire of money, i.e., coin or paper, is admitted to be secondary. Not only is it acknowledged that money is itself desirable for the good which it will purchase, but any thing which is judged to be money is desired only so long as it is supposed to have purchasing power. Let a man see a coin or a bank-note at his feet, and he grasps it with eagerness ; but, so soon as he dis- covers that either is counterfeit, he drops it as readily. And yet he is not aware that he thinks of or desires any thing, except what he calls the object, pure and simple. It is also true, that under the influence of rapid, and what are sometimes called the inseparable associations, the desires can be stimulated, as it would seem, by the object only, with- out the distinct apprehension or recognition of that which makes it either offensive or pleasing. And j^et a moment's reflection will convince any one, that, had the associations been reversed, the object which pleases would offend, or the opposite, and the desire would follow the painful or pleasing experience. (2) It is urged again, that, in the case of active and absorb- ino- desires, the object, as such, fills the mind, and ,„, ^^ . o ' J ' ' ' (2) The ob- engrosses the attention. Let a drowning man see ject desired a boat or a rope, and his thoughts, we are told, are ** emiut. engrossed by the one or the other as he longs and struggles to lay hold of it. He attends only to the rope, and does not reflect on its relations to his safety. The more active the impulse, the more completely is the mind absorbed with the object which he strives to reach. This, in a sense, is true. But suppose, that, as he is struggling, the rope is seen to float loosely on the water. 32 ELEMENTS OF 31 ORAL SCIENCE. [§ 12. aud to lose its connection with the shore ; or that the man sud- denly touches the bottom, and no longer needs the boat: the newly discovered relations of the boat or the rope to his needs in an instant change his desires. It follows that the object never originally occupied the mind, in any of these cases, to the exclusion of its relations to his feelmgs and needs. These relations were not only discerned, but were the only objects of interest to his feelings. The reason why, in the examples supposed, the object must be present to excite desire, and why it seems to fill and engross the soul, is that it must be perceived or thought of in order to awaken and sustain the feeling or affection which prompts the desire. The instant it should be displaced by another object, which has other relations to the soul, the desire must, of neces- sity, cease to burn, for want of the fuel on which it might feed. (3) It is objected still further that the instinctive desires or (3) The in- impulscs do not conform to this rule. When the feiinctive de- young sccks its mother, or the animal is impelled to sires do not . , . , .. .,' •, ■ ^ .^^ • ^ follow this i^s destmed activities, its impulses, it is urged, are '■"'^- not moved by any experience of belief of the good which the act or object has in reserve. This may be truly said ; but, so far as this is true, an instinctive impulse is not properly a desire. "Instinct" is defined by Paley as "a propensity prior to experience, and independent of instruction." So far as it Is prior to experience, and certainly so far as it is inde- pendent of instruction, it is independent of knowledge of any kind. But instinct, it may be said, is stimulated in no small degree by the pleasure which attends the special activity for which nature has destined the animal. If this is true, then the instinctive impulses conform to the laws and methods of those desires which are intelligent. ., „ , , (4) It is urojed, with j^reater plausibility and con- (4) Much loss ^ ^ r> T o i ./ do the affec- fidencc at first thought, -that this law of desire does *'""^* not hold good of the so-called disinterested or per- sonal affections ; as. for examnle: of tlic affections of pity and §12.] MAN A MORAL PERSON. 33 love. Some writers have gone so far as to deny that the element of desu'e enters into the personal "affections at all. Of this objection we would observe, Suppose it were true that the well-being of the friends whom we love did not make us glad, or the suffering of the distressed did not make us sad : what, in such a case, would be thought of the disinterestedness of either our love or our pity ? No one will deny that the well- being or the suffering of those w^hom we love or pity affects us pleasantly and painfully as really and as du'ectly as do the objects of the simpler desires ; e.g., as a delicious fruit, or the society of a friend, or the exercise of power. The disinterested affections differ from those that terminate with ourselves, in that their moving occasion or their exciting object — the original element in the process — is the happiness of another, or his relief from suffering, without respect to any so-called private interest of our own : in other words, it is an ultimate fact that we are made glad or sad by his happiness, or his relief from suffering. The capacity for this particular form of happiness is, in its very nature, disinterested. The happiness or sorrow depends directly on the good or ill of another ; but the relation of the exciting object to the consequent desire is the same, whether this object gives good to ourselves directly and exclu- sively, or whether it be the happiness or calamity of another which makes us alternately glad or sad. Whatever be the ob- ject, it must hold the same relation to the affection, so far as that affection becomes a desire. President Hopkins says very truly (The Law of Love, part ii. class i. chap, v.), "There are two ways in which subjective good may come to us : one is through the action of other things and persons upon us ; the other, through the activity of our own powers put forth with ref- erence to them, that is, virtually through receiving and giving." And Professor Calderwood {Handbook of Moral Philosopliy, part ii. chap, i.) : "In practical tendency the affections are the reverse of the desires. Desires absorb : affections give cut." It should be remembered, however, that the affections 34 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 12. which '''give " arc purely natural, not voluntary. As natural and passive emotion*, they are disinterested, unselfish, altru- istic; but, as involving or leaping into desires, they obey the law of desire which we have explained. This contrast between these two classes of emotions with The analysis which wc are at prcscnf concerned, it will be ob- (loes not con- served, holds good of them as natural sensibilities, rern the vol- untary affec- ^iicl i^ot at all as penetrated and transfigured by the tions. ^yjij^ When the affection becomes voluntary, whether it is disinterested or self-centred, whether it is a giving or re- ceiving impulse, depends on the question whether the desire which prevails includes or excludes the happiness which comes from the well-being of the friend whom we love, or from the relief of the sufferer whom we pity. The desire, as such, is neither selfish nor unselfish till it becomes voluntary, whatever be its object. Moreover, the voluntary purpose will fix the attention upon the object chosen, and give energy and play to the desire which it stimulates. Leibnitz recognizes this distinction perhaps over-sharply in contrasting the love of concupiscence and the love of benevolence : "Le Testimony of . , .^ -^ i • .u i 3 i • j. , .. . premier nous fait en vue notre plaisir, et le second celui d au- trui, mais comme faisant ou plutot constituant le notre, car s'il ne rejaillissoit pas sur nous en quelque fa9on, nous ne pourrions pas nous y interesser puisqu'il est impossible, quoiqu'un dise, d'etre detache du bien propre. Et voila comment il faut entendre I'amour de'sinte'resse ou non mercenaire, pour en bien concevoir la noblesse, et pour ne point tom- ber cependant dans la chimerique." — iV^oui'. Essais, liv. ii. chap. xx. §§ 4, 5. "Amare autera sive diligere est felicitate alterius delectari vel quod- eodem redit felicitatera alienam asciscere in suam . . . unde diflficilia nodus solvitur . . . scilicet quorum felicitas delectat eorum felicitas in nostrara ingreditur nam quje delectant per se expetuntur." — Z)e Not. Juris et Justiiia, opera, ed. Erd., p. 118. Bishop Butler is equally explicit in expressing the same opinion (Ser- mon, On the Love of our Neiqhhor): " The short of the matter Of Bishop . , , . , '. . . . ., .-^ .■ Butler ^^ "^ more than this : happiness consists in the gratification of certain affections, appetites, passions, with objects which are by nature adapted to them. . . . Love of our neighbor is one of these affections. This, considered as a virtuous principle, is gratified by a con- § 13.] MAN A MORAL PERSON. 35 sciousness of endeavoring to promote the good of others, but, considered as a natural affection, its gratification consists in tlie actual accomplish- ment of this endeavor. Now, indulgence or gratification of this affec- tion, whether in that consciousness or this accomi^lishment, has the same respect to interest as indulgence of any other affection : they equally pro- ceed or do not proceed from self-love; thej^ equally include or equally exclude this principle." Dr. Jonathan Edwards writes to the same effect: "A man may love himself as much as one can, and may he in the exercise of a , . , -, .. , ^ 1 • 1 111- Of Jonathan high degree of love to his own happiness, ceaselessly longing j^^^aj-^jj. for it, and yet he may so place that happiness, that, in the very act of seeking it, he may be in the highest exercise of love to God; as, for example, when the happiness that he loiicjs for is to glorify God, or to behold his glory, or to hold communion with him." — Charity and its Fruits, lect. viii. Dr. J. W, Alexander also : " "We are unable to think of any one as a reasonable human being, who does not, in all possible cir- 1 • , • 1^ ^ 1 Of Dr. J. W. cumstances, desire his own welfare. One may choose a ^ig^ander present evil, or relinquish a present good, but it is in every case with the hope of avoiding some greater evil, or obtaining some greater good." — Consolation, New York, 1856. See also an interesting dis- cussion of this much vexed point in The Thirty Years' Correspondence between John Jebb, D.D., F.K.S., and Alexander Knox, M.R.I.A., Phila- delphia, 1835, letters 70, 71, 81, and 82; cf. also Appendix to the Laio of Love, by Mark Hopkins, D.D., LL.D., revised edition, Correspondence betioeen Presidents Hopkins and McCo&h. § 13. It should be remembered, however, that the so-called desire of happiness is no special sensibility with its attendant desire which is co-ordinate with the appe- happiness tites, affections, etc., and superadded to them all. "^* co-ordi- nate with any There is in man no separate desire of happiness, of the special such as that of food, or society, or knowledge, which f ^^^tions or ' '^ ' =' ' desires. might be supposed to harmonize or come in conflict with any or all of these special affections and impulses. No man ever desired happiness in the general or the abstract. He may desire to be relieved from some form of pain or enmd, experienced or imagined, and may generalize this object as some undefined form of good ; or he may vaguely conceive some form of gratification which differs from the enjo3nnent or pain aud of which kind of good he forms only an 36 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 13. indefinite conception : but be can never catcb himself or bis neigbbor tbinking of bappiness in tbe abstract, and desiring it, nor as setting up tbis desire as an end at wbicb to aim, or a standard by wbicb to measure bis own doings or acbieve- ments. Tbe desire of bappiness, so called, is simply tbe com- mon cbaracteristic of several special impulses towards special objects. Tbe subjective satisfaction wbicb all of tbese objects impart, and wbicb is common to tbem all, is generalized as bappiness. It follows tbat sucb a desire of bappiness, being in no sense co-ordinate witb any one desire or witb many, can never conflict with any nor with all ; it can neither hinder nor aid any one of the special desires : it cannot^ therefore, be a reason for the indulgence of any such desire. It is equally true that no single desire can be resolved into the „ . , , desire of happiness, while yet it is and must be true No single de- j j. j. ' j sire oan be that every individual desire must be moved by tbe th^ desire" of Special subjective good which its object can excite happiness. or producc ; and every particular class of emotions has a particular kind of good wbicb prompts the desire which naturally and necessarily responds to it by springing into ac- tivity when excited by its object. The desire of happiness spoken of is, however, called a Rational desire, because rational persons are alone rational Capable of forming the concept of happiness, or can desire by compare and discriminate between different kinds eminence. ... ^ . i ^ ■ ^ of good, or propose the activities or objects which terminate in one or other, or can judge between the acts and objects wbicb result in these differing subjective states, or re- flect upon their own agency in procuring, or failing to procure, tbese results to themselves or others. Even the brute acts from this desire for good as truly as does man ; although through the defect of reason he fails to rationalize the impulse by generaliz- ing its object, and consequently cannot attain to the intelligent, and pre-eminently to tbe self-conscious or reflective, control of bis actions or bis character. The desire of happiness in the § 13.] MAN A MORAL PERSON. 37 most gifted animal is a blind impulse, which is cultivated by training from without, or by the agency of a limited but vivid memory, and directed mainly by what we call instinct. In man this desire becomes an ennobling and elevating impulse to the actions, the habits, and character. It has of itself no moral quality ; although it gives intellectual dignity to the character, the aims, and the achievements. It should be remembered, however, that even man, with all his powers of abstraction and generalization, never proposes happi- ness, as such, as a motive to a single feeling or action. Though man alone can form the conception of happiness, yet he never proposes happiness to himself as an object of desire. The nearest approach to the experience of such a desire would be the wish for indefinite relief from severe and unalloyed pain. Such a relief is imagined as the enjoyment of some indefinite but positive good, in place of suffering, whicli is mistaken for happiness in the abstract. AYe may safely say that desire, so far as it is rational, always terminates in some good, which is made more or less definite by the memory or imagination. This so-called desire of happiness is misnamed "self-love," and under this unfortunate appellation has been the occasion of no little confusion of thought, and active, not to say acrid, recrimina- ^ ""^' cdllod " self* tion {vide Dugald Stewart, Outlines of Moral Philosophy, j^^^ „ part ii. chap. i. § 5 ; Active and Moral Poioers, book ii. chap. i.). Not a few writers insist that self-love, in all its forms, is not only morally evil, but that it is the root and principle of all moral evil. It is obvious that the affection thus condemned must be a voluntary affection, and cannot be sj^nonymous with the involuntary and necessary desire of happiness. Dr. Jonathan Edwards asserts " that the inordinateness of self-love does not consist in our love of happiness being absolutely con- sidered too great in degree, but in its being too great comparativeh^ and in placing our happiness in that which is confined to self" {Charity, etc., lect. viii.). And J. W. Alexander says, " "We are to love our neighbors as ourselves. We may, then, love ourselves. May ! we must love ourselves; and self-love becomes sin only when it becomes selfishness" {Consolation, etc.). "VVe have already quoted from Butler : " Now, indulgence or grati- fication of this affection, whether in that consciousness or this accomplish- ment, has the same respect to interested indulgence as any other affection; 38 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§14. they equally proceed or do not proceed from self-love ; they equally in- clude or exclude this principle." The phrases contrasted by Edwards, viz., "too great comparatively" and "too great in degree," would be far more felicitously and truly expressed by "involuntarily desired" and " voluntarily preferred " (see also John Brown : Essays on the Character- istics, London, 1751 ; essay 2, on The Motives to Virtue). § 14. The sensibilities and their attendant desires are still Sensibilities farther distinguished as simple or original^ and com- distin- 2:)iex or derived. The simple are those which are p:uished as , i /. i • • i i simple and Capable 01 bcuig excitcd alone, under their appro- complex, priate conditions. Whether these conditions them- selves may be single or multiple is immaterial, provided the subjective affection can occur by itself, and be distinguished in consciousness. We concern ourselves simply and solely with the soul's subjective condition, inasmuch as this experience must, in its nature, be known only to the soul itself, and is known sufficiently by itself. It also often happens that a simple emotion requires two or more objects in some special relation to one another. This is true of most, if not all, the sensibilities which are aesthetical, including the sense of melody and harmony in sounds, of harmony in color, of grace in motion, etc. On the other hand, a complex of distinguishable objects may awaken a complex of blended and yet distinguish- able emotions. A single bright color pleases simply, and awakens a simple emotion ; a painting awakens a complex of sensibilities from several distinguishable objects, and their relations to one another, — from the colors apart, from their gradation and harmony, from beauty of form, correctness of drawing, and from skilfully adjusted composition ; while all these elements together give a pleasant and consistent expression of thought and feeling. Complex emotions are also said to be mingled when they are opposite in character ; some being I)leasing, and others displeasing. Most, if not all, of the objects which address our sensibilities, being complex in their nature, appeal to many sensibilities. Some of these may be §15] MAN A MORAL PERSON. 39 pleasant, while others are disagreeable. A complex of sounds in many tones or from many voices, whether these tones or voices are or are not musical ; of colors in a landscape or por- trait ; of surface and outline, whether in a drawing or picture ; of tastes, odors, or touches, to say nothing of higher experi- ences, — are examples too familiar to require illustration. § 15. The feelings and accompanying desires are again dis- tinguished as primary or oriqinaL on the one hand, ., ° -f -J iJ ^ ' Alsoaspri- and secondary or artijicial^ on the other. Some of mary and these last are also called conventional and facti- ^^^^^ *^^* tious. The first are supposed to be inherent in the constitution of every human being, and therefore to be essential to human nature. The second are the products of circumstances, — those which are common and normal in the ordinary conditions of human existence, and those which are variable, and depend on occasional excitements. The parental or the conjugal affec- tions are not experienced by every human being ; and yet both are called natural affections in the sense that they are invari- ably called into exercise under appropriate circumstances, and are uniform in their character whenever they exist. Other affections and tastes or passions, as for rare books, autographs, old china, old furniture, old brass, bric-cl-brac, etc., are called factitious or artijicial because the circumstances which call them forth are relativ^ely infrequent ; and, even when present, their effects are not constant and uniform, but depend on accidental or conventional conditions. Whether normal or artificial, such affections are called secondary, because in point of time they follow the primary, and depend upon them for their origination, their sustentation, and the possibility of their existence and exercise. A very familiar example of a secondary and in one sense an artijicial affection is the love of money. Man need The love of have no original interest in the material called ^oney. money, whether it be coin or paper ; but he cannot fail to have it in those objects which money will procure. So soon, how- 40 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 15. ever, as he learns that money will procure these objects, and procure them without delay, and that it is indispensable to the enjoyment and possession of them, he learns to love money with what seems to be a direct and original affection, — an affection which for energy and tenacity seems to be rooted most deeply in the nature of man, and yet is distinctly trace- able to roots deeper than itself. Another example of a secondary affection is the pleasure or Associated disgust which is felt towards any object or event sensibilities, which has bccomc intimately associated with what is, naturally agreeable or disagreeable. An article of dress may be naturally convenient or inconvenient ; a form of speech may be pleasing or displeasing : but if either or both have been so connected with that which pleases or offends us, as constantly and vividly to call up the attendant emotion, the associated object becomes itself offensive or agreeable, and often tenaciously and passionately. These examples indicate the two classes of secondary or arti- Tffo classes ^cinl sensibilities, and the grounds and history of of- each. The first class are founded on the relation of cause to effect, involving that of means and ends ; the end or effect behag desired by a natural, and the means or cause ]iy a secondary, affection. The second class are founded on the so-called association of ideas, by the operation of which a close and frequent conjunction of two objects causes the one to be desired or rejected on account of its companion. Those philosophers who resolve the relation of cause and effect into that of antecedence or co-existence, and our belief of its con- stancy and universality into oft-repeated associations, must necessarily unite the two classes into one, and explain all the so-called secondary desires by the association of ideas. The ethical theories of the associationalists will require special attention, inasmuch as they resolve all the moral relations and emotions into the operation of these laws (cf. ^§ 44, 45). Many of the secondary desires become the strongest and the § 15.] MAN A MOBAL PERSON. 41 most conspicuous impulses of our nature. Such are the love of money and fashion, which have been referred to. „ •^ ' strength of Not infrequently these affections become so power- tue secondary ful and insidious as to defeat the very ends for ^^"'^^'^^"ties. which they exist, and to displace the primary impulses which originally stimulated and sustained them. The miser begins by loving money because he desu-es the good which money alone will procure, but ends with loving money of itself with such ex- clusive energy as to sacrifice to this passion every good which makes money desirable or valuable. Devotion to some incon- venient and unhealthy fashion impels men and women to desire indulgences which are incompatible with many of the gratifi- cations which fashion itself counts of the highest value. Under the complex relations of human existence, especially in a hiofhly artificial civilization, the number of secondary sensibilities and desires is greatly in- ber and com- creased, and many of the factitious displace and ^ ^^^ ^' counteract those which are acknowledged to be primary and natural. Nothing more strikingly illustrates the resources and the complex character of man's nature than its capacity to develop these artificial likings and dislikings, and the impor- tance which they assume as the conditions of human happiness. The analysis of some of the most familiar and strongest of human affections, and the estimate of their relative energy as springs of man's conduct, become for this reason very diflScult. In a practical way men are often convinced of this truth when they find it by no means easy to discover the real impulses which originate and control their own actions. The most honest of men are frequently puzzled to trace to its originating and controlling element some overmastering passion which they desire to overcome. "We are also embarrassed with special diflSculties when the feelings are analyzed for speculative ends, because of the variety of constituents which are or may be concerned in the product, and the difficulty of estimating the presence and force 42 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 15. of the volimtary element. This difficulty is greatly increased because the external manifestations or indications of the feel- ings within are so easily disguised, and so hard to be tested by decisive experiments or unvaried rules. But, however diverse these theories may be in their conclusions, they have one com- mon aim, — they propose a single class of inquiries ; viz., What are the simple or primary elements into which may be resolved the complex and derived capacities and experiences which we call the emotional nature ayid its affections, including the capacities and experiences which are knoivn as moral f They imply, if they do not re- assert, the position already taken, that Moral Science is dependent on, because it is largely resolved into, a correct Psychology. They show that ethical science is but another name for an exact and comprehensive analysis of psy- chological phenomena, and the explanation and determination of these phenomena by means of ultimate philosophical rela- tions or metaphysical intuitions. 16.] THE SENSIBILITIES CLASSIFIED. 43 CHAPTER II. THE SENSIBILITIES CLASSIFIED. § 16. If it is not easy to analyze the sensibilities into their original and simplest elements, it follows that it is ^ Sensibilities not easy to classify them. Every synthesis of ele- not easily ments as similar supposes that these elements are *^ **^^* ^ ' more or less clearly distinguishable. Every arrangement of these elements into groups that are higher or lower supposes a previous discrimination of the same as more or less general in their manifestation through phenomena. In other words, every correct and exhaustive classification follows a sharp and com- prehensive analysis. As the experiences are subjective (i.e., as they pertain to those internal experiences which are con- sciously known) , it might seem that they should be separated and constructed according to the differences or similarities which are experienced in and discerned by consciousness. Inasmuch, however, as these experiences are dependent upon their excit- ing objects, and these objects are sharply presented to the intel- lect, and inasmuch as we know by observation and conclude by analogy that different objects cause or occasion different expe- riences, we discriminate and unite them according to the objects which conditionate them. Both these elements, therefore (viz., the subjective and objective), control our classification, and determine its nomenclature. For the reasons given, however, the object or conditionating occasion is prominent in deciding 44 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 17. the classification and terminology of the sensibilities and the will. The following scheme is proposed : the animal or sensuous, includ- „ ^ ing the instinctive ; the intellectual ; the imaginative and Proposed " scheme of esthetic ; the personal, involving the love of power and classification, superiority, of achievement and property; the social, both Drs. Reid and sympathetic and antipathetic ; the reflex, including the Stewart. prudential and moral. Dr. Thomas Reid recognizes the mechanical, animal, and rational (Essays on the Active Powers, ess. iii. part 1. chap, i.) ; Dugald Stewart, the instinctive or implanted propen- sities, including the appetites, the desires, and the affections; the rational and governing principles, including self-love and the moral faculty {Active and Moral Foivers, Introduction). Sir William Hamilton divides the sen- sibilities into the corporeal and mental. The corporeal are -J . again divided into two which accompany the sjiecial and the common sensations. The mental are again subdivided into the contemplative and the practical. The contemplative are those impel- ling respectively to the lower and the higher intellectual activities. The practical tend to self-preservation, the enjoyment of existence, the pres- ervation of the species, to perfection and development and the moral law (Lectures on Metaphysics, lect. xlv., xlvi.). Dr. Thomas C. Upham divides the sensibilities into the natural or pathematic, and the r. lonias moral. The natural are subdivided into the emotions and C. llpham. desires ; the desires again being subdivided into the appe- tites, the propensities, and the affections. The propensities are to self- preservation, curiosity, imitativeness, esteem, property, power, vivacit}^ society, resentment, benevolence, and humanity, to happiness (i.e., self- love), to society. The affections are subdivided into resentment, benevo- ^nce in the form of domestic affections, humanity, patriotism, pity, gratitude, love to God (Mental Philosophy , vol. ii.. Introduction, chap. ii.). Dr. W. Whewell recognizes the appetites, the affections tend- Wh \/ ^^^ ^^ persons, the mental desires to abstractions (as safety, property, family and civil society, a common understanding, superiority) and to knowletlge ; the moral sentiments aiid the reflex sentiments as of being loved, and self-approval (Elements of Morality, Introduction, chap. ii.). The sensibiii- § 17. The seusibilitics and their attendant desires th^ ^'r*^^/" f^iffc^ ii^ respect to the quality or the land of good, quality of the and respectively of the evil, tchich they conditio7i they con^^ ^'* wipart. We speak of the sensibilities as natural dition. only, and not at all of them as voluntary and moral. We speak of the natural exercise of any sensibilities §17-] TUE SENSIBILITIES CLASSIFIED. 45 as this is or might be known in conscious experience, and judged by that comparison and discrimination which are implied in the exercise of consciousness by man as a rational being. That our experiences of sensitive good and evil differ in inten- sity or degree is conceded by all. The unconscious testimony of human language, and the ready assent of the human race, seem- to coincide in respect to this point. That one experience of heat or odor, of surprise or anger, of love or hatred, is more energetic than another, all men believe, and no man will deny ; but that the gratification of the different sensibilities also differs in kind, when compared, so that one would be pronounced natu- rally better than another, irrespectively of any moral relations, is by no means universally conceded by philosophers. Thus Paley writes : '* I will omit much useless declama- views of tion on the dignity and capacity of our nature ; the P^iey. superiority of the soul to the body, of the rational to the ani- mal part of our constitution ; upon the worthiness, refinement, and delicacy of some satisfactions, or the meanness, grossness, and sensuality of others, — because I hold that pleasures differ in nothing but in continuance and intensity " {Moral and Political Pliilosophy^ book i. chap. vi.). Jeremy Bentham pithily says, "Quantity of pleasure being equal, jeremy pushpin is as good as poetry," and holds that the i*ent'»am. value of a pleasure depends on its intensit}^, duration, cer- tainty, propinquity, purity (i.e., freedom from being followed by pain), security, and extent {Morals and Legislation, i. § 8). On the other hand, John Stuart Mill asserts, "It jo],n stnart would be absurd, that while, in estimating all other Mill. things, quality is considered as well as quantity, the estima- tion of pleasure should be supposed to depend on quantity alone" {Utilitarianism, chap. ii.). The criterion, or proof, of this assertion, he finds in the general consent of mankind : " Of two pleasures, if there be one to which all, or almost all, who have experience of both give a decided preference, irre- spective of any feeling of moral obligation to prefer it, that is 46 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 17. the most desirable pleasure " (Id)^ It may not be easy to fix upon the finer divisions of a scale according to which the differ- ent sensibilities of the same general class are ranked ; but it will be generally conceded, that bodily pleasures are inferior to the intellectual, social, and sympathetic, and that, when two of these species of satisfaction are brought into competition, one is dis- cerned to be a higher and better good than the other. This difference in quality accounts for the different appellations which are applied to the gratifications of the several susceptibili- ties of our nature. The terms "pleasure," "enjoyment," "hap- piness," and "blessedness," all of which are in actual and constant use, suggest and signify a different natural value in tlie sensations and emotions ; which value pertains to the original susceptibilities, apart from the admixture of any voluntary activity, or the moral element in any or in all. For philosophical uses, it is not only desirable, but necessary, ... - to select some term which shall Ibe broad enough to No single ^ term for cover all thcsc kinds and forms of subjective good, subjective ^ ^^'o™ ^^^^ highest to the lowest. The needs and good. USPS of common life provide no such term. We cannot invent, and force into use, a technical appellation, as in the artificial nomenclature of chemistry and geology, which should be divested of the associations or sanctions derived from the uses of common life, for the reason that the distinctions and 1 J. Maktineau, Miscellanies, Am. ed., vol. ii. pp. 17, 18; Review of WheioelVs MoraliUj. Cf. comments on the same ; Sidgwick, Methods of Ethics, book iii. chap, xii. See also Lotze, Mikrokosmus, 5tes Buch, 5tes Kapi- tel. Against the views expressed by Martineau, Professor Sidgwick says that it is impossible in many cases to distinguish between one grati- fied sensibility and another as higher and lower. We reply, without dis- cussing the general question, In some cases it is possible, and it is only when such discrimination is possible that moral obligation arises. This happens only when the question of voluntary preference and control pre- sents itself for decision between two classes of affections or emotions; as the self-terminating and the self-sacrificing, or the sensual as contrasted with the intellectual and active. § 17.] THE SENSIBILITIES CLASSIFIED. 47 nomenclature of Ethics are designed for universal and popular use. They neither can nor ought to be limited to the termi- nology of the schools. On the other hand, to attempt to gen- eralize and broaden any specific term offends the associations and usages which have attached a limited and special significa- tion to every appellation. Accordingly, "pleasure" has always been thought too limited and low a term sat^Jf"etio^„ to apply to the gratification of the higher sensibili- blessedness _,- -, ,,-,/,! . ii , and happi. ties. "Blessedness and " happmess, even, are too ^ess, good elevated to desionate the Gratification of any of the *"** ^^**" ° ^ ^ being. lower appetites. ' ' Enjoyment ' ' and ' ' satisfaction, ' ' though freely used of the lower and intermediate, are rejected as unsuitable to the highest. "Good" and "well-being" are as free from objection as any terms : both these, however, are as often applied to the causes or occasions of good as to their effects in the inward experience, and hence frequent and serious ambiguities arise (cf. § 67 (3)). And yet it is necessary to find some term which may be applied to all, from the highest to the lowest, and be limited, if possible, to the psychical or subjective element. Many, if not most, of the objections urged against the doctrine that the exer- cise of every sensibility gives some form or species of satisfac- tion, find their chief plausibility in the tenacious associations by which these terms are indissolubly connected with gratifications of a lower quality or grade, or with such as the will degrades to the service of selfishness or appetite. We repeat, also, the truth, that what is true of the appella- tions for these subjective experiences is true of their objective conditions or causes. We find it diflScult to select terms suffi- ciently generic to designate all of these, without suggesting associations that are more or less closely connected with single classes of objects. And yet in general, as we say of a gratified sensibility that it is good.^ so we say of the cause or condition of its gratification, that it is a good. But it is not with the same associations, or in the same meaning, that we call food or 48 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 17. a fortuue a good, as we speak of knowledge or society as a good, or say of the friend whom we love with disinterested devotion, or the God whom we supremely adore, that each is our good ; and yet at times we do not hesitate to designate each of these blessings, in a sense, as our supreme Good. We very properly distinguish between "worth" and "value," using " worth " to designate that object which is ultimate and also T t'rt "*' ^^S^^^* i^ t^® quality of its subjective good, as the good which is experienced in a disinterested act or emotion, or which is found in the highest moral and personal qualities. " Value " ordinarily designates some end or use to which an object may be applied. Utility, by universal and inveterate usage, is limited to those objects or conditions of good which are means to ends ; the ends being also, more frequently, neither final nor ultimate, but subordinated to some higher end. No action, or object, or emotion, is called useful which is not subordinated to some- thing other than itself. For this reason, utility should never be applied to any agent which acts directly upon any capacity for a simple or original feeling. We cannot speak of an object which we directly enjoy (as the food which we taste, or the friend whom we love) as iiseful for enjoy- ment or happiness. Utility is reserved exclusively for those relations which are secondary and indirect, and usually are objective and external rather than subjective and psychical. With still less propriety can an individual sensibility be said to be useful with respect to that common qual- ity, as happiness, which is characteristic of every individual or subordinate species of its class. The quality or cajDacity common to every specific sen- sibility of giving pleasure or pain cannot be regarded as a tendency in that sensibility towards the production of this pleasure or pain. The so-called " tendency " is another term for the fitness or adaptation of a sensibility to its supposed design or end, and cannot be called its utility. The relation of fitness or adaptation is real and imj^ortant; but "utility" is not the proper term by which to designate it, for the reasons already given. i 1 And yet Dr. Dwight, following Paley, does not hesitate to define "utility as a tendency to produce happiness" (Theolof/y , sermon xcix.); but he would doubtless distinguish the voluntary sensibility from the in- voluntary, apd limit the designation of virtuous to the former (cf. Paley, Moral and Political Philosophy, book ii. chap, vi.; Jeremy Bentham, Prin- ciples of Morals and Leciislation, i. § 8 ; J. S. Mill on Utilitarianism, chap. ii.). The term " utility " has been used in the senses criticised above, by both the friends and foes of very diverse systems, and become by its motley appendages a veritable scarecroio in the gardens of i^hilosophy and the- ology, at which every passer-by throws a missile. § 18.] TUE SENSIBILITIES CLASSIFIED. 49 § 18. Following the analysis already given of the sensibilities into feelings and desires, we observe that the sensi- The sensibiii- bilities, as feelings, are simply passu-e. So long as ties, as emo- . . tions, are the exciting object or condition is present and at- simply pas- tended to, the appropriate feeling must necessarily ^'^^'^' be experienced. Any object and every object which is fitted to excite the feelings of pleasure or pain must excite those feelings so long as it is confronted with or apprehended by the sensitive soul. The soul, as pure sensibility, can never with- hold the appropriate emotion, but finds itself completely in the power, and, so to speak, at the merc}^, of the objects with which it comes in contact. For the completeness of this contact the attention needs, indeed, to be con- a^.^ under centrated and sustained. If this be diverted, the f^rtain con- ditious. object is as though it were not, in respect to its power to excite and impel. But given the present object and the atten- tive soul, and the soul must necessarily feel, and be impelled to action. An apparent exception to this rule is fur- Apparent ex- nished in the corporeal sensibilities. These depend ceptions in on two factors or conditions, — the tone of the ^^^}^y ^^' perience. bodily organism, and the energy of the material ex- citant or object. The material organism, as such, is limited in its capacities to respond to the physiological excitant. More- over, as animated by the sensitive soul, it is also limited in its capacities for pleasure or pain. Food does not continue to please when satiety has displaced hunger. Light wearies or offends the eye when out of due proportion to its capacity to re-act, or when either the e3^e or the soul is wearied b}' prolonged excite- ment. Even when the enjoyment is purely psychical, the soul's capacity for emotion may be weakened bj^ ph3'siological condi- tions. These apparent exceptions confirm, rather than weaken, our confidence in the general law that the soul, in its capacities to feel, is simplj' passive under the stimulus of its exciting conditions. Its power to avoid or control feeling lies in another power than the capacity for simple feeling. 50 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 19. By whatever agency the avoidance or control of the sensibili- Dependeiit ^'^^'^ ^^ effected, it is accomplished proximately by on attention, withdrawing the attention from the objects which excite them ; and this is achieved bij fixing the attention on other objects., and yielding the soul to their poicer. The feelings which are natural to man, whether corporeal or psychical, must be aroused, so long as the objects which solicit them are attended to. It is not in human nature to avoid or resist any feeling in the presence of its exciting object. The best of men hold in their very constitution natural elements which by voluntary per- version or excess become the most degrading of appetites and the most hateful of passions. "The heart of man," says Sir Thomas Brown in the " Religio Medici," "is the place the devils dwell in. I feel sometimes a hell within m^^self. Lucifer keeps his court in my breast. Legion is roused in me." The truth that our emotions are passive is attested by the tendency to call them "passions." This appellation is justified .whenever they are excited or indulged with unusual strength or violence. The entire class, in the nomenclature of some phi- losophers, are designated as passive or pathematic affections. § 19. The capacity for the strength or energy of any feeling Effect of ^"^ increased by repetition. We speak here of the repetition. natural Capacity to enjoy or suffer, and not at all of the acquired dexterity to avoid or control either gladness or pain by voluntary activity. The two may conspire and act to- gether, but they may also be distinguished. Apart from the will and what it can do, the more a man exercises a sensibility as such, the more sensitive does it become to its exciting cause, and the larger is its capacity for subsequent energy of action. The experience which every man has of himself, and the obser- vation which he takes of other men, confirm this assertion. It certainly will not be denied of any experience which is purely psychical. The soul given to the pleasures of knowledge, so- ciety, taste, affection, duty, and religion, finds its capacity and its sensitiveness for each to increase by use and repetition. §19.] THE SENSIBILITIES CLASSIFIED. 51 Similarly the capacities of pleasure from hate, envy, selfishness, and revenge, are enlarged by habit, however much they may be counterbalanced and repressed by the pains and stings which sometimes re-act with proportionate energy. To this general law there are two apparent exceptions : the bodily appetites^ by repeated indulgence, become weaker in their capacity to give pleasure ; and novel objects are enjoyed with a special zest, which is diminished after the occasions or objects have ceased to be new. Of the first it is enough to say that the repeated gratification of a bodily appetite weakens the sensitiveness of ^ "^ ^ *^ Exception, the bodily organism, and consequently diminishes the bodily the energy of the sensation ; of the second, that the ^pp*^*^*^^* heightened, and in its ver}^ nature the temporary, enjoyment which comes from a novel or contrasted experience, cannot, in the nature of the case, be sustained when its occasion has ceased, i.e., when the zest from contrast has become impossible by repetition. Another exception might be urged, that, by the passive familiarity with objects or scenes that are fitted to . . Effect of fa- excite feeling, the soul often seems comparatively miiiarity, the insensible to their influence ; as the surgeon to the ^^^^^^^^ **"** ' ® surgeon. pain he gives, or as the soldier is hardened and not softened by the agony and death with which he is conversant, and the miser becomes more unfeeling the more familiar he is with the cries and tears which his cruel selfishness extorts. Phenomena of this kind are in no sense exceptions to our prin- ciple : the}" rather confirm it. Such phenomena are explicable only as we recognize the presence or absence of the voluntary element. The surgeon, the soldier, and miser do not feel, because by acts of will, so often repeated as to have formed spontaneous habits, they have learned gradually yet completely to withdraw the attention from the objects which would other- wise move the sensibilities. The apparent insensibility of either n:ay often be, often it is not, real, being only the result of si 52 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 10. practised self-command in the art of controlling and regnlating the attention. That the sensibility of the surgeon is not in- durated by familiarity with suffering, is proved by the unques- tioned fact that the practice of his profession may, and often does, form him into one of the most tender-hearted and sympa- thetic of men ; as also, that, when he is simply a looker-on at a surgical operation in which his personal activity is not required, he is as quickly unmanned as any other bystander. The soldier is no more unfeeling than any other man, in scenes in which he can exert no activity. Before the conflict begins, it is only as he can occupy or divert his attention, that he can bring himself to stand quietly and await his orders. More than one sturdy officer has said to his trembling limbs, on going into action, "You would tremble more if you knew where I am about to carry you." The miser even, if he can be approached at an unguarded point, is open to the movings of humanity. Bishop Butler {Analorpj, i. chap, v.) has recognized and enforced the „ , ,. distinction between ^vhat he terms " the active and passive Butler's dis- tinction lie- habits," and has called attention to the important law by tween active which mere emotions, when they do not lead to action, and passive become weaker by repetition, while those feelings which are habits. expressed in words and acts, and so become active habits, become stronger in their impulsive force. At first it might seem that this principle conflicts with the general law that the repetition of a sensibility augments, or tends to augment, its strength and impulsive energy. On sec- ond thought it will be seen that what Butler calls the " active habits " are habits of the will, or, more exactly, habits of the intellect and sensibility which are formed by the will. So far as any emotional power is considered apart from the voluntary, its capacity for feeling, as such, grows relatively stronger by repetition, and comparatively weaker by disuse. The desire, also in obedience to the law already recognized, must also respond to each excitement of emotion, whether it be pleasant or painful, and in proportion to the energy of the emotion. In the case of the bodily appetites, while the capacity for sensuous gratification is weakened and limited by indulgence, and emphatically by habitual excess, the desire may be stimulated by such recollections of past enjoyments as the more limited capacities of the present cannot give, inducing inevitable disappointment and disgust at the contrast between the vividness of pleasures as remembered or imagined, and the feel:)leness of those which are experienced. To this "must be added §20.] THE SENSIBILITIES CLASSIFIED. 53 the chagrin and discomfort which attend the effort of supplementing what fails in the quality of enjoyment hy excess in quantity, or by artificial, unnatural, and, in the worst sense, brutal excitement. Hence the ennui and horrors of the drunkard and the debauchee, apart from moral self- condemnation and social reproach. § 20. The sensibilities have ao active as icell as a passu-e side. While feeliosf, as feeling, is only passive, de- ^ .. .,. . '=' ° '^ '^ ' Sensibilities sire is active or act- impelling. Its first and direct active, or act- impulse is to the satisfaction of which the sensibili- **"^^ ^°^* ties, as feelings, are the conditions ; the second, to the objects which conditionate this gratification ; while the third impels to the psychical or bodily action which brings both the object and the satisfaction within the possession of the soul. What we call activity is wide in its variety of meaning, and extent of application. It includes a very extensive . . range of phenomena, physical and psychical. The n^ed in a sinoular and unex])lained material property called ^?"^V-° ^^'' ==> '- 1 1 J uifications. elasticity impels material particles or masses to re- action ; i.e., to motion in a direction contrar}^ to that in which either are acted upon. Muscular irritability responds to stimuli from without and from within by the agency of the senso-motor nerves. The lower animals obey those impulses to bodily and psychical activity which we call instinctive. The higher ani- mals superadd to the instinctive those actions which they employ with a more or less distinct intelligence, and with a more or less enlarged adaptation to circumstances, both varied and fixed. Man rises to that wide range of psjx'hical actions of which his naturejs capable, to actions intellectual, affectional, ethical, and spiritual ; to all of which he is prompted by the impulsive force of desire common to them all. For example : man desires to know ; that is, he finds satis- faction in the function or activity called knowing, and conse- quently desires the continuance or the repetition of the activity or function which gives him this enjoyment. As the condition of this activit}' and consequent satisfaction, he desires to be con- 54 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 20. fronted with knowable objects, both facts and relations, — with the events which gratify his curiosity, or the scientific truth which interests and quickens his reason, and stimulates and rewards the scientific imagination. Desiring these results, he is impelled to those activities which are the means of bringing them within his reach. The same laws hold of the affections, so far as they are desires, or involve the element of desire : hence the sensibilities are active powers because they are act- impelling. This impulsive property is ultimate in the human constitution. Whether the action is muscular and corporeal, whether it is psycho-physical or simply psychical, whether as psychical it is intellectual or affectional, we find it true that sensibility, when transformed into desire, is not only bent upon gratification, but impels to action. It is erroneously assumed by many, that the will is the faculty . . . which makes man capable of action. Thus Kant Activity not limited to says : "To know, to feel, and to act, are the three t le wi . functions of man requiring the intellect, the sensi- bility, and the will." If this is true, it would seem that ani- mals must be endowed with will as' truly as man. This con- ception and assertion manifestly arise from oversight. The possession of will is not essential to activity as such, but only to activity of a certain species, so far as action is voluntary. The desires impel to action in their twofold classes, — the bodily and the psychical. Both these actions are the natural and constant effects of the existence of the feelings which pre- cede them. Given an object which excites a sensibility and awakens a desire, and, if there be no diverting object or stronger counter-desire, the act to which the desire impels will be per- formed. The appropriate and natural issue of any excitement of feeling is action of some sort. The arrangements, or economy which makes different acts possible, differ from one another. The bodily acts depend on the psj^cho-physical apparatus in which the nerves and muscular system are conspicuous, through which, by the agency of the reflex-motor nerves, certain in- §21.] THE SENSIBILITIES CLASSIFIED. OD clulged desires arrest and relax the muscles that control the internal and external movements. The control of the mental and ps3'chical activities by the predominant desires is effected directly by detaining the attention upon those objects of thought which are congenial to the feelings, and excluding others, whether they are introduced by the senses, the consciousness, or the passive memory. § 21. The sensibility, as emotion and desire in man, is subject to great diversities in different individucds. These differences pertain to the positive and rela- diverse in tive force of each of the original capacities of feel- different in- ^ ^ (lividuals. ing, and of the positive and relative impulsiveness of the connected desires. Of two or ten men, each may be distinguished for some one or more specially sensitive suscepti- bility or specially active desire. A single bodily or emotional capacity of one man, though not particularly active or energetic by reason of the general torpor or slowness of his temperament, may be specially excitable and impulsive when compared with the general tone of his intellectual or spiritual sensibilities. These differences may be constitutional and individual, or the product of circumstances, or that result of trainins: ^.^^ ^ ° Differences, and education which is sometimes called the environ- natural and ment. Training, again, may be external or internal. *^**"*''^ It may proceed from others (as parents, teachers, and the com- munity) ; or it may come from within by the agency of the will, giving energy and supremacy to some affection or desire, one or many. To enforce and modify both, the law of habit must necessarily come into play, under which both the positive and relative energy of the natural sensibilities may be increased, and emotions and impulses of the natural constitution may be modified. All education of the feelings, or springs of action, supposes that permanent results may be wrought in this way into what may be called the substance of the soul, or its passive nature as distinguished from its active or voluntary forces ; and thus, in a certain sense, a new nature may be substituted for 56 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 21. the old. The possibility of culture, and its value, depend on this ultimate fact. Culture and habit are as truly potent for evil as for good. The entire energies are now and then concen- trated into one master-passion, such as characterizes the saint, the fiend, or the brute. The appetite of the drunkard, the passion of the lustful, the demonism of the gambler, and the fiendishness of the revengeful, are examples of such a sec- ondary controlling and irresistible nature or passion. Even when evil impulses have ceased to be supreme, their natural effects on the habits and emotions remain ; to act against the bent of the new voluntary life. The man who is reformed in his will and the springs of his character may yet need to be reformed a second time in the make and proportion of his sen- sibilities, distorted and perverted by previous vicious indulgence. The old man which is corrupt in the tenacious impulses and habits of his indulged desires must often be made new in the second nature that must be wrought over again, under the forma- tive power of the new habits to which his new character must train him, by the combined operation of a steadfast will, and with all the appliances of favoring circumstances, social, aes- thetic, and religious. The truth that man is the same in his original endowments of sensibility by no means involves the conclusion that all men are originally similar in the strength or relative proportion of those sensibilities which are essential to human nature ; much less that all men, as we meet them, are alike in their voluntary impulses : in other words, the possession of a common human nature is in no way inconsistent with veiy striking diversities and contrasts of individual constitution and character. These facts and phenomena lead us to another division of the sensibilities ; viz., into the natural and voluntary^ or the sensi- bilities as implanted in the constitution, and the sensibilities as affected by the ivill. §2-2.] SENSIBILITIES AS MODIFIED BY THE WILL. 57 CHAPTER III. THE SENSIBILITIES AS MODIFIED BY THE WILL. § 22. "We have treated thus far of the sensibilities as though they could exist and act independeutl}^ of the will. This is conceivable in thought, but never actual in not inde- fact. No human beinsj who is fully developed, when P^n<^ent of in his normal maturity and under normal condi- tions, ever feels, except as his feelings are penetrated and con- trolled by the presence and activity of the will. All the sensibilities of a rational and developed man are in some sense voluntary sensibilities ; i.e., are more or less modified by the vol- untary power. We discuss the sensibilities apart and by them- selves, as we are forced to discuss all the other powers, because it is only in this way that we can discern and set forth their special characteristics. "We do not forget, however, that, as we are conscious of their activity in our human and actual expe- rience, they are always penetrated and energized by the volun- tary power. For exactness we employ the three terms, "will," "voli- tion," and "choice," respectively, for tlie j^oicer, voluntary tJie action, and the effect. Other appellations are not power, acts , and effects, niirequently used; as, "the voluntary power, appellations "the act of choosing or of choice," "election," ^®'*' " preference,". " purpose," " state of choice." What, then, is the icill 9 What is the evidence that there is such a power, and 68 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 22. what is its nature, its conditions, its modes of action, and its effects f The earlier writers, wlietlicr philosophers, moralists, or theologians, Two and usually and almost universally assigned to the soul two three fold di- faculties only (viz., the intellect and the will); ascribing to vision of the the first the cognitive operations, and to the second all the poners. active impulses, both emotional and voluntary. " This power which the mind has, thus to order the consideration of any idea, or the forbearing to consider it, or to j)refer the motion of any part of the body to its rest, and vice versa, in any par- ticular instance, is that which we call the will. The actual exercise of that jiower, by directing any particular action or its forbearance is that which we call volition, or willing." — Cf. Locke's Essay, book iir chap. xxi. § 5. "These ]iowers of the mind, viz., of f)erceiving and of preferring, are usually called by another name; and the ordinary way of sjjeaking is, that the understanding and will are two faculties of the mind," etc. — Ibid., § G. ** All the actions that we have any idea of, reducing themselves, as hai^ been said, to these two; viz., thinking and motion, etc.: so far as a man has power to think or not to think, to move or not to move, according to the preference or direction of his own mind, so far is a man free." — And yet, in § 30, Locke sharply distinguishes between "willing" and "volition," on the one hand, and "desire," on the other: "because I find that the will is often confounded with several of the affections,, es- pecially desire; and one put for the other, and that by men who would not willingly be thought not to have distinct notions of things, and not to have written very clearly about them." Dr. Jonathan Edwards thus writes: "God has endowed the soul with two principal faculties, — the one, that by which it is capable ona lan ^^ perception and speculation, or by which it discerns and division. judges of things, which is called the understanding; the other, that by which the soul is in some way inclined with respect to the things it views or considers; or it is the facultj'^ by which the soul is some way inclined with respect to the things it views or considers; or it is the faculty by which the soul beholds things, not as an indifferent, un- affected spectator, but either as liking or disliking, pleased or displeased, approving or rejecting. This faculty is called by various names: it is some- times called the inclination, and, as it respects the actions that are deter- mined or governed hj it, the will," etc. "The will and the affections are not two faculties. . . . The affections are not essentially distinct from the will, nor do they differ from the mere actings of the will and inclination, but only in the liveliness and sensibility of exercise." — A Treatise concern- ing Religions Affections, part i. § 1. § 23.J SENSIBILITIES AS MODIFIED BY THE WILL. 59 Dr. Thomas Reid (Essays on the Active Poivers) recognizes the current division of the powers into two, — the understanding and the will, — and takes exception to its correctness hy appeal- ; Thomas ing to the authority of Locke, as distinguishing "desire" . from " will." Dr. Thomas Brown {Inquiry into the Relation of Cause and Effect, § 3) rejects altogether the distinction proposed by Locke and Dr. Thomas Reid, and insists on retaining the twofold division. Brown's. Dugald Stewart follows Reid in his comments on, and allusions to, this distinction of Locke (cf. Collected Works, vol. 1. p. 4Go, note; vol. ii. p. 495, note; vol. iv. p. 375, note; vol. vl. pp. 344-355). c+"°* ♦' The first two of these passages are comments dissenting from Brown. In the last passage — which is in the appendix to Outlines of Moral Philosophy ; On Free Agency — he distinctly defines volition to he an act of which the will is the power. Kant introduced the threefold classification which is adox^ted by Sir William Hamilton {3Ietaphysical Lectures, xi.), which recog- nizes the phenomena of knowledge, of feeling, and of will or ^/^J^*^ ^^' desire, giving the intellectual, the emotive, and the conative or impelling faculties. The history of the gradual development and final maturity in the mind of Kant, of this classification, and of its relation to his three great works (the Critiques of the Pure and Practical Reason, and the Critique of the Faculty of Judgment), may be found in Kant's Psycho- logic dargestellt und erortert von Jiirgen Bona Meyer (Berlin, 1870, pp. 41-05). It is singular, that much as Kant makes of the importance and the diffi- culties of " freedom " as the condition of moral responsibility, and as freely as he uses the designation "the will," he nowhere recognizes it as a separate faculty which is capable of a special and determinate action of its own ; but he treats the will uniformly as the impelling or conative power, or the faculty of desire and action. Professor Thomas C. Upham was the first English writer who distinctly adopted the threefold classification of the powers of the soul „ , Professor into the intellect, sensibility, and will, and made it the basis Thomas C. of an analysis and classification of psychological phenomena Upham 's. (cf . A Philosophicai and Practical Treatise on the Will, Portland, 1834). The distinction and nomenclature had, however, previously become current in some well-known schools of Ethics and Theology (cf. Henry P. Tappan, Review of Edicards's Inquiry into the Freedom of the Will, New York, 1839). In the later nomenclature and definitions, separate appella^ tions have been generally, if not universally, assigned to the sensibility and the will. § 23. The ground for holding to a third faculty, viz., the will, is the evidence for such peculiar functions and effects as justify 60 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§23. and require a separate power to account for their occurrence. Our analysis of the sensibility has revealed special functions. It also enables us to conceive more distinctly, and to assert fvhat man might and would be, were he endowed with intellect And sensibility alone. We cm do this most effectively by svp- posing that man had no will., and inquiring ivhat Mon Um^^^'" '^^'oidd be the 2)roducts of intellect and sensibility only. pian had no ^y^ ^^g]^ then. What would man do and become if nil I. he were not endowed with a will? We answer. Without will, man would be capable of knowledge. He could knoic very much as he now does, in every manner and to every result, except so far as the subject or the object matter of knowledge is furnished directly or indirectly by the will itself. He might observe all the objects and phenomena of the world of sense, with all the experiences and facts of con- sciousness except those included in voluntary action. He might also connect and arrange these observed facts under all the relations and forms of scientific thought. He could also feel in all the forms of human sensibility except those which depend on the exercise of will. He would also desire all those objects which intellect and feeling make possible. He might also act in every way except with the will : he might act with his body, and act with his mind ; he might act with his affec- tions and from his emotions, so far as he might be impelled by either. For simple activity, and even for effective activity, as we have seen, desire only is requisite ; and desire with knowl- edge might impel to intelligent and instructed action. Delib- eration also would be possible, whenever two or more objects were present as moving forces, each addressing some sensibil- ity, and arousing some desire ; and both of these could not be obeyed. The mind might compare the two, might hesitate long as to which were the more desirable, and, after many vacilla- tions, fix at last upon one, and thus determine, decide, and in a certain sense choose. Without will, man might also possess a strongly marJced char- §23. J SENSIBILITIES AS MODIEIED BY THE WILL. 61 ader. Each individual might iuherit in his nature certain original capacities of leeliu^jj, attended by their ° ^ ..... Might possess appropriate desires, constituting his individually a distinctive impelling forces or motives. This character might ^ ^^^^^ ^^' be useful or noxious, amiable or odious. It might be formed or moulded by training or culture, so far as his intellect should be formed to acuteness, reach, and energy, and his feelings be fixed by circumstances or society into relatively new springs of action. When, then, we ask whether man is endowed with a will, we ask whether he is more than a being such as we have described; i.e., whether he is capable of any other functions, and of any other products or effects, than intellect and sensi- bility might account for. Many ^ contend that there is no evidence of the existence of any other power in man than intellect and sensibility ; that what we call volition is only a stronger or prevailing, perhaps a more or less permanent, desire ; and that the will is but the personification of man as endowed with an intellect which is capable of deliberating between two or more motives that con- flict by exciting two desires, both of which cannot be gratified. Cerebralists of all classes, who hold that every mental and emo- tional state is the effect of some action on, or m, or from the brain, either for the first time experienced or subsequently re- vived ; associationalists, who resolve all psychical phenomena 1 Antoxy Collins, A Philosophical Inquiry concerning Human Liberty; David Hume, Treatise of Human Nature, partiii.; Inquiry concerning the Human Understanding, § 8; Dr. Thomas Brown , Lectures on the Philosophy of the Human Mind, also Inquiry into the Relation of Cause and Effect; James Mill, Analysis of the Phenomena of the Mind, 2d ed., with additions, chap. xxiv. ; Johx Stuart Mill, A System of Logic, etc., part vi. chap, ii.; also An Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosojyhy, chap, xxvi.; George Henry Lewes, The Study of Psychology, etc., chap, vii.; John FiSKE, Outlines of Kosmic Philosophy, chap, xvii,; Sociology and Free-ioill ; Alexander Bain, The Emotions and the Will ; Mental and Moral Science, hook iv.; Herbert Spencer, Data of Ethics; The Study of Psychology^ chap, viii.; Leslie Stephen, The Science of Ethics, chaps, i., ii. 62 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 24. into new perceptions and experiences, wrought by inseparable associations of thought and emotion ; evolutionists, who make the powers of intellect with its essential relations, as also the forces of sensibility, to be the products of the inherited tenden- cies and forces of the past, as they have been fixed and trans- mitted in and through the structure of the brain, — must necessaril}^ resolve all the so-called phenomena of volition into the activities and factors of intellect and feeling. § 24. TJie questions, ichetlier there is such a ]}ou:er in man as Questions ^'^^ '^^"^'^^' ^*'^^ tvhat are its functions and operatioyis, coiioerning ^^^g q^^^y largely questions of psychology, being con- tlie vi'iW are largely psy- ccrncd with psycliical facts or phenomena, the choiogicai. reality, nature, and conditions of which must be settled by the methods which are appropriate to psychology ; viz., by. a direct appeal to consciousness, and an indirect appeal to the language and actions of men. These inquiries, however, involve questions of philosophy; i.e., questions of speculative definition and argumentation, in which logical con- sistency in definition, classification, and deduction, is sought for ; either in single classes of psychological phenomena, or the broader field of general observation, or among the accepted axioms or conclusions of science and philosophy. In point of fact, the discussions of this subject have been more generally philosophical and theological, rather than psychological. It is more satisfactory to men, generally, to begin with processes of observation, and questions of fact. It is more natural to ask, first of all, whether there are certain patent and unquestioned facts or experiences in the soul of man, to which our theories and axioms must adjust themselves, rather than to assume that certain theories and axioms are established, to which we strive to adjust the phenomena which consciousness attests. We be2;in, then, with the testimony of conscious- Testimony of o ' ' J conscious- ness, and ask. Are there any facts or phenomena ^*^^^' which require or justify the belief that there is in man any special faculty called the will? The phenomena or §24.] SENSIBILITIES AS MODIFIED BY THE WILL. 63 effects have been enumerated, which can be referred to the intellect and sensibility. Are there any additional acts which require us to accept the will as an additional power? To this question we reply, There are. First of all, in many, not to say in most, languages, there are different in all lan- names for experiences or acts, which we distinguish ^'"*^^** as feelings or desires on the one hand, and as volitions or preferences on the other. These appellations may either run or shade off into one another in their import, and often be inter- changed in their use ; but this is no more than we should expect, if we consider that a state or an act of volition must necessarily include the element of knowledge and desire, and that the strongest and feeblest of our emotions, as we find and feel them, are penetrated and controlled by volition. It may be, and doubtless is, true that these appellations are not uniformly kept apart, or applied with scientific exactness or rigor. The fact that they are provided in the common speech of men proves that the common consciousness of men distin- guishes three separate experiences with more or less exactness, and requires these three appellations to express them. The consciousness of most men also directly attests, that an activity of pure emotion, and an impulse of simple Emotions and desire, differ from a volition. Not only do men desire^ dis- discern that the}^ differ in kind, but they distin- fromvoii- guish them more sharply ; the one as often running **®"^* counter to the other as when, at the same instant, they are strongly moved by desire towards an attractive object, and yet reject and resist it. It may be said, and often is said, that, in rejecting an object desired, we are only the subjects of a stronger desire for an object which excludes the first. But consciousness attests not merely to the presence of one desire prevailing against and over another, as a psychical experience or effect, but also to a desire attended to, energized, and caused to prevail, by the soul's own activity. In more exact language, it attests to a desire which is counter to, and a desire 64 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 24. which is animated by, an activity or effort which consciously differs from the passiveness of any emotion as such, and the impulsiveness of any desire. The fact that the effect, as sub- jectively known, is conspicuous to consciousness in the form of a strong permanent feeling, by no means proves that another agency is not known to be present, as originating and sustaining this effect. Self-approhatioii and self-condemnation require the belief in Seif-approba- ^^^^ activity of will, as distinguished from the pas- tioiiand self- sivcucss of cmotiou and the impulsiveness of desire. rondeiiina- tion imply These contrasted emotions or experiences, like all the belief. others, are founded on the knowledge or belief of some fact or relation which occasions or justifies them. The knowledge on which self-approbation rests is the knowledge that the man produces the state or act for wliich he approves himself. The fact that the purpose or prevailing desire, as it is called, is his own, is not the sole ground or reason of this emo- tion. He does not approve himself merely as the subject^ but also as the producer^ of the emotion. This is pre-eminently true of remorse, or self-condemnation. Pre-eminent- ^^ ^^^ the emotions of which man is the subject, this ly remorse, jg y^g most uncomfortable. The only possible occa- sion for its presence is the conviction that I am the author of the act or state for which I condemn myself. If it is an act of my body only, it is not my own in such a sense as that I necessarily condemn myself for it. If it is an act of the intel- lect or sensibility alone, it is still not my own as a ground of self-reproach. If it exists as an impulse or desire which I resist and do not consent to, I do not condemn myself. Here is an experience against which our nature revolts, — an experience which exists only so long as the belief continues that the sub- ject of it produces the state for which he suffers, or rather in- flicts, the offensive emotion. The fact that such a belief cannot be disow^ied or removed would go far to prove that it is founded on fact. §25.] SENSIBILITIES AS MODIFIED BY THE WILL. 65 That civil government recognizes the presence and impor- tance of this conviction as the ground of all penal responsibilit}^ that men in social intercourse hold one another responsible only so far as they believe them possessed of the power of choice and in a condition to use this power, that all religious teachings and motives assume this to be well grounded, are facts too obvious to need to be urged. These points may suffice as the decisive testimony of con- sciousness to the general truth that man is endowed with some power above and beyond that of sensibility and desire. § 25. To this general conclusion, founded on psychological evidence, the following general sjyeculative o?- pldlo- speculative sophiccd objections are urged : — objections. (1) To affirm that the will originates choices, or voluntar}" de- sires, is to deny that every event is caused, and ,^,_ ^ J .} ' (1) Involves thereby to abandon the principle of causality as an the denial of explanation of phenomena and a ground of practical ^^^^^ and speculative science. Sir William Hamilton^ has this in view when he concedes, "We are Mu^hlQ io conceive an absolute commencement. We cannot, therefore, conceive a free volition." In reply, it may be said, that to refer a choice, or voluntary desire, to the will as its producing-agent, is to trace an effect directly to its cause, and, so far, to explain, if not technically to conceive it. It is certainly to employ the relation of causation for the purpose of explaining events or phenomena. It is one thing to assert that an event is the product of a causing-agent, and another to say that every cause under similar circumstances is limited to a single effect. 1 Metaphysical Lectures, xl.; Discussions, Appendix I. and A.; Works of Reid, p. 974, note U. It should be obsei'ved that Hamilton, in this con- nection, uses the terra "conceive" in a special sense, as equivalent to explain or analyze or deduce from a concept or premise formed under the laws of deductive thinking, which in their very nature apply to a special and limited subject-matter; i.e., to those beings and phenomena which are subject, or are assumed to conform, to physical or necessary law 66 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 25. The one asserts the fact of causation, the other its law. Causes, as such, may be supposed at least to be both fixed and free, in the one case to be limited by certain conditions, and in the other case to be free from these limitations. The question is not of a ■priori speculation, but of justified truth, whether a free cause is possible in conception, and real as fact. The terms "lib- erty" and "freedom," which are so often employed, it will be observed, are both negative in form, and, as such, only affirm the absence of physical necessity. The use of positive attributes, expressing the capacity to choose or to act in the special and peculiar form assigned to the will, is often, if not universally, to be preferred. (2) The existence and activity of a free cause is also asserted Is inconceiv- to be inconceivable or incomprehensible, as in the able. sentence quoted already, and in many others like it, from Hamilton. The word " inconceivable," as he employs it, cannot signify " incapable of being referred to any agency or cause," inasmuch as the effect in question, when referred to the will, is most emphatically ascribed to a force which is spiritual in its nature, and therefore self-active and pre-eminently deserv- ing to be called an agent, a cause, or a productive force : it can only mean " incapable of being explained by an agency that is governed by fixed or necessitated laws." That all the phe- nomena of spirit act under laws which differ more or less from those of matter, is true ; and that some of these phenomena may wholly exclude necessity, may be held without rendering the phenomena inconceivable in ever}^ sense of the term. On the other hand, the existence of a free causal force with Explained by i^s spccial laws, as also its importance and place in final cause. ^\-^q univcrsc, are made wholly conceivable in a higher and more satisfactory sense by a reference to the relation of final cause or design. If moral responsibility and moral free- dom, with the manifold relations and advantages which they imply, are the essential conditions of character and personality in the eminent senses of these terms, then the phenomena of §25. J SENSIBILITIES AS MOLIFIED BY THE WILL. 67 free choices are rendered conceivable, firsts by being referred to a causal agency which is competent to originate such effects ; and, second^ as the existence of these free causes, in connection with causes that are fixed, is also explained by the relation of design. A more profound philosophy teaches us to conceive and explain powers and laws and events by both these relations or principles (cf. The Human Intellect^ § 612). (3) It is objected still further, that to assert the power of choice excludes the possibility of experience and ,g^ Excludes forecast in respect to those events in which man is possibility concerned, whether as an individual, or a member of ^^^g ^^ g^- the community. perience. It is confidently urged, "that if man can choose freely, and his choices are not made certain by the motives which meet him, then it is impossible to predict what his choices will be. The experiences of the past can throw no light upon the problems of the future. The observation of what men have been or done, under a given combination of circumstances, furnishes no war- rant for predicting what men will be or do should these circum- stances recur a second time. It follows that all knowledge of man as an individual, or in his relations to his fellow-man, — of man in business, in politics and literature, — is excluded ; for no observations of the past can furnish any reliance or any instruc- tion for the future. On this theory, there can be no knowledge of human nature, uo social science, and no philosophy of his- tory ; there <)an be no philosophy of human progress, and no faith in human development. But all men believe in the teachings of experience, and count the knowledge which it gives as trust- worthy and important : it therefore follows that any view of the activity of the will which excludes such experience is irrational." To this we reply, that in point of fact, all the ^ r.. f results of man's experience with man are held with experience a proviso that they will apply only to men of a ^^j^i^ ^ certain description or character. We reason thus : proviso, if one or many men are controlled by purposes and pas- 68 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 05. sions that are selfish, ambitious, envious, etc., then we may expect that in certain circumstances such and such events will follow. Sir Robert Walpole held it as an axiom, that every man has his price; i.e., that every man could be purchased, or gained over to any cause, if 3'ou could find the temptation which would move him. The saying is susceptible of two constructions ; it might mean that every man must be controlled by some affection, or governed by some supreme object of love or choice, whether he is virtuous or vicious, whether saint or fiend ; or it might signify that every man is at heart more or less of a scoundrel, being controlled by selfish aims and desires, vari- ous in kinds and degrees. Interpreted in the first sense, it is an important principle in Ethics ; but in life it is a tame truism so soon as it is divested of the brilliancy which it catches from a false light. In the second sense, it might have l)een true of many of the men whom Sir Robert had in his mind, and indeed of all those with whom, as a political manager, he proposed to have any transactions. But it would not follow that it was true of all the men of his generation, or, even if it had been true, of the men of all generations previous. Sir Andrew Marvel dared to write of the men of his time, " We are all venal cowards except some few.''' The Case of J. J Andrew story may be true or not, that Marvel himself refused Marvel. ^ thousand-pound note from the hands of the lord- treasurer, Danby, who was sent to gain him to the cause of the king, using the words, "I am here to serve my constituents: the ministry may seek other men for their purposes ; I am not one." But his example suggests and illustrates the general truth, that what are called the lessons of experience, when used as grounds of forecast and practical wisdom, require as much sagacity for their application as for their origination. In other words, it is necessary first to interpret the character, i.e., the controlling choices and fixed dispositions, of the men to whom we apply the lessons of experience, if we would save our- selves from serious errors. Our generalizations extend only so §26.] SENSIBILITIES AS MODIFIED BY THE WILL. 69 far as this : the man who gives certain indications of character may be presumed to act so and so, under such and such circum- stances. We may then assume or infer that the majority of men, as we find them, do give these indications of relative weakness or strength, of rectitude or dishonor. It follows that the majority of men under these circumstances, and with the characters supposed, will act as we predict they will. But men in different ages, and different parts of the world, differ from one another in their springs of action, and therefore in their conduct. Moreover, the same men sometimes change their characters either suddenly or gradually, but so completely that their conduct does not correspond with what we should confidently predict or expect under circumstances fitted to test either, and our expectations and prophecies are sadly disappointed. In- deed, the very experience which we gain in applying the lessons of experience to the exigencies of life is fitted to teach us that we can neither safely interpret nor rely upon the forces and laws of human nature as we interpret and rely on material forces and laws. We confide in the one as fixed and constant, and as therefore capable of ready interpretation and easy appli- cation. We know the other to be variable, and are more or less uncertain in both these processes. § 26. This special question necessarily expands into the more general inquiry. How far is the philosophy of human ^^^ ^^^ .^ conduct or the philosophy of history an exact sci- history an ex- ence? On the one hand, it is contended by the posi- tivists, and those who sympathize with them,^ that, on the 1 Cf. AuGUSTE CoMTE, La Philosophie Positive ; J. Stuart Mill, Logic, book vi. ; H. T. Buckle, History of Civilization in England ; J. W. Draper, History of the Intellectual Development of Europe ; Herbert Spencer, 7n- troduction to the Study of Sociology; Data of Ethics; Leslie Stephen, Science of Ethics; John Fiske, Kosmic Philosophy, part ii. chap, xvii.; Sociology and Free-will ; J. A. Froude, Short Studies, etc., vol. i.; Goldwin Smith, Lectures on the Study of History; James Ferrier, Lectures and Philosophical Remains, vol. li. 195, 255 ; William Adam, An Inquiry into the Theories of History, with Special Reference to the Principles of the Positive Philosophy, 2d ed., London, 1884. 70 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 26- hypothesis of freedom in willing, such a science is impossible. This argument has been re-asserted and re-enforced by the ex- treme evolutionists, who, like Herbert Spencer, seek to combine in their fundamental philosophy the theory of physiological development with a positivist or biological or associational psychology. These writers all either assume or contend that man is the product of circumstances as truly as any material agent, and that in his constitution, his environment, and his activities, he is either a mechanical product or an organic growth, to which the conceptions of freedom are as inapplicable as to the mechanical aggregations of the planets, or the physiological structure and manifestations of vegetable and animal life. Those who accept moral freedom as an essential and distinc- tive endowment of human nature, construct their philosophy of history on the assumption that man as an individual, and man in society, represent two sets of forces, — the natural and moral, the physical and the psychical. They concede and contend, that, even in the psychical sphere, man is subjected largely, but not wholly, to necessary conditions and forces, and yet is also endowed with the freedom which exalts him to the dignity of personal character, and makes him capable of the responsibilities of moral life. Whatever may be the use which man makes of this freedom, and under whatever influences, natural or supernat- ural, — whether it be man the individual, or man as a community, — there still remains a wide and ample field for the operation of natural forces under fixed laws, in the tendencies and powers which belong to his physical and psychical nature. These, so far as they can be determined and predicted, offer abundant material for the philosophy of history, and the political and sociological sciences. Inconsistent W ^^ ^^ urged Still further that freedom of will with fore- excludcs tlic possibility of foreknowledge, providen- knowledge ^ ... » ^ on the part tial direction, and spiritual influences, on the part of God. Q^ God, with respect to the volitions of men. These objections are not limited to the teachings of Christian §26.] SENSIBILITIES AS MODIFIED BY THE WILL. 71 theology. Every man who believes in a supreme Creator and Ruler, who is also wise and good, must necessarily raise such questions as these: "How can man be free, and God be supreme?" "How can man originate his choices, and God foreknow them ? " " How can man be responsible for what he chooses and for what he does, and God exert an influence upon him, or give direction and control to human affairs? " It is one thing to raise questions like these, and even to find it difficult or impossible to answer them, and quite another to conclude that the doctrines in question cannot be reconciled. We may have decisive reasons for believing that a position is true, and yet be ignorant of all its relations to other truths, or embarrassed in determining those relations. There are many truths and events of which we have abundant evidence, the relations of which to other facts and events are not yet fully mastered by human discovery and speculation. There may be some, which are not yet fully explained and adjusted, in which every man firmly believes, and upon satisfactory evidence. The difficulties and objections in the present case are met and set aside b}^ the following general considera- tions. The foreknowledge by God of the free knowledge" choices of his creatures is not necessarily limited to «niike that -1 -1 1 1 • 1 /.I ®^ man. the grounds or evidence by which man foreknows or predicts the actions of his fellows. Man, it is conceded, can foreknow with certainty those events, and those only, which are the necessary products of the forces of nature, or forces of spirit, so far as they act under fixed and necessary laws. For exam- ple : all the eclipses which will occur within the next two centu- ries can be confidently predicted, provided oul}' that the cosmical forces now existing shall continue to exist and act after the methods and under the laws which at present control them. But it would be presumptuous to conclude from this circumstance that the only possible method by which God can forecast the acts of free beings is by means of the motives which necessi 72 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 2G. tate their existence. It may be true, — at least, no man can prove the contrary, — that God, by an act of immediate foresight, can foreknow every choice of every free being. The self-exist- ent Creator who imparts and upholds the existence and spiritual capacities of created spirits, who are themselves free to choose, may directly foreknow what each would choose under every conceivable variety of motives, and may absolutely foreknow what each will choose in fact under the circumstances which he shall assign him. Foreknowledge or forecertainty, as such, contemplates the certainty of a fact or event, whatever be its nature or the conditions of its occurrence. So far as God by his purposes appoints the conditions for man's activity, or acts directly upon man's free spirit, we may be confident that he will respect the nature of the being whom he has created free in order that he might be responsible and moral. These objections are made and answered from the stand-point of theism, — the theism which teaches that God and man are personal and free, and that man in some important sense bears some likeness to God. Whatever objections against the possibility and reality of freedom in man are derived from a materialistic, a positivist, an associationalist, a pantheistic, or an evolutionistic philosophy must stand or fall with the speculative theory upon which they rest. We should never forget, however, that all these theories require us by logical consistency to deny what consciousness affirms to be true; viz., that man actually exercises the power of will, and holds himself responsible as the originator of his choices and of the acts which legitimately result from them. These general considerations establish the truth that the power of choosing is possessed by man. Man knows that he is endowed with will as truly, — and by evidence similar to that by which he knows that he is endowed with intellect and sensibility. To knoiv, to feel, and to choose are three distinguishable func- tions, all of which are consciously known by being exercised. For these separate functions three several powers are required. §27.] SENSIBILITIES AS MODIFIED BY THE WILL. 73 To choose is a clearly recognized and distinguished function, for which we require a faculty called the will. § 27. The fact should not be overlooked, and cannot be denied, that the most important consequences follow the recognition or denial of moral freedom, not only in the theory of ethics, but in the '^^^"oni in- theory of every science which has to do with man, — in both ^^^^ element his individual and social relations, as truly as in his relations into science, to God and a possible future life. Freedom, it must be con- fessed, introduces to science a new set of phenomena for its recognition, and consequently modifies and enlarges our conceptions of the axioms and ideals of science, as also of the subject-matter with which science has to do, finding a high place, and perhaps the highest, for the phenomena of sjiirit as capable of personality and responsibility in contrast with matter, which is capable of neither. It also introduces a new element into the explanation of all the phenomena which pertain to man, regarding the facts of his individual and social life as something more than , *i^ "'*^ ® philosophy ot the products of material or even of psychical substance and man. environment. It finds a place for consistent conceptions of duty and responsibility, of personal and civil rights, and for the individual and social progress of such beings as men know themselves to be. It must necessarily affect our entire theory of human i^rogress and human history. Indeed, in whatever form faith in progress may be held, — whether as the old faith in a providential plan, or the new theory of blind evolution; and to whatever subject-matter it may be applied, whether to principles or institutions, whether to thoughts or events; or whatever it may be called, whether the philosophy of history, or political or social science, whether a sociology or a theodicy, — every principle and conclusion in this faith will be affected by the affirmance or denial of moral freedom as possible and real. The positivist and the evolutionist think to decide the question of freedom by the summary assertion, that, without necessitating causes and unchanging laws, science is impossible, no matter what The positivist the subject-matter or phenomena may be, w^hether material • t n' or spiritual. To this argument the advocate of freedom re- freedom. plies by a direct appeal to human consciousness for the evi- dence that freedom is exercised in fact. He finds, also, that the elements of necessity and of freedom are present and conspicuous in all the phenom- ena which pertain to man, the individual and social, — in the facts of ethics and history, of conduct and character. He finds, also, that these two classes of elements and agents are adapted to one another, , ^, ., , ^ 4. ■ ^ f Arcument in and suppose one another; that necessary elements imply free selection, and intelligent control, and successful achievement, and inspiring motives, while freedom supjioses fixed habits, and growth in 74 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 27. the stren;?th and conqiiesfs of character, thehiiikling-up of institutions, and the develojiment of science and art and literature. He also finds, that in knowledge itself, as a function of the intelligence, there is an element aud evidence of freedom, something more Intelligence x\\2a\ the passive reception of impressions from the stirrings of implies free- \ ^ , . , . , . , , , , , j^jjy^ sense, and the mechanical revival of the same by the laws of a passive memory : in other words, that even in science itself the intelligence is a spontaneous creator and producer, rather than a passive recipient. This fact raises the presumption, that, if the mind in its intellec- tual activities and products is something more than the passive subject of its environment, much more is it free in those processes which result in purposes, habits, and chai'acter. These are pre-eminently the effects of its own activity, so far as their form (that is, so far as the moral in them) is concerned; although in their m«i?e)' they may obey the law of necessitj^ and be amenable to the most rigid and scientific scrutiny. The moral qualities of actions and events, we assert, are pre-eminently the effects cr products of the soul's activity; although the individual objects which are presented for its election may be the matter to which it is limited and encircled, and by which its choices are in a certain sense determined. It follows, that, if freedom is accepted, there still remains a wide field for „ , the philosoi)hy of history, and the investigations of political leaves a field ^^^ social science on that side of human events which obey for liistorkal necessary causes and fixed laws. But if freedom is denied and political altogether, then man is subject only to phj^siological and science. social forces as they vary in kind and degree. As these forces change, sa is it with their effects. Every thing which man intends or does is completely at the control of his environment, and his capacity to re-act under necessary law. On the other hand, moral freedom may be fully provided for, even though in its manifestations and specific acts it may be subject to those natural agencies and conditions which can be measured and computed by rigidly scientific standards. It is with these natural forces, as a partial element in human history and human progress, that the historical and political sciences liaA'e to do. These conditions of human progress are the field for probable inductions, — inductions which in their interpretations of the past, and prognostications of the future, may take a scientific form, due allowance being made for the free activiaes of individuals and communities as a variable element, so to speak, of both force and direction. It should always be remembered, that it is with these variable quanta that liistorical and political phi- losophy are concerned. But these forces are natural, and not ethical; the ethical element being always furnished by the indi^■idual will. Both in- dividual judgments and feelings, and the movements which jtroceed from common opinions, impulses, and passions, can all be traced hy science to the natural forces or tendencies which produce them, even though these, in their turn, are modified in their energies and results by the individual §27.] SENSIBILITIES AS MODIFIED BY THE WILL. 75 wills of the human beings who re-act against them. On the other hand, the moral element in these phenomena can never be weighed or measured in the estimates of political or social science: it must always be set down as what is sometimes called a " personal eqvaation." In other words, while the force or ethical element in the phenomena of man's individual and social life can never occur apart from those events which are subject to natural law, the two can Necessary be distinguished as the free, on the one hand, and the neces- ^. sary, on the other. What the man or the community thinks, tinguishable. and desires, and does, and longs for, what either is in temper- ament and disposition, may be the result of inheritance and environment under natural and necessitating law; but what each becomes, in ethical character, purposes, and desires, he is by his own free and personal will. Phenomena and effects of this nature, whether they appear in the form of single emotions, permanent desires, a prevailing disposition, or a resjpousible character, can only be the products and effects of personal freedom. It should never be forgotten, that if science positively denies the possi- bility, or ignores the fact, of these x^henomena, literature, on the other hand, is abundant and positive in their recognition. I'^terature If science denies these facts and their tremendous signifi- ^^^^ reouires cance, or finds no place for personal freedom and personal freedom, responsibility, literature finds and recognizes them every- where. In song and tale, in argument and appeal, in fiction and the drama, in the ode and the hymn, the free personality by which man rises or sinks in that moral life by which he is a blessing or a curse to himself and his race, is always assumed, and often asserted, in every form in which the inmost convictions and unshaken truths concerning man's nature can possibly find expression. Let these convictions be abandoned, and the fervor and pas-> sion, the humor and wit, the eloquence and invention, of all forms of litera- ture, would die" out; being withered and scorched into barrenness by the denial that man is a person, and as a person is free, and as free is respon- sible to himself, to his fellow-men and his God. It does not follow, however, that there is an essential conflict or antinomy between the axioms or conclusions of literature and science, but only that literature takes cognizance of a greater number ®*" momy r ,. , , ,, ,.,. between the of relations than does science; and these a class of relations ^^^^^ with which science, as such, need not directly concern itself, viz., those which grow out of freedom and personality. Moreover, if f^ee^ dom and personality are recognized forces in the actual universe of limited beings, it may surely be accepted as philosophically possible that the uni- verse itself, consisting as it does of persons and things, may be directed by an intelligent Person, without any necessary conflict or incompatibility in the agencies appropriate to each of these spheres, and according to an intelligent plan, after a law of progressive development. Such a theory of nature and of God would be in no sense inconsistent with the facts and 76 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 07. phenomena which science has established, inchuling the law of evolution. While it would furnish a basis for all that could rationally be looked for in the philosoi)hy of history, or a science of sociology, or faith in human development and progress, it would in no way be inconsistent with the existence and activity of free moral personalities, nor with a directing Providence, nor with a variety of influences of a i^ersonal and ethical char- acter, which may be supposed to be exerted without interference with any of those material agents or agencies which are controlled by physical laws. While, in such a universe and its phenomena, matter and the sciences of matter would still occupy their sphere and assert their rights, spirit and freedom and personality and duty might still be supreme. Of the existence of such a universe, there is abundant evidence. The consciousness and convictions of the majority of men attest its reality. — Cf . Ch. Renouvier, Science de la Morale, Dernier Mot sur la Liberie', chap, xcvii. §28.] THE WILL DEFINED. 77 CHAPTER IV. THE WILL DEFINED. § 28. The general conclusion which we have reached, con- cerning the will as an agent, brings us to the more exact deter- mination of its nature. We ask, ^Vllat is it? How is it defined? ]V1iat are the conditions of its activity/? and, most important of all, Mliat are the effects or consequences of its exercise? We ask, ^V^mt is the poicer called '■'■the WilV ? This question can be answered more satisfactorily b}" first defining ichat it is not. This inquiry is of more than whatthewHi usual importance in the present instance, for the ^^ "•**• reason that those who deny freedom to the will often conceive or represent it as implying more or less than is involved in the correct conception of its nature and functions. In so doing, they charge upon those who hold it conceptions and conclusions which they do not accept. (1) The will, or the will as free, is not simply or properly a power to execute or manifest the desires., or the so- called volitions, by tcords or bodily actions. In the power to^exe- language usually employed, it is not freedom or lib- <^"t« t'»^ ^o'^- tions. erty to do as one may please. This misconception and misstatement of its nature arise from the use of the terms " liberty " or " freedom " in defining the power to choose. A man is free, it is urged, when he is relieved from some real or supposed restraint, and consequently is at liberty to do as he desires. If a man wishes or desires to move his limbs or to walk abroad ; if he is impelled to speak or manifest or execute 78 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 28, his feelings or purposes, and no man and no thing resists oi hinders him ; if he is not disabled by disease, or paral3^sis, or weakness ; if he is not bound by fetters, or immured within a prison, — he is at liberty^ or free to act, i.e., to act bodily, as he pleases : this all that libert3' can or need imply, and this all that the liberty of will can signify. If, on the other hand, he is in any way hindered, constrained, or confined, he is not free, he is not at liberty. Thus Hobbes urges: "I conceive liberty to be rightly defined in this manner : liberty is the absence of all the impediments to action that are not contained in the nature and intrinsical Hobbfts. quality of the agent. As, for example, the water is said to descend freely, or to have liberty to descend, by the channel of the river, because there is no impediment in the way, but not across, because the banks are impediments. And though water cannot ascend, yet men never say it wants the liberty to ascend, but the faculty or power, because the imi^ediment is in the nature of the water, and intrinsical. So, also, we say, he that is tied wants the liberty to go, because the impediment is not in him, but in his bands ; whereas we say not so of him who is sick or lame, because the impediment is in himself." — Treatise of Liberty and Necessitij, Works, ed. Molesworth, vol. iv. pp. 275, 276. Locke says: " So that 'liberty' is not an idea belonging to volition or preferring, but to the person having the power of doing, or a m n forbearing to do, according as the mind shall choose or direct. Locke. " *' Our idea of liberty reaches as far as that power, and no far- ther ; for whenever restraint comes to check that power, or compulsion takes away that indifferency of ability on either side to act or to forbearing acting, then liberty, and our notion of it, presently cease." — Essay, book ii. chap. xxi. § 10. Antony Collins writes: " I take man to have a truly A'aluable liberty of another kind. He has a power to do as he wills or i:)leases. Statement of -phus he wills or pleases to speak or be silent, to sit or to .." ' stand, to ride or to walk, to go this way or that way, to move fast or slow; or, in fine, if his will changes like a weathercock, he is able to do as he wills or pleases, unless prevented by some compul- sion," etc. — An Inquiry concerning Human Liberty, p. 116. Dr. Jonathan Edwards defines " liberty " thus: " The plain and obvious meaning of the words * freedom ' and ' liberty,' in common Statement of speech, is the power, opportunity, or advantage that any one . ' has to do as he pleases ; or, in other words, his being free from hinderance or impediment in the way of doing or con- ducting in any respect as he wills. And tlie contrary to liberty, whatever §28.] TUE WILL DEFINED. 79 name we call that 1)7, is a person's being hindered, or unable to conduct as he will, or being necessitated to do otherwise." — ^ Careful and Strict In- quiry, etc., part i. § 5. No mn.li will question or deny that "freedom" and "liberty" are properly used in these applications. In one sense, and often in an important sense, man is free or not free ; he is at liberty or not at liberty, according as his bodily or external freedom is limited or allowed ; that is, as he has or has not power to act in the several methods supposed. It by no means follows, however, because the terms "liberty" and " freedom " are sometimes applied to the rela- Liberty as tions which the desires or preferences or choices properly ap- hold to their external manifestations or bodily ac- ? ^/^^ I? *''® -J intentions as tions, that they may not also be used for the processes to the ac- or activities by which the purposes or choices are formed. The function of choosing, however, does not primarily concern the activity by which a choice is manifested or made effective, but the activity by which this choice is originated. Whatever freedom or liberty may be affirmed of these acts of manifestation, if it is denied, or fails to be affirmed of the inner acts which are manifested or expressed, it fails to cover the ground which is in question. The definition or explanation which is offered by the necessitarian does not concern the same subject-matter as the definition or explanation of his antagonist. It should be here observed, that the words "liberty" and "freedom," in their direct import, are negative liberty and terms, in so far as they signify liberation from or freedom nes- the absence of something which is supposed or as- ^ut positive ' serted to be present. The positive and appropriate *" ***^*- appellation for the act or state in qu3stion is "volition," or an act of will, as distinguished from a judgment of the understand- ing, or an emotion of the sensibility, or an impulse of desire. When freedom is asserted of the power or act of will, both are said to he free from the law or relation of necessity ; which is true of all physical agents and their phenomena, but is by no means 80 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 28. excluded from some classes of psychical activities. To hold that the ivill is free, is to assert that man chooses, and, in choosing, is freed or liberated from any and all of those limitations and con- straints ivhich pertain to physiccd agencies. (2) The power to choose is not a power to choose without a motive. It has sometimes been represented l)y er to 'choose^' ^^^ antagonists, and even defined and defended by its ivithouta friends, as involving an indifference to all motives; and hence its liberty is sometimes called "the lib- erty of indifference." This liberty has often been conceived as a complete independence of motives, or a lofty elevation above emotions and impulses of any kind. This is an unauthorized and erroneous conception of the power and its exercise. Like every other agent in the realm of matter or spirit, the power of will can be exerted only under its appropriate conditions. As man cannot know except knowable objects are presented to his intellect, and as he cannot feel unless objects move upon and solicit his sensibility, so he cannot choose unless certain objects are addressed to his will through both the intellect and sensi- bility. Whatever is known by the first, and moves the second, inclines the will toward a volition, and becomes the condition of a possible choice. But the motives follow one law with the intellect and sensibilities, and another law with the will. That their action upon the sensibility is necessary action has been explained (§ 18). In this the man is passive, while in the choices of his will he is wholly and emphatically active. He is the actor, and he alone, only within the limits imposed by the conditions or possible sphere of action made by the mo\'iiig forces by wliich he is environed. Similarly, though not so strikingly, in sense-perception the sense-object, or stimulant, acts on the sense-element in the soul, while the soul acts alone in the perceptive process. In both cases the spontaneity^ of the soul is manifested, but most conspicuously in moral freedom. The word "motive" is exposed to another ambiguity ; as it is used, on the one hand, for whatever moves or is fitted to move §28.] THE WILL DEFINED. 81 the seDsibility, and, on the other, as any object which is actu- ally chosen, and is conceived of as having shown itself to be the strongest motive by having been actually chosen, i.e., by having, as it is said, constrained the man to the choice. With similar ambiguity the will, the choice, and the volition are said to be as the greatest apparent good. The greatest apparent good may signify the good which apparent is actually preferred by an individual man, and as therefore having become, by his act of choice, his chosen good, or as addressing the sensibilities only before choice, and compelling to a choice by first appearing as the best good to his individual comparison or judgment. In the last sense, the will, i.e., the act of volition, is said by some of the advocates of necessity '''to follow the last judgment of the understanding/' John Stuart Mill (Sf/stem of Lor/ic, book vl. chap, ii.) contends that there is an important difference between the fatalist and ^ c- mfn j. J. S. Mill dis- necessitarian: "the first holding that the character is fixed tingnishes so that it cannot be changed under any supposed change of the fatalist circumstances, even though the man strongly desire it; the ^^^ necessi- necessitarian, that the character can be changed if we will ^^•^"* that it should be. . . . Man has to a certain extent a power to alter his character. . . . His character is formed by his circumstances ; but his own desire to mould it in a particular way is one of those circumstances, and by no means one of the least important. We cannot, indeed, directly will to be different from what we are. . . . Neither can others for us ; so that it remains true, that, if ice vnll, we can change our character." This is pre- cisely the well-known theological distinction between natural and moral ability (cf. Edwards's Liquiry, etc., part iii. § 5; also part iv. § 125), and needs only a brief comment in the form of a question: Does this '^ifioe loiir' depend on circumstances, external or internal, or may it originate in the something in the man which is more than circumstances, and what these have made in him and of him? (3) Nor, again, is it essential that there shc^ald be no motive to the contrary of the object actually preferred. The very opposite is true. The act of volition is an act exclude mo- of election, and, as such, supposes two or more ob- tivestothe contrary. jects between which the election is made. It is an act of preference ; and to prefer implies that one motive is 82 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 28. chosen to the exclusion of another, two or more behig in both cases supposed and requh'ed. To choose is, in fact, also to reject, both in conception and in act. To the conception and the act two motives at least are required, and one must exclude the other. When we say two motives are supposed and re- quired, we do not thereby affirm that more than one should be consciously confronted, but impliedly that one of two possible impulses should address the choosing energy, for which and in which the possibility of the opposite is implied. The only motives conceivable, which can excite or address the will, are objects in their moral qualities or relations; and these, from the very nature of man as moral, are necessarily presented in pairs and in mutual competition. Moral goodness or evil being the only results of every choice, the objects between which such choices are possible or actual, involve a choice which is morally right or wrong (cf. § 35). (4)Notapow- (4) The will is not a power to cJioose to choose, nor er to choose ^ poiver to cJioose to act. The assailants of moral to choose, nor ^ to choose to freedom urge this as an objection, and press the objection with no little plausibility and ingenuity. Thus reasons Dr. Jonathan Edwards: "Therefore, if the soul deter- ^^ ^ , mines all its own free acts, the soul determines them in the Edwards's argument exercise of a power of willing and choosing; or, which is the against the same thing, it determines those of choice, it determines its infinite own acts by choosing its own acts. And the will determines series. ^^^ ^jjj^ ^^^ choice orders and determines the choice; and acts of choice are subject to the decision, and follow the conduct, of other acts of choice. And therefore, if the will determines all its own free acts, then every free act of choice is determined by a preceding act of choice, choosing that act " {Inquiry, etc., part ii. § 1). The absurdity of this theory, as he viewed it, he sets forth by the following well-known A'igorous illus- tration: "If some learned philosopher who had been abroad . . . should say he had been in Terra del Fuego, and there had seen an animal, which he calls by a certain name, that begat and brought forth itself, and yet had a sire and dam distinct from itself; that it had an appetite and was hungry before it had a being; that his master, who led him and governed him at his i>leasure, was always governed by him and driven by him where he pleased; that when he moved he always took a step before §29.] TUE WILL DEFINED. 83 the first step; that he went with his head first, and yet always went tail foremost, and this though he had neither head nor tail, — it would be no impudence at all to tell such a traveller, though a learned man, that he himself had no idea of such an animal as he gave an account of, and never had, and never would have " (part iv. § 2). This absurdity, or self-contradiction, is called the absurdity of the injinite series. The plausibility of this objection is founded solely on a rigidly verbal construction of the popular lano;uao;e in which acts of will are often described, as follows : When a man asserts an act of choice to be his own, or to be free, he very naturally says, " I chose to act as I did ; " or, "I chose my own action; " or, "I chose the act because I chose it." This language, strictly construed, would declare that he chose the act in question, and not the object of the act. But this is clearly impossible, as it would require that each act of choice should be the object of some previous act of choice ; and so on, ad infinitum. It is, moreover, obvious, that no man can choose an act, but only an object. It is equally clear that the choice of an object must be itself an act, the object having relations to every act which it solicits or repels, and therefore properly and naturally defining and characterizing such an act, but never yielding to it its own place as an object. It is equally clear that no man ever intended more than this by this inexact and incautious language, which has been so skilfully used in the reductio ad absurduni of so man}^ replies on the side of necessity. This argument itself is easily set aside by a correct statement of the import of the language against which the argument is urged. § 29. Leaving these general considerations for and against the fact of will and moral freedom in choice, we proceed ^ Positive to define, in a positive form, the power, in its con- views of the ditions, its exercise, and its results. We consider, — ^*"' (1) Its conditions. The power of choosing, like every other power of the soul, is exercised only under certain con- (^ j^ j^g ditions. These conditions are sometimes called the conditions. objects, and sometimes the motives. An object as such, which 84 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 29. is wholly unrelated to the soul, cannot possibly be a motive. Whatever may exist, or whatever may be true or knowable of it, it cannot be chosen except as it is known, and only so far as it is known. An object of sense, or memory, or testimony, or faith, or imagination, must be perceived, imagined, or believed in, by the man who can or will choose it ; the object must also address some emotion, and solicit or move some desire, either actually or constructively : in other words, to be- come a condition of choice, an object must be known as, or believed to be, desirable. The judgment of the mind may be true or false, the view taken may be exaggerated or defective ; but whatever the object is taken to be, or whatever it is in "the mind's view," and with its responsive sensibility, it is as a con- dition of volition. For an act of volition, there must be two such objects actually present or implied. The act of choosing, being an act of preference, supposes that two objects are present, or within reach and possible notice ; though one is often, in the haste and impetuosity of volition, utterly overlooked and dis- regarded. It is not intended that the act of knowledge supposed must precede the act of feeling, and both precede the act of volition. The conscious distinction and lapse of time are not essential : all that is insisted on, is the natural precedence of these two elements in the order of thought, the conditions being given. (2) The act of choosing is an act sui generis. Under the f'>) The ac- Conditions supposed, the soul performs a special and tiTityswi peculiar function as truly as, under appropriate cir- cumstances, it exercises the functions of knowing, feeling, and desiring. Each is related to the others, and each, in a certain sense is dependent on the others ; but each function is peculiar to itself, and is exerted by a prerogative and after a method of its own. To the reality and distinctiveness of volition, consciousness testifies as distinctly as to the reality of any other activity, and §29.] THE WILL DEFINED. 85 its testimony is legitimate and decisive. There is, however, this difference between acts of knowledo;e or sensibility . ^ -^ Attested by on the one side, and an act of will on the other, — consciousness that the first are very often repeated or prolonged amotion with respect to a single object, or group of objects, in order to a complete and satisfactory result, while an act of will needs to be complete once for all, that it may be carried into effect or manifestation. Thus, in order to the distinct and satisfying sense-perception of any object, many distinct acts often need to be performed, each running into and supplement- ing one another. The same is true of other acts of knowledge, as in memory or reasoning ; each being required to strengthen and complete the other. Acts of emotion and desire also hold the soul in prolonged and repeated activity. If the feelings are pleasant, the soul cherishes and retains them : if they are painful, it is unable and sometimes unwilling to be rid of them, and the wishes, fears, and apprehensions which they occasion. It is not so ordinarily with an act of will. The previous con- ditions may be repeated and prolonged before a choice is reached ; but so soon as a decision is reached, and the choice is made, the soul passes directly to all the acts which are in- volved in its realization. The expression or the execution of the choice calls for other activities and other emotions. Men hug and fondle and cherish their joys and sorrows, their hopes and fears ; but they are bent upon acting out and fulfilling their purposes and impulses. This explains wh}^ acts of knowledge and feeling are so much more familiar to the consciousness than acts of choice, also why deliberation respecting the means is often mistaken for the act of choosing ends. An act of choice needs but an instant for its perfection ; it is no sooner achieved, than it is displaced by reason of the other activities which it sets in motion : consequently the activity of volition is less prominent in consciousness than the activities of knowledge which the mind has constant occasion to notice, and tlie contrasted experiences of emotion which solicit and compel attention. 86 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 29. Still another reason may be given why this activity seems less familiar. Not only are the acts more transient the* a("ivity — precluding rather than inviting repetition — than is least c^^.^^ Qf knowing and feeling, but they are less familiar. . . frequently performed, at least with special energy and conscious effort. Man chooses but rarely in the eminent and ethical sense of the word. His busy activity is usually ex- pended in thinking how he may execute his chosen purposes, or in the emotions and desires which impel to the execution or manifestation of choices already made. It is only in the more significant experiences of his life that he is distinctly conscious of acts of deliberate choice. Against the authority of consciousness, it is sometimes ob- Objection jcctcd, that consciousness can take notice of acts that oon- qj. gtatcs ouly, but cannot testify of a poicer in sciousncss testifies only action. From this it is inferred, that, inasmuch as of acts. jjj^j^ ^^ ^]^g same mstant can choose only one of two objects, it is impossible that he should be conscious that he could have chosen or can now choose an object that he did not or does not choose. To this it is sufficient to reply, that any conception of consciousness is narrow which limits it to an observation of facts or phenomena, and denies to it the belief of a power or capacity to originate or produce phenomena or effects. Knowledge of every kind is more than the apprehen- sion of phenomena. In all its forms, it includes the appre- hension of relations as truly as of objects or acts ; and among relations that of power or causation is prominent. The con- sciousness of spiritual phenomena would seem emphatically to imply activity and power on the part of the spiritual agent. The relations, one or many, which enter into or attend the experience or observation of psychical acts or states are deter- mined by what we find to be true of ourselves. In the exercise of any power, e.g., of choosing, we affirm that man knows that he chooses the object whicli he in fact selects. In know- ing that he chooses, he knows that he can choose ; that is, in the §29.] THE WILL DEFINED. 87 exercise of an act, he discerns a manifestation of a power. But the power to choose is a power to deliberate in order to prefer. It is a power to take in order to reject. Man cannot, in the nature of the act and its object, be conscious of the power to deliberate and prefer, without being also conscious of the power to reject. In man's conscious experiences of ps3x*hical phenomena, the distinction between power, action, and effect, is verbal rather than real. Man knows his own acts as powers in exercise. He is conscious of an action as a power passing into an effect. lie also finds himself impelled to every kind of activity of which he is capable. The belief that he has the capacity is a necessary condition to his being impelled to its use, and vice versa. When he knows, he knows that he knows, and knows what it is to know. When he chooses, he knows that he chooses, and also knows what it is to choose. If the act of choosing is an act of preference and rejection, he must know that he has, or rather is, a power competent to this alternative. On the other hand, it is contended by many that our apprehension of the relation of causation and force is originally gained from our ronoeDtion conscious exercise of psychical activity; that the observa- of power de- tions of sense and material phenomena gives us only the rela- rived from tion of time in their before and after; and that it is only sP'yitnal through analogy or natural induction that we transfer the relation of power to material events, and, as it were, project it into the pliysical universe from the psychical Whatever may be true of this theory, the assertion of Locke remains true, that we gain the clearest idea of power from spirit. His words are these (Essay, book ii. chap. xxi. §4): "But yet, if we will consider it attentively, bodies by our senses do not afford us so clear and distinct an idea of active power as we have from reflection or our own minds." (§ 5): " This I think evident, that we find in ourselves a power to begin or forbear, continue or end, several actions of our minds, and motions of our bodies, based by a thought or preference of the mind ordering, or, as it were, commanding, the design, commanding the doing or not doing such or such a particular action" (cf. Maine de Bikan, Essai de V Apperception ImmMi- ate, CEuvres, tom. 3). If this be so, the inference is more than justified, that, in consciousness, we are as truly aware of a power as we can be of a fact or phenomenon. It follows, that if man is endowed with the power to choose, 88 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 30. and if the power to choose must, in its nature, he also a power to choose otherwise than he does, then nian can be conscious of the power to reject as truly as of the power to take, that is, to do that which he fails to do in fact. § 30. The question, "Why does the man choose as he does?" th ^^ often persistently urged, as though a competent, man choose or what is Called a scientific, explanation of the event would require that it should be answered in terms of physical causation and necessary law. The demand implied in the question may be rejected as impertinent, if it implies that there is no way of explaining why the man chooses as he does, except by conceding that he does not choose at all, or, which is the same thing, that the motive under the law of necessity does not «)ipel, but co??? pels, to the result actually reached. In common life the question is pertinent, having an intelli- gent import, and admitting a satisfactory reply, both of which are also entirely consistent with man's freedom of choice. The reply refers us to a choice already made, — a choice which is comprehensive and generic, such as animates and gives direction to the disposition and character (cf. § 32). For example, if a man has chosen to be a scholar by a comprehensive and perma- nent act, we answer the question, why he chooses to spend a day in study rather than in idleness or relaxation, by referring to the permanent choice which he has previously made. We answer the question why by referring a specific to a generic choice, or we explain his present or momentary choice of means by his previous or underlying choice of an end. But to explain one choice by another choice, with which, so long as it endures, it must have an actual and logical connection, is by no means and in no sense to deny the power of the soul to choose other- wise than it had done or now does, whether in the general or the special sense of choice. But this question ivhy is finally and fully answered by a reference to the power of will as its sufficient and ultimate ex- planation. As we explain an act or effect of knowledge* by §31.] THE WILL DEFINED. 89 referring back to the soul's power to know, in like manner we account for an act or state of will by reference to the soul's power to choose. So far as the objects or conditions of the exercise of any power enter into an act, or are concerned with it, we Question do indeed say that a man perceives a tree rather than ambiguous, a horse, because the one is within his reach or notice, and the other is not. If it were urged, that, because we are required to explain why a man iierceives A rather than B^ we ought also to explain why he chooses A rather than .B, we reply that the analogy does not hold, for the reason that an act of choice, unlike an act of knowledge, is an act of choosing between A and B. The proper way to apply the analogy in the case is to ask why a choice is made between A and B rather than between C and D. To this question the appropriate answer would be, that A and B were present to his thoughts while C and D were absent. It being supposed, however, that A and B are present, and not C and i), the only explanation why A or C is chosen rather than B or Z), is found in the power of the mind to choose. The effect, i.e., the choice, is accounted for or explained by a reference to a cause adequate to its production. Should it be said that this reference of an effect to its cause is not a complete explanation of the event, but that tJie law of the acting of the cause must also be formulated and given, we reply, that if, in the demand for such a law, it is implied or assumed that all the agencies or forces in the universe, spiritual and material, must act under the law of necessity, this assertion begs the question in discussion, and decides a priori that no laws or relations can be recognized, except such as control or direct physical force. § 31. The careful reader will not fail to notice that the terms " will " and "volition" (respectively, agent and action, cause and effect) are used by us in meanings which differ more or less con- Various .-,,,, , , . , ' . . -, senses of will, sideranly from those which are current m not a few modern volition etc discussions respecting the possibility and conceivableness of a responsible will and its relation to the doctrines of moral responsibility 90 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§31, and the conservation of force. In the most of these discussions, even those which are most conservative of ethical terminology (cf. W. B. Carpenter, Mtmtal Physiology, New York, 1876), and more manifestly in the treatises of such writers as H. Maudsley, A. Bain, G. H. Lewes, Herbert Spencer, and Leslie Stephen, the will is treated as the proximate originator of what are termed actions ; and an action is conceived of as either a corporeal move- ment of some sort, including, or as some muscular or psycho-physical ante- cedent to, a conspicuous result. Or, if by some writers the ps^'chical or mental element is adverted to, it is regarded as but a transient phase of the changing energy, probably the one nearly proximate to some effect adjudicated by the conscience or the courts. In short, every thing impul- sive to action, whether spiritual or material, is regarded as equally volun- tary, and referred to the will ; the will being regarded as an intelligent force competent for bodily action. Dr. Carpenter has the naivete to define '* * will,' or ' volition,' as a deter- minate effort to carry out a purpose previously conceived " (book 1. chap, ix.). By very many writers, and in common speech, the term " will-power " is used as a syuonj^me for an energetic or tenacious impulse to corporeal or spiritual action of any kind. It is not surprising, that, with this broad and varied signification of the import of the agent, its function should be made to include the muscular and the nervous as truly as the spiritual and the psychical; and also, that, while there is a general recognition of the will- power as the condition of responsibility, this should be loosely affirmed of both the psj'^chical and psycho-physiological, and even of the muscular ex- periences. Meanwhile, its special character and limitations are overlooked. Those w^ho find the will everywhere in men and animals, and in all the ac- tivities of both, in effect find it nowhere as a moral and responsible agent. As a consequence, its special character as a spiritual force fails to be set forth in appropriate relief. Much has been said, in the dis- The force cussions referred to, of the supposed incompatibility of the material' doctrine of a responsible will with the doctrine of the con- servation or persistence of force; as though the term "force " could possibly have the same sense when applied to the moral will and any mere impulse, whether mechanical or psychical. A moment's reflec- tion would seem to be sufficient to show that no difficulty can possibly arise, except to those Avho assume that all psychical phenomena are sub- ject to the laws which hold good of material or nervous agencies, in respect to what is called the quantum of energy, as shown in kinetic phenomena. As against this view, the position has been taken by some writers, and urged, tliat the force of will is directive, and not selective. It may be questioned whether a force could be simply directive of kinetic which was not in some sense kinetic; i.e., whether a directive force must not be also kinetic between two directions of equivalent physical agents. If selective, and in no sense kinetic, it must be hj^per-phjT^sical, and therefore removed beyond the application of the law of correlation. It would also §31.] THE WILL DEFINED. 91 follow, that even in the lowest forms of animal existence, wherever there is regulated motion, there is something like mind; that is, something that correlation or persistence cannot account for. Mind-force of a very high type, however, does not of itself imply moral freedom, or will. Feeling and instinct, hope and fear, delib- eration and resolve, energy and passion, do not imi)ly or in- Spiritual volve freedom, for the reason, that men might be completely ^^^'^^ ^^\ furnished for various and splendid activities without the f^.^^^ power of choice between impulses, and the objects which are related to mere impulses. Each one of these experiences might be con- ceived as occurring, in some sort, without moral freedom. The moment this is introduced or superadded, it gives to all of these capacities a new charac- ter, and in a sense makes man responsible for them all, even for those events which occur under the laws of nature, so far as the element of freedom can be traced in controlling and directing them. Strictly speak- ing, man is responsible only for his volitions, and, even in these, for that element only which is spiritual and voluntary ; yet practically he is respon- sible for every mental, emotional, and corporeal effect which might have been foreseen as dependent on the psychical states into which he brings himself by his will. 92 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 32. CHAPTER V. EFFECT OF VOLITION, — CHOICE, DISPOSITION, AND CHARACTER. The reality and possibility of the act of choosing being established by consciousness, and with it the existence of the faculty of will, we proceed next, — § 32. To the effect or result of the act of volition. It will be remembered, as has already been observed, that effect of an psychical activities pass instantaneously into prod- act of voii- ucts or effects. The lapse of time is usually unnoticed. tion. As the agent is psychical, so is the action and its effects : the doing is at once a deed ; the activity, whether of think- ing {The Humcm Intellect, § 52), or feeling, or choosing, is, or becomes at once, a thought, an emotion, or a choice. This is pre-eminently true of acts of the will. The fact has already been noticed, and the reasons have been given, why any single exercise of this power is brief in duration, and attracts com- paratively little attention (§ 29). But if consciousness takes little notice of the acts of choosing, as acts or operations, its knowledge of their effects is distinct and vivid. AVhatever question there may be as to the reality and nature of the activi- ties of will, there can be no question as to the importance and energy of their effects. It happens every day, that, according as the choice of one or another man is thus or thus, the destinies of multitudes are determined for good or for evil. The stroke of a pen, the decision of a ruler, the vote of a majority of his counsellors, or of a Parliament or a Legislature, may be followed by a train of consequences freighted with good or evil §32] EFFECT OF VOLITION. 93 to multitudes. The choice of an instant may also bring to the man who makes it, consequences to himself and within himself, which are as conspicuous and important. Our first attention is claimed for those effects which remain within the man's own being, and which modify and . The effects energize the springs of his subsequent activities. ,yithin the We observe, then, that the act of choosing brings the ***>"'• ^ ^^^^^ of choice. man into, and leaves him in, a state of choice. This involves a new condition of thought and feeling, and, it maj^ be, of impulse to external or bodily activity. By it the man passes into a new attitude of intellectual judgment, which often modifies his individual opinions in respect to any subject which is nearly or remotely related to the estimates or purposes which his will has accepted. Whatever facts or truths are favorable will be welcomed, retained, and cherished : whatever are unfa- vorable may be repelled, and put out of sight. If the choice is permanent, and involves many special activities of thinking, it becomes a permanent underlying force, which forms the intel- lectual habits, moulds the associative power, rules the memory, elevates the imagination, and inspires the higher functions of thought and reasoning. A single controlling purpose apparently effected in an hour has wakened into life a sluggard intellect, and seemed to inspire it with the force and energy of genius. The history of many a listless and idling j^outh has told us of some turning-point in his career, when a new purpose, brief but energetic, has transformed his intellectual life. The emotions undergo changes still more obvious, and often no less striking, both singly and in classes. By the Effects upon very nature and as the effect of choice, certain natu- the emotions, ral sensibilities and desires are allowed and stimulated, and others are disallowed and repressed. The first are kindled at once to a flame, so soon as they feel the impelling impulse and favoring atmospliere which the preferring act of will sets free. The favored sensibilities are henceforth given up to the natural and necessary influences of the objects which are fitted to excite 94 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 33. them, and they flash into the intense and peculiar energy of permitted and sanctioned desires. The sensibilities which are set aside are held in neglect or restraint whenever they solicit a response from the sentient nature, or come into competition with their rivals. The act of choice does not destroy or directly w^eaken the soul's natural capacities to feel in the several methods which its environment is fitted to stimulate or gratify ; but these are persistently held in restraint and comparative inactivity. By natural consequence their relative energy grows weaker by lack of use and in contrast with those rivals which have air and exercise, or room and play. We consider next those special actions of body or soul which simply execute the purposes. Upon these the new condition of the will acts like an elastic coil, impelling them to their work with a certain and constant energy. We have already seen (§ 23), that, without the faculty or the activity of the will, man could act with mind and heart and body, by labor, gestures, speech, and signs, simply because thought awakens emotion, and emotion kindles desire, and desire impels to action. But when the will interacts with these impulses, every choice which is reached, whether brief or enduring, whether hasty or deliber- ate, so long as it lasts, must necessarily regulate the actions by repressing and allowing the desires which are their impel- ling springs. "Appetite," says Hooker, "is the will's solici- tor; but will is the appetite's controller." The will does not directly impel to action, but it regulates the actions by deciding which impulses shall prevail. § 33. The effects of choice may be more satisfactorily illus- trated by two classes of examples. (1) Let the choice be brief in continuance, demanding imme- diate attention, and involving comparatively few . (i; Choices special acts for its fulfilment. Let it concern an that are object near or present, as the possession of a fruit speedily exe- which hangs on a tree, or the removal to a place not far distant. As soon as such an ol)ject is chosen, the mind is §33. J EFFECT OF VOLITION. 95 in a state of choice, of brief emotion indeed, but still requiring time. This state of will manifests itself by the immediate and exclusive occupation of the mind with the object chosen and the acts which are necessary to achieve it. The feelings which respond to its attractions are at once kindled into activity, and the man is impelled directly to all the activities of thought and bodily movement which are required for accomplishing his pur- pose. Unless this purpose is abandoned by a subsequent choice, or the realization of it is deferred, the man remains in this vol- untary state or condition until the end is attained. (2) Let the object be of a different character, as the posses- sion of wealth, or power, or learning, or ease. Such (2) Choices an object is general in character, remote in time, that are and requires many series of activities for its achieve- ^o"»^^/" ^ *^ execution. ment. It will not be denied that the purpose to be rich, powerful, or learned, may be formed in an hour, and with such energy as not to need to be formally renewed, and never to be relaxed and renounced. In such a case we have a sub- jective effect produced by a single act of volition which controls a series of thoughts, feelings, and external acts which continue for years, or perhaps for a lifetime, till " the ruling purpose is strong in death." John Foster {Essay on Decision of Character) gives an example of a young man who had wasted a large inheritance by a course of reck- less profligacy. He found himself soon after on a height " ^ ^^* which overlooked the large estates in laud which had once been his own. As the result of his reflections, he resolved that he would recover tliem again. Turning away, he embraced the first opportunity to earn a shilling by assisting to deliver a load of coal, and, persevering in his determined adherence to his new purpose, died a miser. Examples similar to this, though not so striking, are constantly occurring. They aie not infrequent in the history of educated men. Dr. Paley, when at the university, for a considerable time led an indulgent and jovial life, giving brilliant proofs now and then of extraordinary genius. One day a companion, finding him lounging in bed, surjirised him by a remonstrance to this effect, " If I had your gifts, I would not abuse them as you do." The suggestion was the occasion of a new purpose, which to him was the beginning of a new life. 96 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ U. It is conceivable that the object permanently chosen may be chosen simply for its subjective worth, as learning ideal excel- for its own Sake, or artistic skill, or freedom from labor and care. It is conceivable that the object of choice should be the realization of some possible subjective perfection in intellect or sensibility, in other words, that ideal excellence should be the supreme or controlling end of one's desire and activity. This ideal excellence may involve moral relations : indeed, it always must with man. In respect to each and all of these objects, whether they are near or remote, and whether their realization involves more or fewer thoughts, emo- tions, and actions, the man passes by his act into a state of choice as its effect. If the object is ideal, and implies some standard for realiza- Ch i th t ^^^^' especially if it consciously involves relations of affect the duty, this State of choice becomes the most impor- tant element of character. Character, x^P^'^'^VP^ literally a mark, a distinctive sign, then a distinctive nature or peculiarity, has come in modern times to designate the control- ling or prominent peculiarity of a man, pre-eminently that by which a man's individuality is distinguished, and usually in- volving more or less distinctly moral relationships. So far as this controlling purpose is voluntary in its origin and continu- ance, so far do we accord praise or blame to ourselves and others for what we are in character as moral. Indeed, it is only in the voluntary element of character that we recognize moral worth or worthiness, or the opposite. § 34. When the eff'ect of an act of choice continues, and becomes relatively fixed, we call it " a state," because it need not be changed or renewed, and because, as permanent, it is contrasted with the many special acts to which it impels. (1) The act originating tliis voluntary and responsible ele- ment in character may be conceived as never repeated. In such a case the entire energy of the man, so far as this purpose is concerned, would be expended in executing its behests. §34.] EFFECT OF VOLITION. 97 The processes of thought and feeling and external action would all be moulded by the coutrollino^ force of this uni- ,^, ^ ^ '^ ^ (1) Such form and unchanging spring of action. They not choices may only will, but they must^ be conformed to its press- n^^p^ be ure. With a given voluntary purpose, the man repeated, must think and feel and act as the joint action of the two forces of his being permit and require, i.e., the necessary and the free (cf. § 27). In our theory, indeed, we distinguish these forces as twofold. The laws of man's intellectual and emotional nature are neces- sary. The laws of external activity under the impulses of thought and desire are equally fixed. The voluntary activity only is free. Within this variety of relations there is room enough for us to ask and to answer the question which has already been adverted to, — Why does a man think, feel, and act as he does? — and to ask and answer it in more than one sense. Even if we limit our attention to the involuntary in man, we find abundant and satisfactory answers to our question in his natural constitution and circumstances, in his physical or psychical nature, and in the agencies to which he has been subjected, and by which his habits have been formed. We ma}^ also find an answer, in part, in his voluntary states, which, though free in their production, may be assumed as fixed and constant forces, which, as long as they continue, operate with the regularity and necessity of physical agencies. (2) The activity which originates the voluntary and responsible in character may be repeated again and again, and (2) The act as the result, the character itself may be reversed, «•»>' ^^ re- , , , . _ peated more weakened, or made more energetic. Let us sup- or less pose the controlling motive to be the love of power, frequently. Let a ruler be called on to sign the death-warrant of one whom he fears or hates as an actual or possible rival, as Elizabeth, in the case of Mary of Scotland, or Napoleon, in that of the Due d'Enghien. The decision of tliis special question may involve the increased or weakened energy of that voluntary 98 ELEMENTS OF MOIiAL SCIENCE. [§ 34. love of power which had been cherished by the ruler for years. As he decides this individual question, which tests his ruling passion perhaps as never before, so will he retain or abandon, so will he weaken or strengthen, the purpose which has pre- viously controlled his life. In cases less striking than these, a man, by single purposes and acts, may renew or modify the master purpose which underlies and constitutes his character. It is only when a man thinks and feels and acts in mechanical and thoughtless obedience to purposes already formed, that the responsibility seems to be thrown back upon previous activities of deliberation and choice. But even in such cases there is a voluntary consent, of which he is fully conscious, to act in heedless or passionate obedience to habit and impulse. For this reason, it is true that every man is perpetually renewing his voluntary activity. In the fully developed man, there is not only the more or less distinctly conscious apprehension of that in- dividual identity which is at the basis of all spiritual activity, and is the condition of personal life, but a more or less posi- tive conscious consent to that identity of the voluntary purpose which constitutes his moral life. Though a permanent purpose may possibly be renounced and reversed, the tendencies towards its perpetuation are A state of ^ ^ choice tends many and strong. "Every choice," says Goethe, to perpetuity, u jg f^j. eternity." First to choose for the present, and indefinitely, is in effect to choose for all the future. If the choice is for a limited period, and the man fancies he will reverse or abandon his choice when this limit shall be reached, he does this under the illusion that the motives which he now accepts may assume another aspect when he confronts them anew. But he has no ground for believing this. The motives to which he yields at present, with the implied purpose to set them aside in the future, are none the less, but the more, likely to re-appear, with a similar flattering proposal for another future, and thus, by their own momentum, to go on forever. §34.] EFFECT OF VOLITION. 99 The sentiment of Goethe is not the rhapsody of poetry, but the sobriety of fact. Every moral volition is a choice of some individual and concrete object with definite moral relations. No man chooses a generic object as such, but a single object as representing a class in its likeness to all. In choosing an individual object, he must choose all the objects which re- semble it. He also chooses for all time, even when he fondly persuades himself that he chooses only for the present. But, even if he does, he can- not make over the future ; for by his present choice he puts it one step in advance of the present. And thus it may forever remain, like the shadow, which flees before us, but which we never can overtake. Second, simple continuance in a state of choice gives addi- tional energy to the motives which originally prevailed. So long as any voluntary state continues, it presses into its service all the intellectual and emotional activities of the man. It will hold before the intellect the motives which it first accepted, to the exclusion of those which it set aside. The facts and reasons which might counteract or overbear their influence are likely to be excluded, or, if apprehended, not to be attended to. It follows, that, simply by force of occupancy or possession, the motives once admitted to control are, other things being equal, likely to remain. The man who has made a choice is also biassed by his desire to defend it. He is tempted to make the most of the reasons for, and to depreciate those against it. His feelings also are certain to be warmly enlisted in behalf of the one, and against the other. In the progress of the soul's activities of thought and feeling, it necessaril}' entangles itself with a more and more complicated network of favorable or un- favorable associations gathered from the words and looks and actions and events which have been colored by the commanding purpose which has long held possession of the inner life. Habits of thinking and feeling mature their fatal or hopeful facilities in the service of the dominant purpose. Practically considered, nothing is so strong, and certain to continue, as a controlling choice which has taken a deep and extended hold of the inner life, and has woven around the chosen objects of its devotion a network of fond and fixed associations. In theor}^, to part 100 ELEMENTS OF 3I0JRAL SCIENCE. [§ 35. with it is the easiest and simplest thing conceivable : in fact, it is the hardest thing to be achieved. § 35. The underlying and permanent purposes are the proper Pormanent ^"^^ conspicuous objects of moral approval and dis- purposes ob- approval. Not that the special acts and emotions approval and which obey them are indifferent, for they never can disapproval. \^^^ Morally, however, they are of consequence only so far as they renew and manifest the prevailing purpose within. So long as a man retains the purpose in question, he must act and think and feel as it requires. To change his thoughts and feelings, he must change or modify — i.e., weaken or strengthen — his controlling voluntary impulses. Conversely, inasmuch as by special acts he re-affirms the inner purpose, by the same rule he may change that purpose through some special and single activity. The ambitious or avaricious purpose may not only be weakened or yield when strained and tested by some single act of cruelty or selfishness which it exacts and involves, but it may be abandoned altogether in what seems to be a subor- dinate volition. Thus far have we traced single acts and emotions to a more comprehensive and enduring voluntary state, which Why does the ^ o J ' man choose wc Call character, as to the purpose to be rich, Theluestion po^crful, or learned. We seek an explanation for admits of dif. each of these acts or emotions by asking, " Wiy did the man think, feel, or act as he did ? " And we find our answer in this characteristic purpose which lies beneath or behind. We are led to another step: we ask again, "Why did he make the permanent choice which marks and constitutes his character? i.e., why did he choose to be rich, or great, or learned ? " We at last reach those two comprehensive and alter- nate springs of action, or states of the will, which are contrasted as morally good or evil, into which all the responsible choices are divided. These purposes are within the reach of every man. They are necessarily formed by every man. They extend to all the other conscious movements. They concern every activity §35.] EFFECT OF VOLITION. 101 to which moral praise or blame can be ascribed. Though they are generic and comprehensive, and seem at first to belong only to the character as something deep and remote, the}^ for that very reason, reach to the minutest activity of the inner and the outer man, imparting to it moral worth, or the opposite. The other activities of the mind and heart, considered apart from this supreme purpose, obey the law of necessary causation. That is, let the moral purposes of a man be so and so ; let him be endowed with a given constitution in body, intellect, and sensibility ; let him be surrounded by given circumstances of physical and social culture, and be confronted by certain occa- sions or objects of desire, — he will necessarily choose in a given wa}^ The supreme moral purpose, sometimes miscalled the motive, and sometimes the intention, is that alone for which man is eminently responsible. In every other activity apart from this highest relation, he is under the law of necessity. In this relation, and what it affects, and in this alone, is he free. But this relation is intertwined with every other, and modifies every other. It follows that the so-called liberty of will pertains to moral relations and to these alone. In every other applica- tion, the so-called will — i.e. , the power to deliberate, ^jn pertains to desire, and to act — is under the law of cause and *o moral re- lations only. effect. But inasmuch as it is impossible, that, in every one of these acts, moral relations should not be involved, we say of the will simply that it is morally free in all its activities and their results. It is most important to remember, however, that the only proper liberty of will is its moral liberty, and that moral liberty is defined as the liberty to choose when moral relations or moral qualities are concerned in our volitions. Of the char- acter in every other relation, we may say it is under physical as contrasted with other agencies, and obeys the laws which per- tain to such forces, including those of heredity, environment, of development and evolution, so far as these forces and their laws can be ascertained. It is all the same whether the agencies 102 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 35. are physical or psychical : so far as they are under fixed laws they are subject to the law of necessity. The fact that the free personality of man, or the free personality of the supreme rea- son, directs and controls these forces, does not alter the nature of the forces themselves, or the laws of their special activity, or the effects which they tend to produce. With these as its subject-matter, the philosophy of history, political and social science, and what is generally known as the knowledge of human nature, have ample scope and supreme authority under the limitations which moral freedom imposes upon them (§ 72). ^ m.] CHAEACTEE AS NATUEAL AND VOLUNTA.EY. 103 CHAPTER VI. THE CHARACTER AS NATURAL AND VOLUNTARY. § 36. "We were prompted to investigate the will by consider- ing the sensibilities as affected by its presence and pj^y a„ ^ its agenc3^ AVe revert again to the distinction with ^^*'*- which we began, between the sensibilities as natural and volun- tary (§ 23) . The distinction may be illustrated by the emotion of pity as exemplified in the compassionate and the unfeeling. Pity as a natural emotion may be felt by the miser, and cannot but be felt by him, so long as his attention is held to a scene of suffering. In one sense it is the same emotion as when it con- trols the man who yields his whole being to its moving impulses : in another it is as diverse as can well be conceived. In the one case it is the working of nature, which the man can neither eradicate nor wholly repress : in the other it is the cherished and welcome inmate of the heart, and it flows from a fountain that is constant and full. Physical fear is common to the coward and the brave. It is impossible for any man to set aside or prevent the emotion which is the necessar}^ product of anticipated evil, so long as the evil is thought of. It is no paradox to say that the bravest man may be in his nature the most susceptible to fear. Indeed, the material out of which the highest forms of voluntary courage are wrought must be a highly sensitive soul. More than one commander distinguished for personal courage would confess that he never went into an engagement without physical tremors such as only a determined purpose could overcome, and that he could only overcome these by controlling his attention, and 10 J: ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 36. pre-occupying his mind. In the hero, vohintary self-control pre- occupies the man with thoughts and activities which preclude the suggestions of terror. The coward weakly consents to the dominion of fear by dwelling on these frightful images, and giving way to the thronging fancies of evil. Character is also voluntary and involuntary. We saw that in one sense will is not essential to the attainment or CliftrfliCtcr voluntary posscssion of character, inasmuch as, without it, man and iuvoiun- ji^igiit posscss predominant sensibilities and springs of action, which in their impression and aspect might be agreeable, or the opposite, and in their operation and effect might be beneficent, or baneful ; that is, man might have a character, even without moral endowments or moral liberty, and simply because he happens to possess certain individual or charac- teristic features of intellect and sensibility (§ 23) . This character may also be formed, for better or for worse, under the moulding influences of his circumstances. It cannot be denied that every Elements of ^^^ ^^^s, in fact, a characteristic physical organiza- character. ^[^^^ which affccts his physical sensitivity, and that this is derived from his parents, and through them is the product of manifold agencies — as race, climate, health, disease, and tem- perament — for many generations. His intellectual powers and acquisitions, his powers and his knowledge also, are to a large extent the products and the inheritance of transmitted tenden- cies and favorable or unfavorable training. Internal psychi- cal forces, both emotional and intellectual, under the law of habit and association, conspire in every man to strengthen or weaken these impulses to a stronger or feebler natural energy. But into these natural and necessary constituents of charac- ter, and in all the growth and changes through which they are developed, there is constantly present the voluntary element, which is always active, and constantly formative and controlling. This sustains and energizes those underlying and constantly present voluntary states which constitute the moral element in character, and give the moral complexion and moral importance §37.] CBABACTER AS NATURAL AND VOLUNTARY. 105 to all the special activities of thought and feeling and deed. We call them states, and conceive of them as fixed. They are more exactly conceived as conditions of active voluntary energy, varying in tone and force according to the solicitations from without and the re-actions from within. Every properly psychi- cal state is in some sense spontaneous and self-active, the manifestation of individual force ; but this is pre-eminently true of the moral activity of the character, which is constantly main- tained by the voluntary tension and force of the man, and yet varies in degree at each single movement of his individual activity. This may be compared to the long and deeply rolling ground-swell of the ocean, which is lifted and moved forward from beneath with varying force, yet always supreme, although it is indented with myriads of ripples on its surface, or tossed into fringes and curls of foam by the wind which plays upon it, or by the shore against which it breaks. " The law controls not only the acting, but the being, of the man, so far as this proceeds from the man's inner act, the disposition, the conception of which includes in itself a fixed direction of Julius Miiller, the will, which has become habitual, yes, even the states and ^" character AS related to movements of the sensibility, the inclinations and disincli- ^^jjj^ nations of the soul, so far as these in their turn are also deter- mined by the permanent direction of the will." i — Dr. Julius Mulleb : The Christian Doctrine of Sin, book i. chap. i. p. 56, oth ed. § 37. As " character " is used in the two senses of natural and moral, so is ^'-disposition.'' "Disposition" (Lat., , . . Disposition dispositio; Gr., Ata^eo-is) signifies et^^mologically as natural the relative position or adjustment of the springs or ^""* moral. impulses of action, which is individual in the man. This ad- justment may be natural or artificial, physical or moral, or both 1 " Das Gesetz normirt nicht das Thun sonderu auch das Sein dea Menschen wie es aus der innern That hervorgeht, die Gesinnung deren Begriff wesentlich eine feste, habituelle gewordene Richtung des Willens in sich schliesst, ja selbst die Bewegungen und Zustiinde des Gemiiths, die Neigungen und Abneigungen der Seele, in so fern dieselben wiederum durch die beharrliche Richtung des Willens mit bestimmt werden," 106 ELEMENTS OF MOEAL SCIENCE. [§ 37. combined ; it may be formed and fixed by nature under the law of creation, heredity, or development ; or it may be moulded, wholly or in part, by the soul's voluntary energy. Morally con- ceived, it is the latter and this onl3^ It is important distinctly to notice, as has been implied, that the activities of the will, whether permanent or transient, like all the other activities of the soul, though similar in quality, may differ from one another individually in intensity or relative energy, and consequently in the degree of their moral good or evil. As this energy differs, so will the effects differ in thought, feeling, and action. Twenty men may prefer the same object, and yet the choice of each may be individual in its force and effectiveness. This is pre-eminently true of that permanent activity or state of will which we call the character. In one man this force is strong enough to overcome every opposing agency : in another it only yields to rare and special temptations, without being abandoned. In the same man at different times it may alternately yield and conquer. In this way do we explain the well-known facts, that the character may be upright and virtuous in its controlling principle, and yet be unequal to single and special temptations. It also explains how the natural misgrowths of a morally bad choice or character may remain after this choice has been aban- doned. It also accounts for the inveterate habits, the corrupt and corrupting associations, the degrading and imperious appetites, the violent and hasty passions, the torpid and perverted intellect, the inveterate and indomitable prejudices, which disturb the very springs of the moral life, long after it has been brought under the dominion of duty by the energy of the responsible will. Some moralists (cf. R. Hazard, Freedom of the Mind in Willimj) who hold Theory nhich *® moral freedom deny altogether the possibility of a perma- resolves dis- nent state of the will as an effect of volition. They limit the position into activity of the will to its momentary and transient acts, the habit only. effects of which are seen in subsequent intellectual facilities or tendencies towards si)ecial modes of thinking, or in the special sensi- §37.] CHARACTEB AS NATURAL AND VOLUNTARY. 107 bility of certain emotions with an increase of energy in their consequent proclivity to action. Character, according to this theory, is shaped by the will only as the will leaves its impress upon the passive or spontane- ous springs of action. Character has its responsible cause and its origi- nating force in single and separate acts of volition; but character, as a permanent effect, lies wholly within the domain of the intellectual and emotional habits. According to this theory, the responsible activities of man are occasional, not constant. He is responsible for what he chooses now and then, and for the effects of each choice on his habits and passive tendencies, not for what he is by the constant consent, — the more or less energetic but never-ceasing activity of his will. The disposition, according to this theory, is the natural or constitutional effect of voluntary choosing : according to the other, it is tbe sustained energy of the man's allowed or energized volition. This theory scarcely i^rovides for the turning-points and decisive crises in the moral experiences of man, and their permanent influence IT. m, T • . ^ . , Objections. upon the character and destm3^ The decisive act in such cases, by which a man is often so greatly changed, is explained as only the beginning of a series of similar volitions, each of which has no connection of continuity with the others in the series, except that which comes from the slight proclivity of habit, so far as it gives an advantage to those activi- ties of thinking and emotion which follow in the order of time. In the one theory, the man is conceived as animated by a voluntary energy, which is never remitted, but constantly manifests itself in special volitions which penetrate and vivify his single psychical acts and states: by the other, his moral life is limited to a series of acts that are connected only in the order of time, and indirectly mould the habits. The most satisfactory explanation of the functions of the soul recognizes these as constantly and unceasingly active, and as acting and re-acting upon one another in every instant of our conscious existence. Scientifi- cally and practically, that view of the will, with its exalted freedom, seems truest to reason and to fact, which makes character to be the constant energizing of the responsible will, and finds in such a will the nucleus and spring of moral personality. It is important here to observe and repeat, that moral qualities, in the strictest sense, are ultimately affirmed of the activities of the will and of these alone. The will being the centre, so to speak, of personal character, and the ground of responsibility, affects all the other inward and outward activities of the man, and makes them all susceptible of moral relation- ships, and subject to moral judgments. It follows by natural 108 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 37. consequence, that right and wrong are affirmed of acts and states of emotion and thought as truly as of acts and states of the will, so far as the former are affected by the latter. We should rather say, it is because the activities of the will are mani- fested and known cliiefly through their modifying influence upon the thoughts and feelings and actions, and hence, by means of the same, that the variety of subject-matter which is the subject of right and wrong presents a theme of such curious speculative and practical interest. We affirm, with pre-eminent truth and emphasis, that the character is right or wrong, inasmuch as it is its su- sponsibiiity preme voluntary activity, its controlling principle or forcharac- motive, which distinguishes the man, and manifests t6r. itself in every one of his special activities, whether of volition or feeling, of thought or bodily act. We apply the same epithets to each, — the character, the special volition, the single word or act, — whether they are more or less generic or specific. If he that hateth his brother is a murderer, then each special volition of hatred is more or less murderous, according to its varying energy. Similarly any tendency to the indul- gence of specific emotions is called a disposition, as having gained the increased energy which is imparted to the involuntary impulses by means of repetition. These inward dispositions and habits of thought and feeling are constantly and rightly recog- nized as morally right or wrong so far as they are consented to in the permanent states or repeated acts of the will. The heart itself, as comprehending more or fewer of these elements, is regarded as the subject of moral responsibility, but alwa^'s on the ground of the voluntary activity which is supposed to be directly or indirectly concerned in its general and special How far are Hiovcments. The intellectual judgments, opinions, men respon- and habits, also, are tried by ethical standards, and sible for -, , -, ^^ - ^ ^ £ their opin- pronounccd to be morally right or wrong so lar as ions? these are supposed to be influenced directly or re- motely by the voluntary purpose of the man. Last of all, the §38.] CHARACTER AS NATURAL AND VOLUNTARY. 109 external actions, so far as they are under the control of the will, and are the manifestations and products of good or evil volitions, are judged to be morally good or bad, and are so called. In the judgment of the civil law nothing is judged to be bad which is not manifested in outward activity ; and yet in its judgment, no outward act, however injurious, is bad which is not held to be the result of an inward volition, and also to represent the man as morally bad or morall}^ good. We scarcely need call attention to the profound sagacity and comprehensive wisdom of the familiar words, "A good man, out of the good treasure of the heart, briugeth forth good things, and an evil man, out of the evil treasure, briugeth forth evil things." "A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit." Nor need we dwell upon the influ- ence which these practical principles have wrought upon the ethics and jurisprudence, the life and the literature, of Christendom. § 38. We have seen that character includes two elements, — the volun- tary and involuntary. This circumstance must be kept in mind in the conceptions which we form of the changes which *^"*"^®s *"•* ^. , ,, , , , . culture of it may undergo. First of all, the truth must not be forgotten, (.],aracter. that the permanent moral condition which gives quality to the man, and enters into all his special volitions, is rarely and with difficulty reversed. And yet it is this which constitutes and characterizes the man as morally good or bad, and which gives significance to his changing and short-lived activities. This truth is recognized in the com- mon speech of man, and in the proceedings of civil justice ; in both of which there is acknowledged a permanent active tendency, which in some sort is regarded as distinguishable from the transient mani- festations of temper, and words and deeds, while yet it is The man as the living spring of whatever is good or evil in either. In ♦'^ntrasted .,, .,, ,, , with his this sense, it is often said, the man makes the motive, and not yojitions. the motive the man. But, though a constant and irrepressi- ble spring of good or evil, it need not follow that it is uniformly energetic and intense, or that it is at all times equally criminal or virtuous. Indeed, it is chiefly or entirely known by means of single acts or feelings, and these are marked by greater or less energy at different times; and, as it would seem from the testimony of consciousness, it is also constantly vivified and energized by being expressed in single acts of thought and feeling, of word and deed. 110 ELEMENTS OF MOllAL SCIENCE. [§ 38. On the other liand, however, the capacities for single thoughts and feelings and corporeal actions are largely dependent on agen- The invohin- cies that obey the law of physical causation, conspicuously tary blends ^j^^ psycho-physiological, and none the less reallj'^ those which voluntary. pertain to the rei)resentative power in the memory and pic- torial imagination. Habit never fails to assert its sway over all these activities; and it begins at once to weave its network, even over manj^ of the experiences which are ordinarily conceived as simply volun- tary. The tyrannical and progressive character of many of the bodily appetites deepens our impressions of the elements in character which seem to be inconsistent with its freedom and resj^onsibility. The mechanical part of our nature, whether psychical or physio-psychical, follows its own laws, however these laws may be modified The involun- y^y ^j^g ^yj^^ Habits of sense and memory, of intellectual and ^^^l ' emotional association, become more and more energetic by their own is j la^,.g^ repeated and passionate indulgence, or weakened by frequent repression and rare compliances, and by the occupation of the attention and feelings with objects which tempt or solicit in a better direc- tion, as these by frequent repetition kindle the better sensibilities, or con- firm the more elevated associations. These movements for the better or the worse can, however, only occur under the energetic application of the central purpose, and may therefore indicate a change in direction and intensity for the better or the worse. Hence we recognize the truth, that different men may possess substantially the same moral character, and yet with an energy and consistency that is widely variable. Two or twenty men may be thoroughly selfish or avaricious, while yet the selfishness or avariciousness of each will neither comi)el nor allow him to perform actions at which the other will not hesitate. Differences of this sort, in respect to the kinds of actions which different men will allow tliemselves, and the zeal with which they will perform these actions, are enormous, and cannot be explained, except by the principle, that while, in all, the ruling i^assion is the same, the consistency and energy with which it is obeyed by different persons are variable in the extreme. These principles also enable us to understand the relation of substantial l^erraanence of character to changes in its manifestations, as also the co- existence of conspicuous weaknesses of character in a man who is energeti- cally and pertinaciously upright in many particulars. They also explain the possible consistency of single moral weaknesses with substantial up- rightness. It sheds some light, also, upon the possible necessity of moral trial to everj^ moral being who is to attain to a perfected and secure T le necessity yj^tue, inasmuch as complete moral security against the of moral ,. , , , . . jj.jj^]^ solicitations of evil may only be possible in its very nature by an ordeal of temptation successfully encountered (cf. Butler, Analogy, etc., part i. chap. v). How this can be, can be easily §38.] CHARACTER AS NATURAL AND VOLUNTARY. Ill understood by any one who reflects on the capacities of the sensibilities so to engross the attention and to pre-occupy the energies as to constitute a second nature of aspirations and desires. It is certainly clear, that, for man as he finds himself, no way is open for progress toward moral health and complete confirmation in virtue but to withstand temptation, and guard against the solicitations of evil in the detail of his life. Our analysis does not require us to give any theory of a dei^raved char- acter or a sinful heart, or the explanation of its relations to ^ , ,. ^ Relations of the character and purposes of Him whom we have every rea- moral weak- son to regard as morally perfect. We have to do with the ness to the constitution of man as we find it, and the possession by man purposes of of moral freedom, and his ill desert so far as it involves his own self-condemnation. The helplessness and disabilities of which man is conscious would seem to argue, that, in his normal state, he may possibly have been more closely allied to his Creator in the springs of his moral and spiritual life than he finds himself to be when he wakes to the exer- cise of moral responsibility. But of this relationship philosophy gives neither analj'sis nor explanation. It simply finds a weakness and empti- ness which man would fain hope may at some time be supplied by strength and completeness, and for which humanitj' itself would almost seem to sigh, in its longings for deliverance from the heavy burden of a one-sided weak- ness, as truly as of inexcusable guilt. It is enough for us to know that the most efficient remedy for man's needs, that is known in human history, recognizes the weakness as truly as the guilt in its i>romises of deliverauv.i. 112 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 39. CHAPTER VII. THE INTELLECT, ITS FUNCTIONS IN THE MORAL ACTIVI- TIES AND EXPERIENCES. § 39. That the intellect is more or less active in the moral experiences is universally recognized. Every man the'inteiiect ^^^^ concccle, bccausc every man is conscious, that he ill moral piie- ^ggg j^ig intellect in a great variety of ethical cogni- nomena. tions and judgments. What is the nature, and what are the conditions, and what the results, of this activity? At what stage of man's development does this activity begin? AVhat are the conditions of its exercise ? What are the processes which it performs, — what intuitions or categories does it discern or assume, and what products or conceptions does it evolve? These are questions in regard to which much dif- ference of opinion prevails, and sharp controversies are still kept alive. These questions concerning the functions of the intellect are twofold, — viz., psychological and metaphysical, — the one involving the other (cf. chap. viii.). It would seem, at first, that all inquiries which concern those ^ , . , operations of the intellect which respect ethical Ethical pro- ^ ^ cesses and relations should be purely psj^chological, — should ca egories. -^^ questions of fact and observation, and not of philosophy. But as in similar cases so in this : psychology leads to philosoph}^ ; and analysis leads, through definitions and reasoning, to principles. Psychology, as such, asks how the intellect acts in ethical processes ; but it cannot answer tliis §40.] THE INTELLECT, ITS FUNCTIONS, ETC. 113 question without impljing that the iotellect also evolves certain products known as ethical cognitions or conceptions. Inas- much, also, as in these psj^chological judgments certain catego- ries are so applied as to be especially conspicuous or distinctly recognized, these also will be likely to come into notice in the analysis of these processes or their results, either as independ-* ent and original for ethical science, or as common to it with every form of knowledge. What, then, are these processes and products and categories, and how are they defined 9 The attempt to answer this inquiry involves the analysis and history of all the relations and concepts that are emplo^^ed in Ethics. Thus, by a natural and inevitable necessity, psychology prepares the way for Moral Science, or speculative morality. It either creates or brings to light a metaphysic of Ethics as truly as it does the metaph3'sics of mathematics, or politics, or law. Following these suggestions, we propose two comprehensive inquiries : What are the operations or functions of the intellect in man's moral experience? and, What are the products and categories of this activity? § 40. As preliminary to the discussion of these two ques- tions, however, we must first raise the general in- Evidence for quiry. What is the evidence that the relations or attri- tiie reality . . . and inipor- outes knoivn as right ana icrong, virtuous or vicious, tanceof mor- are real and important ? This preliminary inquiry is ** relations, essential if we would satisfy the student that his researches have to do with facts and truths of solid reality and prime importance. Such a reconnoissance of the field of inquiry be- fore him may justify and inspire his careful and earnest atten- tion to subsequent inquiries respecting their nature. In answer to this general inquiry, we observe, — (1) Moral distinctions are universally recognized. No man was ever known to exist, who in any sense could be , (1) They are called a developed human being, who did not recog- universally nize certain ethical distinctions as real, and esteem '■**^®^"'^® • them as of supreme importance. We take men as we know 114 ELEMENTS OF MOBAJL SCIENCE. [§ 40. them, whether civilized or savage. Each observer can decide for himself whether he ever eucountered an individual, or a community of men, by whom some relations of duty or right were not accepted and enforced. No traveller ever reported facts or observations which would justify the rash and not infre- •quent conclusion that a tribe or community of men had no rule or manner of feeling or action which was enforced and recog- nized as morally obligatory. The question as to whether this or that tribe recognizes any rule of conduct whatever, is often confounded with the very different inquiry, viz., whether the rule of conduct is the same with that of another tribe, or that of the majority of civilized and enlightened men. (2) We find that all languages are provided with a vocabulary of terms which suppose that moral distinctions are (2) Tocabu- lary found accepted as real. These terms could never have 111 all laii- \,QQ\x originated and applied so generally and confi- dently, unless the men who use them had believed the conceptions and relations to be real which these terms designate or imply. It is also incredible that they should have believed them to be real unless there were some solid foundation for this belief. (3) The actions and sacrifices of men bespeak the reality and ,»s^ . . importance of these conceptions. It is true that the (3) Esteemed ^ ^ most im- actious and sufferings of men for their faith in moral portant. truth are not uniform. It must be confessed that men not infrequently act against their moral convictions ; but even then, their solicitude in proving to themselves and to others that they are in the right when charged with wrong, or to pal- liate tlieir conduct when they confess themselves guilty, is an emphatic proof that their beliefs in the reality of right and wrong are not shaped or reversed entirely to suit their con- duct. When, on the other hand, men believe their conduct to be morally right, there is often nothing which they will not do or dare for their faith. Indeed, we may assert with confidence, that so far as man is in his normal condition, — that is, so far as §41.] THE INTELLECT, ITS FUNCTIONS, ETC. 115 his intellect is unbiassed by passion or other perverting influ- ences, — he judges moral truth to be the most certain and sacred of all truth, he confesses moral earnestness to be the most rational of all earnestness, he justifies and honors moral enthu- siasm and heroism with the readiest and most ardent sympath}-. In poetry, eloquence, and every form of imaginative literature, moral sentiments, when fitly expressed, have a grandeur and beauty which attest the universal convictions of men that moral truth is the most evident and most important of all conceivable truths. The human heart invariably and everywhere responds to the truth and call of dut3^ § 41. Next: moral relations are not the products of circum- stances more or less common to the human race^ but Originate in they are discerned by the independent activity of the the indMd- individual man. They are in this sense independ- "* ™^"* ent and permanent. Their reality and authority are not derived from circumstances, but are affirmed and enforced by the soul itself, primarily for itself, and secondarily for others. They are not originated by special circumstances, though these modify their import and application. They are not imparted by edu- cation, although they are discerned by the capacities which education imparts. They are not first enforced by any authority external to the soul itself, although they are re-enforced by the authority of God and man. Those who hold that moral relations are derived from exter- nal circumstances and influences, trace their orioiu „ „ , . ' ^ Keterrea by to one or more of three sources; viz., the ivill of many to one God, the authority of the civil ruler, or the infiu- jj^^g^ ence of education and public sentiment. They assert sources: ^ J^ -^ (1) the will that the intellect accepts as right and wrong ( 1 ) of God, wdiatever God does, or is supposed to, command {f^**^*""* or forbid, simply because he commands or forbids (3) public it ; or (2) whatever the civil ruler commands or for- bids, simply because the law requires or prohibits ; or (3) what- ever men in the family, the school, or by public opinion, teach 116 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 41. and enforce as necessary to secure, or certain to forfeit, their favor. Those who deny that these relations are derived from man's own constitution, and enforced upon himself by his indi- vidual authority, assert that they originate in one or all of these three sources ; indeed, that these are the only possible external originals from which they can be derived : that is, if moral dis- tinctions are not the necessary products of the individual soul, they must be the creatures of education, society, Iciiv, or religion. The following from Locke's Essay, book ii. chap, xxviii., represents this theory in all its forms : — *'§ 5. Moral good and evil, then, is only the conformity or disagreement of our voluntary actions to some law whereby good and evil Locke's ex- j^i-g chosen as from the will and power of the Law-maker ; p ana ion o ^yijicli good and evil, pleasure or pain, attending our observ- nioral good and evil. ance or breach of the law, by the decree of the Law-maker is what we call reward or punishment." " § 7. The laws that man generally refer their actions to, to judge of their rectitude or obliquity, seem to be these three: (1) the divine law; (2) the civil law; (3) the law of opinion or reputation, if I may so call it." "§ 8. First the divine law, whereby I mean that law which God has set to the actions of men, whether promulgated to them by the light of nature or the voice of revelation." "This is the only true touchstone of moral rectitude," etc. "§ 9. The civil law — the rule set by the commonwealth to the actions of those wdio belong to it — is another rule to which men refer their actions, to judge whether they be criminal or no." " § 10. The law of opinion or reputation," etc. *' § 11. That this is the common measure of virtue and vice will appear to any one who considers, that though that passes for vice in one country which is counted a virtue, or at least not vice, in another, yet everywhere virtue and praise, vice and blame, go together . . . And though perhaps by the different temper, education, fashion, maxims, or interest of different sorts of men, it fell out that what was thought praiseworthy in one place escaped not censure in another; and so in different societies, virtues and vices are changed; yet as to the main, they fcr the most part kept the same everywhere." It is to be remembered, in justice to Locke, that, when his attention was called to the language which he had used in respect to the divine law and the law of opinion, he insisted that this was consistent with his holding to a law or light of nature. It would seem, however, from the ambiguity of his own language, that he did not carefully distinguish between the law as the §42.] THE INTELLECT, ITS FUNCTIONS, ETC. 117 originator, and as what he elsewhere calls " the sole touchstone or the sole measure of. the rectitude of our actions." — Book ii. chap, xxviii. § 8. § 42. Against this theory, in whatever form its principle may be urged, we assert, — I. Moral distinctions are not constituted by the enactments of the civil ruler. This was the well-known doc- j^ Moral dis- trine of Hobbes, having been stated by him with tinctions do not originate singular clearness, and applied with unsparing rigor in the civil to its extremest logical consequences. " Therefore, ^^^^' before the names of just and unjust can have place, there must be some coercive power to compel men equally to the perform- ance of their covenants by the terror of some punishment greater than the benefits the}^ expect by the breach of their covenant, and to make good that propriety which by mutual contract men acquire, in recompense of the universal right they abandon ; and such power there is none before the erection of a common- wealth." — Leviathan, part i. chap. xv. In support of this doctrine it is urged, (1) To many persons the enactments, usually the prohibitions, of the civil •^ ^ Reasons gir- law, are the only recognized measures or standards en: (i) To of right and wrong. Such persons, it is contended, ^o'^^itisthe => o I •> ^ only recog- know actions as moral, only so far as they know nized stand- them to be commanded or forbidden by positive law. Let this be conceded in some instances to be true, it does not follow that these persons might not find and apply another standard, viz., that which is furnished from the soul itself. The failure of such to use their powers so as to discover a law of duty within themselves, by no means proves that this law does not exist, and cannot be found. A similar incapacity or failure not infrequently occurs with respect to mathematical quantities. Inattention, through intellectual torpor or moral perverseness, may incapacitate the intellect to discern mathematical relations. It b}^ no means follows, however, that these relations were originated by the makers of mathematical text-books, or devised by mathematical pedants. 118 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 43. It is urged still further, (2) that in respect to many classes of actions the civil law is creative of moral quality, actions :irT inasmuch as actions which are forbidden by one determined government, and thereby have become morally rep- by statute. rehensible, under another are commanded or per- mitted, and thereby are made morally right. These facts can- not be denied ; but the truth is equally obvious, that, in the instances supposed, the actions supposed are morally indifferent before they are commanded or forbidden, while it is not in- different that some course of action should be prescribed by positive command, or that a ruler should be respected whenever he issues such a command. Moreover, the positive command, in every instance supposed, respects the external conduct alone. Those who hold that moral relations are independent of positive authority would concede that morality, so far as civil society is concerned, may be in great measure conventional and positive. But to the assertion that the obligation of one law or another is created by the enactment of the law, the reply is pertinent, Whence, then, comes the general obligation to recognize civil enactments as binding so soon as they are enacted? If the ruler can appeal to no authority beyond the law itself, and if he can enforce no obligation higher than the dread of the fine or imprisonment, or whatever else of positive evil he is able to inflict, then the moral obligation to obey the law must be resolved into the fear of superior strength. If right is created by the law, then right is created by might. § 43. Against this doctrine the following reasons are deci- sive : (1) Obedience to the law is enforced by an against: (1) authority beyond and higher than the law itself. Obedience AVhcthcr the appeal is made to conscience, to alle- to law is 1 T -I /. enforced giance to God, to the public welfare, or to the by higher iudsfment of mankind, whether or not an oath is authority. •* =" ' employed for the enforcement of the law, it cannot be questioned that some standard of judgment, or motive of enforcement, is employed other than those furnished by the law §44.] THE INTELLECT, ITS FUNCTIONS, ETC. 119 itself and its threatened penalty. Even Hobbes is frank and logical enough to concede that the "original of justice is in the making of covenants," and "the nature of justice consisteth in keeping valid covenants," i.e., in the practical necessity for mutual confidence. Upon this practical necessity of good faith to this end, rests the entire fabric of that commonwealth which makes it possible that " the names of just and unjust can have place." (2) Laws themselves are judged and criticised as morally right or wrong : at least, it cannot be questioned (2) Laws that they are constantly approved or condemned as themseiyes are judged morally beneficent or harmful. It is obvious that to be right the moral quality of laws can only be tested and ^^ wrong. judged by a criterion higher than the laws themselves. Such a criterion or standard can never itself be a creature of the law. (3) Laws ma}^ be resisted and disobeyed whenever they contradict the law of duty ; and rulers themselves, under extreme circumstances, may be deposed from rigi,tf,niy*'^^ authority. AYe do not here inquire when this ma}^ be resisted aud done rightfuU}", nor under what circumstances either individual disobedience or a popular revolution may be allowed. We only recognize the truth, that disobedience or resistance to the civil law^ niaj^, under certain circumstances, be justified ; and simply urge, that if laws may at an}- time be resisted, and rulers may be deposed, then duty and obligation are not the creatures of either the law or the ruler. § 44. II. Moral distinctions are not originated or enforced, solely by the opinions and feelin2:s of men ia soci- -^ -^ ^ ^ II. Moral re- ety. This has been held by not a few philosophers, lations do and has of late, by the aid of other elements, been "oj originate •^ ' with society. expanded into a plausible and prevalent theor3\ Adam Smith's Among the earliest and most distinguished of its ^^^^^' advocates is Adam Smith, who contends, in "The Theory of Moral Sentiments," that the standards of right and wrong are derived solely from the supposed judgments and feelings 120 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 44. of our fellow-men in respect to our own feelings and actions, and enforced by our sympathy with these supposed feelings and judgments, and consequently that human society is the neces- sary condition of all moral judgments and feelings. He goes so far as to assert, that "were it possible that a human crea- ture could grow up to manhood in some solitary place, without any communication with his own species, he could no more think of his ov/n character, or the propriety or demerit of his own character, or the beauty and deformity of his own mind, than of the beauty and deformity of his own face. . . . Bring him into societ}^ and he is immediately provided with the mirror which he wanted before " (Theory of Moral Sentiments., part iii. chap. i.). The process by which this "mirror" is formed by each indi- vidual is thus explained. It is in society only that men can learn that their fellow-men are pleased or displeased with their feelings and actions. Slowly, but surely, they connect their favorable or unfavorable judgments and feelings with the con- duct and purposes which occasion them. With these feelings and judgments of others they naturally and necessarily sj^mpa- thize, whether these are favorable or unfavorable to themselves. In process of time they learn to substitute, in place of the living men and women about them, " a?i abstract man ivithin their breasts,*' which is the representative or the personification of these imagined judgments and feelings of their fellow-men in general. The associationalists of the present day adopt this theory in its principle, finding additional evidence for its truth in the larger room and wider importance which they give to "insep- arable associations" in the formation and structure of all the more important psychical products. To those who explain the rise and gi-owth of these products by the process of evolution, their genesis from social influences is more readily accounted for ; while, to those who explain both association and evolution by brain or nerve differentiations, the theory of the social origin §44.] THE INTELLECT, ITS FUNCTIONS, ETC. 121 of ethical phenomena is phiced on a still broader basis. That a strong current of thinking at the present day sets in the direction of deriving all moral relations from social forces, sub- stantially after the theory of Adam Smith, is too well known to be denied or questioned (cf. Alexander Bain, Mental and Moral Science; Herbert Spencer, Data of Ethics; Charles Darwin, Descent of Man; G. H. Lewes, Problems of Life and Mind; Professor W. K. Clifford, Essays and Lectures; Joh]!« FiSKE, Cosmical Philosophy ; Leslie Stephen, Tlie Science of Ethics). The theory, in its fundamental principle, is the same^ whether " environment," " the tribal self," " social tissue," oi Adam Smith's "abstract man within the breast," or any other phrase, is emploj'ed to designate this social conscience or stand- ard of duty.^ It is not essential that the theory that moral relations are social in their origin should include all the features of the theo- ries of Adam Smith or the associationalistic evolutionists. It may be held in a simpler form by substituting the so-called law of opinion for the civil law, and resolving moral sanctions into the hope or fear of the favor or disfavor of our fellow-men in an unorganized community. But in whatever form this theory is held, it has the same weakness with the bold assertion of Hobbes, that Q^jp^^jon^ to the enactments of civil rule create and enforce moral the social distinctions. It rests upon the same arguments for ^^^^^' its support, and it is exposed to the same fatal objections. That the opinions and feelings of our fellow-men in society have much to do in modifying and enforcing the moral codes and the moral feelings of man, cannot be doubted, so far as these concern their outward conduct ; but that they cannot in any sense originate or enforce them, is evident from the consid- erations already referred to in discussing the kindred theory. 1 For the actual influence of social forces in modifying moral standards of feeling and conduct, cf. Part I. chap, xiv, §§ 93 --96. 122 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 45. There are judgments and feelings of dut}^ to which no number of men, and no force of their liking or disliking, can possibly give currency or force as righteous and meritorious : there are other judgments and feelings which commend themselves to universal assent and sympathy as soon as they are made mani- fest. The one class /s, and the other class is not, in harmony with that nature of the individual man which tends to form and reform social judgments and feelings, however strong are the interests, or false the judgments, however perverse are the sym- pathies, and unreasonable the likes and dislikes, of others. In every practical struggle between the individual and the commu- nity, concerning what is morally true, the individual appeals to the better judgment and the honest emotions of his fellow-men as individuals. Herein lies the importance and dignity of the right of private judgment, and the authority and responsibility of the mdividual conscience. § 45. The so-called evolution theory of Ethics is properly classed as one Relation of ^^ ^^^® theories which derive moral distinctions conspicuously evolutionist from society by the operation of association, and for the rea- to the social son that its advocates confessedly make these distinctions to tlieory. -^^ ^|^g products of environment. Though this environment in its earlier stages is held by them to be material and nervous, yet when it reaches its highest forms Herbert j^ g^j^Q becomes social ; i.e., so soon as material phenomena a'i' S "tl ^^^ develo]3ed into the experiences of consciousness. The Spencerian theory differs from the theory of Adam Sinitli in the following particulars : to the psychical law of the association of thoughts and feelings it superadds, as did Hartley, the physiological rela- tions of the nervous and cerebral apparatus, w hile it differs from Hartley in accounting for both by the assumed operation of the broader law of evo- lution from simpler to more complex forms of being and activity. By this formula is explained, in the first place, the emergence into being of the snhject-rnatter of moral approval; viz., the benevolent or altruistic affection. Its development is thus traced. In the lower forms of existence every impulse would necessarily terminate in the individual self. This must continue to be the case so long as any being is simple in its structure, and so long as it is surrounded by a simple environment with which its com- munications are rapid and direct. But as the subject becomes more and more comi^lex in structure, and indirect in its communications with its §45.] THE INTELLECT, ITS FUXCTIOXS, ETC. 123 surroundings, it finds that its most important blessings come to it more and njore obviously through the medium or intiuence of other beings than itself. As a consequence, it gradually associates these other beings with all its enjoyments, as sources of blessing to itself, and learns in some sort to regard them as enlargements of its own personal essence, till at a certain time, under the laws of association, re-enforced as these are by cerebral action, it learns to identify the general well-being wuth its individual interest. When this process is comj)lete, the common good is inseparably connected with its own highest good. By these successive steps, there emerges a powerful secondary Interest in the well- ^^^^. being of others, which at last becomes such a controlling affection as often to take the place of, and dominate over, the primary and individual impulses, and finally to generate that pure and disinterested altruism, which, in the best sense of 'the word, "seeketh not its own." All the affections, it should be remembered, whether self-terminating or altruistic, are the products of the unconscious exi)eriences, in the combina- tions of which, not merely the thoughts and feelings are united, but material particles and agents also co-act and combine. Heredity also comes in to transmit to succeeding generations the tendencies or powers acquired by the new cerebral stuff which is generated from past human experiences in forms more positive and pure than could possibly be attained by the brains of previous generations. Thus altruism, or unselfish love, is the secondary growth of the indirect associations of complicated social life, as these have been strained through the more and more refined nervous apparatus of many successive generations. The objective law or standard of duty is also generated by similar jiro- cesses. In Spencer's own language, " Though the moral intui- tions are the results of accumulated experiences of utility, C'onoeption gradually organized and inherited, they have come to be *^ ^" ® quite independent of conscious experience." So far and so generated. long as these processes go on within the observation of con- sciousness, they obey the laws of association and sympathy as expounded by Adam Smith, except that sympathy, according to Spencer, is itself a secondary or derivative affection, whereas, with Smith, it is an original endowment of man. So far as it depends on the law of evolution work- ing in and upon the nervous system in which it roots, it is thus explained by Mr. Spencer : " Just in the same way that I believe the intuition of space possessed by any living individual to have arisen from organized and consolidated experiences of all antecedent individuals, who bequeath to him their slowly developed nervous organizations . . . so do I believe that the experiences of utility, organized and consolidated through all past generations of the human race, have been producing corresponding nervous modifications, which, by continued transmission and accumulation, have become in us certain faculties of moral intuition." — Letter to Mr. J. S. Mill. 124 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 45. It is worthy of notice that this theorj' also provides for a constant ten- dency towards what it calls an absolute morality under the Does not explain the ^^^^' ^^ evolution, which shall finally attain to a perfect ohjec- conception five standard and subjective achievement of duty at the end of absolute of its progressive march. If this anticipation, or, properly morality. conceived, this law of evolution in morals, is to be relied on, it would seem that Mr. Spencer himself has somehow attained to an ade- quate conception, in general, of what this absolute morality is finally to become, at least in its general features; and that he is also certain, that, toward this as its end, the universe is moving, and in it is destined to rest. AVe will concede, that in many subordinate particulars or details, both of feeling and act, the law of duty and the fact of duty are as yet neither complete, nor perfect, nor absolute ; but we must still assume that the conception of what absolute morality is, or ought to be, must have been already attained, if we can form any conception of either morality or evolution, and recognize these conceptions as the ultimata, bej'ond which the conceptions of human duty cannot go. In other words, the evolutionist's theory of morals presupposes or pre- sumes that the conception of perfect moral excellence as an ideal is the end or aim to which all social arrangements and influences tend andmove, even though it be conceded that this has not yet been made real. But how did it come into being as a thought, if it were not previously existing as a fact, or if the elements of which it consists were not already known and assented to ? Especially, how came it to be anticipated as a fact, and by an axiomatic necessity, in the mind of Mr. Spencer, under the law of evo- lution itself ? In other words, if certain ideas concerning the standard of duty and the absolutely perfect virtuous affections, and concerning the law of duty, are known by anticipation as the elements of that absolute morality which is the outcome of completed evolution, how could they have been perfected in the mind of Mr. Spencer, and how came he to be so con- fident in his belief and knowledge respecting their truth ? It would seem as though, in attainmg this assurance, he must have reached and gone beyond all the social and cerebral conditions of these very conceptions which could be allotted to the present generation. According to his own showing, the time has not yet come for even Mr. Spencer to know what absolute morality is. The very conception of its nature is hidden in the unrevealed future, much more the faith in it as a fact. According to the law of evolution, the absolute morality in both ideal and law is yet to be evolved. What it will be, and what it is to be, are problematic ideas and truths, concerning which no man can affirm with positiveness who derives his ethical conceptions from the processes of evolution, whether these processes are wrought in nerve, or mind, or in both. It follows, that any fixed conceptions of moral excellence or moral rules cannot be depend- ent on the shifting sympathies or associations of our fellow-men, even § 46.] THE INTELLECT, ITS FUNCTIONS, ETC, 125 though these are re-enforced by the activity of brain and nerve, and even though their progress be assumed to be definite and steady towards a goal of absolute moral perfection ; or, on the other hand, if there be such a goal, the concejition of its nature and the belief in its truths cannot be the growth of the tendencies which it governs and controls, and out of which it is evolved. Neitlier the idea, nor the belief in it, can precede: both must come after the fact. § 46. III. Moral distinctions are not originated b}" the arbi- trary fiat or icill of the Creator. This theory has ,,, „ , -J -^ ^ -} III. Moral been held by not a few philosophers and theologians, distinctions either moved by the desire of exalting the preroga- ^atexi" v^'the tives of the Supreme, or constrained by the seeming fiat of the logical necessity of resolving every finite act and product into the power of the Creator. "William Occam, the distinguished nominalist, asserted, " Nullus est actus malus, nisi quatenus a Deo prohibitus est et qui non potest fieri bonus si a Deo prrecipiatur et e converse. Ea est ^ bonietmali natura, ut cum a Uberrima Deivoluntate sancita sit ac definita ab eadem facile possit emoveri et refigi, adeo ut mutata ea voluntate, quod sanctum et justum est, possit evadere injustum." — Lib. ii. qu. 19. Jeremy Taylor also: " God cannot do an unjust thing, because whatever he willeth or doeth is therefore just, because he willeth and Jeremy Taylor. doeth it, his will being the measure of justice." Dr. William Paley argues: "Since moral obligation de- pends, as we have seen, upon the will of God, right, which is correlative to it, must depend on the same. Right, therefore, signifies con- sistency with the will of God" (Moral and Political Philoso- phy, book ii. chap. ix.). Even Bishop Richard Cumberland, who contends most earnestly against Hobbes that morality is founded in the nature of things, and not in human legislation, was con- strained by the imagined necessities of his logic to resolve ., , , , •^ " * Cumberland. " the nature of things " into the fiat of the Creator. He even went farther, — so far as to ascribe arithmetical and geometrical relations to an act of will in the first cause, similar to that by which rational beings come into existence. " I have proA'ed the law of nature sufficiently im- mutable, when I have shown that it cannot be changed without contradic- tion, whilst the nature of things and their actual powers, which depend on the divine will, remain unchanged" {Inquiry, etc., chap. i.). Similarly Nathanael Culverwell (Light of Nature, chap, v.) says of moral law, "It is an eternal ordinance made in the depths of God's infinite wisdom and 126 ELE2IEXTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§46. counsel for tlie regulation and governing of tlie whole world, which yet had not its virtue in resjiect of God himself, who has always the .... jj full and imrestrained liberty of his own essence, which is so infinite as that it cannot hind itself, and which needs no law, all goodness and perfection being so intrinsical and essential to it," etc. On the other hand, Richard Hooker affirms, " They err who think, that, of the will of God to do this or that, there is no reason besides JJ , his own will." "The being of God is a kind of law to his working; for that perfection which God is, giveth perfection to that he doetli. God is a law, both to himself and to other things be- sides " {Ecdes. Pol., book 1. § 2). Stephen Cliarnock says, " The moral law is not properly a mere act of God's will, considered in itself, Lj . or a tyrannical edict, like those of whom it may be said, ' Stat pro ratione voluntas;' but it commands those things which are good in their own nature, and prohibits those things which are in their nature evil " {Discourse on the Being and Attributes of God, ii.). That moral distinctions cannot, in any proper sense, be cre- Eeasons ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ Gocl, is evicleut from the nature against this of thcsc relations. They can belong only to volun- tary action. They suppose that this action is con- formed to a standard proposed for its direction. This standard is a reasonable standard ; and, if so, it supposes some permanent relations fixed in the nature of the moral being, wliether created or uncreated, which no fiat of mere will can be conceived as capable of changing as long as the being exists. This is evident still further from the consequences of the doctrine in question. Were it accepted, we could with no significance assert that God himself is good, or perfect, or holy ; for, according to the theory, whatsoever God should do would of necessity be morally right. We could find no arguments in the design or effect of his works to prove that he is beneficent or just ; for, by the very definition and analysis of our terms, every thing wliich he does, however malevolent or unjust it might seem to be, could not but be right. It would also be impossible to test any alleged communication or revelation from God as worthy or unworthy of him, because whatever he should declare or reveal must be worth}^ of himself. §46.] THE INTELLECT, ITS FUNCTIONS, ETC. 127 It scarcely needs to be said, that, as soon as God is believed to be morally perfect, whatever he commands, or ^ '^ L 1 Comiuands of whatever he does, must for that reason be accepted God prove, as morally rioht : in other words, the will of God "**^"^* •^ » ' make, action proves, but does not make, an act to be right. The to be right command of the perfect Creator is indeed accepted as the criterion and measure of moral rectitude ; but the mere command, as such, of a being who is all-powerful and all-know- ing, can in no sense be the ground of moral obligation. Might of any kind does not and can not make right. But it may be urged, Is not God the originator of all things? Does not every thing which exists, including the relations of all things, proceed from his fiat? May it or must it not be true that among these relations the moral are included? We need not deny that all finite things, and their relations, deiive their possible and their actual being from the self-existent Creator. Moral relations, however, are relations of action, i.e., of volition; and action supposes a fixed rule or norm to which the}" are or are not cour formed. Such a rule must be found in reason, not in power, — in consistenc}^ or harmony of action with a real or supposed nature, or conclusion, or fact. If moral perfection is affirmed of God, it supposes relations that belong to his nature as having a permanent essence or character. It is true, indeed, that God is, and is what he is, as divine, by his own self-existent act. But to suppose this essence to be change- able by an act of will or power is to confound the myste- rious energy by which God is self-existent as to his essential nature, with the creative act that calls an individual creature into life. It is to suppose activities that in their conceptions are totally dissimilar, and incapable of being compared. If the being and nature of God are supposed to be fixed, any voluntary conformity to this nature by man, or by God himself, must have a quality which cannot be changed by any fiat or arbitrary decree. Moral relations, in this particular, may fitly be compared with 128 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§47. the mathematical. Of the mathematical we confidentl}^ say that thc}^ are fixed in the nature of things : they can go^uTtomaUi- ntnther be made nor unmade, they can neither be con- t'luaticai firmed nor annulled, by the fiat of God. Whether relations. , . , . , , t .,. t . space and tnne, which may be admitted in some sense to be their conditions, are possible products of creative power, is a legitimate question for metaphysical inquiry. It is safe to assert, however, that, while space and time exist, mathematical relations must be permanent and self -evidencing, and that over these the will of God has no control, but must respect them as permanent and controlling. Similarly we may affirm of moral relations, that, while man's nature and God's attributes remain, the will of God can neither originate nor destroy them. In this sense moral distinctions are immutable. If, then, they do not originate in the caprice or power of man or God, they must be derived from and be enforced by the nature of man. It follows that they must be uniform and fixed, the nature of man being supposed to be uniform in its essential features. Objections § 47. To this conclusion the following objections against the ^^,^ urocd. lu principle, they have been anticipated inilependence ^ i x / ./ of moral and provided for. They ought, however, to be for- mally and explicitly considered. It is objected, — (1) That moral distinctions cannot be permanent and uni- form is proved by the variety of the speculative or (1) Vanity of L J j i speculative philosophical theories which have been formed in theories. respcct to them. It is contended, that, if these rela- tions were necessarily and invariably recognized by the human race, it is impossible to believe that they cculd be so variously defined and accounted for. Relations so obvious as these are represented to be, and so readily assented to, ought to be so clear as to admit satisfactory definitions and uniform explana- tions ; and yet it is notorious that no conceptions have been the subjects of a greater number of conflicting theories than ethical conceptions. No theories have given rise to warmer or §47.] TUE INTELLECT, ITS FUNCTIONS, ETC. 129 more pertinacious discussions, or more acrid controversies, than ethical theories. In explanation and reply, we notice an obvious difference between the discernment of a relation in the con- crete, or as exemplified in an individual example, ^etweerthe and the same in the abstract; i.e., as denoted by discernment -,. T . T n 1 t 1 ,ofa concrete generalized terms, or as defined by an exhaustive andanab- analysis. It may be very easy to discern a concep- ^\^^^^ ^^^^' tion or a truth when applied or illustrated, and very difficult to give a scientific definition or theory of it. This holds good of every species of formulated definitions and scientific theories, even when the subject-matter is universally assented to, and placed bej'ond the reach of our questioning. The existence of the material world is accepted as a fact : its phenomena are appealed to as the most obvious examples of trustworthy events. But the definitions of matter are notori- ously diverse and undecisive ; and the theories of matter, and of man's belief in its reality, change with every generation. Heat and light are the most positive and energetic of physical agents ; and j^et no conceptions are so difficult to define as these, while the controversies concerning their real nature and their ultimate laws and relationships are more active at the present moment than ever. Mathematical concepts and relations are accepted as exam- ples of the most obvious of self-evidencing entities, but the metaphysics of mathematics are proverbially attenuated and doubtful. Not unfrequently they are the occasion of open disagreement and sharp controversy. The same is true of some of the most familiar conceptions in social relations and inter- course, as those which pertain to property and exchange, to rights and legislation. The fundamental conceptions of politi- cal and social science are as much in discussion and controversy as are the conceptions and truths of Ethics. This, indeed, ought to be no matter of wonder, inasmuch as the most of them are founded in Ethics. It would almost seem to be true, that 130 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 47. the more familiar a conception, and the more obvious a truth, so much the more difficult is it to be defined and demonstrated ; perhaps because the definitions of such conceptions necessarily imply the widest and thinnest of generalizations. Whatever may be the explanation, the fact is unquestioned. On the other hand, the fact that men are never weary of seeking definitions for ethical conceptions, and Argument . , from the of finding rcasons for ethical beliefs, is decisive of interest ^^iq point that both concepts and theories concern manifested ^ ^ in ethical realities which cannot be questioned. Men do not contend for ages over mere shadows : there is always some fire beneath the smoke of a never-ending controversy. We confidently infer that men would not seek so persistently to define or explain moral relations, were not these relations held by them to be important and real. The argument that men persist in forming new theories and new definitions in Ethics, proves the contrary of that which it is intended to establish ; confirming, rather than weakening, the reality and importance of human duties and human rights. (2) It is objected still further, that the controversies of men (2) Men find ^^'^ ^^ frequently practical as they are speculative. practical "VYg might conccdc, it is urged, that, as themes for difficulties . ,1. -ii iiiPi as truly as mere speculation, moral relations might be doubtiui speculative. ^^^^^ vaguc ; but surely they ought to be clear and unquestioned when required for practice, if these relations are either solid or sacred. But, in fact, men are as uncertain and as ill-agreed in respect to what they ought to do, as in respect to what they ought to think. Rules concerning ethical conduct are as diverse as are theories of ethical beliefs. To this we reply, that these alleged disagreements as to what is right and wrong in action are both over- and under-stated. In respect to certain classes of duties, men are agreed in their convictions ; while, in respect to others, it is not in the least surprising that they should be unsettled in opinion, or differ in their practical views. §47.] TUE INTELLECT, ITS FUNCTIONS, ETC. 131 In respect to the intentions or aims which should control those of their actions which affect themselves or their fel- „ , Keply. Men low-men, all men have the same fundamental con- are agreed in victions, whether or not they understand or assent ^^^j^artheir to them when stated in abstract terminology or gen- purposes era! propositions. So far as his fellow-men are con- cerned, every man knows that love is better than hate ; that benevolence of purpose is right, and selfishness of aim is wrong. So far, also, as their intentions and impulses affect themselves, all men know that the inferior desires should be subjected to the higher, and that, when the two conflict, the higher should prevail. Even in respect to many classes of external actions, every man knows that in the ordinary conditions of social ., . ^ Also in re- existence he should respect the life, the liberty, and specttoiuany the property of his fellow-men, and that excess and carelessness in respect to the appetites and impulses which affect himself (as glutton}^, drunkenness, lust, idleness, and improvidence) are morally wrong. When we assert this, we are very far from saj^ing that every man would give his formal assent to these truths, but that he could not withhold this assent if he would attend to their import. A man may fail to attend to these truths when expressed in words, or suggested in thought, and this through indolence or torpor of mind, or through unwillingness to think of what might occasion self- discontent or self-reproach ; and yet, to every one who appre- ciates and attends to their imports such rules are self-evident. It is with these ethical axioms as it is with the axioms of mathematics : a man may fail to comprehend the conceptions involved ; or, if in some sense he understands their meaning, he may fail to attend to them so carefully as to discern the relations of the concepts to one another, so as to knovr whether they are true or false ; and 3"et, should he attend to them and appreciate them, he cannot withhold his assent. In respect to both classes of axioms, we say, for the same reason, the judgments of all men are alike. 132 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 47. There are other ethical prhiciples and rules in which men are very far from being agreed, and for two reasons : Reasons for . . „,, disagreement (ct) T-hc suDJect-matter IS sucli that no uniform and in respect to g^ed rules are possible, (b) What is rioht in one others. - ^ ^ ^ ^ set of circumstances is wrong in another. Rules of this kind, it should be remembered, concern the external actions only, and never the controlling aim or purpose. It may be uni- formly and invariably right that I should intend thus and thus, — as to produce this or that effect with respect to my fellow-men or m^^self, e.g., the highest welfare of either; but it by no means follows that I ought to do or say the same things to the same man at all times, or to different men at the same time, and for the reason, that, as circumstances var}^, the duty in ex- ternal action will vary. If the subject-matter or the external action is not the same, the judgments of men in respect to acts of duty ought not to be the same, for the reason that the same material (i.e., the external act) which is right at one time may be wrong at another. It is also true, that, if the subject-matter is the same (i.e., if the external act is uniformly right, as in a few supposed cases), the obligation to perform the action can be discerned only by the man who is fully acquainted with the facts and relations which enforce the obligation. Different men may be differently informed or advised as to the facts ; and, according to the fulness or scantiness of their knowledge, they will judge more or less correctly. It follows, that the diversity of the practical judgments of men, concerning actions as contrasted with purposes, is no valid or decisive objection against the self-sufficing evidence or independent authority of moral relations. Such evidence and authority is not only con- sistent with, but it alone can adequately explain, the diversity of practical judgments and moral codes which are accepted among men ; and this, whether this diversity is more or less affected by physical or psychical causes ; whether it is ascribed to climate, food, or otiier material conditions, or to education, civilization, government, or religion. § 48.] OBIGIN A^^^D NATUBE OF MOBAL BELATIONS. 133 CHAPTER VIII. ORIGIN AND NATURE OF MORAL RELATIONS. § 48. In the last chapter we reached the conclusion that the intellect does not derive moral relations from without , , . CoiidHsion of the individual man, either in the form of iuforma- preceding tion, or authorit}^ or influence, but that it develops *^ '^i'**^''- and learns them from within. We saw that the ideas of right and wrong cannot be the products of religion, societ}^, or law, but are, so to speak, the creations of the individual man. While it is true that these external circumstances and influences have much to do in shaping, hastening, and enforcing these relations, they in no sense originate them. Our next problem is to explain the processes by which they are originated within the man himself. If we are successful in this effort, we shall also be able to define the products. A delineation of the genesis or growth of these conceptions will involve an analysis and definition of their elements. But here we are met with the theory, that the original and fundamental conceptions in morals, inasmuch as Theory very they are simple, have no proper growth or genesis, common that and are incapable of analysis or definition : that, ^,^^^^ '■^'*" ^ ^ ' ' tious are though they originate within the human soul, the}^ simple and ., n T . • 1 T ,. . indefinable. are among the so-called original relations or cate- gories, which have the same relations to the activities of the will as the categories of thought hold to the judgments of the 134 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 48. intellect. Of these origiDal conceptions, it is contended, we can state the psychological conditions indeed ; but, being in their nature original and simple, they can neither be derived, nor analyzed, nor defined. All that we can say of them is, that, at a certain juncture of every man's history, these conceptions are necessarily discerned and assented to, and in connection with them are experienced the appropriate moral emotions or sen- timents, as of obligation, merit, etc. By all who hold this theory, the relations themselves are ranked with the original intuitions which are fundamental to knowledge of every kind; as the relations of time, space, causation, and design, which stand on their own footing, and, being incapable of analysis, are original and fundamental to ethical and jural science in the same sense as the relations of space are fundamental to geom- etry, the relations of cause to physics, and of design to physi- ology and history. They teach us, furthermore, that the special categories of morals, when applied to the feelings and actions, are also attended with certain sentiments or emotions; — as of obligation, merit, and self- approbation, with their opposites, — each of which is peculiar in its nature, and incapable of being explained by, or of explaining, the relation which occa- sions it. This general theory of the moral relations and sentiments has been held in various forms and with a great variety of phraseology by different philosophers, in different ages, but with the common features already enumerated. The counter or antagonistic theories are also very diverse in points of detail ; but they hold in common, that the moral relations are complex in their nature, and capable of being defined by an analysis of their elements ; that they are genetic in their growth, and there- fore admit of analysis, and are capable of a history. Their advocates also hold that the sentiments which thc}^ elicit are sentiments altogether unique and peculiar, while yet they are the constant attendants of these conceptions, and in a certain sense are explained by them. §49.] ORIGIN AND NATURE OF 3I0RAL RELATIONS. 135 It will' be observed that all these theories, however antago- nistic they are in other particulars, have this in common, — that they find the origin of ethical conceptions and feelings within the individual man, and wholly reject the doctrine that makes them the products of external influences and teachings. § 49. The several theories which teach that the fundamental ethical concepts and sentiments are original, and jj^j^ i„ ^ari- incapable of analysis or definition, may be grouped o"s forms, into three classes, as follows : — (1) The theory which ascribes them, in the last resort, to a special faculty of sensibility called the moral sense. This power is conceived with more or less definite- ryofthe ness as originally a capacity for peculiar feelings or '"^*^^ ^ense. sentiments called the moral sentiments ; such as the feelings of the beauty and deformity of virtuous and vicious acts, of self- approval or disapproval, of obligation and good or ill desert. These emotions are supposed to be uniformly experienced or evoked with and by certain actions or volitions. The capacity for these feelings is held to be an original endowment, and the feelings themselves to be ultimate, i.e., incapable of anal3'sis. These feelings are the original sentiments in the moral life, and the capacity for them is the germinant principle of all our moral ideas. AVe simpl}^ find ourselves experiencing and using them, and that is all that we can say. The intellect discerns the conduct which occasions these subjective experiences or emo- tions, and connects the two in original moral judgments. The conduct or character which pleases the moral sense, it pro- nounces morally good or morally right : that which displeases it is distinguished as morally wrong. By this theory the sensi- bility is the originator of the ethical experiences. The several sensibilities, being themselves ultimate and inexplicable, are as incapable of definition as are the several bodily sensations. The intellectual conceptions are referred to and defined by the sentiments, just as the sensible qualities of matter are defined by the sensations which they occasion. The theory itself, in 136 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§§ 50, 51. some of its elements, is suggested, if not taught, by I'lato, and is often referred to the Platonic school. Its most distin- guished expounders are Shaftesbury, Hutcheson, Hume, Her- bart, and many others. § 50. (2) The second of these theories finds tlie original of our moral relations in the pure intellect, or the rea- (2; Thetheo- ^ ryofthe SOU ; i.e., in certain ethical categories, which, as moral reason. ^^ ^^^^^^ already said, take rank with those that are fundamental to the intellect, beginning with an intellectual element or germ, as the preceding theories begin with an emo- tional. They all hold in common, that the intellectual element is primary and fundamental, the emotional following this by a certain but unexplained connection. "It is absurd," saj^s Dugald Stewart, " to ask why we are bound to practise virtue. The very notion of virtue implies the notion of obligation." What is true of the sentiment of obligation is true of the other feelings, as of self-approbation or disapprobation, of merit and demerit. The relation is self-evident to the intellectual judg- ment or assent, and the sentiments or feelings attend them by an equally necessary but unexplained coherence. The advo- cates of this theory are numerous and conspicuous. We name Ralph Cud worth, Richard Price, Thomas Reid, Dugald Stewart, Sir William Hamilton, President James McCosh, Professor Henry Calderwood, and Dr. Laurens P. Hickok. § 51. (3) The third theory, if it be proper to recognize it as a third, and not as in princii^le the same with the first, (3) Thetheo- ^ ^ ry of the is represented by Kant and his ethical followers. practical rpj^j^ thcorv finds a faculty called the practical rea- reason, or -^ j l categorical son, which prcscnts to the will an authoritative judg- impera ive. j^^^^ technically called the categorical imperative. To this the will responds by reverence which impels to action. This theory, as it would seem, is a combination of the two pre- ceding, except that Kant earnestly denies that reverence before the law is a sentiment ; contending that it is an authoritative impulse or commanding force which emerges into human experi- §52.] OBIGIN AND NATVBE OF MOBAL BELATIONS. 13T ence on appropriate occasions, as the practical reason cate- gorically commands and forbids certain acts of the will. It does not say, feel or do so or so if you would be happ}^, or ful- fil the end of your being, or realize the dignit}- of man. but do so or so : and that is all that is to be said ; you have the com- mand, obey it {Sic volo, sicjubeo). Another more striking peculiarity of the Kantian theory is, that it seeks to exclude the element of sensibility altogether from the domain of ethics ; holding that a virtuous action, if im- pelled or motived at all by any consideration of happiness, even the satisfaction found in right action, is thereby corrupted at the root, and ceases altogether to be morally good. These and other features distinguish this theor}^ from the other two. In common with both, it teaches that the conceptions and emotions are simple and original, and have no relation of dependence or connection with one another. This theory is held by Kant and his followers. Of well-known writers, the most conspicuous among his English disciples is F. P. Cobbe, the author of "Intuitive Morals " (London, 1855 ; Boston, 1859). With this theory the adherents of Price, etc., have an intimate intellectual affiliation. The advocates of these three theories have this in common, that they incline to conceive, and many of them formally hold, that the source of these original relations and feelings, one or both, is in some sort an independent faculty, which has no necessary connection with the normal endowments and experi- ences of human nature, whether intellectual or emotional, but might be attached to or detached from the human soul, with little, if any, serious disturl)ance to the other endowments, except so far as to limit or enlarge their range of jy^ xhetheo- action. ry that they _ _ -, ^^^ ^ . . ,, , , , are the prod- § o2. I\ . In opposition to all these three classes ^^^ ^f a of theories, we hold that moral relations and feelings ^v(^^^^^ appii- ' ^^ cation of self- require no special faculty or endowment, whether it consciousness be called the moral reason, or moral sense, or prac- '*"<'^"*** tical reason ; but that they are the necessary products or 138 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 52. results of two conspicuous bumiiu endowments, — the reflec- tive intellect, and the voluntary impulses or affections. The reflective intellect cannot but find the norm or standard of duty in the natural capacities of man. So soon as it conceives of any ideal whatever for aspiration or control — so soon as it recognizes such an ideal, it necessarily imposes it as a law for the voluntary activities. This ideal, thus recognized and imposed, becomes a moral law : in other words, so soon as the intellect reflects upon the several sensibilities which are subject to the control of the will, as compared with one another, it must find a standard of ideal desirableness or worth for its springs of action. So soon as it proposes to itself the question, How are they to be applied or controlled by the will? the reflecting man imposes this ideal upon the choosing man as a law of voluntar}^ action ; i.e., of conduct and character. So far, also, as the reflecting or self-conscious man finds in the relative excellence of these springs of action, or in their effects, an indication of the ends or purposes to which man's capacities for action are adapted, so far does he find in this constitution of his being an additional force of law, compelling his rational approval, and requiring his voluntary consent. According to this theory, the moral relations, so far as they are rational or intellectual, are not original categories, but are the necessary result of a special application of the category of adaptation or design. It also follows that the sentiments of self-approbation, obligation, and merit, are also special appli- cations of the commonly recognized human sensibilities, as affected by man's free and personal activity when reviewed by man's conscious or reflective judgment. It follows, that the moral nature or the moral faculty are but other names for the human faculties when employed upon a special subject-matter, and in a peculiar manner. The products of this special but natural mode of activity are moral ideas and moral emotions. It is held, further, that these products, so far as they are gen- eralized concepts, can be explained by their genesis, can be §5S.]0RIGIK AND NATURE OF MORAL RELATIONS. 139 analyzed into their constituents, and defined by them. More- over, they can be recognized as holding important relations with the other laws and forces of the universe, and so take their place in the general theory of matter and spirit. Upon this theory, also, the moral sentiments can be fully justified as being not only the most powerful, but the most rational, emotions which man experiences, and thus vindicate their acknowledged right to be supreme in their authority over man and in the counsels and laws of the supreme Reason. The only method of settling the question between these theories is to appeal to consciousness. In order to The theories do this successfully, we must understand the im- tested by con- port of the theories in conflict, and then proceed to ^"<>"^'i*^^«- inquire which corresponds to human consciousness and experi- ence ; which, also, is confirmed by the language and conduct of man ; and, again, which is also logically self -consistent in what it asserts and implies ; and, finally, which adjusts itself to a rational theory of the universe. Pursuing this method, — § 53. (1) AVe find, first of all, that moral qualities and rela- tions are affirmed of the voluntary actions of spirit- ual beings, and of these only, (a) They pertain qiiiftieT^ to spiritual beings. Moral distinctions or ethical affirmed only ,. , . ., • , . of spiritual conceptions are not vague entities or mysterious beings and abstracta, floating in the empyrean of a hazy or soar- ^^^^'^ Toinn- tary acts. ing imagination, nor are they concrete entities or phenomena ; but they pertain exclusively to voluntary agents. Rightness, virtue, goodness, and their opposites, — wrongness, vice, badness, — are indeed abstracta; but the realities for which they stand are attributes or relations which belong to those agents which are fitted by nature to hold them, {b) They are affirmed of the inner or sjnritual activities of these beings. Bodily activities alone are neither right nor wrong. An articu- lation of the tongue, a movement or stroke of the arm, an adjustment of the features, apart from what either signifies or 140 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 53. effects, is neither right nor wrong. Even if their effects are good or evil, — as in the accidental destruction of property or life, or the unintended hurt to the feelings by an ill-timed word, — such effects or acts are not and can not be wrong, (c) They are also limited to the voluntary affections. Acts of pure cog- nition are of and by themselves neither right nor wrong. The intellect is such in its nature that its perceptions and beliefs must follow certain conditions as their necessary effects. If it is applied with attention to a certain object-matter, it must perceive and judge and believe so and so. We call its knowl- edge right or wrong in the sense of being true or false ; but, so far as it is an act or result of pure intellect, we do not call it morally right or wrong. Acts of emotion as such, i.e., considered apart from the will, have no moral quality. We now and then call such emo- tions right and wrong, but in the sense of befitting ; i.e., appro- priate to the object or occasion, but never morally right or wrong. It is only as the feelings are controlled or modified by the will that they admit any moral quality. We are shut up to the conclusion that right and wrong can be aflSrmed of the acts or states of the will, and of these oiAy. As Butler expresses the matter, "The object of this faculty of moral discernment is actions, comprehending under that name active or practical principles, — ^ those principles from which men would act if occasions and circumstances gave them power, and which, when fixed and habitual in any person, we call his char- acter. It does not appear that brutes have the least reflex sense of actions as distinguished from events, or that will and design, which constitute the very nature of actions as such, are at all an object to their perception. But to ours they are ; and they are the object, and the only one, of the approving and disap- proving faculty." — Dissertation, II. Moral quality belongs only to the volitions, whether perma- nent or transient, — to the volitions, be it observed, not to their objects or conditions of choice, but solely to the acts or states ^oS.]OBIGIN AND NATURE OF MORAL RELATIONS. 141 themselves. We say, indeed, and not incorrectly, that a man chooses or rejects the right or the wrong, as science or wealth, or private or public good ; but we intend by the words, objects that are fit to be chosen, i.e., objects which, if chosen, involve a right or wrong choice. In other words, moral qualities and relations are limited to the person and his personal volitions, and cannot he affirmed of his motives or reasons. (2) That the volitions may be judged to be morally right or wrong, they must be measured or tried by some standard. The standard by which they are tried is ^"? ^^ V^^^ •^ «' acts and the natural capacities of the agent. "Ourpercep- states when tion of vice and ill-desert arises from a comparison „,an's natn- of actions with the nature and capacities of the ^^^ ^apaci- '- ties. agent" (Butler, Diss., II.). Every man, so far as he reflects upon his several desires and impulses, knows his nature and capacities, knows their comparative excellence, in the natural good ^ which their exercise involves. So far as he compares love with hatred, self-sacrifice with self-service, appe- tite with the higher emotions, he knows their worth, even before they are controlled by the will. And he cannot but imagine what he might be and enjoy were he to make this naturally better morally supreme. He cannot turn his eye inwards with- out to some extent forming an ideal standard derived from the range of his actual and possible sensibilities by which to test 1 " Li the natural good," let it be observed, which the exercise of any affection involves. Otherwise we should suppose the child to have first; known the blessedness of moral perfection in order to feel its authority as duty. But the child has had experience of the exercise of many of the kindly and loving experiences (as pity, kindliness, magnanimity, etc ) which are so familiar in infant life. Out of any of these, it requires little reflection for either man or child to form an ideal conception of the bless- edness and worth which lie dormant within, and wait only to be wakened by the life-giving will. It is in a twofold and eminent sense that we call the law of duty an ideal law. It is ideal not only when it is contrasted with the imperfection of actual achievement, but in the very elements of its own existence (cf. §§ 02, 65). 142 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 54. and judge his volitions. So soon as he compares these emotions, he judges the one to be better, naturally better, than the other, even before he has allowed or repressed either by his idll. So far as he compares and reflects upon what he is capable of in the better of these impulses, he must form a standard of ideal good. This standard he must in some sense desire to make real by con- forming to it his will. If he desires good of any sort by an instinctive impulse, he must be impelled towards that good which is the highest and best. So far as he exercises reason or forecast, there must spring up before him the vision of ideal good, whether it is or is not turned into fact. So soon as he looks forward into the future, and sees that there is an oppor- tunity for the realization of this ideal, he cannot but propose this ideal to himself as a rule for his future volitions. He cannot do otherwise as a rational being. Thus, by combining freedom with self-consciousness, man becomes a law to himself by the necessities of his own being. The reflecting man must neces- sarily become the law-giver to the choosing man.^ To the same effect, says Bishop Butler, " there is a superior principle of reflection or conscience in every man, which dis- tinguishes between the internal principles of his heart as well as his external actions ; which passes judgment upon himself thereon ; pronounces determinately some actions to be in them- selves just, right, and good, others to be in themselves evil, wrong, unjust ; which, without being consulted, w^ithout being advised with, magisterially exerts itself, and approves or con- demns him the doer of these accordingly," etc. — Sermons on Human Nature, ii. § 54. (3) He also finds the end or design for which he exists in the constitution and capacities of his being which we have noticed. So soon as the question is suggested to his thoughts, 1 Kant thus characterizes a person: — " From which it follows that a person is subject to no other laws than those which he imposes on himself." — Anfangs-Griinde der Rechts Lehre. §54.]Oi?/(?7.V AND NATUBE OF MORAL RELATIONS. 143 'Tor what do I exist, and how can I fulfil the end of my being?" he cannot but answer, ''In choosing the highest object, or obeying the best impulses, which natural ca-^^ my nature provides for or makes possible." As a pacities as indicating rational being, he compares and classifies the phe- the end for nomena of his inner life. He refers them to their ^^'*^^'' *'® exists. originator in the self that produces them. He in- terprets the working of these forces by referring to the condi- tions or laws under which they act. AVhen he asks, What are they forf for what end do they exist ? or for what are they created and intended ? he finds the answer by referring to the highest use which is within his knowledge and his control. His first answer would be the predominance of the best impulses, because they are known to be naturally best. So much the more, if this product is within his own power, and entirely bej^ond the interference of any other agent, — so much the more distinctly, — must such an exercise of his best activities be owned as the end for which he exists (cf. Trendelenburg, Der Widerstreit zicischen Kant und Aristoteles in der Ethik; Historische Beitrdge^ etc., dritter Band, pp. 201, 202). But the end for which the activities of our being are fitted, so soon as it is discerned, is at once accepted as also a law for their action, whether this law is obeyed b}^ a natural necessity, as in the harmonious activities of vegetable or animal life, or can be self-discerned and self-imposed by the intelligent and reflective man. A force of any sort, whether natural or spiritual, asserts its energy, and so bespeaks its law- giving power in the effects which it brings to pass : hence we so often interpret the forces which constitute our being as the laws which control it. More readily do we interpret the ends for which these forces conspire as internal laws which we cannot evade. A combination of forces tending towards any end, whether within or without, is invested with augmented energy. But, when such forces and tendencies are self-discerned by the intelligent spirit, they are at once recognized as more than unconscious agencies : they enforce themselves at once as rea- 144 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 55. sonable law. Indeed, it is not till the purpose or end of any existing thing is ascertained, that its nature is fully understood. So soon as this purpose is discerned as supreme, it is at once accepted as the rightful or reasonable law of its acting, whether this acting is necessary or free. Pre-eminently is this true of a free and reflecting being who knows the end of his living self by a direct and conscious insight into the nature and degree of the good which he can propose to himself as the law of his active energy. The authority of such a law is resistless, spring- ing out of his very nature, and discerned by his reason, beyond which there is no appeal. This, be it remarked, is reached so far as the individual is related to himself. The other applica- tions of the category of design present themselves with widen- ing and heightened authority, as man's relations to his fellows, to the physical universe, and to God, are discovered, and the ends for which he exists are seen to include other beings in the rational harmony and order, and the consequent well-being, of the universe. § 55. (4) The processes analyzed give the essential elements (4) These ro- ^^ ^^® conception of moral good, and enable us to cesses of re- define it as follows : moral good is the voluntary the elements ^^^oice of the highest natural good possible to man, of moral good as kuown to himself and by himself, and interpreted and evil. . -, . . . ^,•^^ as the end of his existence and activities. Ihe activity must be voluntary if it involves responsibility. Its relations to the several capacities of man's being must be known by himself, and accepted as the end of his existence, and imposed as the law of his activity. Otherwise it cannot be discovered and enforced independently of external aid and authority. External relations and influences assist to the dis- covery of those relations, but they cannot originate them. All that they can do, when they are most efficient, is to direct and excite the mind to an earlier and easier reflection. They can simply inform the man what he will find if he looks, and furnish the lan2:uao;3 in which he can clothe his own discoveries. ^55.^ ORIGIN AND NATURE OF MORAL RELATIONS. 145 (5) The processes described can be performed at a very early age. As has ah-eady been said, whatever view is ,g. rpjj^j^g taken of the moral relations, or the steps or acts processes can by which they are gained, it is invariably allowed ^t an early that the mind must reflect upon its voluntary acts in *s®- order to judge of them as right or wrong, and even to under- stand these words ; and this whether the rule is given by an intuition, an instinct, the categorical imperative, or the moral sense. Whatever view is taken of the nature of the standard, all agree that the child must regard its own activities with discriminating self-inspection in order to compare and judge them by a moral rule. But, if the child is capable of this self- inspection, in order to apply the rule, it may use the same self- inspection, that it may discover the rule in its own natural capacities for higher and lower good. That the child is capable of the processes which we have supposed, is evident still further from the methods employed by parents and teachers to awaken children to the apprehension of the import of moral distinctions. That this knowledge cannot be imparted by instruction or authority has already been argued (§§ 41-4G). One might as reasonably contend that the element- ary conceptions of pure geometry can be imparted, by mere testimony, as the elementary conceptions of ethics. That parents and teachers can and do rouse the minds of children to tlie apprehension of moral relations will not be disputed. By ExDcrioncos what method ? Invariably by a method which leads to in- „ cli'ldhocd telligent self-inspection ; technically speaking, to a process of an observing self-consciousness of the powers and capacities of their inner being. When the mother would awaken or stimulate the moral conscious- ness of the child, she invariably asks, "Was there not a better activity of your nature which you could have called into exercise ? Would not self- sacrificing or self-imparting love have been better than self-appropriating desire, when these two came in conflict? Is not appetite denied, i.e., dis- placed by a higher impulse, better than appetite slavishly or selfishly obeyed? As the child resj)onds when convinced, or assents even more eloquently by silence, it shows that it has followed the challenging inquiry by turning its eje inward to compare for itself the higher with the inferior 146 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 56. good ; or, as it lifts its eye again to meet the searching eye of i)arent oi monitor, it shows by its altered expression what it has found within. In- deed, w'e may almost say that the dawning and progressive activity of ethical self-consciousness may be discerned in the new expression which the eye of infancy assumes when it makes its first experiences of respon- sible self-activity and judgment. The eye of many animals is penetrating and active : the eye of others is singularly human and affectionate. In man alone does it manifest the self-judging and introverted expression which is too often also self-condemning or self-excusing. § 56. This process of self- judgment may begin with the Are con- child's Tudiyiientary life^ and he matured and trained tinued after n^uu the development of its poicers. So soon as the development . t- - ^ ^ it-ii into man- mfant Can distmgmsh between the natural desirable- hood, j^ggg ^f ^^.^ emotions, or springs of action, he can distinguish them, when brought in conflict, as morally good or evil. The conflicting and contrasted impulses may be the simplest conceivable, — only two contending impulses to self- sacrifice or self-indulgence, to love or hate, such as early and often contend within the breast of the child. If the child reflects at all, he cannot but know that the one is or would be the better use of his powers than the rival. *' Early he perceives Within himself a measure and a rule, Which to the sun of truth he can apply, That shines for him, and shines for all mankind." The Excursion, book iv. The ideally good is no sooner known — usually, i.e., the pos- sibly better, — than it is applied as a measure of the actual attainments. As the child's conceptions of the possibilities of his nature enlarge, just so rapidly does the standard of moral goodness rise. Man can sooner part with his shadow when he stands in the open sunlight, than he can shake off or lose sight of that ideal of duty which he finds in his own capacities of good when viewed in the liglit of his reflective judgment. The law proposed by self-reflecting reason is indeed an ideal ^57.]OIiIGIN AND NATUBE OF MOBAL BELATIONS. 147 laiv. It presents what is possible, not what is actually ac-hieved. The inner law-oiver imasfines what he mioht be, , o ' The standard, before he affirms what he is. But this presents no or law, is difficulty. On any view of the origin and nature "^''"^' of the moral relations, they must be regarded as ideal, and not as necessarily actual (§ 2) : indeed, herein is their glory, and their power to elevate and transform. No man would confess that the standard by which he judges the actual in himself or his fellow-men is transcribed from the actual realizations of either. This were to lower ideal and moral law to man's defec- tive achievements. But, though the law is ideal, it is founded on solid fact ; it is derived from the capacities of our being, the end and use for which we exist and hold our place in the econ- omy of the universe, and the purposes of the living God. It is one thing to have an ideal which has no known and necessary relations to* the actual, and to find it and be forced to use it, we know not why, by instinct or impulse, and the like ; and altogether another to find its basis in the actual capacities which are provided in man's nature. In the latter case alone do we find the ideal in the really possible, and for this reason is such an ideal wholly rational. We also find it in the end or design for which we exist, and therefore we use it as the measure of our beings' perfection. § 57. Thus far have we confined our attention almost exclu- sively to man's relations to himself; i.e., to the workings of his nature, were we to suppose that he man's reia- existed alone. Such a view limits very narrowly tionstoim •^ -^ fellows, the range of man's duties, as, indeed, of his experi- ences and knowledge of eveiy kind. In order to expand this range, he must know that his fellows are mioral beings like himself, under the same moral law, and designed for the same perfection. How does he know this? We answer, The same indications which show his fellows to be human prove them to be moral also. If my fellow-men are like me in being men, they are like me in being subject to the same rule of voluntary' 148 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 57. action, in proposing to themselves the same ends, and judging of themselves by the same standards. They exist for the same ends with myself, — the voluntary realization of the same per- fection. They together constitute a social whole in the adapta- tions of their nature to a moral organism, under the economy of reason and of God. If this is so, the well-being of each is not only compatible with, but is conducive to, the well-being of all the others. If the voluntary recognition of the good of my fellow-man is the noblest use of my own nature, then the reciprocal return of benevolence from him to me blesses him as well as myself. If I believe in an orderly or rationally constituted system or society of beings like myself, as I must in order to have any reasoned or scientific knowledge of them at all, I must believe that the best good of each is conducive to and compatible with the best good of all together, and that, whenever I sacrifice for the whole, I must achieve my highest good, not only in the inward experiences of benevolence, but in the external or corporeal acts to which these impel, and to their results in the economy of the universe. To desire my own well-being is necessary and right, because I thereby secure the end for which I exist. To sacrifice my private and separate good when it is in conflict with the good of others is also right, because n>y highest good in an orderly universe of moral beings can never conflict with the well-being of the commonwealth ; and fhis is a still higher good and nobler end. If the relations of man to nature, as well as to his fellows, may be interpreted in their possibilities and their Supremacy of "^ moral law cuds, wc reasonably assume that moral ends are provided for. gupj^^me ovcr both nature and man. If we raise our thoughts still higher, and recognize each individual, as also society and nature, as the work of a personal creator, for the manifestation and fulfilment of definite and consistent purposes in a coherent and rational universe, we shall accept the con- clusion that moral ends are not only supreme, but that they express the will and law of God. ^5S.]0IiIGIN A^^I) NATUBE OF MOEAL DELATIONS. 149 § 58. We gather and recapitulate the results of our anal3'sis as follows : moral relations are discerned by finding Kecapituia- and applying the rule or measure of voluntar}" action, tion. which is furnished b}" the nature of man when this activity is judged as related to the end of his existence. That voluntar}- activity which proposes this supreme end is morally right : that which falls short of it is morally wrong. The object of choice to the will is not itself morally right or wrong. The motive cannot be itself a choice. The best natural impulse or desire which the occasion calls for or admits must be made supreme ; that is, the object which involves such a desire must be chosen. A morally good choice is a choice that selects or prefers the best end possible to the nature of man ; in other words, the best natural good. Bonum mentis naturale quum est voluntariiim, Jit honum morale. That our purposes should possibly fail of these ends is an incident of that exercise of the voluntary power which is necessar}^ to moral responsibility. That man should be able to find the norm of his activity in himself follows from his being self-conscious and rational. As self-conscious, he understands the relative excellence of the impulses which his nature provides for, and the supreme end to which his nature points. As rational, and capable of self-direction, he must propose to himself the best as the norm or aim of his impulses, whenever these are made voluntary, and must inva- riably impose this on his will as its law. When any choice is made, as self-conscious he must try and test the quality of this activity by the rule or test which he finds in bis own capacities, \ and, as the result of the comparison, he must diacerii the act as morally right or morally wrong. After having thus evolved these conceptions, he uses them to try all subsequent choices and acts. He need not staj' to analyze the newl}^ discovered conception. He may not even know that it can be analyzed. He simply asks. How can the concept be correctly applied as a rule or measure of conduct ? Moreover, his first finished and distinct experience of right or wrong activity is attended by 150 i:LEMEyfs of mobal science. [§ 59. the conviction that moral good is superior to all other good, and moral evil surpasses all other evil, and both are of supreme importance as the highest and most consummate forms of human activity. § 50. We have followed thus far the method of analysis, in order that we might discover the several elements, both psychological and ecapi u a- metaphysical, which are respectively present as the conditions synthesis. ^^ constituents of the so-called ethical processes and prod- ucts. ^Ye need only reverse the order, to discover hovsr both processes and products are built up from the elements of both de- scriptions. It will be conceded that these processes are performed, and their products are evolved, by moral beings only; and that moral beings are necessarily endowed with intelligence, sensibility, and will. They are also limited to psychical states, being applied to bodily acts only whenever and so far as these express spiritual feelings and purposes. These ele- ments and conditions of the ethical states and acts are essential to the import of ethical concepts ; so far, at least, that these must be defined as acts or states of rational, emotional, and voluntary beings. All this being granted by the advocates of all the theories Avith which we are at present concerned, the question which would seem to present itself to such persons woidd be simply this : given this complex psycho- logical substratum for all the so-called ethical qualities of human actions which are thus complexly analyzed and defined, is it as simple concepts, or as the products of these psychological endowments, that they manifest the end for which man exists ? And is it as simple, or complex, that they find a place for the voluntary realization or failure of this end, when recognized, and thus provide for those emotions which are confessedly present in all ethical experiences ? It is conceded by all, that the relation of purpose or final cause is essential to any satisfactory ethical theory. It remains to show in what way this end, when apprehended by self- consciousness, necessarily becomes invested with the authority of law to the will, and also the ground of self-approbation, obligation, and merit. If this analysis is correct, it is obvious that ethical relations are in some sense conditioned upon a complex of psychological endowments. If this is so, these elements must enter into our definition of these relations, and we accept the analysis as the solution of this much-vexed question. The fact cannot escape the thoughtful reader, that end, and adapta- tion, and design, and even God, are assumed as categories Relation to ^f thought in our explanation of the nature of moral relations and'theoloffi- ^^ originally developed and rcflectivelj' formulated in and to cal theory. the human mind. The same is equally obvious in the expla- nation given of the corresponding emotions, particularly that of obligation (cf. §§ G2-G5). This should occasion no surjirise to one who § 59.] ORIGIN AND NATUBE OF MORAL RELATIONS. 151 reflects that no school of ps3'chologists can dispense with some sort of a priori metaphysics, not even the positiA^sts. Even they can neither connect, nor interpret, nor practically apply, their so-called positive phe- nomena, except by the aid of the categories of succession and similarity". The evolutionists draw more heavily than any school upon an assumed " far-off divine event, To which the whole creation moves." The force which thus moves and is moved is not by their own concessions " unknow^able," at least so far as its self-developing power is concerned. Should it be said, if this is granted or assumed, then ethics must in the last analysis be resolved into theology, and the interpretation and discov- ery of tlie moral law must involve the distinct recognition of God as giving it reality and authority, we reply. This is no more true in ethics than it is in physics. It does not follow, however, that the moral categories must be analyzed and applied with a distinct apprehension of their comi:)leted imjiort in order to their control over the intellect and feelings. If a man goes so far as to know that his inmost nature, hy its inmost forces, works for righteousness, individually or socially, he can understand the reality and authority of the moral law which his own nature reveals, w^hether or not he recognizes "a j)()wer not himself," behind it. It does not follow, that because the recognition of design, or of a purpose involving authority or law, involves faith in the living God, when all its implications are " evolved," that therefore ethics must necessarily imply the distinct and constant recognition of a theology. And yet it may be true that a reflec- tive analysis of our faith in the moral order of the universe may show that it logically implies faith in God, as truly as our faith in its natural order implies faith in a divine Architect. One of the most hopeful signs of modern ethical speculation is this, — that, as we are challenged step by step to give account of our faith in duty, we are forced to recognize more and more distinctly the absolute necessity of a spiritual rather than a materialistic metaphysics of the universe of matter and spirit, and a theis- tic rather than an agnostic philosophy. The distinct recognition of this truth gives great value and interest to such a treatise as Professor T. H. Green's " Prolegomena of Ethics " i (Oxford, 18&1). 1 Cf. The Grammar of Assent, by J. P. Newman, 4th ed., pp. 108-110; Essays on the Philosophy of Theism, by William George Ward, London, 1884, vol. ii. pp. 95 sqq.; Christianity and Morality, by Henry Wace, M.A., lect. iii. (first course); Righteousness a Personal Relation, London, 1877; Tlie Relation betvjeen Ethics and Religion, by James Martineau, London, 1883. 152 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 60. CHAPTER IX. THE MORAL FEELINGS. § 60. The moral feelings or sentiments need to be accounted for by any theory which asks to be received. It is Place of the ^ -^ J .-,,., emotions in not cnough that the universally recognized ethical an ethical conceptions should be explained. The sentiments or emotions which are distinctively ethical must also be accounted for. Those theories wliich find these relations to be orioinal cateo'ories in the soul, also find the ethical emotions to be original and peculiar experiences. The connection of the moral emotions with the moral judgments they do not attempt to explain. Indeed, by the very terms of every one of these theories its advocates are relieved from the obligation to con- nect judgment with emotion, or emotion with judgment. Each accepts, as already furnished, three classes of original elements or data: viz., certain relations discerned, or concepts appre- hended by the intellect ; certain emotions felt or experienced by the sensibility ; and the constant and necessary conjunction of the two. On the other hand, the explication, if successful, of the one by the other, or the combination of the two as natural and necessary, so far forth strengthens the theory which assumes the responsibility of explaining some connection between the two. We proceed to show how the discernment or develop- ment of moral relations by the processes described in the last chapter, necessarily involves and accounts for those sentiments and emotions which are universally recognized as moral. §61.] THE MORAL FEELINGS. 153 § 61. (1) Prominent among these emotions are the feelings of self-approval and self-reproach. It is obvious, that, ^ ^ ^j.^ if man is naturally pleased with any form of natural of seif-ap- good, he must necessarily approve or be pleased with seif-re-^" its originator. If he is offended and repelled by an proach. evil effect to himself, he must be offended by its cause. If this cause or originator is a person, i.e., an intelligent and volun- tary producer of this good or evil, he must pre-eminently love or be displeased with that person. The feeling, whether of love or hate, toward a personal cause of good or evil to one's self, is different in quality and intensity from any feelings towards an impersonal thing, whether it be animate or inanimate. The feelings of persons towards persons in any relation, almost refuse to be classed with the feelings of persons towards im- personal agents. Man, as a voluntary being, is capable of originating good or evil to himself. As such, he can be and he is the sole cause of whatever good or evil comes from the impulses and affections which he makes supreme. As the originator of such good or evil by himself to himself, his feel- ings rise to a higher tone. He must approve and love himself, or disapprove and hate himself, with a quality and intensity that are peculiar.^ Both these affections of self-favor or dis- favor to himself must in their nature and experience be unique, both as they are personal affections, and as the person is at once the giver and receiver of the love or hatred. The fact that man, l)y his double nature, at once gives and receives, admin- isters and suffers, causes these correlated emotions to be the most desired and dreaded of human experiences, the strongest motives of human action, — the most blessed of J03^s, or the most bitter of inward pains. These joys and pains deepen and 1 wf yap 01 (jiyovvreg kol irvpiTolg daKVOfievoi tuv TvavTu naaxovTuv l^uOev VTTO Kavf/aroc 7J Kpvov^ naXkov evox^ovvrai koI Kauov £;i;oi;criv * ovtu^ k7i,a • j, ,• i,,..^ claim of ouglit to do or reiraui rrom this or that, signifies, another. jjjy parent or teacher commands me, and will punish me if I fail or offend : the magistrate, or the community, or God, commands or forbids, and will reward or punish. In this sense it is eminently true that obligation supposes an obliger, and signifies "a violent motive resulting from the com- mand of another." Such words as "to owe," "to be bound," and their equivalents, are largely derived from relations be- tween man and man, that involve force and command on the one side, and fear and compulsion on the other. If we collate in the English, the French, or the German languages the prominent words that express or imply the relation of obliga- tion, we shall find that they were all originally the relations of man to man, as of child or servant, or debtor or subject. These external relations furnish the vocabulary for the in- ternal authority of man over himself, but do not for symbolizes' ^^^^^ rcason either originate or explain the relation and suggests itself, nor the ground of it, nor even the history of the internal. its progressive and complete development to the analytic consciousness. While in time our distinct knowledge of the external precedes that of the internal, the internal is not created out of the first, though it is suggested by it, and even expressed in terms taken from it. Very soon the two are blended together ; and the one practically supplements the other, which it symbolizes and enforces to the advantage and strength- ening of both. It is when one contradicts and resists the other that the tragedies of life within and without invariably follow. A man owes his debts none the less morally because the law adds its motives of a writ and a judgment to those of the conscience. AVe pay our debts because we owe them, in the sense of being forced by fear of the oflScer, and also from a conscience before God. But when the dues which the law §64.] THE MORAL FEELINGS. 159 exacts, or public sentiment enforces, are inconsistent with the duties which the conscience enjoins, then it is that conflicts and scruples, and the tragedies of the heart and of life, ensue. The feeling of obligation has long attracted the attention of theoretic moralists, and been supposed to be invested „ Supposed with a special mystery. This has been especially mystery of true since Kant made the categorical imperative so ° *^* ^^^' emphatic and distinctive an element in all ethical experiences, and excluded it from all relationship to the sensibility. Kant opposes the categorical to the hypothetical imperative, over- looking the fact that to his own categorical imperative he concedes a subtle hypothetical condition bv enfor- •^ ^ " Kant's cing the authority of its commands by their acknowl- categorical edged fitness to become general laws. Kant, as is ^^p^""**^^®- well known, not only asserted for this imperative the claim of being the ethical feature by eminence, but he invested it with authority to enforce not only our duty, l)ut our faith in God, as the condition of moral order, and the rewarder of virtue with happiness. A large class of moralists, on the other hand, have assumed that obligation involves the existence of two persons, related as ruler and subject by natural or conventional ties, and have insisted that obligation implies command on the one side, and subjection on the other. Thus Warburton asserts, "Obli- gation supposes an obliger, different and distinct warburton's from the person obliged; " and Paley, "A man is saying. obliged when he is urged by a violent motive resulting from the command of another," which he expands in his definition of virtue as "the doing good to mankind in obedience to the will of God, and for the sake of everlasting happiness." Both these writers find no diflSculty in explaining the term on that theory of morals which makes the positive command of God an essential condition of the authority of duty. In jurisprudence obligation is often derived wholly from the commands Theory of of positive law (cf. Austin). In the theory of this this treatise, work the personal and authoritative element and the related 160 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 65. emotions are fully provided for by the recognition of that pe- culiarity in man's nature by which he is capable of being a law to himself; i.e., in virtue of the voluntary and self-conscious endowments of his being. Kant has occasionally recognized and eloquently asserted the truth that moral necessity is the superior will of man commanding his inferior will. Paul Janet writes thus : — "Assuming all these premises, I conclude, that, in my opin- Janet's ^^^^ the man cannot thus conceive his own ideal exposition. esscncc witliout wishing to realize this essence so far as it is possible. Moral necessity is, as Kant perceived, only the superior n-Ul of the man, laying commands on his wferioriviU. Man cannot wish to be any thing but a true man, a complete man ; that is, to be actually what he is virtually. This will of the reason finds itself in conflict with the sensitive will. The siq^erior iciU, so far as it imposes authority upon the inferior will ^ is called obligation.'" — The Theory of Morals^ book ii. chap. i. § 3, New York, 1883. § G5. Dr. Thomas Brown (Edinburgh, 1778-1820) gives the following analysis of the feeling and judgment of obligation : — " Persons acting in a certain manner excite in us a feeling of approval: persons acting in a manner opposite to this cannot be con- Theory of sidered by us without an emotion, perhaps as vivid or more Brown vivid, of the opposite kind. Why does it seem to us virtue to act in this way ? Why does he seem to us to have merit, or, in other words, to be worthy of approbation, who has acted in this way ? The only answer which can be given to these questions is the same to all: that it is impossible for us to consider the action without feeling, that, by acting in this way, we should look upon ourselves, and others would look upon us, with abhorrence, or at least with disapprobation " {Lectures on the Philosophy of the Ilvmcin Mind, lect. 73). " To feel this char- acter of approvableness in an action whichice have not yet performed, and are only meditating in the fvtnre, is to feel the moral obligation or moral induce- ment to perform it. When we think of an action in the moment of voli- tion, we term the voluntary performance of it ' virtue: ' when we think of the action as already performed, we denominate it "merit' " (lect. 81). These solitary passages are the more interesting and significant, as occurring in a writer whose tendency is to resolve all the phenomena of the soul into emotions, who makes little or nothing of the will, and does § 65.] THEORIES OF THE FEELING, ETC. 161 only scant justice to the personality and self-consciousness of man; all of which are vital to any satisfactory theory of either the sentiment or judg- ment of obligation. i/wic^eson proposes and answers the question as follows: "If any ask, * Can we have any sense of obligation abstracting from the laws of a superior ? ' we must answer according to the various , " f lesoii s doctrine. senses of the word ' obligation.' If by obligation we under- stand a determination, without regard to our own interest, to approve the actions and to perform them, which determination shall also maTce xis dis- pleased loith ourselves, and uneasy ujjon having acted contrary to it, in this meaning of the word ' obligation ' there is naturally an obligation upon all men to benevolence." — Inquiry, pp. 266, 267. He recognizes the opinion, current in his time, that obligation implies an obliger, thus: "When any sanctions co-operate with our moral sense in exciting us to actions which we count morally good, we say we are obliged; but when sanctions of rewards or punishments oppose our moral sense, then we say we are bribed or constrained." — p. 276. Warburton, who was conspicuous for resolving all obligation into the command of God, — his pithy statement being "Obligation sv23poses an obliger," — thus writes to John Brown, M.D., the author of "Essays on the Characteristics: " — " If you use * obligation ' in the sense of motive, then I apprehend Shaftes- bury, Clarke, and Wollaston may say you differ, not from them, but in the use of a different term, which comes to the same ^^ arburton-s thing. Thej call virtue beautiful. Jit, and fn/e, for the reason ci* p!*''?' *^" that you call it beneficial; namely, because it produces hap- Clarke etc. pmess: therefore, when they say the beauty, the fitness, the truth, of virtue is the motive for practising it, they say the very thing you do, as referring to the happiness of which virtue is productive, etc. " If, on the other hand, by motive you had meant, as understood by you, real obligation, you must still be in the wrong, if (as you hold) Shaftesbury, Clarke, and Wollaston be so; because, like them, you make real obligation to arise, as they do, from the nature of virtue, and not, as their real adversaries do, from the will of a superior: for their real adver- saries do not say they are wrong in making it arise from this or that prop- erty of virtue, — such as its beauty, its fitness, or its truth, —but in their making it arise from an abstract idea at all, or, indeed, from any thing but personality, and the will of another, different and distinct from the person obliged" {vide Warbukton's Letters, pp. 57, 58). Of this we say, that Warburton is right in so far as he makes personality to be essential to obli- gation, but not necessarily the personality of " another, different and dis- tinct from the person obliged; " inasmuch as the very essence and energy of the feeling depend on the fact that the two relations coincide in one and the same person. As to the fact whether the person obliging and the per- 162 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 65. son obliged can be the same, we have only to say, that, if this is impossible, self-consciousness and self-control are also impossible. And yet somehow it must be true, — " that unless above himself he can Erect himself, how poor a thing is man ! " The influence of Kant upon the ethical thought of modern times has in no one particular been so conspicuous as in his doctrine of Different in- floral obligation, or the categorical imperative, which he .. J,. ' interprets in a sense which was original to himself, with which he connected a peculiar psychological theory, and of which he made a special philosophical application. Not a few writers, as has already been noticed, have accepted his general statement, who did not fully adopt the psychological or philosophical theory in which it held a unique and well-filled place. It was mainly through the influence of Coleridge that the theory and its application passed into very current favor with very many English and American writers, who have accepted it as the eloquently phrased doctrine of Clarke, Price, and Reid, without scru- tinizing its logical consistency, or accepting its psj'chological or theological accompaniments. The simple statement that the categorical imperative is not only invested with the prerogative of simple authority, but that it commands us to believe in a personal and perfect God, has been accepted by very many as the corner-stone of ethical and theistic faith. It deserves careful notice, however, that the doctrine of Kant is not that the sense of obligation is derived from the personal authority of God as sanctioning the law of duty, but that the command of duty requires us to believe in God in order that he may enforce this law by reward and punishment. We do not first believe in God, and subsequently accept the obligation of duty from the command of God; but we find the moral law commanding us to believe in him axiomatically. The truth for which we contend is, that the contemplation of right action as the supreme end of our being leads us, in scientific thought and faith, to a God who is personal and morally good; but it does not make moral obligation to proceed from the simple will or command of God, for the obligation would exist were there no God. For this reason, such language as the following, from J. A. Fronde, is liable to misinterpretation, if it is not palpably erroneous: * " So far as we know, morality rests ujion the sense of obliga- tion; and obligation has no meaning except as implying a divine command, without which it would cease to be." — Life of John Bunyan, chap. ix. Herbert Spencer, in entire consistency with his theory, analyzes moral obligation into two elements, — the element of authority, ^^^ ^^ which he interprets as the known excellence of the good Spencer. ^ ° impulse or act; and the element of coerciveness, which he derives from the several forms of social restraint to which man is subject, — the political, religious, and social (cf. Locke's lliree Laws, § 41). The § 66.^ THEORIES OF THE FEELING, ETC. 163 second of these elements, in the order of evolution, will fade away; i.e., " the sense of duty or moral obligation is transitory, and will be diminished as fast as moralization increases " {Data of Kant's re- Ethics, § 46). Kant asserts the same of his categorical im- J* ^°" perative, but for a different reason: viz., that the sensibilities or passions will eventually cease to struggle with the categorical impera- tive; and holiness, or a state of loving consent, shall at last comi^letely displace the resisting and struggling sensibility. It is worthy of notice, that neither Kant nor Spencer finds any place for personality, and scarcely for freedom, in their psychological theory; although Kant's provides for it as an ethical necessity. It is not surprising that the ethical theory of both fails satisfactoril}^ to explain the feeling of obligation. James Martineau, in a brief essay (London, 1881, On the Relation hetioeen Ethics and Religion), surprises us by insisting that no proper ethics can „^™^^ Martinean. be constructed which do not imply God as necessarily and naturally known to the soul, and enforcing the law of duty as his personal will ; which is the exact converse of the doctrine of Kant, though obviously inspired by Kant's analj'sis of obligation. § (SQ>. (3) A third class of emotions are those of merit or demerit, or of good and ill desert. These, for similar ' -^ -^ ' (3) Sense of reasons, are, with the sense of obligation, very fre- merit and quently conceived of as judgments, — shaded off, ^'^"*^"** perhaps, into the emotions which attend them. A moment's reflection will convince an}^ one that they suppose and impl}^ the existence of a community of moral beings. It is of his fellow- men or his Creator that a man is said and conceded to deserve good or evil : it is only in a remote and secondary way that he can be said to deserve good or evil of himself. It being im- plied that men li\'e in a community, if A feels or acts rightly or wrongly, we think and say, A deserves good or evil from B, (7, D, and all the rest. We do not say we believe that B, C, D, and all the rest, will, in fact, show love and „ ' ' ' ' ' ' Supposes so- complacency to A when he acts rightly, or dislike ciety,— acom= when he acts wrongly; but we do believe and say, p®^®*"® **^^ that, if they do this in fact, they ivill approve their oicn acts, and, if they do the opposite, they ivill disapx)rove them. We think and say this with confidence, because we believe that all men are alike in their moral nature. The merit or demerit of 164 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 66. purposes and actions is their capacity to elicit or command from others such feelings of approval or disapproval as the bestowers themselves shall approve or disapprove. As is true of self- approbation and its converse self-reproach, as also of obliga- tion to do or avoid, so is it of merit and demerit : all are affirmable of the actions and feelings or purposes, — first of the feelings or purposes, and then of the actions which are their expression or effects. Whatever action or choice would occasion these feelings before or after it was achieved, we say was obligatory to do or to avoid, was meritorious or demeritori- ous ; i.e., was well or ill deserving. This transfer from inward feeling to outward act is by a common figure of language. §67.] OBJECTIONS, REPLIES, ETC. 165 CHAPTER X. OBJECTIONS, REPLIES, AND COUNTER-OBJECTIONS. § 67. To the analysis which has been given of the processes by which our moral conceptions are gained, with objections to their attendant emotions, the following objections ^"''t^ieory. are urged : — (1) These processes suppose acts of reflection and compari- son of which we are not conscious in every, perhaps •^^ ^ (1) The pro- not in any, case when we discern these relations, cesses re- and experience these emotions. qmredsup- ^ pose inipossi- To this we reply, that the theory does not require bie acts of us to hold that in every instance, or in the majority'' of instances, when we think ethical conceptions, or employ ethical terms, we must go through these successive steps, and discern these several relations, but only that when their import is first discerned, or subsequently anal3^zed into its elements, they must involve these processes and products. This is true of the majority of the complex concepts which we constantly employ, of the most and the least familiar alike. When Reflp(.tion we have once mastered their content, we rarely needed to gain, but not dwell upon the elements. It often happens that a to apply single relation of a very complicated concept is all "**™* that we need to recognize for its intelligent application. But 166 ELEMENTS OF 3I0BAL SCIENCE. [§ 67. when we seek to define such a concept, or inquire whether it is simple or complex, and when we inquire how it originated, or of what elements it consists, it presents itself in new aspects, and suggests other inquiries. We perform many a complicated process of analysis, or unite several elements by elaborate synthesis, without being aware that we do either. Most of the processes involved in the acquired perceptions, especially of sight or hearing, when famil- iar, are achieved with 'a rapidity which forbids that they should be followed by the analytic or reflective consciousness. Few of these processes can be recalled by the memory. . We see and hear, as by insight or intuition, the form, size, and distance, with the properties which are appropriate to the other senses. We do not notice, we do not half believe, that we compare and judge and interpret in order to determine what is indicated ; but we seem to ourselves to hear, perceive, or see the object directl}^ as a whole, without analysis or definition. And yet we know, that, without many processes of judgment and interpretation, we could not perform the acts, nor gain the knowledge, nor experience the emotions, which we are certain we gain and feel. (2) It is objected again, that this theory requires that moral relations and emotions should be experienced at an that moral incredibly early age. To this we reply, that even distinctions j^ infancy we are fully equal to many achievements should be ^ '^ *^ originated of thought and feeling which are no less surprising at too early ^^^11 tliosc required by our theory- Indeed, so soon an age. i j j as the human being awakes to distinct and remem- berable consciousness, he finds himself in possession of a large stock of familiar conceptions and emotions and habits, which he knows must have been accumulated in what seems to him to have been the dim and early dawn of his inner life. It should also be remembered, that, whatever be our theory, moral rela- tions, when first discovered, are not apprehended in the abstract § G7.J OBJECTIONS, REPLIES, ETC. 167 but in the concrete form, and even then not as exemplified in the feeUngs and actions of adults, but of infants ; not as applied to the imposing and vague abstractions of advanced reflection, but as illustrated in the trivial yet definite claims and responses of childhood. Even the axioms of geometry are not self-evident to childhood in the generalized phraseology of the schools ; and yet they are as obvious to the child as to the man, when applied to the quanta which the child manipulates. The same is eminently true of the relations of morality in the early dawn of conscious a,ctivity. Our theory does not require the enlarged conceptions and the complex emotions of reflective manhood, but only such as are possible „ to infancy, and uj^on the materials that are within the in- sngji j.^i^, fant's experience, and are familiar to an infant's observation, tions as an Let there be only two conflicting desires struggling for the Jii^ai^t can mastery, each known to the inward eye as naturally better ™^* ^^' or worse, one chosen, the other rejected when within its reach, and the child has all that it needs to think of in order to discern the relations of moral good and evil, and to experience the attendant emotions of self- approval and obligation and merit. The process of discernment is per- formed necessarily and instantaneously. The child has only to reflect, and reflection only to be energetic and comjiarative, and in an instant consciousness sjirings into the activity of conscience ; the conscience giv- ing an end, a standard, a self- judgment, and self-approval or self-rej^roach. What an instant before was a sportive arena has suddenly become a solemn tribunal, which gives a more elevated import and a more serious aspect to all the future activities of human life and experience. The eyes are opened as by magic to a universe of new relations: the knowledge of good and evil is attained as in an instant. It should also be remembered, that every theory which does not explain moral concepts by relations from without, but derives them from within, requires these very processes of reflection to apply, which this theory re- quires to originate, moral law and moral emotions. Those who begin with rational intuitions, or the categorical imperative, or the responses of the moral sense, require a measure of that reflective comparison in order to apply the standard or law which this theory demands for its origination. Every ethical theory seems, at first thought, beyond the reach of an infant's power of inward reflection. It follows, that an objection which applies equally to all can be fatal to no one. 168 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 67. (3) It is objected still further, that the theory, in its final analysis, resolves morality into selfish relations and moraMnto affections.^ To this we reply, first of all, it does not selfish reia- of necessity resolve morality into any relations to good or happiness which are sensitive as distin- guished from the voluntary. There are those who hold that moral excellence is defined as the choice of the high'^st natural good, who seem to contend that there is a natural good which in itself gives no happiness, or at least that this natural happi- ness should not be known to the subject of it. Leaving this subtile refinement, and conceding that the high- est natural good in man or in any sensitive being must involve sensitive satisfaction, it does not follow that the theory which defines moral excellence as the choice of those objects which give the highest sensitive good is a selfish theory. Selfishness, it should always be remembered, is a voluntary preference of private and separate good to the good of others. It can have no possible application to the natural exercise of a natural sen- sibility, whether it be high or low, self-terminating or altruistic. But selfishness is excluded by the very fundamental assumption of the theory that man is capable of disinterested delight in the good of others, and that this is a nobler happiness than any form of individual or separate gratification. But it is urged, if we make this happiness which is incident to natural love to be a motive to voluntary love by thinking of it, or apprehending its presence, we exclude the disinterestedness of our loving, and of course we destroy its virtuousness. To this we reply, that it is true, that in order to love, and so far as we love, whether by a natural or a voluntary aflfection, we must think of the object which is loved, and often be so absorbed in this object as to fail to notice the blessedness of loving. Whether 1 See A. Trendelenburg, Der Widerstreit zivischen Kant iind Aristoteles in der Ethik; (1) Die Lust xind das ethische Princip. Hist. Beitrage, etc., 3ter Band, vi.; (2) also H. Lotze, Der Mikrokosnms, 5tes Buch, 5tes Kapitel ; Das Gewissen xind die Sittlichkeit. §67.] OBJECTIONS, BEPLIES, ETC. 169 the love is an affection which we cannot repress, or which we voluntarily allow, it can exist only so far and so long as the mind is moved by the object loved, i.e., so long as the object is loved for its own sake. Whenever we love, or howsoever we love, we love the object, not the happiness or satisfaction which loving involves. But, on the other hand, when the man esti- mates the quality of his love, whether it is natural ^j^^ position or voluntary, he is no longer an actor, going out of » 3adse ,„,..,,, ., differs from from himseli objectively, but has become a judge, that of an looking in upon himself subjectively ; and he cannot a«tor. avoid judging each affection as to the quality of the satisfaction which it gives. Judging it thus, he cannot but measure it by the capacities of subjective or sensitive good which his nature provides. Whether or not this estimate is a moral estimate, it is not inconsistent with the unselfishness of a voluntary affec- tion, so long as the voluntary act of loving must be disinterested in order to be love at all. These two movements or elements of our nature — the out- ward or objective, and the reflex or subjective — must go together. They cannot be antagonistic as impelling or direct- ing forces. They cannot be mutually exclusive. The attempt to show that the moral impulse and the desire of happiness are incompatible, or have no possible relations, has invariably failed in theory and practice. We say truly of the impulses of A-oluntary benevolence, and indeed of every impulse which is merely emotional or natural, that the good of another must fill and control the thoughts, and it,e„eyoip„(>e move the sensibility. But it is also true, that while a man is when exer- loving his friend, or pitying a sufferer, he cannot avoid being cised and conscious that his loving or pitying exi^erience opens to him estimated, is the highest and noblest satisfaction of which his nature is capable. As this consciousness deepens into reflection, it enables him to judge of the quality of every affection and impulse. It is most true, that, when we love our neighbor, it is our neighbor and not our- selves whom we love; but, when we judge whether it is better to love or to hate him, we must know which impulse of our own is the most satisfying good, both in quality and in degree. This knowledge we cannot hide from 170 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ G7. our thoughts when w6 are impelled to choose between our neighbor or ourselves, as the objects of voluntary affection. The special desire which this knowledge awakens in our sensibilitjMS in no sense selfish; for this element is a response that is common to all choices and all impulses, the benevolent and the selfish alike. The object which secures the highest good is chosen for its own sake, in the most eminent sense which is possible (§ 10). The intrinsic worth of the object as truly sways the soul according to this analysis as according to any other. The only question of any pos- sible importance is whether natural good is the foundation of moral good- ness as explained by our analysis. If this is answered in the affirmative, the relation of natural good to happiness may be left open as a question of psychological dissection and speculative definition, in which refined scholastics and lofty sentimentalists may alternately find vexation and delight. (4) It may be urged still further, that this theory does not * explain the sense of oblioation. The soul's re- (4) Does not ^ => explain sense sponse to obligation, it is urged, in its nature is not of obligation. ,. -, ■, . . n ^ an emotion ; and no analysis or comparison can imd relationship between the two. To Kant, it will be said, belongs the especial honor of emphasizing respect for obligation as the distinctive element by which moral actions are elevated above any possible affinity with happiness. And yet, as we have already observed, Kant makes it an axiom in ethics that the servant of duty oiight to be made happy. He even makes this axiom the corner-stone of his faith in a personal God, whom it obliges man to believe, in order that the strife between happiness and virtue may be adjusted. It is true, obligation as a feeling and a relation is peculiar and by itself ; but this by no means proves that obligation, in the last analj^sis, is not resolved into a feeling. It is conceded that the emotion must be peculiar, while yet it is contended that this peculiar emotion arises from the fact that it only is felt when man is law-giver, judge, and executioner to himself. That obligation is akin to hope and fear is too evident to need enforcement. It is because the emo- tion is unique that men appeal to what they call the sense of obligation with the utmost confidence, and that obligation carries with it supreme authority. Indeed, it cannot be otherwise ; §68.] OBJECTIONS S, BEPLIES, ETC. 171 inasmuch as in the experience of it man deals directly with himself, and is at once the iuflicter and sufferer, the rewarder and the recipient. Its conditions being unique, the emotion and experience ought also to be unique. Were any additional evidence required, it would be found in the close affinity between the response to the law imposed within, and the law when re-enforced from without, — in the command uttered by the magistrate or the Supreme, and the command imposed by the inner law-giver, the man himself. It is not denied that in the one case the response is a response of sensibility, and it ought not to be denied that it may be so in the other. (5) An objection naigb^ be urged against the use made in the foregoing analysis of the relation of design or purpose, that this knowledge supposes an actual trial of the excellence of vir- (5) Supposes tue as the ground of imi^osing or accepting it as the law of our being. This, it maj^ be urged, would suppose a pre- ^ud wron". vious knowledge of the moral law, which would require a previous knowledge of moral relations; and this would require us to fall back on the categorical imperative, or the moral sense. Trendelenburg {Hist. Beitrage, 3ter Band, vi. (2)) endeavors to save the theory of end or purpose from the Kantian and the Aristotelian objection by making the intellectual apprehension of design to be original and ultimate, while the sensitive pleasure and pain are subsequent, and not precedent, to the act of choice. It is doubtless true, that the experience of moral good and evil by actual trial gives such vivid convictions concerning their reality and importance as no previous anticipation would suggest; but it by no means follows, that in what man knows, or might know", of his natural cajiacities, there is not the amplest material for the interpretation of the ends for which he wtis designed, and the erection of this ideal into a law for his purposes and actions (cf . § 54). OBJECTIOXS TO THE AXTAGOXIST THEORIES. § 68. The theories which we reject have already been de- scribed. They have this feature in common, that counter- they all derive the ethical relations and emotions objections, from man as an individual, as contrasted with those which hold 172 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 68. them to be the products of society. The first is called the intu- „ . . itional theory, and teaches that the moral relations The intui- ^ ' tionai the- are simple and indefinable, being apprehended by ^^^' a direct intuition of the intellect, and followed by emotions which cannot be explained by the relations discerned. We reject this theory for the following reasons : — (1) It is unphilosophical if it is unnecessar3\ The law of ,. parsimony, Entia iion multiplicanda p?'ce^er necessi- sary, and tatem<, eminently holds good of the needless multipli- unphiio- cation of intuitions or original categories. Whatever sophicai. conception or relation can be explained as a com- plex of simple elements, or whatever intellectual process or emotional experience can be resolved into simpler acts or emo- tions that are known to be natural and necessary to man, is more rationally explained by such elements and processes than as an original emotional or philosophical intuition or experi- ence. If the analysis which we have given of the moral quali- ties and emotions satisfactorily explains the same, it sets aside the necessity of the intuitional theory, and stamps it as un- philosophical. (2) This theory contradicts the testimony of consciousness. (2) Contra- ^^ ^^^* analysis is correct, moral relations are the diets the tes- products of the proccss of judging our voluntary conscious- achievements by a norm or standard taken from the ^^*^' ends or aims which are indicated in the nature of man. It cannot be denied that every human being originates or interprets these conceptions in the way which has been described. These conceptions are unintelligible to any human being who does not interpret their meaning by the elements or materials furnished by this conscious experience. His personal experience of these phenomena, with the relations which they involve, must cover the entire import of these terms. To add to these elements, all of which are confessedly necessary, another relation or conception which has no conceivable rela- tion to them, or dependence upon them, is manifestly irrational. § 68.] OBJECTIO^'^S, REPLIES, ETC. 173 To concede and to contend that a moral action must be free, rational, reflective, involving the choice between our higher and lower natural capacities, and yet to assert that none of these indispensable elements enter into or explain the import of the act as moral, is not onl}^ to contradict our conscious experience, but is to do violence to the axioms of philosophic thinking (§52). It is to assert that moral relations are inexplicable and indefinable, and yet to assert that no act or choice can possibly be moral in which certain definite and well-known elements are not present. It is to assert that a concept is un- definable which we forthwith proceed to define, if not by its constituent logical elements, at least by its psychological con- ditions ; that a concept is simple which we forthwith treat as complex in our anal3^sis of its elements or conditions, one or both (cf. § 59). (3) This theory adds to an original category a relation which is confessedly capable of being subsumed under another category. Right action or volition is con- adds a reia- fessed to be the action or volition to which man is **<*" ***** ^^ superfluous. adapted by his nature and cu'cum stances. This proposition postulates adaptation or design to be objectively true of the universe of fact, and subjectively valid as an axiom for the interpretation of its phenomena. AYhether this axiom may be assumed as a metaphysical axiom which is absolutely or relatively ultimate, is of little consequence for our purpose, so long as moral relations can and must be subsumed under it, and defined by it. No original category which takes rank as an intuition can possibly be subsumed under or defined by another intuition. The only answer which can possibly be made to this argument is, that, while moral relations are capable of being stated in terms of adaptation, they cannot be defined by them. This must mean, that, while the relations of adaptation must necessarily be affirmed of moral relations, some inde- finable quality or relation called their rectitude, or the want of it, must be added, to constitute or complete the definition. But if the other attributes do, in fact, distinguish these related concepts from concepts of every other 174 ELEMENTS OF MOIiAL SCIENCE. [§ 68. class, t\iey satisfy all the conditions required, and exclude the necessity, and even the possibility, that these so-called additional relations should be recognized as original. We admit, that, for the purposes of exj^ounding moral science as an independent and separate science, these complex moral relations may be postulated as ultimate. Moreover, after they are assumed and justified and defined, their supremacy is such as to give significance to every other practical impulse. Hence their supremacy over other impulses and mo- tives may often be recognized as practically conceded. It does not follow, however, that -when traced in their psychological growth, and analyzed into their philosophical elements, they may not and must not take their place with the science of which they are the postulates, and both rest on those common relations which psychology uncovers, and philosophy jeal- ously guards, as the deep and broad foundations on which all the sciences stand together, and are held in common bonds. (4) We reject this theory because it connects with a purely intellectual and indefinable intuition a class of emo- (4) Cannot . . . i i i • account for tions whicli have no discoverable relation to that the ethical which is claimed to be an intuition, nor to one emotions. another. These emotions are the emotions of self- approbation or self-condemnation, of obligation to do or ab- stain, of merit or demerit. That man, on the recognition of an act or feeling as moral, shoukl experience these three emotions, is a matter of constant occurrence ; but that a single relation should originate these three several emotions, and with so slight a change in the conditions, and that the relation itself should throw no light upon the product, is contrary to all the analogies of the production of emotion in similar cases. As has already been intimated, much is made, in this connection, of the mys- terious and peculiar attribute of authority which is supposed to be inseparable from the intuitions of right and wrong. Sa^^s Dugald Stewart, "It is absurd, therefore, to ask why we are obliged to practise virtue. The very notion of virtue implies the notion of obligation." Similarly, Kant and Butler urge that the moral differ from the other impulses in man, in that they assert for themselves an original supremacy or authority, — a right to take and keep the precedence in any case of con- §68.] OBJECTIONS, REPLIES, ETC. 175 flict. This authority we do Dot question. The more clearly it is recognized, and its import is explained, the more difficult is it to explain the origination of such a sentiment with such authority, at the summons of an intellectual category analogous to causation or spatiality, Kant has pertinently observed (whether consistently -with his general theory, we do not afitirm) that obligation, or moral authority, is the sujie- rior will of man, commanding his inferior will.i If this is true (and that it is we have contended elsewhere), then a metaphysical category cannot I>ossess the power to evoke such an emotion as tliat of confessed subjec- tion, much less two other emotions in its train, like those of self-approbation and merit. The elements of authority and obligation seem to us to in- here only in a personal being, i.e., either the man dealing with himself or with other beings. Least of all, can they be conceived of as belonging to a rational category or ultimate thought-relation (cf. Warburton, as quoted on p. 161). (5) This theory confounds the rapidly formed and quickly applied judgments and the attendant emotions of (5) Con- mature life with judgments which are known to be founds intui- intuitive, and with instinctiA^e impulses which are t^^naijudg- ^ nients with original, and incapable of anal3^sis. It finds evi- those rapidly dence in the rapidity, precision, and confidence with which the moral judgments are pronounced, that they are in- tuitive and simple. Most of the popular, and not a few of the scientific, defenders of this theory contend that these features are decisive of its truth. The human mind, they contend, affirms these relations too early to be able to distinguish and to interpret their elements. It applies them too quickly and too positively for the unpractised mind of infancy. The objector overlooks the fact, which cannot be questioned, that these rela- tions, be they simple or be they complex, are never affirmed by the infant, except as the result of introverted reflection and intelligent comparison. No child ever masters these elementary 1 It should be noticed, in interpreting Kant, that he uses " will " by no means as distinguished from the sensibility, but more frequently as blended with it, and the complex agent of the phenomena of imiDulsive desire. 176 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 68. conceptions, or feels these rudimentary emotions, except it first looks within, commands, judges, and enforces by an inner reward or penalty, that is, performs all the processes which our theory involves. Moreover, as we have argued elsewhere, during infancy a very wide range of the acquired perceptions is mastered; giving command over com- plicated processes of judgment by the eye, the ear, and the hand. What is most important to notice, these processes are handled so dexterously, and the results are accepted so quickly and positively, as to seem to he neither processes nor products, bvit intuitive judgments directly pro- nounced, and simple emotions instinctively felt. No phenomenon is more familiar, and yet none is more surprising, than the rapid and unreflecting, and yet not unintelligent, use which the infant mind makes of conceptions which are complex in their elements, and which are iminfully analyzed long after they are familiarly applied. • (6) This theory is logically self-contradictory. It makes moral goodness to be, in the lanouaoje of Locke, (6) Is self- ^ ^ _ ' o o 5 contradic- "a simple idea," either of quality or relation. It ^^^' affirms rightness of an action as we affirm roundness of a circle ; but the action of which it affirms this quality is a volition, or an act of choice. A choice, however, is in every instance a choice of some object. This being so, the advocate of the theory finds himself shut up to the following dilemma : the right choice must be either the choice of the right object, or the right choice of an object which is not itself right, i.e., not morally good. If he takes the first position, then rightness belongs to the object chosen, and not to the act of choosing; and it also follows that voluntariness is not essential to the conception of rightness. If he takes the second, he denies that rightness is a simple idea ; for he defines the right choice to be the choice of something, which, whatever it may be, has no moral quality, and concedes that the conception is resolved into two elements, — the object, and the act of choice. The advocates of the theory must either be content to deny that right is an original intuition or quality, or deny that it belongs to a volition, or accept the alteri:)ative of disserting that moral quality § 68.] OBJECTIONS, REPLIES, ETC. 177 can belong to the object chosen, or to the act of choosing an object which is not itself necessarily moral. Compare llie "Introduction to Ethics," etc., from the French of Th. JouffroT (Boston, 1840, lects. xxii., xxiii.), for an extended criticism of this theory as held by Price. In this criticism, Jouffroy insists at great length that moral good is necessarily a choice of natural good; and that conse- quently moral good cannot he a simple, hut must he a complex idea, and is consequently definable. Moreover, it involves the recognition of an end as an essentially constituent element upon which he argues thus: " If, then, an action can be judged only by its relation to its end, this end must be perceived before it is judged, and only from the nature of the end can that of the action be determined; so that an act will be good if it has a certain end, or evil by its relation of conformity to some other end. The goodness of actions is not, therefore, the only goodness: there is also a goodness of ends. Again: in determining that there are good ends, we obtain a definition of that which is good in itself; and, as the goodness of acts is their conformity to good ends, we obtain also a definition of this moral goodness, or of the quality assumed to be indefinable." — Vol. ii. p. 327; cf. also Paul Janet, La Morale, Paris, 1874; Preface, English transla- tion, New York, 1883. (7) The theory is equally impracticable when applied to concrete examples. Right and wrong, it is said, are original and indispensable relations ; and yet of consistent they are affirmable of volitions which can show no application _ in practice. common relationship with one another to justify this affirmation. Truth, justice, temperance, courtesy, are respec- tively right. But what this rightness may be, which is common to all, we cannot define or explain. We can give no reason why we assert that an}" and every one of them is right. We can give no reason why we ought to perform these righteous actions, except that they are right. Moreover, when these claims or obligations seem to conflict, we can give no reason why one should be preferred or sacrificed to another. They are equally obligatory if equally right, and equally riglit if each one is ritrht of itself. One can be no more rio;ht than the other. All stand upon the same plane, all are impelled by the same mo- tives, all are enforced by the same authority. 178 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ G8. Moreover, as .Touffroy urges against Price, the hypothesis makes it im- possible to conceive that there should be any difference of opinion in respect to questions of practical morality. " But, if this is true, what is the consequence ? It is as follows : that all men are equally capable of appreciating the morality of actions, and consequently equally enlightened in moral judgment; that in this respect, therefore, there can be no differ- ence between the learned and the ignorant, and men of different ages; that moral science, consequently, cannot be developed and enforced with the progress of civilization, but that savages must be equally well informed with ourselves ; that the morality of no action can be proved or deduced from that of other actions, and consequently that morality can neither be reduced to a system nor taught ; and, finally, that what we call ethics cannot be a science, or, if it is so, that it can be nothing more than a cata- logue of actions discovered by reason to be good or bad." — Introd., etc., vol. ii. pp. 309, 310. (8) The intuitional theory introduces a speculative and prac- ,^, ^ . tical incono^ruity between the supposed insensitive (8) Does Tio- tD J 11 lencetothe moral reasou and man's instinctive and irrepressible ^re"for wtii- ^^esire for his personal well-being. The principal being. motive which inspires the defenders of this theory is to provide for the disinterestedness of human virtue by clear- ing the conception of moral goodness from any element or relation of human happiness ; it being assumed, that, if virtue is defined, the definition must include some relation to man's sensitive nature. This is well intended, no doubt ; but it should be remembered, on the other hand, that a motive to virtue which does not find its sphere of action among the natural sensibilities may be too stately to be human, and too unreal to be true. Moreover, the simple desire of happiness is an impulse which is ineradicable, and at least innocent. It is also the root of some of the noblest special impulses and individual virtues. To fail to recognize it is unphilosophical, while to attempt to flout or to deny it, tempts to affectation in theory and to hypocrisy in practice. It would seem to be a recommendation rather than an objection to any theory, that it adjusts a theoretical and practical strife which is as unreasonable as it is unnatural. On § 68.] OBJECTIONS, BEPLIES, ETC. 179 the other hand, it ought to be a fatal objection to the intuitional theory, that it opens an impassable chasm of thought between duty and happiness, and incites and foments a perpetual con- flict between the two strongest motives that animate human nature, — the desire of virtue and the desire of well-being. This chasm was never opened more widely than by Kant's ethical system, and Nature never had her revenge in a more signal way than in the inconsistencies and concessions of Kant himself. Hermann Lotze most justly remarks upon this feature of Kant's system (Mikrokosmus, vol. ii. p. 314), " Doubtless that is of inferior worth which corresponds only to a momentary and acciden- .^ ^„t7„„* ClSIll on ikalli* tal condition, or an individual peculiarity of the temper on which an impression may fall ; greater is the worth of that which is in harmonj' with the universal and normal features of that organization by means of which the spirit is qualified to fulfil its destiny ; the highest of all may be that which would favor the permanent mood of an ideal dispo- sition, from whose internal states every deviation from the end of its development was effaced. Any thing higher than these, there cannot be. The thought of any thing which is somehow unconditionally valuable, that does not show its value by its capacity to give happiness, overleaps itself and that which it would bring to pass. Doubtless it was a praise- worthy rigor of practical philosophy that desired to free all the laws of duty from even a sidewise respect to the advantage of the agent; but it was unjust in this rigor to seek to separate the manifest and undeniable connection, in which, notwithstanding the despised, and in most of its applications the despicable notion of happiness stands to the other notion of intrinsic worth." Friedrich Ueberweg writes in Fichte's Zeitschrift (vol. xxxiv. p. 78), ** The true system of idealistic realism does not, w^ith Kant and Herbart, reject all respect to the result aimed at, as a deter- mining ground of moral action. Just as little does it with the Utilitarians and Hedonists find the moral norm in the object gained, or more exactljMn the highest measure of happiness, but in the relations of its worth. The highest energy, and the highest pleasure necessarilj^ connected therewith, must be sought for, but the highest qualitatively. All our inspirations and endeavors must be directed to that activity and pleasure which is of the highest and most spiritual w^orth." — Cf. also Professor E. Pfleiderek, Euddinonismiis unci Egoisimis; Jahrhucher fur j^^'ot. Theologie, 6ter Jahr- gang, i., ii., iii., iv., Leipzig, 1880 : also Kantischer Kriticismiis vnd Englische Philosophie; Fichte's Zeitschrift, 1880-81. 180 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 68. (9) The intuitional theory sanctions and inspires an irrecon- (9) Intro- cilable strife between the love of goodness, and duces a strife obedience to duty, for their own sake, and out of between two . legitimate respect to those motives which are always auxiliary, impulses. ^jj^| often indispensable, to moral excellence. This objection, in principle, is akin to the last ; and yet it assumes a definite theoretical and practical form for itself. To be moved by the commands and threatenings, even of a perfect God, according to the intuitional theory, is to respond to motives that are addressed to the sensitive rather than the moral nature ; and yet motives of this sort are found to be practically effective, and even essential, to give full effect to tha motives which are purely moral. The extreme position to which Kant was driven by the logical rigor of his theory, against the need and the desirableness of influences distinctly religious, is a single ex- ample of the disastrous consequences which have followed the extreme positions of the iutuitioualists. These consequences have not been confined to the schools : they have penetrated everywhere into practical life. Personality in God, supernatu- ral manifestations in human history, the authority of his will, the desire to please and the dread of offending him, have often been driven out from the faith of thinkers, and lost their hold of many who were not logicians by profession, by the conclu- sion, that if virtue shines by its own light, and commands by its own authority, then the authority of either man or God to enforce her behests is a needless superfluity^ an incongruous hiiiderance or a fatal obstacle to the highest forms of goodness. And yet subjection to personal authority in God and man, and training by personal love, have been found to be practically indispensable. Even Kant himself abandons the logical con- sistency of his theory, when he makes his categorical impera- tive to summon God into being, that he may reward virtue with the happiness, and punish vice with the misery, to which his theory had made both to be sublimely and conscientiously in- different. It may be taken for granted, that a theory which §68.] OBJECTIONS, REPLTES, ETC. 181 involves itself in practical difficulties so serious cannot be thoroughly sound in its principles. II. The two other alternative theories are Hutcheson's theory of the moral sense, and Kant's theory of the practical reason with its categorical imperative. Each will need but a brief notice. The theory of the moral sense finds the germ or nucleus of all moral qualities in certain orioinal emotions or ^ ® II. The sentiments. It is questioned by some, whether its theory of advocates intend wholly to exclude the intellectual '^''''^^ '•'"'^• element from their moral sense. There can be no question that their theory lays the chief stress on that which is emotional. Interpreting the theory thus, it finds man to be so constituted as to feel certain emotions on occasion of certain ^«oluntary activities of his own or of his fellow-men. Certain of these activities please him, others displease him. The actions which please him he approves, as also the person who performs them ; those which offend him he disapproves and condemns, whether they are purposes, emotions, or deeds. The activities and per- sons which please him he also pronounces morally good, while those which offend him are morally evil. The capacity to be thus affected towards actions and the* r originators he calls "the moral sense." It is obvious that this moral sense is conceived by the most, if not by all of its advocates, as analo- . , gous to the aesthetic sensibility, i.e., as a capacity to to aesthetic be directly pleased or displeased by certain personal ^^^^^ * * ** affections. AVhy we are thus affected we cannot explain : we only know the occasions or causes of these contrasted emotions. This moral sensibility being supposed, the functions of the intellect with respect to it are very readily defined and ex- plained. The intellect simply recognizes the acts or feelings which please or displease the moral sense, and judges and names them and their authors to be morally good or bad, very much as in sense-perception the sensible qualities, pre-eminently the secondary, are defined by the sense-affections which they excite. The intellect can give no reason for its favorable or 182 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 68. UD favorable jiidgmeuts. Both these are resolved into an ori- ginal taste or distaste, which the moral sense experiences and makes possible. The sensibility simply precedes and furnishes the material for the intellectual action. It is the germinant nucleus or principle from which all the subsequent judgments and emotions are evolved. Its affections are to be taken as ultimate and inexplicable facts. Against these original and ultimate likings and dislikings, no appeal can be taken ; because these emotions of pleasure and pain are original. Not infre- quently this faculty is termed "an instinct," or "the moral instinct;" and its affections are called "instinctive." The superior force or impelling power of the right affections is found in the superior quality of the affections themselves, added to the pleasure furnished by the moral sensibility, when contrasted with the inferior character of the vicious affection, added to the distaste of the moral sense. The defects of this theory are the following : It is not rational, Defects of as wc have already asserted of the intuitional the- this theory, qj,^^ j^ ||- jg ^-^^^ required to explain the facts. It does not correspond with our conscious experience, which, so far as it can testify, affirms that the moral emotions do not precede, but follow, the acts of rational judgment, and are dependent on the same for their peculiar quality. It makes the ultimate moral standard changeable and arbitrary, inasmuch as it depends on the taste of the individual. Should the moral faculty be con- ceived to be analogous to the bodily sense, its affections, as we know, must depend on the joint activities of material agents and the responsive organism. Should either of these factors change, or both, the effect would change, and might even be reversed. If its analogue is found in the aesthetic sensibility, the adage would apply as properly to the etliical as to the aesthetic expe- riences, De gustihus non est disjJutandum. If the analogies from either cannot be accepted, the objection still remains that an unreasoning emotion can never be made the basis of those judgments which so often require careful inductions, the weigh- §68.] OBJECTIONS, REPLIES, ETC. 183 ing of evidence and testimony, and the consideration of tenden- cies and results. All these processes are confessedly intellectual, and it scarcely seems probable that each and all of them find an ultimate factor and germinal element in an emotion which pleases or displeases the sensibility. The presence of these processes would imply that the ultimate in morals is a relation discerned bj' the intellect, which is capable of being affirmed as a rule or law. The theory of the moral sense, moreover, pro- vides for none of the emotions which we have recognized as distinctively ethical, neither for self-satisfaction, nor obligation, nor merit, and in this is seriously and even fatally defective. III. Kant's theor}^ of the practical reason moves in the same line with the theory of the moral sense ; although it -^ ° III. The the- professes altogether to set aside the sensibilities in ory of the the moral experiences, and to find the primitive ele- P**»<'t""ai reason. ment of all in the categorical imperative or uncondi- tional obligation. But the subjective correlate of this categorical imperative is, in the last analysis, nothing more than a blind emotion. In the Kantian theory, the practical reason performs the functions of the moral sense, which is unrelated to any of the other functions which moralit}' implies, and j^et directs and controls them all. Consequently this theory is open to most of the objections that are urged against the theory of moral sense. Its claim to dispense with the emotions has most signally failed. The "reverence" before the law of duty, which it accepts and enforces, is itself a sentiment with the Reverence impelling force of a controlling emotion. The ne- before the cessity which requires the existence and authority ^f ^T^.^ * ^^^' of God to meet the just claims of the good to be happy, we have already shown to be a confession that the rights of the sensibility and the law of well-being cannot be successfully overlooked in any moral theory. Even the super- ficial student of Kant cannot be struck with the difficulty which Kant finds in disposing of Aclitung^ or reverence before the law, without calling it a sensibility, and with the stress which drives 184 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 69. him to require fur the experience of obligation an unnatural preponderance of the sensuous afifections ; implying a sense of constraint as the condition of the sense of duty, involving the paradox that virtue must resist in order to be sensitive to obli- gation, while holiness, as the higher state, feels no obligation, but is emancipated from the sense of duty in any form. § 69. The theories here expounded of the moral faculty, and the rela- tions and feelings which it originates, may he advantageously The theory compared with that which is taught by Bishop Butler, and is of Bishop deservedly held in high esteem and authority. In general, we may say that Butler attempts no psychological analysis of the so-called moral faculty, his chief object being to establish its su- premacy. He leaves it to his readers to select between four Butler gives different appellatives for it, in the words, " whether called no analysis conscience, moral reason, moral sense, or divine reason" of the moral , . „ faculty. (Diss., II.). As to whether it is distmctly intellectual or emotional, he declines to give any opinion, except in the mem- orable words which seem to have accidentally escaped from him : " wiiether considered as a perception of the understanding, or as a sentiment of the heart, or, which seems the truth, as including both " (Diss., II.). All these theories, that of Butler included, are alike in the view which they take of the subject or object matter of the moral judgments and feelings, in so far as they all teach that right and wrong are affirmed only of acts or active states ; "intentions" and "practical principles" being included under these designations. They differ, in that Butler implies, rather than asserts, that the voluntary power, both in act and state, is essential to moral responsibility. But he only implies this; and it is w^ell known with wiiat characteristic caution he avoids any metaphysical dis- cussion of the doctrine of necessity, and limits himself to its relations to practice {Analogy, part i. chap, vi.). Much less does he attempt to explain by any careful psychological analysis the elements contributed by the will to the moral judgments and emotions. He does indeed insist that there is *' a principle of reflection " in man, which in its very nature is superior to every other, being Defective invested with unquestioned " authority," and that to disobey statement of ^^^.^ principle under the impulse of passion is to offend against the principle ^ ^ ^/ , of reflection. i*s lawful supremacy. He does not, however, explain, or even imply, what relation this principle of reflection holds to self-consciousness, nor wdience it derives its authority. The language which he uses, as it has been generally interpreted, would leave the im- pression that this principle of reflection is a special ethical endowment, whose functions are limited to the ethical experiences ; being in its nature §G9.] OBJECTIONS, REPLIES, ETC. 185 co-ordinate with the other impulses or sensibilities, except, that, when it comes into conflict with any, it is felt and owned to be supreme. He does not show how it gains an ideal of what is possible and desirable by the comparative study of man's nature, although he incidentally recognizes the fact that such a comparative judgment is made ; still less does he explain for what reason and by what method it applies this ideal as an authoritative law. The theory we hold is, that the so-called "principle of reflection" is none other than the endowment of self-consciousness, which not only dis» cerns the presence, but judges of the natural quality or worth, of the vari= ous impulses which are the springs of feeling and action, and which give character to the motives between which we choose. It recognizes the self-conscious ego, and not a " sentiment " or " principle " as invested with authority; giving the law, which it finds within, to the will, and by it testing and judging its activity. Butler does indeed insist that we judge of actions by a comparing of them with " the nature and capacities of our being," and in this may be said in a sense to imply all that we have dis- Following tinguished in our analysis. This is true : but a more careful "* "5^ ^^" , . ' cording to analysis seems to be required in order to show what this Butler. principle of reflection reall}^ is, how it operates, upon what material, and with what results. In other words, Butler fails to show that the capacities of man as natural endowments must first be discriminated, in order that the voluntary and intelligent use of them may be discerned to be morally right or wrong. Butler makes an abundant and positive use of the end to which any voluntary agent is adapted, as essential to the existence and authority of moral relations ; and, as a theist, he assumes f ^"f *o ^® that such ends involve design on the part of the Creator. ^^^^^^ ^^^^^ But he nowhere emphasizes the necessary inference that the relation of fitness or adaptation enters into the ethical relations as a defin- ing element. In Butler's time, what is now called finality, or teleology, was known as " final cause," and, though generally accepted and employed In natural theology, was not distinctly recognized as a metaphysical or scientific category, nor was its place as a relation fundamental to ethics formally recognized, except perhaps indirectly in Clark's "Fitness of Things." In respect to the feelings or emotions which are distinctlj^ ethical, But- ler's analysis is noticeably defective. Neither self-approbation nor self-reproach is subjected by him to any special inquiry. Does not The sense or feeling of obligation is not recognized distinctly ^^^P'^*" *'*® ,, , ^ , , . ethical emo- as an emotion. Much as Butler makes of the authority of tio„s, the conscience, he does not explain whether the response which is rendered to this authority is originally a feeling, or a judgment ; 18G ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§69. i.e., whether it is a feeling founded on judgment, or a judgment founded on feeling. IMerit and demerit he makes more of; but he does not attempt an analysis of their constituent elements, or a genesis of their growth. He does not ask whether intuition or emotion precedes, or whether there is any connection between the several classes of ethical emotions, — viz., between self-approbation, obligation, and merit, with their correlates, — either in origination or dependence. Our theory makes them to be inter- dependent in nature and origin, and in a sense to be naturally developed the one from the other. Compare in James Martineau's " Essays, Philo- soi)hical and Theological" (vol. li. pp. 14-18, New York), his remarks upon Butler's theory, originally published in "The Prospective Review," No- vember, 1845. We give the following extracts : — "Every moral judgment is relative, and involves a comparison of two James terms. When we praise what has been done, it is with the Martineau's co-existent conception of something else that might have been criticism of done; and when we resolve on a course as right, it is to the Butler. exclusion of some other that is wrong. This fact, that every ethical decision is in truth a preference, an election of one act as higher than another, appears to us of fundamental importance in the analysis of the moral sentiments. . . . " The i^referential character attaching to all moral judgments is implied, and yet, as it seems to us, very inaccurately represented, by Butler. It consists,- in his view, of a uniform postponement of all sorts of natural good to one and the same moral good ; and in the comparison from which we make our election, one of the terms is constant and invariable, — virtue rather than appetite, virtue rather than resentment, Airtue rather than affection. . . . "The single additional end of conscience constitutes moral good, which has a natural right of supremacy over the other. The controversy, there- fore, of a tempted life, consists in the struggle of natural good against the rightful superiority of moral; and the subordination of a well-regulated life, in the level subjection of the entire class of particular desires to the authority set over them. " Now, for our own part, after the most diligent search, we cannot find within us this autocratic faculty, having its own private and paramount end. . . . " Between virtue and a good dinner, or virtue and a full purse, we never experienced a rivalry; and, were such a controversy and Hercules-choice to be proposed, we much fear, looking to the phantom-like character of the other disjiutant, that the dinner and the purse would win the day. But we remember a boy who once went on a day's excursion among the lakes and hills, provided with an excellent luncheon calculated for a mountain appetite. He had gone an hour or two beyond his reasonable time, and just unpacked his store beside a stream, when a little girl approached, §69.] OBJECTIONS, liEPLIES, ETC. 187 half-leading, half-dragging, an old man evidently collapsing from exhaus- tion. They had attempted a short cut over the ridge the day before, lost their way, and spent the night and noon without food or shelter on the hills. The boy divided the contents of his basket between them; the 'particular passion,' pity, getting the better of the 'particular appetite,' hunger, and making itself felt, as having the higher claim. . . . "And it is the irresistible sense we have, in this case, of its superiority, that is proj)erly denoted by the word conscience; the knowledge with our- selves, not only of the fact, but of the quality of our inward springs of action. To state the matter in a more general way, we think, that, in com- mon with the inferior animals, we are created with certain determinate propensities to particular ends, or with provisions for the development of such propensities; that, in the lower animals, these operate singly and successively, each taking its turn for the command and guidance of the creature, and none of them becoming objects of reflection; that. in us also this instinctive impulse is the original type of activity, and would become permanent in a solitary human being, or in a mind with only one propen- sion at a time; but that, with us, the same occasion calls up simultaneously two or more springs of action; that, immediately on their juxtaposition, we intuitivelj' discern the higher quality of one than another, giving it a divine and authoritative right of preference; that, when the whole series of springs of action has been experienced, the feeling or 'knowledge with ourselves ' of their relative rank constitutes the individual conscience ; that all human beings, when their consciousness is faithfully interpreted, as infallibly arrive at the same series of moral estimates as at the same set of rational truths ; that it is no less correct, therefore, to speak of a universal conscience than of a universal reason in mankind ; and that on this community of nature alone rests the possibility of ethical science." 188 ELEMENTS OF MOllAL SCIENCE. [§ 70. CHAPTER XL THE EXTERNAL ACTIONS: THEIR MORAL QUALITY AND RELATIONS. § 70. Thus far we have considered the internal, — i.e., the B'th rt we psjt^hical, — pre-eminently the voluntary activities have been of man, as the objects-matter of the moral judg- with the ments and feelings. We have limited ourselves to feelings and the functions of the intellect in discerning those purposes. i i . t i i . i moral relations — and those only — which are in- volved in the voluntary or spiritual activities of man. We have discovered that the intellect, by its self-conscious power and activities, finds the norm or standard of its judgments in man's internal constitution or capacities ; i.e., in the compara- tive worth or good which the several impulses or affections may yield when interpreted as revealing the end of his activ- ities, and the ideal of his perfection. We have discovered, further, that man, as rational, must propose and prescribe to himself the use of the best natural activities as the norm or law for his voluntary choices. Morality is consequently founded on reason ; but it is upon the reason as it con- cerns itself with the relations of the voluntary activities to one another, and the possibilities of human nature. We have discovered, further, that the enforcement of this law is neces- sarily followed by the special ethical emotions, giving the experiences of self-approbation, obligation, merit, with their opposites. § 71.] THE EXTEBNAL ACTIONS. 189 The problem aucl the solution have thus far been compara- tively simple. The data are within the reach of every one who reflects. Their import and relations are easily understood, and our judgments of them are immediate and unerring. The de- cisions being axiomatic and positive, the consequent emotions are uniform and constant. But morality does not concern itself with the intentions alone. It gives law to the actions also, passing judgment upon the doings as truly as upon the affections and camiot be purposes. It requires that the man should act and i«n»tf for the for this action as truly as for the purpose, bo far actions. ^^ j^j-jy qj-,^ ^f these relations is constant and neces- sary, such a law is fixed and absolute. So far as it is variable and uncertain, the law is occasional, and admits of exceptions. § 72.] THE EXTERNAL ACTIONS. lUS Whenever an action is invariably uecessar}^ to execute, to mani- fest, or to confirm the right intention, the law is imperative that the given action must invariably be a(.tions are performed, or, as the case may be, be avoided, invariably Every action which is evidently and without excep- tion fitted to promote my own well-being or that of my fellow- man is known to be invariably right; i.e., it is known to be an action which I always ought to perform. We neither ask nor answer the question whether the number of such actions be great or small ; we do not inquire whether it is by natural or supernatural revelation that an^^ actions are declared to hold this relation : we only assert, that if, upon any evidence, this is known to be true of any class of actions, those actions are uniformly and unchangeably right, and their opposites are as uniformly wrong, simply on the ground that we ought to intend or purpose our own well-being and that of our fellow-men, and, impliedly, the honor of God. It follows, that whatever actions invariably promote these ends should invariably be performed. The rule in respect to such words and actions is absolute and unqualified : Thou sJialt, or T/iou shalt not. We may safely assume that the classes of actions are few which respect our fellow-men or ourselves, the import and effect of which are so clear, that all men accept them as universally obligatory. But, whether they be few or many, the mind affirms, of all of them, positive axioms or principles of outward conduct. Of the great majority of external actions, it must be said, that while, in the majority of cases, their effect and jjg,^^. actions import are so obvious that no man can question that a^e obiisa- they are right or wrong ; yet now and then circum- the majority stances will occur which will not only justify, but ^^ ^^^^^' require, a deviation from the ordinary rule. Thus, in ordinary cases, no man can take the liberty, the life, or the property of another. This rule, it is well known, has been interpreted to mean that human life, liberty, and property are uniformly to be held sacred, and so sacred that neither the individual nor 194 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 73 tlie state may interfere with either under any supposable cir- cumstances. The experiences of stern necessity casesVhicii ordinarily teacli men to judge more wisely in prac- justify them- ^icc, and drive them to limit such universal axioms selves by manifold and manifest exceptions, such as com- pel attention and enforce compliance. The state takes life as a penalty for crime, not only by right, but of duty. It exposes (i.e., sacrifices) life, by compelling the drafted soldier to march to the picket-line, and die. It shoots down the innocent with the guilty in quelling a street-riot. It takes the property of an individual under extreme necessit}^, and the individual does the same. It subjects the innocent to temporary or permanent dis- abilities, in respect to liberty or other rights, under extreme conditions of public or state necessity. The cases are not un- frequent in which an individual or the community, for reasons that justify the act in the eyes of all candid men, transgresses the ordinary rules which guard life, liberty, and property. Even the civil law, which concerns itself with the grosser viola- tions of the few ordinary moral laws which it attempts to en- force, rarely proceeds to punish any external action, unless it assumes, or impliedly proves, that the act was performed with felonious intent or malice aforethought. All these exceptional cases not only justify, but require, pos- sible exceptions to the ordinary rules which relate to external action. Hence the law to do or not to do a particular thing is always so interpreted as to admit this or that qualified excep- tion, whether or not this exception is expressed. § 73. Another important fact deserves to be considered ; viz., Moral signifl- ^^^^^ external actions, in many cases, vary in their canceof ac- significance with the manners or etiquette ichich ^9?*e- tions varies iTithman- '^<^^il i^ CI community. We need not inqun-e as to "^"* how these manners came to be accepted, — whether from physical, or personal, or conventional reasons. It is enough that we know that every community finds itself in possession of certain modes or ways of speaking and acting, §73.] TUE EXTERNAL ACTIONS. 195 which manifest, execute, or confirm the feelings or purposes. From manners, — i.e., waj^s of speaking and acting, — the terms "morals" and "ethics" are derived; and with conformity to manners, and the regulation of manners, they very largely con- cern themselves. Just as soon and just as far as the intentions become the subject of moral judgment and enforcement, just so soon do the actions which are understood in the community to be their appropriate manifestations pass under the control and adjudication of the moral reason. The accepted manners or etiquette are by no means the same in all communities; e.g., the modes of expressing jj^des or love and hate, esteem and disrespect, the conditions manners of conveying property or securing rights. But, what- ^^^^' ever these may be, if established and accepted they are invested with the sacredness and authority which belong to the feelings of kindness, courtesy, truth, patriotism, affection, and gratitude which they are supposed to express. It follows of necessity, and it should occasion no surprise, that an action which is wholly indifferent in one community may be of the highest moral sig- nificance in another. Again, an action or word or look which in one community is rigidly enforced by the highest moral authority, — an act which even involves the issues of life and death, — in another community may have no moral significance whatever. Some nations are so fierce and minute in their en- forcement of trivial and stupid etiquette, as to obscure and crush out the ethical import of man}^ of the actions which they prescribe. Others are so careless and indefinite in respect to both manners and actions, as to blunt the public sensibility to moral distinctions, by their indifference to external conduct. The morality of the Chinese is very largely a matter of etiquette, which sacrifices the real well-being of the individual Morality of and the community to petrified and meaningless ^^^^ tiunese. rules, to the observance of which the entire force of domestic education, of unchanging fashion, of legal observances, of organized law and a half-pantheistic religion, are committed 196 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§74. with a resistless energy tliat seems as m3'sterious as it is om- nipotent. But whether tlie connection between the purposes and the actions is natural or conventional, some connection must be assumed to be more or less uniform and fixed, as the ground of afllrmiug any code for the words, the deeds, or the manners. § 74. The cases already supposed are cases in which the Sometimes Connection is uniform, or which admit of infrequent exceptions exceptions. But there are large classes of actions are frequent. • , . , , . • • i ^ i m which such a connection is by no means estab- lished. Although, in the majority of instances, the right inten- tion would require a certain external action, the exceptions are more or less frequent. Thus, benevolence to my fellow-man in extreme distress would very frequently require me to interfere actively for his relief, while cases might occur in which to ex- tend this relief would be morally wrong. If one of my own family were in immediate danger of death or of serious evil, it might be my duty to withhold from my nearest neighbor those offices of courtesy or assistance which would otherwise be obli- gatory and spontaneously proffered. In respect to all acts of this description, rules for action are adopted with the general understanding that they are to be obeyed under the ordinary conditions of social existence, while in those which are extraor- dinary, whether they are more or less frequent, the exceptions will justify themselves. In the motley experiences of social life, and the unexpected conjunctions of human events, men occa- sionally are surprised to find themselves morally obliged to do and avoid actions which in the ordinary course of human events would contradict all their preconceived principles, and shock their most sacred and confirmed associations. Moral surprises of this sort are among the most dramatic of human experiences. There are other classes of actions which are obligatory more Maxims of frequently than otherwise, — maximsof practical wis- prudence. (-]qj,^ q^. piycl^^nce, which are both useful as guides for the conduct and important as directors to the conscience. Such §75.] THE EXTEBNAL ACTIONS. 197 rules, in every ease iu which they are applicable, are as sacred and as binding as the rules which admit of no exceptions at all. The fact that they are not uniforml}^ binding, or that the ex- ceptions to them are numerous, does not weaken their authority in the least in those cases in which they are known to apply. Again, there are classes of duties which are binding on a single individual and for a limited period of time, be it longer or shorter, — duties both to one's self and fellow-men, which are founded on special circumstances and temporary relations. It should ever be remembered, however, that these duties are as supreme and sacred in their authority, so long as the reasons for their continuance remain, as are the codes which are universal and eternal. Each individual man also must of necessity form his own private code of rules, which is far more minute than „ . , * Private and any moral teacher would venture to prescribe or en- individual force, respecting the employment of bis time, the regulation of his diet, of his manners and his modes of speech, indeed, in respect to the most of his individual habits of action. This code may not be expressed in language, it ma}^ change with changing circumstances ; and yet, so long as the reasons for it exist, so long it lias complete moral authorit}'. § 75. It may be objected to this view of special rules for the external actions, that it subiects the determination ^ ' ^ Objection of all rules of conduct (with their exceptions) to the stated and independent judgment of each individual man, and •''"^^^*'^®** consequently degrades the moral code, which ought to be the master of the man, to be the servant of his caprice or his igno- rance. This objection applies equally to the doctrine of private judgment as related to the authority and independence of truth. The fact that truth is one and supreme cannot conflict with the principle that each man's individual judgment of truth must be final and sacred for himself. Even if all the formal or ex- pressed rules for conduct were the same in every case and for every individual, and admitted no exception, each man's judg- 198 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 75. ment must decide how far they apply to the changing aspects of his individual life and to his own special relations to his fellow-men. In judging of the application of rules, the oppor- tunity for bias and mistake is almost equal to that which attends the determination of the rule. In respect to neither can we ever be delivered from the liability to error in our individual judgments. On the other hand, it should not be forgotten that important advantages attend this double liability to mistake Important advantages ^^d crror. What IS called the changeableness of from this ar- j^oral codes, and their flexibility, are no grounds rangement. _ *^ of objection, but rather confirmations of their excel- lence. So far from weakening the authority and threatening the permanency of the moral law, they strengthen its sacred- ness, and establish its continuance by providing for its useful- ness. The intellect is thereby subjected to a constant moral training, from which is derived a constant moral discipline. Every man is thereby made responsible not only for what he does, but for what he judges that he ought to do ; and the duties of teachableness, honesty, and candor in the use of the intellect, are constantly brought into requisition. It is fashionable, in view of the necessary and natural limitations of the human un- derstanding, to limit the responsibilities of men almost entirely to what they do and feel, to the exclusion of their judgments and opinions respecting duty. A closer and more accurate view of man's individual and social relations would justif}^ the opposite conclusion ; viz., that men are very laroely Men responsi- ^ ^ j ^ j bie for their responsible, not only for what they do and intend, judgments ^^^ | ^ ^^^ ^. believe and conclude (cf. as truly as j \ for their § 75). This conclusion is justified not only by the logic which compels us to refer the conduct and feelings of men to their judgments, but by the observation of facts, which finds everywhere abundant evidence that men shape their rules of conduct, to a large extent, by the moulding influence of their passions and desires. What men are in char- §76.] THE EXTEEXAL ACTIONS. 199 acter, is determined very largely by what they accept as rules of duty. More than this is true. Not only are the opinions and prejudices of men in respect to ethical questions powerfully affected by their character, but their purposes and passions re-act indirectly but powerfully upon their intellectual habits and opinions. § 76. These observations, however, apply to those rules of external conduct wliich admit of more or fewer ex- ,^y^^ ^^^^ ceptions. The commanding duties of life, in the manding duties of life ordmary occasions and cu'cumstances of man, can- admit of rare not possibly be uncertain, as the duties of truth, exceptions, temperance, justice, and humanity, neither in their import, their authority, nor their ordinary applications to the outward conduct. The well-being of the individual and of society enforces certain external actions too clearly and too emphatically to make it possible for men to look each other in the face and not to recognize these duties as invariably binding. " The primal duties shine aloft like stars." The duties of temperance and purity and truth and courtesy and justice, of honesty and uprightness, are acknowledged and enforced by the reflecting judgments of all honest and earnest men. Even when men habitually and persistently offend against these rules, they dare not deny their value and authority. Their self-respect and inner sense of truth require them to honor and enforce the very laws which condemn them. Even when they palliate their defective conduct or their deliberate transgres- sions, by the force of passion or the strength of temptation, they cling to the law and their faith in it, and respect for it, as most sacred and valuable. It is true, they not infrequently refuse to recognize their individual offences as properly coming under the rule which the}^ honor. They devise every variety of euphemistic phraseology to avoid applying the harsher epithets which express the sharp judgments and the indignant emotions 200 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. . [§ 77. of the honest rule when honestly applied. It is only when a man sets himself in defiance to and against all truth and con- sistency of thinking, that he denies or disputes the truth of the great rules of outward conduct that elevate man above what is lower than the brute in sensual passion, and more cruel than the brute in violence and hate. § 77. It is more than possiljle, it is probable, that the objec- tion mio'ht occur to some, that the principles we The end =• ' i i justifies the have propounded in respect to the relation of the "*^*" ' inner purpose to the outward expression or act is the same as the doctrine familiarly known as " The end justi- fies the means." This doctrine has been applied to sanction almost every variety of crime, under the pretext that the action in question — whether murder, theft, violence, treachery, or falsehood — was, under special circumstances, the best or the necessary means of fulfilling the best intentions, whether of patriotism, religion, or social or individual welfare. We meet this objection by observing, that, in respect to those classes of external actions which are accepted as of universal obligation, it is so manifest that the virtues in question are the only external actions which the right or good intention can possibly require or even admit, that no honest man would question that the external act is uniformly binding. This is manifest from ex- amples of what seem at first to be exceptions to the ordinary rules. These exceptions, as we say, justify themselves. They even enforce the rule, by calling attention to the reason for it which the exception recognizes in pleading it as an excuse. Thus homicide is not always murder ; violence to the person, in order to save from death, is not a criminal assault ; the break- ing into a burning house in order to arouse the sleeping inmates is not burglary, either in law or morals : for the single reason that in these cases the external action is seen to be exceptional to its ordinary import and effect ; and hence, in such cases, the end does justify the means. In every sucii case, it is literally true, Exceptio prohat rcgulam; that is, the reason for the § 78.] TUB EXTERNAL ACTIONS. 201 deviation is the reason for implicit obedience whenever the cir- cumstances do not justify an exception clamante voce. § 78. It may be urged as an objection, that our theory in- volves the necessity of calculatinq the consequences'^ of every single action, the power to do which, in tionofcon- every special case, would be utterly beyond the ^^i"®"*^®^* reach of any man, and the necessity of exercising the power would render all rules useless. It is enough to reply, that, in respect to the great rules of common morality, there is no need of calculating their consequences, because these are discerned and admitted by all men as rapidly as they are made acquainted with them. The universal tendency or import and operation of the act are discerned with an insight which for quickness and positiveness is equivalent to an intuition. The same is true of the assent to those rules which are very general, though not strictly universal. It is only when the consequences compel attention that they need to be calculated or considered, — when they compel it with such energy as to justify the exceptions, as, in the cases already supposed, of justifiable homicide or violence. In the case of those rules which admit frequent exceptions, the consequences must be considered whenever a deviation from the rule is allowed. We may not overlook the fact, in this connection, that edu- cation and tradition, manners and religion, have Every person much to do with the determination of questions of ">ore or less , . . . , .11 T influenced external conduct ; and it is neither possible nor de- i,j. t^e com- sirable that any human being should separate him- »i""ity. self from the past which he inherits, or the present by which he is surrounded, in determining the moral authority of the rules of his external life. Every man finds himself, from his infancy to his death, more or less in a state of pupilage and depend- ence, with respect to his fellow-men, in deciding questions of 1 Cf. Dr. T. Dwight's Theology, sermon xcix. 202 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 78. duty. It is onl}" partially at the completest, and gradually at the latest, that any individual attains that measure of indiffer- ence to others which he can never completely assert. Man is born and dies in the family, the church, and the state. He must begin his moral life by recognizing the teachings and authority of each, although it is both his right and his duty to revise and to dissent more or less from each in regulating his life as he becomes more and more self-relying. The maxim, "The end justifies the means," as ordinarily The end applied, supposcs two external actions or events justifies the instead of one, of which one is the end, and the other is the mean. For example: the taking of life, and breach of faith, we may suppose are the means ; the removal of a tyrant, and the recovery of lost rights, are the ends : both being conceded to be desirable ends and valuable blessings, not only to an individual, but to the community. In view of these ends, an act, say tyrannicide, which would other- wise be criminal, is, as is alleged, justified as the necessary and therefore the lawful means of the greatest good. The principle for which we have contended, as necessary to the moral determination of the external conduct, contemplates but one action, which is supposed to be the uniform, or at least the usually recognized, method of manifesting or exe- cuting the intention or purpose, and for this reason is taken as uniformly obligatory. The voluntary purpose is not properly considered as the means at all, to the external action. Ethi- cally it is complete in itself. It is all that the moral law directly requires. Its being acted and expressed in action is, so to speak, an incident of its existence, — an incident which is certain, necessary, and morally obligatory indeed, but not related to it as the end is to a means; i.e., as one external phenomena or event is an end to another as its means, with an intention or purpose behind both. As the terms of the relations vary in the two cases, it is not surprising that the same should be true of the relations them- § 79.] THE EXTEBNAL ACTIONS. 203 selves. In the one case, the aim or intention is supposed to be fixed. In the other case, the ends are supposed to be diverse. In the one case, the only varying ele- between a ment is the fitness of an action to promote a single *'^an»e i" the terms and fixed purpose. In many cases, this fitness is related, and a assumed to be incapable of change ; while, in many *"'*^"»*^ *" *''*' ^ o ' ' J relations. other cases, it changes rarel3^ In the other case, it is denied that there is any fixed relation between action and intention in the effect or operation of external actions ; or, at least, that any are fixed in the interest of moral obligation. Hence it is inferred that man is at liberty to assume for himself to judge of the consequences of any one of his own actions, to the exclusion of the indications which he finds in the established order of the universe and the purposes of its Author. The doctrine is at once irrational and atheistic in its theory, and licentious and demoralizing in its practical influence. § 79. Akin to this doctrine is the casuistic expedient for a very lax morality in conduct, which has been more -^ -^ Direction or less notorious under the title of ' ' the direction of the of the intention." ^ The doctrine is briefly as fol- "'Mention, lows : Let it be conceded that whatever a man does is good or bad, according to his intention. Let him now perform any act whatever, and have a good end in view : the moral excellence of his good intention will give moral quality to the act, no matter what the character or effect of that act may be. He may murder or steal or lie ; but, if he designs thereby the good of men or the glory of God, he is morally approved in accordance with what he designs, and with that only. We may safely accept the principle, that what a man purposes or designs determines the moral quality of the agent ; but we should deny that a man can design any thing which is good, and yet re- frain from a certain action, much less that he could possibly do that which he knows or might know would defeat that very 1 See the instructive chapter in P. Janet, La Morale, Paris; translated as The Theorij of Morals, New York, 1883. 204 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 79. good on which, as is contended, his heart may be set. In every ease he is shot up to the necessity, both logical and moral, of performing a specific action, — either that one which he certainly knows that a morally right intention uniformly requires, or the act which he confidently believes is demanded under present circumstances. No direction of the intention to any other aim than that which the man actually achieves, no attempt to ani- mate a l>ad deed with the soul of benevolence or saintly devo- tion, can relieve the conscience of the perpetrator from the sense of personal responsibility, or that of his adviser from complicity with his guilt. To interpret the principle that the intention is the all-impor- tant element in morality, so as to justify the doctrine that a good intention justifies any means for its realization, and there- fore that the external conduct is a matter of indifference, is to insult the common judgment of mankind in respect to the sig- nificance of manners and of conduct. It is to do worse : it is to weaken the faith of men in the moral order of the universe as controlling all external and physical events in the interest of the moral law. The discussion of the topic is useful, however, so far as it serves to bring into bold relief the truth that it is impossible to construct any theory of ethics unless we recognize the presence of design in the universe ; and also the truth, that design not only controls the relations of man to himself in the inner work- ings of his being, but also provides for the harmony of the regard for self, in the best sense of the term, with love to our fellow-men, and even controls the physical relations of man as an individual and man in society. Even the intuitional theory, whether of Price or Kant, can only solve certain ethical ques- tions by resorting to the intuition of design. But whenever this theory ekes out its necessities by help from its neighbor, it exposes itself at once to the inquiry, which intuition is, after all, the fundamental intuition, — the category of intuitional recti- tude, or the category of assumed design. §§ 80, 81.] THE EXTEBNAL ACTIONS. 205 § 80. The resolution of moral excellence into right or virtu- ous intention, idien acted out, has been considered ^ , r^ , . . , . The noblest justly as the noblest feature of the Christian ethics feature of as compared with every other S3'stem, in its specu- tiinstian lative thoroughness and its practical value. The value of this single principle in solving the problems of specula- tive moralit}^, and again in meeting the difficulties of practical ethics, becomes more and more conspicuous the more the stu- dent familiarizes himself with the failure, even of Christian theologians (to say nothing of anti-Christian theologians), to appreciate and apply this principle, which is at once as wide- reaching as it is easily understood and readily explained. Its practical value is equally conspicuous, the instant that we acquaint ourselves with the many perplexed questions of practical morals which vex the souls of conscientious men. It is one of the many examples of the irony of history, that this principle, at once so spiritual, so profound, and so practical, should have been perverted by casuists into one of the most degrading and demoralizing maxims of individual conduct and social life, under the title of " the direction of the intention." It strikingly exemplifies the adage, Corruptio 02')timi j^essima . § 81. The manifestation of right intentions by speech, ges- ture, and action also admits of aesthetic quality, or ^ ^^ ^. ' i J ' Esthetic the quality of beauty, in ethical character and con- quality in duct. As these manifestations please or displease the taste, actions are said to be morally beautiful or ugly. Moral beauty and deformity are, indeed, sometimes jj j ^^ x applied to the internal affections as such, i.e., to the in feeling voluntary feelings and dispositions. Inasmuch as moral excellence introduces order and sj^mmetry and consis- tency into the inner activities, it is natural to conceive of it as an example of spiritual beauty, and to apply to virtue and vice the conceptions which are appropriate to beauty and deformity. The intrinsic beauty of virtue and virtuous emotions and pur- poses, and the essential deformity of vice and vicious feelings, 206 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§81. have been freel}- emphasized by moralists in all ages, from Plato The beauty of <^^own to Ruskin. By such writers, virtue has been virtue, how conceived 0^ and represented as resulting from the conceived . , • ^ i • • i i and de- harmouious worknig of the spn-itual powers, analo- «cribed. g^^g ^^ ^Hgnity and elegance of feature, form, or action, to graceful and facile movements of the person in the dance, to the harmonious blending of sounds in music, or to the easy transitions and contrasts of colors. These analogies have led many moralists to treat the moral sensibility as kin- dred to, if not a form of, aesthetic feeling. The advocates of the moral sense, as Malebranche, Shaftesbury, Hutcheson, Hume, and Herbart, very naturally accept this view, more or less formally, or use language which favors or implies it. The adherents of this view in this most positive form will be the foremost to acknowledoe that the manifestations Appropriate ^ garb of of virtue and vice admit the relations of beauty Mrtue. ^^^^ grace, or their opposites ; and that these are founded on the fitness or suitableness of w^ords or deeds to the emotions and purposes which they purport to express or to serve. We may conceive the purest benevolence, the sweetest affection, the tenderest sympathy, and the most heroic fortitude, throuQjh some defect of bodily orsjanization, or ab- Vlrtue often ° Jo' misrepre- scncc of culture, to cxprcss themselvcs in tones and sented. gestures and words and actions which awaken emo- tions that are altogether the opposite of those which the feelings and purposes would appropriately occasion. There is a broad and deep chasm, in all such cases, between the spiritual emo- tions and character and their sensuous manifestations. Virtue or moral goodness, in all such cases, wears the garb of its opposite. Conversely, vicious and selfish emotions and character may Vice con- drape themselves in manners that are literally "the ncctedwith ijvery of heaven, to serve the Devil in ; " may em- grace and beauty of ploy words that naturally express the purest love, manners. ^^^^^ ^^^^ ^l^^^ j^^ their sccmiug could only be dic- tated l)y saintly unselfishness. Whether "vice itself loses half § 81.] THE EXTERNAL ACTIONS. 207 its evil by losing all its grossness," is a question on which many differ. Some will contend, that, because cultured " hypocrisy is the homage which vice pays to virtue," therefore it is no better than brutal sensuality and fiendish selfishness ; while others will hold as earnestl}^ and even passionately, that the sentiment just cited is not only superficial but demoralizing in its underlying principle. All men, however, will confess that grace and beauty of speech and gesture and act are the fitting garb for true inward excellence, and that the cultivation of these aesthetic attractions is an obligation as real as the obliga- tion to possess the soul of true virtue in right intentions and a virtuous will. The neglect to manifest our virtuous purposes by fitting acts, the careless or contemptuous disesteem of attractive manners, of gracious words and gentle wa3's, which are not only practised, but justified, b}^ men and even women who would pass for eminent philanthropists or super-eminent saints, have done more to bring saintliness and philanthropy into dis- credit than the open defiance of moral restraints or the wilful profession of irreverence and unbelief. Christianity has the rare and peculiar merit of reconciling, in the most natural way, the sternest severity of self-control with the attractive grace of the gentlest manners. AVhile in theory it counts the outward man as little or nothing in comparison with the inner man of the heart, it tends to spiritualize the outward man by the silent operation of the charity that "doth not behave itself unseemly." Its command in respect to the outer actions is constant and un- compromising : " Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honorable, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovel}^, whatsoever things are of good report : if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, tJd)ik on these things." 208 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 82. CHAPTER XII. DIVERSITY OF ETHICAL DEFINITIONS AND THEORIES. § 82. It would seem at first as though no concepts ought to The acknowi- ^^ ^^ easily defined as ethical concepts. If, as we edged diver- have Contended, the most important ethical rela- nitions and tious are SO clcarly discerned by all mankind who theories. ^^q willing to sec them, and the feelings which they excite are acknowledged to be so controlling, it would be natu- rally inferred, that no conceptions could be so easily explained as ethical conceptions, and that in respect to none would the theories of man be so united and so positive. The want of clearness which prevails in respect to these conceptions, and the diversity of ethical definitions and theories, seem to require some special explanation. We have already emphasized an important difference between the reality of a fact or truth, and the scientific definition or theory which explains or enforces it. The explanation which we have given of the processes by which these concepts are reached, and the various senses in which they are used, may have prepared us to understand more fully why the principal ethical terms are differently defined and explained by different men, and by the same men at different times. We notice first, that the terms " right " and " wrong " admit wider or narrower definitions, accordinsj as they are Applied to a ' o j wider or nar- made to covcr a wider or narrower field of relations. rower eld. ^\^[g jg ^q^ peculiar to thcse terms, or the objects for wliich they stand. The full content of any concept would cover § 82.] ETHICAL DEFINITIONS AND TIIEOBIES. 209 the relations of the object to which it pertains, to every other object to which these relations are at all significant. The breadth of the definitions which we give to any must depend upon the number of objects with which it is compared. It follows that one of very many definitions of the same object may be less complete than the others, without being exclusive or contradictory of them. One definition may seem to be inconsistent or unrelated with another, for the simple j^et sufficient reason, that in words or in thought they do net cover the same field, or for the reason that what is affirmed in one is implied in the other. In the definition or analj^sis which we have given of right and wrong, we began with man as supposed to exist uj^jj^ a,,^, alone, and to hold relations only to himself ; exclud- "fo"? ">«)' '^ be limited to ing, for the time being, any relations to his fellow- a solitary men. We began with this conception of man as »"*ii^'it^"ai. furnishing an ethical nucleus or germ, — viz., those relations which a single human being holds to himself ; which germ might grow and expand by natural accretion from the additional material of new relationships as new points of comparison should present themselves. We contended, moreover, that, if an individual could be conceived of as existing alone, he would find himself discerning the more important relations, and ex- periencing the conspicuous emotions, which all men call moral. Man existing alone is a microcosm, a spiritual organism, capable of voluntary activities, which are impelled by varied desires, all tending to good. In the words of Butler, he has an "inward frame," "considered as a system or constitution whose several parts are united, not b}^ a physical principle of individuation, but by the respects they have to each other, the chief of which is the subjection which the appetites, passions, and particular affections have to the one supreme principle of reflection or conscience." As such a being, he must judge and test them by the standard furnished in the best capacities of his nature as known by himself. The estimate which he forms 210 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 83. of himself, when tried by this standard, he mnst follow b}^ self- Rieht and approval or disapproval. It is obvious that right wrong when and wrong action, generalized and defined by these limited to . • i i i these reia- relations, must be conceived as the voluntary choice tions. Q^ ^]jg highest good known to man, followed by self- satisfaction or its opposite. This highest subjective good would no sooner be recognized as possible and desirable, than it would be imposed by man upon himself as a law for his future respect or obedience, and enforced by the prospect of the rewards or penalty of his self- approval or self-reproach. In view of this added relation, right and wrong are still further defined as activities which involve the feeling of obligation. Moreover, they are directly or cate- gorically commanded and prohibited, the processes by which they are imposed being so simple and natural. So soon as man's highest subjective good comes into view, the added rela- tion of adaptation or design and its content will contribute a new element, and the definition will be so far enlarged. Viewed under this new relation, the inner law has new meaning, and is enforced ])y additional sanctions of obligation. But, in adding these new relations, we neither deny nor exclude any of the preceding. One rises into the other by a natural accretion and growth. § 83. If now other beings than man himself are brought into the field, and if his own hiohest good is either lAhen other ' ^ ^ beings are assumed Or known to involve their highest good, then right action, so far as our fellows are con- cerned, is still further conceived and defined as the voluntary action which tends to the common good. This may be deduced a 2^^'iori by inference from the assumption that nature would provide for the harmony of the two, or it may be inferred from the conscious experience of the superior quality of benevolent affection itself, or it may be derived from both. But the addi- tion of this new element in no way excludes those already recognized in our definition. § 83.] ETHICAL DEFINITIONS AND TIIEOBIES. 211 If this activity is again inferred to be willed by the Supreme Reason or the Supreme Ruler, the conception of ^^^^^^ ^^^ right action is enlarged and exalted by its relation Supreme is to the authorit}^ or will of God. It is still further defined as the manifested law of God, who is assumed to b« perfect reason and perfect goodness. We repeat the remark already made, that none of these rela- tions, as they succeed each other by natural develop- rpj^^^g groups ment, necessarily exclude one another. They simply of relations . do not ex- enlarge the content or import of the concepts m elude one question, as one after another is recognized as true, a"oth«»"* and consequently moves the feelings and impels the will. Thi? enlargement of import is the result (as we say popularly) of regarding the subject-matter under new lights or from new points of view. Many of the theories of morals which have been taught in the schools, when compared in their elements or traced in their histor}^, will be found in no sense to be inconsis- tent one with another. More frequently each separate theory rests on some single relation, which rather presupposes and im- plies the others, than excludes and repels them. Indeed, what we might expect we find to be true, that each of the theories of morals which has had its abundant following and its earnest watchword represents a single relation, which is by no means exclusive of those of other schools. We also find that each and all together must take its place in any complete and well- rounded theory, if it would recognize all the facts and relations which the truth embodies. The careful student of the various speculative theories of morals which have found so many assailants and de- Different fenders will not be surprised to find that each repre- theories rep- resent more sents one or more of the elements which go to make or fewer up the concepts of moral good and evil when ideally ^^®^*t*o"s* completed. Each one of these theories ordinarily represents but one side or aspect of the truth. That only is the true theory which provides for them all. Such a view must of 212 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 81. necessity exclude the dogma that the relation is simple and undefinable, inasmuch as a concept that is simple must be incapable of analysis or growth. It would seem, that, as our concepts in any domain of thought ascend in dignity and im- portance, so the more complicated do they become in their internal structure, and tlie more rich in their spiritual content. The saying of Kant, that " nothing can possibly be conceived in this world, or even out of it, which can be called good with- out qualification, except a good will," is often cited as sanction- ing the position that the concept good-will, or moral goodness, is incapable of analysis or definition, or, in other words, is a simple idea. It would seem to be sufficient, in reply, to call attention to the fact, that the concept which answers to any complex term cannot itself be simple : moreover, the concept good-will denotes a conspicuous property, or attainm.ent, of a being with a highly complex nature. Such a being, it would seem, by the fact that he occupies a higher position in the scale of existence, is none the less, but the more, capable of answer- ing to a very complex conception, such as must be recognized at once when the term "a good will " is defined. § 84. Not only do the definitions of the moral concepts differ, Right and according as they include more or fewer significant wrong ap- relations ; but the terms which designate them are plied to dif. ° ferentsub- applied to diverse subjects-matter. This variety of jects-matter. application, howcver, involves neither inconsistency nor contradiction of thought. Primarily and propei-ly, and as we may always say impliedly, the concepts of right and wrong are affirmed of the onirtothe Voluntary pui'poses, and of these alone. Apart from voluntary ^j^g voluntary purpose or desire, an action can have purposes. no moral quality whatever. "We ought also to add, that in the last analysis, and in the highest sense, right and wrong pertain to the permanent voluntary state which we call the character. Right and wrong are also affirmed of the dispo- ntions and habits, whether these are affirmed of the natural § 85.] ETHICAL DEFINITIONS AND THEORIES. 213 tendencies or structure which precede vohintary activit}^, or of their consequences and effects, or more or less of both. Right and wrong are also affirmed oi particular intentions^ or purposes to perform particular external actions. In courts of law, and in the most of the ethical judgments pronounced by man upon man, they go no farther than such intentions ; these being pre- sumed to be deliberate and rational. Right and wrong are also affirmed of external actions only, and very frequently with no distinct reference to the intention which the action is supposed to manifest or execute, but alwa3's with the assumption that the man performed the action with intelligence in respect to its effect. Right and wrong are also applied to actions that carry no intention with them, and hence have no moral quality : and even with an interchange of meaning, so that an external action ichich is morally ivrong may be the right action, i.e., the action suitable to a right purpose; or, one that is right morally, i.e., in its purpose, may yet be the wrong action in outward expres- sion and effect. § 85. AVe distinguish between the act and intention more exactly and effectually, by availinsj ourselves of the ., , , , •^ J ' J o Absolute and terms absolute and relative rightness. These terms relative riirlitiicss* may not be the most felicitous, but the}^ serve the pur- pose for which they are used. Absolute rightness, as thus used, is a rightness which is absolute, or perfect, i.e., the most com- plete conceivable, covering every relation. It is affirmed when the intention is right, and the action, in every respect, is suitable to such right intention. If a man is animated by the most dis- interested purpose to benefit his fellow-men, and knows exactly what he should do in order to accomplish this purpose, and actu- ally does all this, his action is completely and consummately right, his activity is absolutely right. Relative rightness, on the other hand, is affirmed with respect to the intention onl}^, or to the external action only. If the intention only is right, while the action is more or less unfitted to execute or express this intention, the man and his total activity are right relatively to 214 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 86. the intention onl3\ On the other hand, if a man with a wrong purpose performs an action wiiich would be suitable to a mor- ally perfect intention, his action — i.e., his word or deed — would be relatively right. For example, a man might intend to give another what he supposed would act as a poison, but which proves to be a needed medicine. An action may be relatively right when it is morally wrong ; but it can be absolutely right only when the intention and the act are harmonious, that is, when the intention is right, and the action is also right, — i.e., when it is an appropriate expression or manifestation of the intention : then the action is conformed to the ideal in all conceivable relations. §86. By distinguishing between the intention and the action, we are prepared to determine the question whether., In what sense and in tvJiat sense, morality is eternal and immuta- is morality ble. In answering this question, it is important that j^^^"faJJ*g^j we notice, that moral relations suppose and imply the existence of moral beings. There can be no propriety in affirming such relations of any other. It were as absurd to conceive of gravity or light or electricity or chemism without matter, or geometrical relations without space, as to conceive of right and wrong, or moral obligation, in the absence of beings endowed with those natural capacities which qualify them for moral activity. We cannot extend our conceptions of moral relations beyond the range of existing beings ; i.e., persons en- dowed with capacities for moral judgments and emotions. On the other hand, it were as impossible to conceive of matter, or mathematical entities, without implying the necessity and uni- formity of the relations which each involve, as to conceive of moral relations as not permanently and necessarily implied in the existence and activity of moral beings. The question w^hether morality is eternal and immutable is interchangeable with the question whether moral be- ^j^^ always ings, one or more, shall continue to exist. Morality suppose must always signify a fixed relationship between the volitions and acts of a moral being and his capacities. We § 86.] ETHICAL DEFINITIONS AND THEORIES. 215 affirm with confidence, that, whenever and wherever a moral person exists, his moral activities must have constant and unalterable relations to these capacities. Whatever be the limitations or the reach of his intellect, or the sensitiveness or intensity of his capacities of feeling, his judgments respecting his voluntary activities must be the same, and also the emo- tions which are consequent on such judgments. The relations themselves are constant ; the subjective judgments of these relations must be similar, so far as reflection is applied to them with honest attention ; and the results must be uniform and constant in both thought and feeling. These supposed relations, however, pertain to the internal economy of the man, i.e., to his intentions and voluntary aflTec^ tions and purposes. It is of these, and of these onl}^ that we confidently assert that all moral beings must pronounce the same judgments. The actions of men, on the other hand, are uniformly right and wrong so far, and so far only, as in all conceivable circumstances they are known to be the appropriate manifestations and effects of right or wrong purposes. The permanence and fixedness of moral obligation is estab- lished so soon as it is affirmed of the inner activi- permanent ties. All that we need say of these actions is, that and fixed 1 ^ . -J, 1 ^ relations of so far as any classes of actions are unirormly and the inner invariably required by right intentions, so far are a^^tivities. the rules of external action fixed and constant, — as fixed and constant as are the requisitions of duty upon the heart. To concede that the law of duty, in varying circumstances, may require varying external actions, does in no sense weaken the authority or permanence of this law^, as it is applied to the inner life. Indeed, we cannot justify this permanence and authority, unless we can also show how an unvarying law may require diverse actions as circumstances vary, and as the knowl- edge of men is subject to change in respect to the actual im- port and effect of their conduct. 216 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 87. § 87. The so-called ethical emotions must also be uniform in their character, and follow the ethical judgments The emotions . ^ n i i • o i/-" equally per- m the experience of all moral bemgs. belf-appro- manent and i3ation and its contrary, obligation to and against, uuiform. and what is called the feeling of merit or demerit, are all necessarily connected with one another by a common necessity, and certain to emerge in the experience of every moral agent. Their presence is as certain and sure as are the phenomena of physical agents ; and their law^s are as fixed and eternal as those which prevail in the solar system. Their energy and purity and relative intensity may not be the same in every individual. These depend in part on natural tempera- ment, and in part on acquired facility. The moral feelings, other things being equal, share with the other emotions in in- tensity and constancy, and in every other natural characteristic. The commanding sensibilities which we recognize as ethical are naturally intense or moderate, fervent or cool, enthusiastic or even, in harmony with the prevailing emotional temperament. While exercise and culture add to their relative strength and their practical supremacy, neglect and open resistance weaken their relative energy. They retain the individual type imparted by nature or transmitted by inheritance. But in and above them all, the individual will is supreme in its capacity to direct and control, and by its direction and control to form and fix, those habits which are the priceless rewards of moral conflict and the strength and security of the moral and spiritual life. §88.] DEVELOPMENT OF THE MOBAL NATUBE. 217 CHAPTER XIII. THE EDUCATION AND DEVELOPMENT OF THE MORAL JUDGMENTS AND FEELINGS. § 88. That the judgments of men concerning thf right and wrono; of particular actions are very larojely the products of their circumstances and their education, mentsand is too obvious to admit of question. That their J^«J»»f ^^^^ ^ to be depend- moral emotions are similarly influenced, seems equal- ent on cir- ly obvious. How far and in what way these judg- ments and feelings are affected by each, is a fruitful theme for inquiry and discussion. This incjuiry is the more important, in view of the \Qvy great diversit}^ of opinion which prevails, in respect to the part which these influences have in forming and modifj'ing the ethical judgments and standards of different communities and different individuals. Some writers are ear- nest and positive in asserting that the ethical judg- ^ _ .^^^ ments and feelings are entirely independent of and and extrava- superior to any and all extraneous influences. Con- ^entsin two science, whether it be individual or public, in the directions. view of such, is an infallible oracle ; and, whether it is regarded as reason or sentiment, its judgments and feelings are pro- nounced to be alike infallible and authoritative. Others repre- sent, that, both as faculty and phenomena, they are solely the products of education and circumstances. Both these judgments are one-sided and extreme. For this reason it is the more 218 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§§ 89, 90. important accurately to state, and carefully to qualify, these extreme statements in both directions, if we would do justice to the truths which both parties exaggerate and misapply. § 89. In treating the subject, we shall follow two lines of in- Two lines of Q""T- W ^^^ ^^^^^ trace that development of the inquiry. moral judgments and feelings which is determined by the general laws of psychological growth. (2) We shall show how far an individual or a community may be affected in ethical opinion and feeling by education, law, religion, and public opinion. These two lines of inquiry cannot be entirely separated. No individual exists or is developed independently of his fellow-men. Into what seem to be the individual experi- ences, there must enter very largely the influences of the social atmosphere in which he has been trained. The individual in his turn re-acts against or with all these circumstances with Ethical de- greater or less energy and effect. There is a natu- Teiopnient of ^al Order of psycholoo'ical development and proojress the individ- i J & i i o uai and the which is followcd in the history of every individual community, j-^^^ There is also a family and national and race psychology, in the growth of what is called the conscience of the family, the nation, and the race. To recognize and trace, in a general way, the operation of these common conditions of man's individual and social existence in their effects on the varied moral phenomena of theory and conduct which are so conspicuous in human experience, is absolutely necessary, if we would form a theory of morals which can be justified by the facts of observation and the teachings of history. AYe begin : § 90. (1) With the psychological development of moral activity in the history of the individual man. We growth of would trace the natural order in which our con- the individ- scious psychological experiences are developed, till the moral consciousness is fully established. We suppose no special guidance or stimulus to direct or quicken the natural development of the moral life. §90.] DEVELOPMENT OF THE MOEAL NATURE. 219 The infant exercises, earliest of all, its appetites for food and drink, for warmth and sleep. It early learns to know the objects which will gratify these affections, lessons of by the presence of one or more of which it is im- pelled by desire towards the objects which will satisfy its long- ings. It subsequently learns that it cannot have these objects without effort, and very soon that it cannot gratify one desire without foregoing anotlier. Thereupon and thereby it learns to use the efforts to which of itself it might be disinclined, and to sacrifice or refuse one desire and one action in order to gratify its competitor. In this way it learns the need and importance of self-control. By degrees it learns forecast and adaptation in the control of its activities ; and, as a conse- quence, the acts and habits of prudence and self-command are begun and more or less matured. The wishes of other persons are soon brought into conflict with its own. The child early learns that others are stronoer than himself ; and ^ Lessons of also that certain of his own actions are permitted subjection and furthered, while others are repressed and pre- *** ^* ^'^* vented. If he persists in acting as he desires, he is punished, first with corporal pain, and then by expressed displeasure. The favoring smile and the interpreted frown of nurse or parent soon become powerful motives to incite and restrain. The " Yes, yes," the "No, no," with the accompanying smile or frown, ex- presses what the child learns to value or dread most keenly ; viz., the favor or disfavor of his fellows. It is not long before these consequences of evil or good to himself, in each of these forms, become closely associated with the actions which the child desires to do : the desire and fear of this good and evil are recognized as motives for the control or repression of impulses which would otherwise be allowed. The next step Distinction is for the child sharply to distinguish the two, — to between re- T /. 1^ ^ ^ sponsibility separate the favor or disfavor of others from any to others and outward consequences to himself by which these are *® ®"®'^ ^^^^* expressed. That man is strongly moved by his susceptibility 220 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 90. to the good or ill opiuion of others, caiiuot be doubted. It is equally clear, that, as the powers of discrimination and reflec- tion are matured, and the sensibilities become more acute, he finds in this force a law to regulate not only his acts and his manners, but his feelings also. The child has taken an early but most important step in moral culture, when he learns to adopt fixed ways of action in deference to the wishes of his fellow-men. The first step in the moral culture of a child, or an infant race, says Bagehot, "is to secrete a crust of cus- tom ; " that is, to adjust his own ways of acting to those which he finds in operation among those with whom he is familiar. So far the child is limited to those relations which are pru- The develop, dcntial ouly. His standard is taken from without, meiit and rec- j^ ^|^g conscQuences wliich affcct him from nature, ognition of a standard socicty, or positive law. So soon, however, as he >Tithm. learns to look within, and to find in his own natural capacities the standard of judgment and the source of authority, so soon also as he applies this standard to his volitions or inten- tions, he rises from the prudential into the moral. The child does not consciously ascend into this higher region by a single bound. Gleams of this higher knowledge are now and then intermingled with the more distinct and intelligent recognition of the lower relations. The higher relations are not so much mingled as they are blended with these lower, giving them greater energy, and imparting to them a peculiar quality. The child seems to himself to hear and respond to a command of force or favor from without, while yet there is another voice from within recognizing the reasonableness and the excellence of the act required, and a response of feeling and motive superadded. Nor is it by any means necessary that a wide range of human capacities should pass in review before the eye of reflection, in order that the child should discern and accept an inner law, — the law written on the heart. It is only necessary that two impulses should conflict, in order that this law should emerge in the confessed natural superiority of one. Least of §90.] DEVELOPMENT OF THE MORAL NATUBE. 221 all is it required that the law should be discerned as of universal application, or should be phrased in an abstract proposition, or enforced in general terms, in order that it may be recognized and honored. Most probably, as in all other forms of reflective thinking, the attention of the child will have been directed and stimulated b}^ some sort of ethical teaching and discipline, rude or refined, pure or mixed. Domestic and social life, in their most imperfect and unethical forms, appeal more or less fre- quently, and with more or less directness, to the law which every one carries within himself. Religion also, however de- basing and unethical many of its precepts may be, always enjoins some duties of act or emotion to which the dormant moral convictions respond, though often in a blind and undis- criminating fashion. Last of all, man reaches the final stage in the development of his moral consciousness when he distinctly recog- nizes the truth, that he is a law to himself ; that, in ery that this his natural capacities, he finds the aim and standard ^^^^ ^^ "* ''^* own nature. for his voluntarj^ activities ; and that according to their compliance with this law, or their failure, he must approve or condemn himself. This is the ideal generalization towards which all other ethical axioms or principles tend. Very few in fact reach this or any other principle in an abstract or scien- tific form. So soon, however, as any approximately high gener- alization is attained ; so soon, indeed, as any single principle or system of principles is assented to, — the way is prepared for a system of practical rules which is derived from these princi- ples with more or less logical rigor and coherence. Henceforth the development of the moral consciousness of the individual proceeds in this direction, as each individual forms for himself his own practical code of duty in the ways already 1 . , These steps explamed. „,t i„^,pen. It would be a serious mistake to infer that this •^<^"* <*^ ^°- struction. development can take place on the part of any indi- vidual independently of social instruction and social influences'. 222 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 90. It is as true of ethical knowledge as it is of knowledge of any other description, that the larger portion of that which finally shines by its own light, and might perhaps be attained by personal reflection, is anticipated by the instruction of others, and comes to us in the forms of propositions of truth and duty, which are enforced by authority. Ethical truth, so far as it is self-evident, is like all self-evident truth in this regard. In some respects, however, ethical truth is peculiar for its possible independence and autonomy. Hence our second in- quiry, which is of special interest and importance ; viz., — (2) How far are the moral judgments of men dependent on circumstances, and how far are they beyond and above their control ? This inquiry introduces the topic of the next chapter. § 91.] SOCIAL INFLUENCES. 223 CHAPTER XIV. SOCIAL INFLUENCES AS HELPS OR HINDERANCES IN MORALS. § 91. The most conspicuous of these influences are, educa- tion, public sentiment^ civil government, and religion. These comprehend the leading accessory influences social by which the moral judgments and feelings are modified, by help or hinderance, in the family, the state, the church, and the community of men. Of these the first three are organized, and the last stands for mankind united by those social ties which are more or less informal and transient. These several agencies or influences are alike in this, that they aid or hinder the motives which are purely and properly moral by those which are extra but not necessarily anti-moYnl. These motives have this one feature in common, that they are addressed to the susceptibility of man to the favor or disfavor of his fellows. These social and personal forces are most important factors in the formation of the moral judgments, tastes, and character. We do not detract in the least from the importance of the responsibility and independence of the individual, when we assert that they very largely determine the moral codes which the individual man receives unconsciously, and, as it were, by induction, and that they exert a powerful influence in deter- mining the direction and the energy of the moral feelings. Every family has its own moral code concerning the -^ -^ » The family. major and the minor moralities, which the child accepts with little questioning, and which often remains to the 224 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 92. end of life, with little change, and usually with an inveterate and tenacious hold of the associations.- The emotional atmos- phere of every household is in a greater or less degree a life- giving stimulant, or a noxious and stifling poison, to the ethical impulses of the individual. The school repeats similar pro- Sodety, law, ccsscs, with similar effects. Society, by its ever- and religion, shifting but always plastic public opinion and feel- ing, is constantly inspiring and moulding the rules and impulses of action, and enforcing them by its subtile and penetrating presence. The laws and tribunals of every community are, to not a few, the only distinctly recognized standard of duty, and the only enforcers of moral authority (§ 41). Religion is a constant director of ethical opinion, and minister of those fears and hopes which take the strongest hold of man's being, as they are derived from another life, and stimulate the conscience and the affections to the iutensest activity. All these forces are subject to laws of progress and development, as also to laws of retrogradation and degeneracy. They carry the indi- vidual with them backward and forward, upward and down- ward, by an influence which is always powerful, and which often seems irresistible. § 92. When we examine these extra-ethical forces more carefully, we find : — (1) They do not originate, nor can they reverse or alter, those moral iudo;ments and emotions which respect (1) They do not originate the fundamental relations of duty. These, as we the ethical j^avc already explained, can neither be imparted by judgments J i ^ l j and emo- simple instruction, nor enforced by bare authority, tions. They are originated by and within the soul itself. They are discerned directly by its intuitive insight. They are enforced by a self-derived and self-imposed authority which the man can share with no other being. No more can they create or destroy the strong emotions which necessarily attend these intuitions. These emotions spring up within the soul itself, and derive the exquisiteness of their joy §93.] SOCIAL IXFLUEXCES. 225 and pain from the fact that the soul deals directly and solely with itself. § 93. (2) The intuitional power may, however, be directed and aided by instruction, and stimulated by disci- (2) They aid pline. Induction and testimony are largel}' depend- a^^ quicken ent on the observations and conclusions of older ^''® intui- tional power, and wiser men. The purely ethical emotions may be energized and quickened or repressed by sympathy or hos- tility from others. Instruction may aid the intuitive power enormously, by declaring what it will find to be true if it looks within, and by directing its untried efforts at reflection. The celebrated Pascal, in his early youth, discovered or constructed for him- self many of the most important theorems in plane geometry, without either book or instructor. Doubtless his mastery of these theorems would have been greatly furthered, had he been guided by a good text-book, which would have gathered and arranged the results of previous generations. And yet not a single one of these theorems can be taught except as the mind of the pupil is directed how to analyze and combine for itself the materials which suggest the self-evident relations that reveal themselves with every successive step. By guidance and antici- pation, instruction facilitates the progress of the student. In one sense, intuitive moral truths may be and are taught, both in the abstract and concrete, in principle or application, when- ever parents, teachers, magistrates, or prophets announce in- tuitive moral truths in distinct and forcible words. It should ever be remembered, however, that what they primarily achieve is to declare what the learner will find to be true if he will follow their guidance in lookino; within himself. ^ ^ . These The intuitional power may also be stimulated by agencies discipline ; that is, its efforts at reflection may be *'"*''" f"** , . discipline. excited by the special motives which these social forces apply. AVe do not ask, at this point, whether motives of this class are lower than others in dignity and moral 226 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 94. worth. It is enough that we know that they are necessary and efficient in awakening to tliought, and in stimulating to the dis- covery of moral truth, — even of that truth which shines with its own light, and warms from its own fires. Those truths and rules of duty which are not intuitive, but are gained by induc- tion, manifestly depend on the experience and testimony of others. In this field, each generation can make acquisitions which can be imparted to the generation which follows. Parents may learn moral wisdom for their children, teachers for their pupils, public opinion may be permanently enlightened, legisla- tion may be more wise, and the stream of tradition be more and more richly freighted with valuable lessons gathered from the wisdom of the past. It is not information chiefly, nor testi- mony, that comes to us in this way from the authority of others. It is the self-evidencing truth of many opinions of one man and of one generation, which is so readily understood and accepted by other men and other generations. The reasonable- ness of other moral truths is often nearly self-evidencing, even though the truths are not axiomatic. Multitudes of inductions concerning morals and manners need only to be stated in lan- guage, and gain a hearing, in order to command unquestioning assent, and be added to the permanent wisdom of the next generation. § 94. (3) The relation of extra-ethical or social motives to The relation those which are purely ethical comes next in order. of extra- These two classes of influences may conspire together, ethical to ./ x c^ ethical mo- or they may be sharply antagonistic. It is instruc- *^^*^* tive to trace the agency of the impulses which pro- ceed from these sources, as they help or hinder the emotions that are excited within the individual alone. The parent may command the child to obey or disobey his conscience, as he values the father's favor, or dreads his displeasure. The teacher may do the same. So may the magistrate. The prophet may do the same for the God in whose name he speaks. ijQS.] SOCIAL INFLUENCES. 227 (rt) The feeling of self-approbation, and its opposite, in their original and simple forms are dependent, as we „ , have seen, on the soul which originates and feels bation and them. But a man is rarely so isolated and self- proach, how sufficing, either in 3'outh or age, that he does not niodified. interpret his own self-approval and disapproval as also indicat- ing the approval or disapproval of his fellow-men. The joy of self -approval, and the torments of remorse, as usually felt by a member of a well-ordered communit}^, are largely the reflex of the favor or displeasure of those of his fellows to whom the man is most nearly allied. It may happen, however, not un- frequentl}^ it does happen, that the acts and feelings for which a man approves himself the most, and the most reasonably, bring on him reproach and dishonor from other men. The patriots and martyrs of liberty have often stood in the pillory, and been forced to endure the jeers and contempt of multitudes for the convictions which have subsequently justified themselves to the consciences of other o-enerations. AVhen Sir ,, ^ Mens con- Harry Yane was dragged on a sledge up Tower Hill scia recti, for his execution, the few "who saw liberty and virtue sitting by his side " were silenced, if not cowed and shamed, by the derisive shouts of the mob. The martyrs and confessors of religion have often suffered more from " the cruel mockings " of their fellows than from the fires in which they have been burned, or the tortures by which they have been torn. When our personal self-approval conspires with that of our fellow-men, it is not easy to distinguish the one joy from the other. It is impossible not to separate the two when they move in opposite directions, and come into sharp collision. § 95. (6) The sense of obligation, as men usually know it, represents more than the orioinal feelino- which the ^, •^ » o The sense of soul creates for itself. It suggests more or less of obligation personal authority from without, either of man or ihorityofJur God, or both united, enforcing their will by per- fellows, sonal favor or the opposite. These several elements are not 228 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIEXCE. [§ 05. alwa3^s distinguished. The child docs not always separate the ought which springs up and is enforced from within, from " the categorical imperative " of the parent's command. The same is true of the man who recognizes public sentiment as his law, or the will of the magistrate, or the will of the Supreme. When these several oughts conspire and blend together, they are felt as a single force impelling and directing to one goal. But when they are sundered, and come into collision, they fly apart in diverse directions, and present themselves in striking contrast. When the child is suddenly or slowly awakened to the convic- tion that there is little or no moral authority in the command of the parent whom he has hitherto venerated or feared as God ; when the man is forced by his conscience to rebel against the tyranny of public sentiment or of despotic lawlessness, or the prescriptions of an immoral religion, — then the ought that is supreme within is brought into direct conflict with the oughts that are imposed from without. Conflicts between these opposing emotions often awaken doubt, inquiry, and painful struggles. Even though the decision be clear, it is not easy to shake off sacred and long-cherished associations. Such an inward con- flict always has the elements of a tragedy ; and the struggle is often followed by an actual tragedy within the soul that is shattered by the efforts which are incident to either a conquest or defeat, or involves a tragedy to the persons or interests that reflect these conflicting forces. The ancient tragedy found am- ple material for its pathos in the sacred supremacy of the State or the Laws, when brought into collision with the individual conscience or the dictates of natural affection. The death of Socrates in real life, and the sacrilegious daring of Antigone upon the stage, are two examples. All human history, both domestic and social, abounds in similar pathetic and agonizing dramas. (c) It is with merit and demerit, as it is with obligation and self -approval. Just and true standards may be accepted and enforced from without, which conspire with those which spring § 96.] SOCIAL INFLUENCES. 229 up from within ; or those which are factitious and false may be rejected when tested by those which the individual finds within himself. § 96. As to standards of moral beauty, and the feelings which they awaken, it is notorious that at one time they accord with nature and with truth, and that at niorai beauty another they grossly offend ao:ainst both. There are i»owfar rari- ^ able. good and bad fashions for the manners, the amuse- ments, the worship, the laws, and the conduct, which are the outward expression of the inward judgments and feelings of both individuals and communities. Sometimes the outward is unjust and untrue to the inward, and lags behind it. Some- times it is better than the opinions and feelings and purposes, — a whited sepulchre, containing the deca^^ing relics of what was once a breathing and living body, glowing with life and beauty. As we review these auxiliary or extra-ethical agencies, two inquiries are suggested : AVh}^, and to what extent, may they not teach error to the intellect as successfully as they teach the truth? and. Why are they not as effective in moving the feel- ings for evil as for good? To these questions, the answers will be brief, inasmuch as they have in effect been provided for in the analysis previousl}^ given. (1) The fundamental pr?'? ^ .. n., .■, .-,.. -. » of speculative work ol rejormatioii. ihe possibility of a reforma- and practical ^ion in ethical speculation and practice can be under- niorals. stood by a reference to those personal influences of men on one another which have been enumerated. We need not inquire what agencies awaken the reformer to profounder convictions of moral truth, and a clearer discernment of moral rules. We must suppose that he has both, coupled with that ardor and enthusiasm which they are fitted to inspire. Whether this ever happens except under some kind of supernatural in- citement, we need not determine. It is enouoh that we are assured that individual men now and then attain the force and fire which give them personal power over their fellows. The ^, . grounds or reasons for these stronger convictions are The instru- '^ =^ mentalities rational ; the impulses which they feel are the kin- are rational. ^Yiwg fires that have long been ready to flash into a glowing flame. Their power to affect others is also eminently natural. Let one man believe and feel strongly on moral themes, and he becomes at once a power with his fellow-men. The assertion of convictions by one earnest man evokes re- sponsive convictions from all who hear his words. The better feelings are aroused by sympathy with any zealous and earnest soul. Common convictions and common feelings, when fused into a common conscience, create a powerful social force. If the conscience of an individual is the most powerful individual agency that man knows of, the assenting and consenting con- science of a company of men is a resistless power, now a rush- ing stream, and then a sweeping torrent. As soon as a small §99.] SOCIAL INFLUENCES. 235 community of animated reformers is constituted, it begins to teach others with a sort of social authority, provided always it speaks to the consenting convictions of those to whom it appeals. It creates and enforces a public sentiment of its own, which penetrates and overmasters the public sentiment by which it is surrounded. If the reformers are moved by the inspiration of God, they employ an appeal to a more powerful agency, which is both individual and social. The effects are often surprising in power, rapidity, and per-= mauence. Moral and religious convictions which '^ The effects had been dormant for generations suddenly spring are often into life. Truths that had been suppressed in or ^'""P''^***^^- under an unrighteous life assert at once their regal authority. Practices which had been sanctioned by the interests and made venerable by the traditions of many generations, which had been justified by precedent and made sacred by religion, are all at once discovered to be venerable impostures or outrageous wrongs. It is only after repeated and hard-fought battles, that they are reluctantly abandoned. Rules of action that had never been suspected of being unsound are confessed to be false in theory and pernicious in their working. Profounder principles of duty are accepted, or wiser and more enlightened applications of principles already received are readily made. Ancient and modern history abound in the records of reforms of this sort. They are not always brief in their duration. Not ^^ ^^^ infrequently a steady and long-continued impulse of also perma- ethical progress has followed, as the result of which the manners and the morals of great communities have been improved in theory and in conduct, in every department of human life. Legislation, commerce, education, domestic life, social intercourse, festive habits, the use of food, drink, cloth- ing, and amusements, all have felt the influence of its uplifting and on-moving tide. Inasmuch as every form of public and private activity is embraced within the domain of duty, in proportion as these 236 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 98. relations are studied in an enlightened spirit, there is oppor- tunity to improve the rules of duty more perfectly in all their api)lications. The zeal of reformers is often excessive. Their practical deductions are often derived from insufficient data. reJ^orTers" They are not infrequently ignorant of many of the is often fj^(3|^g ^r^ich are material to a correct conclusion. Their dogmatism is often offensive in proportion to its positiveness ; and their denunciations in the name of liberty, temperance, and religion are kindled by any thing rather than a truly prophetic fire. So long, however, as men shall fail to honor the axioms of morality with the fervent faith which their self-evident truth is fitted to inspire, and to derive from them their just applications, so long will there be a call for the work of the reformer ; and so long as man has the capacity to be moved and inspired to faith in moral truth by personal and social enthusiasm, so long will there be promise of success. §99.1 THE LAW OF HONOR, 237 CHAPTER XV. THE LAW OF HONOR. § 100. Our analysis of the relations of social influences to the moral convictions and feelings explains the so-called law of honor, and its relations to the law of duty. The law of honor is a product of society. Its rules of action and its impulses of feeling are derived from so- rpj^^ product ciety ; its sanctions of duty are enforced by society, of society. Hence its imperfections and its evils. The society which creates and enforces this law is, however, composed of moral beings, who cannot be entirely forgetful or careless of moral re- lations, and cannot but often recognize and respect the sanctions of conscience. Hence its dignity, its attractiveness, and its authority. The very term "honor" presupposes the existence of society. Honor is the favorable regard, S3^mpathy, or esteem felt and expressed by one or many for the acts or social in its character of a person, or the kindly and respectful ^'"p**'"^' estimate in which a man is held by his fellows in an organized and permanent community. As soon as this is made the mo- tive or direction of the conduct, we have the beginning or germ of honor acting as a law. Objectively, this law is imposed by society. Subjectively, it addresses the susceptibility and desire of man for the good opinion of his fellow-men. So far the law of honor would seem to be the same with what 238 ELE\ME^'TS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 100. Locke calls the law of opinion {Essay, book ii., chap. 28, §§ 10, 11). What is technically called the law of liiuited and honoi", howevcr, supposos a special and limited com- Kpeciai com- niunitj, morc or less definitely organized for specific ends, and giving or withdrawing its favor only on conditions well understood. In every society of this sort, this law is framed with reference to the purposes for which the society exists, and the conditions which are acknowledged to be essential to the attainment of these ends. It should not be at all surprising, — it follows as a necessary consequence, — that the law of honor is different in each of these societies. There is one law of honor for law3"ers, another for physicians, another Tor clergymen, another for merchants, another for artists, an- other for gamblers, another for thieves, another for gentlemen justly conceived, another for gentlemen falsely so called. § 101. In every case, the law rests upon and grows out of an implied contract or mutual understanding between Rests upon ^ an implied the parties who compose the society, that, as long contract. ^^ ^j^^^ comply with the conditions which are pre- scribed by the community, they shall be entitled to certain privileges. To all these privileges, every member of the society has an equal claim ; and, so far as these are concerned, all are on a footing of equality. This law is usually unwritten, for the reason that it is suffi- ciently determined and defined by the ends for which The law more . . t • i > or less defi- each socicty cxists, and the means or conditions that nite, though ^j,g acknowledo;ed to be necessary for its realization. unwritten. ^ For example : lawyers are, by the nature of their profession, constantly brought into open collision with one an- other ; as they are bound to assert and defend the cause of their Example of clients with every suitable appliance and the utmost' lawyers. Qf ingenuity and eloquence. In a certain sense, they must make the cause of their clients their own. In the conduct of their cases, they are exposed to potent temptations to overstep the limits of reason and courtesy. Hence certain § 102.J THE LAW OF HONOR. 239 rules are carefull}^ framed and rigidly enforced in respect to the treatment of papers, of witnesses and the opposing counsel, and also in respect to the freedom of language which may be allowed. The moral reach of these rules may be very limited : and yet, so far as they go, they have an ethical imiport ; they tend to neces- sary or most desirable results, and for this reason are readily accepted and rigidly enforced. An advocate who grossly vio- lates them is punished by the judge for " contempt of court," or "thrown over the bar" for unprofessional conduct. Simi- larly, among physicians, conduct which is unprofes- q^ pj,j,g|, sional has come to be distinctly recognized, and fians, mer- *^ f chants, more or less rigidly punished, not infrequently tweves, and under a definite and written code. In trade and sa"ibie'"S' commerce, in banking and brokerage, certain methods of pro- cedure must be insisted on as the indispensable conditions of the convenient, if not of the possible, transaction of business ; and these are distinctly recognized and rigidly enforced as the rules of the guild. Among thieves and gamblers, the rules of the craft and of play are accepted and exacted as tests of that conduct which is counted honorable in such a fraternity. Among gentlemen, especially when " this grand old English Among word " is used in its higher signification, the law of gentlemen. honor respects far higher ends, and imposes rules of pro- founder significance. The three cardinal virtues which it rec- ognizes and makes the most of are truths courage^ and courtesy^ in speech, manners, and conduct. § 102. The law of honor does not profess to control the mo- tives or the character. It necessarily limits itself ^ *^ Does not to the manners, the words, and the deeds ; albeit it respect the sometimes regulates these with rigorous preciseness, *"***"®** and judges them with stern severity. A man may be false at heart, and yet rigidly hold to his word among gentlemen. He may be intensely coarse and selfish, and 3'et, in his manners, may scrupulously observe the rules of courtesy. He may be cowardly in feeling, and yet not dare to desert his post when 240 ELEMENTS OF MOBAX SCIENCE. [§ 102. in danger. And 3'et, if be does all that the law of honor pre- scribes, he is entitled to all the privileges of a gentleman. Special conditions may be required for admission to any and all of these societies, pre-eminently to that of <2:en- ^ ^ ° Conditions tlemen, — as wealth or social position, or that refine- and privi- ment which comes of culture or family ; but once ^^^^' admitted, no matter on what conditions, the rule holds good, that all the members of this favored society are peers so long as they observe the laws which are recognized by the fraternity to which they belong. In asserting that this law concerns itself only with the ex- ternal actions, we do not overlook the fact that the toth"efeei-* words "honor" and ''honorable" are very often ingsand j^^^] ygjy significantly applied to the feelings and purposes. purposes. They are so because in such cases the feelings are interpreted by the acts. They are conceived and described as the impulses which would issue in honorable words, manners, and deeds. In such cases, the nice sense of honor reaches no farther than a sensitive estimate of what is honor- able in action, and a constant purpose to exemplify it. Or, as is often true, the law of honor is recognized as the law of duty ; and honorable acts and feelings are interpreted to be such as are moralized and enforced by the conscience. This fact explains why the law of honor in its higher forms is so excellent and noble in its influence. To many it is a discipline to virtue, the decorated vestibule which attracts to the severer court within, in which virtue dwells and receives the supreme and undivided homage of those who have been schooled to her more spiritual service. It is in this sense that it is described in the well-known lines : — " Saj', what is honor ? 'Tis the finest sense Of justice which the human mind can frame, Intent each hirking frailty to disclaim, And guard the way of life from all offence Suffered or done." WOUDPWORTH. §103.] THE LAW OF HONOR. 241 § 103. The defects of the law of honor, taken as the only rule of life, are manifest. First of all, even in its better Its defects, forms, it respects only a part of man's nature. Respects a Even when it is most exacting and spiritual in its ^^^^ ^^ ""^n's nature. demands, its requirements neither penetrate so wide- ly nor so deeply as does the law of duty. Hence, as a rule of feeling and action, it is necessarily imperfect and incomplete. Even at its best, it is but a part of the feelings and the actions which it would regulate. Whatever it may seem to gain in force and energy by its narrowness and concentration, it loses in respect to the depth and richness of the principles which it fails to recognize. Xot unfrequently it divides and distracts the nature of man, settiuoj one impulse aojainst another. Thus the law ^. ., ° X o Divides and of honor forces the duellist to violate many of the distracts the noblest and tenderest affections, — to set aside, if not ^^°^* to trample on, the otherwise acknowledged and imperative obli- gations of conscience at the factitious and often the cruel and tyrannical call of his guild. Even when it does not openly corrupt the principles or offend the conscience, it exercises a biasing influence which warps from the highest integrity, and weakens individual self-respect and independence, making a man the slave of a superficial and often an artificial social sentiment. In politics it works all manner of mischief through a servile bondage to party ; and in religion it is at once sanc- timonious and bigoted, worshipping in the streets rather than in the closet, ascetic, pharisaic, selfish, and proud. The man who confessedly and deliberately makes the law of honor su- preme must in heart and principle be a traitor to conscience and to God. § 104. On the other hand, the law of honor is attractive to the moralist, especially when manifested in its ^y,, . ^^^^a^.. noblest and more elevated forms. It clearly shows, tire to the by its effects in the manners and actions, to what ™°'^* consummate perfection a limited class of external virtues may 242 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 104. attain. It operates with intense energy and surprising effects. It is interesting to observe for ourselves, and to Is energetic. read in history, what rare perfection of courage, fidelity, truth, and courtesy have been attained under its influ- ence, and out of what rough material at times such grace and courage have emerged, especially in military life, and under the stimulus and formative energy of a professional esprit de corps. The refinement and strength of this sentiment in its noblest exemplifications were most felicitously characterized by Burke as "that chastity of honor which felt a stain like a wound." In view of its energy to inspire and refine, to transform and re-create, the moralist cannot but say to himself. If this inferior and partial force can work such effects of transforming energy and almost creative power, what might not be made of man if the law of duty when rightly understood, being in its nature more wide, more energetic, more penetrating, and more refining, could take as efficient possession, and exert as powerful in- fluence on the whole man and the society which he would form, and by which he in turn would be transformed and inspired ! The moralist notices, again, that this law of honor is in a Is more or Certain sense an artificial growth or creation of a less artificial. gQciety of like-minded men, agreeing to rule and obey one another in respect to certain acts and emotions. He cannot but observe how this artificial and often capricious and changing social product has attained amazing permanence and power. Men sacrifice to it their lives, their health, their dearest interests, and often their nol)ler reputation and truer fame, not infrequently even that moral life from which the law of honor itself derives all the dignity and authority with which it rules the men whom it destroys. In view of these excellences and de- fects, he can scarcely withhold himself from asking the devotee of this product of social life, whether it does not justify faith and obedience with respect to that higher law of duty, which has its origin in the nature of the individual soul, its confirma- tion in social forces, and its sanction in the authority of God. § 105.1 THE CONSCIENCE. ' 243 CHAPTER XYI. THE CONSCIENCE. § 105. We complete our analj'sis of man's moral nature by giving special consideration to the doctrine of Tlie ^ " ^ The subject Conscience. In discussing this theme, we can add has been little or nothing to what has already been proposed *"**"p**®'^- m principle and fact, if we change it somewhat in form and phrase. We can do little more than gather and represent the results of our inquiries in a different order. The reason for presenting a second time these conclusions under this new title is found in the fact, that, speculatively^ conscience is not infre- quently either vaguely conceived or misconceived ; while prac- tically^ perplexing questions ^concerning the conscience are so often raised and so unsatisfactorily answered. The conscience is very frequently used, we might almost say more commonly, to designate the entire moral con- stitution or nature of man, whatever this is con- for the ceived to be. Tliose who hold this moral nature to entire moral nature. 1)6 a separate faculty, not mfrequeutly call this faculty the conscience. Thus Dr. Thomas Reid defines it as " an original power of the mind, or moral faculty, by which we have the conceptions of right and wrong in human conduct, and the dictates of which form the first principles of morals." Others limit the term to the capacit}^ of the moral nature for a limited class of functions. They deny to conscience the func- tion of apprehending or constructing the law or standard of duty, and they limit it to the oflfice of applying this law in judg- 244 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 105. ing the feelings and actions. Thus, President Mark Hopkins saj's, the hiw being supposed to be known, " We may define it (i.e., the conscience) to be the whole moral consciousness of man in view of his own actions and as related to moral law " {The Law of Love, etc., p. i., div. viii.). In such an applica- tion, those feelings, and those only, which attend this special function, are also referred to the conscience. The reason why the term is so generally accepted as the The reason appropriate designation for the moral nature, wholly why. or in part, is not far to seek. The moral processes are recognized as uniformly those in which consciousness is in- tensified into reflection. Hence in the Greek we have ^vmSryo-t?, and in the Latin and its derived languages we have conscius, conscientia, and le conscience. In the German we have das Gewissen, from wissen (to know) , which is nearly allied to Be- wusstsein and Selbsthewustsein. These last-named terms bring into strong relief the certainty or confidence which attends the operations of the moral faculty. Conscience should not be used as an appellation for a separate Why ini- <^i' special moral faculty, for the reason that there is proper. jjq ^wq\\ faculty. Every step and result of the preced- ing analj^sis has gone to show this. The consciousness of all men will also testify, that, in our moral experiences, all the so- called psychical powers are brought into requisition and active service. Our consciousness is equally explicit and decided in affirming that to these experiences no new endowment or higher potency of either intellect, sensibility, or will is known to be introduced. Nor can the presence of either be inferred. Such a theory or inference, moreover, is itself contrary to all analogy. Neither the intellect, sensibility, or will is known to exercise peculiar functions, or to follow different laws than when em- ployed upon other subject-matter. The same intellect, so far as it knows itself, acts with respect to moral relations under the same laws, and by the same methods of comparison, deduction, and inference, as when it is concerned with other material. § 106.] THE CONSCIENCE. 245 Nor can we discover new and peculiar intuitions or categories, whether directly furnished by the intellect or indirectly derived from the sensibility or moral sense. The only intuition which makes itself conspicuous is the intuition of adaptation, which involves design. But this intuition, it need not be said, is in no sense limited to the moral intellect or moral reason, but is assumed as the postulate of science and philosophy in every form. The materials with which the conscience operates and which it presupposes are those voluntary states and acts which are the joint products of the sensibility and will. Given the will as the power to choose ; given the sensibility as capable of active impulses ; given a higher and lower in the good of which man is capable ; given the self-conscious intellect to discriminate and reflect, discerning the ends and adaptations of the soul ; and given the power to enforce its laws by motives from within, as also to review the past, to judge the present, and to forecast the future, — and 3'ou have all the endowments required for the entire range of moral activities, judgments, and emotions. It is not any single endowment that constitutes man a moral being, nor is it one conspicuously when added to the rest ; but it is the mutual relationship and joint activity of all those endowments which constitute the soul a psj'chical organism. Conspicuous among these endowments is conscious- conscious- ness ; and hence consciousness is in a sense the "^^^^ conspic- representative of the whole, pre-emmently those ot ^orai fuuc- thought and feeling, which are concerned in forming *^<^"^' and applying the rule of duty to direct and judge of the moral activities. § 106. It is, therefore, to a part only of these endowments, that the special appellation of the conscience is conscience applied; viz., to the intellect and the sensibility in limit eis and pleasures. Bishop Butler, notwithstanding his characteristic caution, affirms the same in the following : "It is manifest that a great part of common language and of common behavior over the world is formed upon supposition of such a moral faculty, whether called conscience, moral reason, moral sense, or divine reason ; whether considered as a perception of the understand- ing, or a sentiment of the heart, or, which seems the truth, as including both ' ' {Diss., II.). § 107. The term " conscience " has still another application. . ,. , It is not limited to these functions which we have Applied to their prod- named. It also designates the results of these operations in the special judgments or conclusions which are reached in regard to matters of duty, and the special § 108.] THE CONSCIENCE. 247 feelings which follow. The conscience of an individual or a community is fityuratively used as a collective term ^ ,. ., *^ ® "^ Individual for the sum of its acknowledged rules of duty, and and public for the energy and quality of the prevalent emotions *^*'"^^**'"<^®- which attend them, l^ach man is supposed to have formed for himself a code of those special rules or standards for the direc- tion and trial of his character and his actions. These are often spoken of as Ids conscience. This conscience is characterized intellectually as enlightened or darkened ; emotionally, as torpid, hardened, seared, or active, wakeful, and scrupulous. By a similar usage, we extend to a community these conceptions and this terminology ; and think and speak of the public conscience^ of the conscience of a nation or a period, as the collective state- ment or conception of the principles or rules concerning duty which are generally acknowledged by a particular community, or at a special period of its history and development. Inas- much as this changing condition of the intellect in a society of men carries with itself changing habits and conditions of feel- ing, we also speak of the conscience of a community or a period as hardened or wakeful, " seared as with a hot iron," etc. In accordance with this theory, the schoolmen distinguished conscience as Svi/xT/py/crts (i.e., the internal reposi- tory of accepted precepts or rules) ; conscience Jvi'ecSrjo-i?,' as SwetST^cri? (i.e., as witness) ; and conscience as and 'ETTtKptcrts (i.e., as judge and executioner). ^i-t/cpio-ts. Keeping in mind that conscience as a power includes the two elements of intellect and feeling, we observe, — § 108. («) That as an intellectual power it is subject to the conditions and laws of the intellect as employed ^^ ^^ ^^^ upon various kinds of subject-matter. In respect to teiiectuai certain relations and questions of duty, it is infalli- far infallible ble, while in respect to others it is fallible. As we *"^' fallible, have stated and urged already in respect to the end of man's active nature and the consequent law of his will, conscience cannot be mistaken if it attentively considers this subject- 248 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 108. matter. No more can it be mistaken when called to judge whether man ought to choose according to duty. Many cir- cumstances may hinder an attentive application of the mind to the relations in question ; as a defect ui the generalizing power, or in the habit of reflection, or in a strong disinclination to use the intellect aright. Each of these intellectual defects may be occasioned by intellectual inactivity, through passion, or an excessive confidence in the teachings of others. All that we assert is, that, in case the conscience should be applied to these general relations of duty, its judgments would be infallible. The truths which it discerns and assents to are in their nature as clear and as self-evident as are the postulates and axioms of geometry. This may also be true of some of the relations of the intentions to external action. But the number of these relations is limited. In respect to very many, not to say the most of these, inasmuch as they change with circumstances, the relations not being constant, and the evidence being proba- ble and inductive, conscience has no warrant for infallible or even for uniform decisions. It follows, that conscience as the intellect is the subject of various degrees of certainty in its judgments. Con- Certain, ^ J J » doubtful, and scieucc is absolutely certain, prevailingly persuaded, vacii atmg. (doubtful and vacillating. The importance of the questions, and the immense desirableness of clear insight and positive convictions, furnish no security against erroneous or doubtful judgments in those cases in which error and doubt are possible. Similarly, in judging of our actual intentions and doings in the light of an accepted standard, — i.e., in estimating our character and conduct by an acknowledged rule of duty, — there is a still wider opi)ortunity for doubt and uncertainty in the decisions of conscience. It is one thing to be certain of the law of duty, and altogether another to know whether, in will or act, we actually conform to this law. Intellectual difficulties and moral biases may both interfere with satisfactory conclu- sions. No judgments of this class can be of the nature of § 109.] THE CONSCIENCE. 249 scientific axioms or logical inferences. And j^et, practicall}^, many of them may be altogether satisfactory and sufficient. In cases of exposure to serious error or uncertainty, the assurance or hope of spiritual guidance and help which may direct the intellect and quicken the sensibilities is most reasonable and assuring. § 109. {b) Conscience, as sensibility, follows the laws of the emotions. The feelings invariably follow the judg- conscience as ments, whether the}' are right or wrong. Whatever sensibility, may be the judgment of conscience as the intellect, in respect either to the rule of duty or its application, whether this judg- ment be right or wrong, the emotion which follows will be appropriate to this judgment, but not necessarily appropriate to the truth. If the man has adopted an erroneous or defective rule, and condemns or acquits himself when tried b}^ that rule, the sentence of approval or disapproval will follow this judg- ment. If a man believes he ought to perform a special act of service to God, or to his neighbor, or to himself, and performs that service, he approves himself all the same, whether the act be righteous, or a palpable violation of duty. On the other hand, if he violates what he thinks to be his duty in any of these relations, by doing what in fact is the right thing to be done, 3^et, if he believes the act to be wrong, he condemns himself all the same. The mistaken devotee, the misguided fanatic, the unreasoning philanthropist, the headstrong child, parent, husband and wife, the self-torturing ascetic, the philosophical libertine, experience all the emotions which they ought to feel, provided their judgments were right, although every one of these judgments happens to be wrong. The simple experience of self-approbation or reproach of conscience after an act, or of scruples or confidence ^ ^ Emotional before, proves nothing in respect to the correctness experiences or incorrectness of the judgments which occasion these emotions, except so far as these feelings betray a secret 250 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 110. conviction that these judgments ought to have been different, and were themselves dishonestly made. What are called the scruples of conscience, the reproaches of conscience, or the satisfaction of conscience, usually include the intellectual judg- ments and the sense of certain biasing influences in the forma- tion of the conclusions, as truly as they do the emotions which follow them. In simple emotion, there is and there can be no guidance except as emotion indicates a concealed suspicion or judgment in a disobedient and dishonest mind. § 110. (c) Conscience, both as intellect and sensibility, can be cultivated and developed. Even the original Can be culti- vated and capacity to discern those moral relations that are developed. self-evident can be made more quick and serviceable by honest and frequent use, and certainly the habit of recalling these primal relations to our thoughts is matured by constant exercise. Those judgments which are probable and inductive, being founded on experience, are obviously dependent on the general cultivation of the intellect, and its special training in discerning moral relations. If conscience is only another name for the special activities of the man, and if the intellect is capable of culture, development, and progress, then conscience as intellect is capable of making progress in its powers and habits, and of giving proof of this progress by an improved moral standard. This must also be true of the individual and the public conscience, so far as a community can be said to have a conscience. Conscience as feeling can also be cultivated and improved. The capacity for feeling of every description increases by exer- cise. The constant use of the moral emotions enlarges and makes more sensitive the sensibilities. AVhat is of equal conse- quence, the habit of connecting the responsive emotions quickly and surely with each intellectual judgment is only attained by constant exercise, and the removal of every adverse influence. When conscience as sensibility is perfected in the service of § 111.] THE CONSCIENCE. 251 duty, its courage may become as stern and bard as an armor of mail, and its sensitiveness as delicate as tbe blusb of a woman. But conscience, wbetber it be intellect or sensibility, is in no sense tbe product or creature of culture or education. It is as natural and as necessary to man to discern tbe relations of duty as it is to discern tbe relations of number, and to feel morally as it is to feel bunger and tbirst. § 111. {d) As conscience can be cultivated and enligbtened, so it can be debased and darkened. By neglect -^ ^ Can be de- or misuse its self-evident trutbs can be overlooked based and or forgotten, its inductive and probable conclu- *'''^''*"*^**- sions can fail to be reacbed, and even tbose wbich are false or one-sided can be accepted in tbeir place. Tbe worse may habitually be put for tbe better judgment, and tbe most sensi- tive feelings may be brought into the service of a sophistical and shallow moral code. To a fearful, but not to an unlimited extent, it can put darkness for light, and light for darkness. By disuse and corruption the conscience can be ' ' seared as with a hot iron ; " and by perversion the source of purity can itself be defiled with depraved associations. But, with all its capacities for degeneracy and debasement, the conscience can never be destroyed. The original cannot be power to discern ultimate and axiomatic moral truth destroyed. remains unimpaired, so soon as biasing and perverting influences are removed, and perverted habits of reasoning or debasing habits of feeling can be renounced and overcome (cf. S. T. Coleridge, Aids to Reflection., Moral and Religious Aphorisms., xlvi.). The disadvantages are so serious, however, under wbich this work of restorinoj and reforminoj the conscience is ^ ^ Eeformed prosecuted, as to furnish occasion for every possible under dis- auxiliary. Prominent among such influences, and *f^*"*^^^*- practically indispensable, are the influences of religion, with its positive instructions uttered by divine authority to direct and 252 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 112. strengthen the intellect ; with its peculiar motives to affect the heart; with its transcendent example, and embodiment of con- descension and love ; and tliose special aids which conspire with or against the unconscious operations of the soul, to break and recast the subtile bonds of association and habit. The independence and supremacy of conscience have often been pushed so far as to remove it beyond the reach Its indcpciul- m x enceaiKi of cxtrancous influences for good or for evil. It supremacy. j^^g ^^^^^ argucd, that if conscicucc is independent as a judge, and finds in itself a complete autonomy, then it is lifted above the need of instruction, the reach of authority, the danger of debasement, and the possibility of any other than self -recovery. Such a theory of conscience is inconsistent with our speculative or practical knowledge of man in all the rela- tions of life. § 112. In one sense, conscience has supreme authority. Its supreme " ^^^'^ ^^ strength as it has right, had it power as it authority. [j^^g manifest authority, it would absolutely govern the world" (Bishop Butler, Diss., 11.). All that can be in- tended by this saying is, that all men consent that it is fitting that the judgments and motives of conscience should be obeyed. Its pains and pleasures are in their nature more important than any and all others besides. Whatever a man knows to be right, by that very fact he accepts as the controlling law of his active energies, supreme over himself and all moral beings. But conscience is not therefore infallible. In some of its judgments it cannot be mistaken, and these it confidently imposes on all moral beings. Other of its conclusions are only probable. But for every one who receives them, these are supreme ; being morally binding upon him, but not necessarily upon others. They are not, however, final, even for him. He may renew these judgments, and annul the obligations which they impose. But, so long as the judgments are retained, the obligations to obey them are complete and supreme. In this sense, and to this extent, conscience is the supreme and ultimate tribunal. § 113.] THE CONSCIENCE. 253 § 113. The question is often asked, idietlier a man is always right in obeying his conscience. To answer this . . . ., , . . , Should question satisiactoril}^ we must keep in mind the conscience different senses in wliieh the word " rio'ht " is used, a^^aj'sbe ° obeyed? as these senses have been ah-eady defined (§ 85). If we mean by the question. Does a man alwa^^s do that which /' is relatively right when he obeys his conscience? that is. Does he always perform the external action which is right under the circumstances? we reply, By no means. The decision of his conscience that such an action is right may be wholly mistaken. But if the question is, Does a man err if he follows the judg- ment or command of his conscience as to what should be the controlling purpose of his will? we answer. He cannot possibly be in the wrong in respect to such a judgment or such an act. 8o soon, however, as the question respects the manifestation or execution of the intent in specific actions, the possibility of occasional or of frequent errors must be conceded, with a few comprehensive exceptions. Conscience is often spoken of as the voice or oracle of God, as a divine sjenius, an unerrino; director, etc., in ^ ° ' ' Figuratively terms which represent it as an infallible ruler and character- guide. Language like this may not mislead when ^^^** the comprehensive rules of duty which respect the inner man are in question. The}^ may not when those actions are con- sidered which justify themselves to the rapid but sure inductions of common-sense under the common conditions of life. In respect to all such questions, we may say with truth and with confidence, that the honest conscience may trust itself, espe- cially when its motives are purified l)y prayer, and its judgments are made self-suspecting by reverent thoughts of God. But, to find in every judgment of duty which we accept for ourselves an infallible rule of duty which we may impose on our fellow-men, is to lose sight of our human limitations, and often to part with both moderation and modesty. The claim of infallibility for what may be our defective or misjudged opinions is usually 254 ELEMENTS OF MOUAL SCIENCE. [§ lU. attended by the tyrannical and presumptuous impulse to enforce these opinions on our fellow-men. Among the many outrages which have been perpetrated in the name of conscience, none surpasses this of setting up the narrow or hasty judgments of an individual or a community as the eternal and authorized rule of duty for all mankind. In such cases the ignorance of the fundamental principles of moral truth is only surpassed by the arrogance with which these rash conclusions are imposed upon others. Nothing is so well fitted to bring into suspicion and contempt the sacred authority of this supreme arbiter as such extravagant and unqualified claims of authority for the individual conscience upon every question of duty which may arise. § 114. Is a man ever justified in acting against his conscience? May it ever ^^ ^^^'^^ qucstiou means, Would a man ever perform be disobeyed? ^ right action outwardly, should he act in a manner diverse from that prescribed by his conscience? we answer, Unquestionably he would. A physician who has an incorrect theory of medicine, or who has made an imperfect diagnosis of the condition of his patient, may verily think that he ought to give as medicine that which is death to the victim of his igno- rance or his blunder. Similarly, there is nothing which will necessarily secure a man from adopting mistaken conclusions as to what he ought to do for himself, his family, his friends, his country, or his religion. Whoever follows his conscience, thus misjudging or misinformed, will in ever}^ case, in external ac- tion, do that which is completely wrong. But if the question means. Is a man ever morally justified in disobeying his conscience? we answer unhesitatingly: No, — not even though in disobeying his conscience he should happen to perform an action which externally and relatively is wholly right. But for him to perform such an action, with his views of its nature, w^ould be wholly wrong. The first step for him to take towards complete rectitude is to correct his conscience, i.e., to form a well-grounded judgment of the nature of the acts in question. Afterwards he may follow this corrected con- §115.] THE CONSCIENCE. 255 science in the actions to which it will direct, and which may be presumed to be both absolutely and relatively right. § 1 15. Besides the mistaken, there is the perverted or dishonest conscience. In the cases already supposed, the man is in error, and j^et free from guilt. If his knowl- rerted and edoe of the facts or relations which should determine c^e(:.e inner principle, and motive force) may abound yet more and more in knowledge and in all judgment ; that ye may approve the things that are excellent" (Phil. i. 10). So soon as love as a moving force shall abound in energy, and love shall be accompanied with every description of knowl- edge as to the forms of outward action which are appropriate for its manifestation, so soon will the capacities of Christian ethics to perfect human society be tested and proved, and sociology, so far as it can be a science, will in fact be per- fected. It should not be overlooked, in this connection, that Christianity begins its work as an ethical force, in the form of a human society; ris lan^ ^,.^ ^j^^ kingdom of God. As such it assumes to be pre- CtillCS SOClAl eminently a social force, and promises and proj^oses to grow and develop itself, till it shall fill and rule the whole earth. If, as many suppose, the nature of this society has been more or less imperfectly or even erroneously conceived, this proves rather than disproves the truth of the promise and prophecy; inasmuch as this would imply that it is sagacious and bold enough to promise to outgrow its own errors in respect to its own nature. This society is a human society; and so far as it is perfect, it must be perfect in all its conceivable human relations, if in none Applies to other. So far as it gains power, it must eventually control a uiiiian ^^^^ public and private conduct of men in every particular. and duties. ^^^ progress and perfection cannot, from the nature of the case, be confined to growth in numbers or wealth or learn- ing or power, but must especially concern the character and conduct of men. In the prophetic ideal of its Master, it was to be progressive in every particular; pre-eminently, as it would seem, in the perfection and enlightenment of his disciples. " The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven, which a woman took, and hid in three measures of meal, till the whole was leavened " (Matt. xiii. 3.3). " The kingdom of heaven is like to a grain of mustard-seed, . . . which indeed is the least of all seeds, but when it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof" (Matt. xiii. 31.32). § 136.] THE CHBISTIAN THEORY OF MORALS, 285 § 136. (12; In entire harmony with these conceptions is the method or form in which morality is taught in the gj^^j^ ;„. New Testament; viz., by principles, and not by struction by principles, rules. To furnish a single man with the rules ratiiertuan which might seem desirable or even necessary for a ^*' ^"^®^' week, would be an idle attempt ; much more, to do this for a year or a lifetime ; much more, to provide a single community with such a code for a shorter or a longer period. It would be preposterous to think of furnishing an ethical system for the entire human race during all the changing and unlimited phases of its existence. In what sense, then, and how, can Christianity propose itself as an ethical sj^stem which shall be adequate to guide the human race in all its variety of internal and external conditions during all the phases of its possible development and progress? Plainly, only as it enforces certain principles in the most general forms of their application ; and it is pre- cisely in this way that human duties are taught by the Great Teacher. We ought not to be surprised, that in order to enforce these principles as principles, and also to show that in their use they admit of an endless variety of applications, so many should be announced in an extreme and even in a paradoxical fonn, as in many of the teachings of „ ^ Many are in the Sermon on the Mount. The form is paradoxi- paradoxical cal, in order to show that a literal interpretation ^ ^^^^' is not intended, and a literal obedience is impossible : as, " AVhosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also. And who- soever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain. Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away" (Matt. v. 39-42). This method of teaching ethics, indeed, is not peculiar to Christ, being Oriental in its tj'pe ; but the daring with which it is used without loss of dignity or earnestness, and the boldness with which it is applied to large classes of duties which are unpleasant, and made to 286 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 136. cover, as it were, the entire field of human activities, are char- acteristic of the Christian ethics. As no other ethics concerns itself with principles so manifold and profound, none other could venture to confine itself so exclusively to principles onl}^ and also to illustrate them so boldly by paradoxes. It is true, that as a consequence no other system has exposed itself so certainly and necessarily to misconstruction Liable to *^ "^ he mis- by its friends, and to hostile criticism by its foes. construed. rpj^^ ignorant extremes to which its friends have pushed the principles which they haA^e imperfectly understood, and the advantage which its foes have taken of these mis- constructions of its friends as well as of their own superficial understanding of both principles and inferences, have exposed the Christian ethics to manifold evil fortunes. These fortunes, however, would be certain to befall any system of profound and universal ethics, founded upon the deepest principles, and requiring unquestioning applications ; especially if it were to be taught in popular language, and brought by picturesque imagery within the reach of unreflecting minds, — most of all, if it were to be a system which could both satisfy the speculative philoso- pher, and instruct the unlettered savage. Such a system must of necessity be exposed to these inconveniences ; to say nothing of the mischief which the pride of opinion, the bigotry of par- tisanship, the intoxication of fanaticism, and the pedantry of learning, would be certain to occasion. A system profound and strong enough for all generations must necessarily be often and grossly misunderstood ; and these misunderstandings must oc- casion enormous evils in opinion, character, and conduct. We can only refer to some of these misunderstandings. We name first of all the fundamental and most serious with being error that the Christian benevolence is weak and weak and effeminate ; i.e., a passive affection of the sensibili- effeminate. ties and emotions only, and not an activity of the will and character. This error is a mistaken inference from the earnestness with which disinterested love is insisted on as the § 136.] THE CHRISTIAN THEORY OF MORALS. 287 principle of all duty, and the emphasis with which certain forms of its manifestation were exemplified by the Master, and exacted of his first disciples. The cardinal virtues recognized by mankind, in those times, had been either the Pharisaic scru- pulosity of a formal ritualism, or such a stoical self-suflSciency and self-conceit as excluded s^^mpathy, pity, and humility. Against these current and prevailing errors, Christianity uttered its emphatic protest, in the example of its Teacher and his followers ; and, so to speak, it staked its authority and its ex- istence upon the issue of the struggle which followed. Chris- tianity itself — much less the Christian ethics — did not come as a philosophy with a well-rounded scholastic system, but as a practical directory of the life, telling the men of its generation what they ought to be and do. In doing this, it singled out the defects of temper and conduct which prevailed, to rebuke and forbid them. Hence it assailed Pharisaism and supersti- tion in worship, and stoicism and licentiousness in conduct, and gave special prominence to the opposite virtues in the lives and precepts of its Founder and his first disciples. Superficial students and narrow interpreters have drawn the inference that the Christian system did not provide '' '■ With over- for any other virtues than those which it definitely looking named and brought into the highest relief. They important have inferred that it did not inculcate the manlier sentiments, and did not provide for intellectual discernment and independence in respect to any point, least of all in the judg- ments of faith and duty. They have argued that it was fitted to train only unreasoning bigots or sentimental milksops ; that it patronized weaklings and cowards ; that it failed to encour- age, much less to inspire, the manliness which can discern one's rights, or the courage which can assert and defend them. Some otherwise very intelligent men have gone so far as to contend, that, were its teachings consistently and fearlessly applied in practice, it would dispense with civil government and separate properties, and break up or leave beiiind many venerable land- 288 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 136. marks of usages and institutions. Those who hold these views are both friends and foes, critics and disciples. The fact that many of its professed friends hold to these views, as they think to its honor, emboldens its foes to urge them to its disadvantage.-^ It would seem to be a decisive reply to these positions, that we nowhere find the principle laid down in form. Duties with . ,. , . • • i • r i • i? i. ^.i i. respect to ^^' miplied m prmciple, or mferred m fact, that property ^[^[1 oovernmeut or separate properties are wrons: in and civil ^ ill o government principle, or that either is finally to be set aside, positively g^ ^^^, ^g ^j_^g incidental or positive teach inors of inculcated. ^ » Christianity furnish any evidence upon this point, they constantly recognize government and property as natural and permanent institutions. Government is expressly declared to be an ordinance of God, which imposes perpetual obligations on the conscience. The position of Christianity in respect to its authority is distinctly and positively summed up in the words, "wherefore ye must needs be subject, not only for wrath, but for conscience' sake" (Rom. xiii. 5). The same is true in respect to the institution of property ; its doctrine being, " Owe no man any thing." The righteousness which is so often and so emphatically enjoined in the New Testament is honesty in respect to all matters of private ownership and claims. As it is with government and property, so is it with all the recognized relationships of life, which imply rights or claims and enforce duties. This is exemplified in the fact, that with the dues of property all other dues are connected in the com- prehensive direction, " Render to all men their dues," — tribute, custom, fear, and honor ; thus providing for all the relationships of life, the major and the minor, the fixed and the movable. It deserves notice here, that, in respect to the Opposite . . , . y-^, . . . 1 i charges interpretation of its ethics, Christianity has been con- ^^^^^ stantly around between two millstones, — its fanat- agaiiistit. "^ ^ ical friends, on the one side, who have denied that it actually recognized government and property ; and its fanatical i e.g., Modern Christianity a Civilized Heathenism. §136] TUE CHRISTIAN THEORY OF MORALS. 289 foes, on the other, who have made its actual recognition of one or both a ground of objection and criticism. It has been noted as a defect in the Christian ethics, that Christianity did not enjoin the duty that men should sometimes resist magistrates and overturn civil government. It has been charged, on the one hand, that it unqualifiedly taught the doctrine of passive obedi- ence, and therefore was convicted of weakness ; or, that, recog- nizing the duty of resistance to rulers as certain to arise, it did not provide against it by giving rules for the actions of men in so critical a condition of human affairs. It is enough to say, that most political philosophers argue that it is impos- sible to formulate and express in language any rules it did not concerning the duty or the right of revolution which po^tkai could be of any conceivable use beforehand ; and the duties more iiiinutely. fact that the Christian ethics did not attempt to give such rules, and did not even anticipate the possible need of them, is an evidence, to say the least, of no common sagacity. The charge that Christianity teaches absolute submission and passive obedience may be dismissed with the charge that it does not inculcate the heroic and manl}" virtues of courage, self-reli- ance, self-defence, and self-assertion. These virtues needed no stimulus at the time when Christianity began to contend with the special vices and weaknesses of its time. It is its eminent and peculiar glory, that it fearlessly attacked the moral defects which were current, and these alone, and yet always assailed them by striking at their root in the heart and character. Its Master lost his life by boldly assailing specific evils, but in thus losing his human life he won the heart of mankind to that love of himself in which is involved a consecration of the heart to the comprehensive law of love, which he enthroned in the schools of science. Air. J. S. Mill says in his essay on Liberty, "While, in the morality of the best pagan nations, clnty to the state holds even a dispropor- tionate place, in purely Cliristian ethics that grand depart- « . j ^ nj-ij nient of duty is scarcely noticed or acknowledged. It is in the Koran, not in the New Testament, tliat we read the maxim, 'A man 290 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 137. who appoints any man to an office when there is in his dominions another man better qualified for it, sins against God and against the state.' This objection may serve to illustrate the superiority of the Christian ethics to those of the Koran." It certainly illustrates a singular failure to under- stand the ethics of the New Testament, on the part of Mr. Mill. The one teacher undertook to improve upon the other by superadding a few direc- tions respecting external conduct which should be distinctive of the new and improved Christianity of the eighth century; as, abstinence from wine, keeping of certain fasts, the destruction of images, and the readiness to propagate the Koran by the sword. But the fruitfulness and germinant power of Christian love, after the example of a personal Master, inspired to universal sympathy, to forgiveness of injuries, to humility and self-denial, even to death; and thus called into life virtues which previously had scarcely been recognized. The Christian system provides, in its compre- hensive principle, for every special duty to the state for which men shall ever find a reason in the most advanced stages of political and social science; yet wisely fails to set down in black and white special rules for appointments to office, and many others which any man of common sense and common honesty could not fail to discern and infer. The one system of ethics is a tree completely developed, with scanty branches and foliage, planted in a sterile soil, but incapable of further development and growth: the other is a living germ, having within itself the capacity for development and evolution with all the needs and capacities of its future environment under the most diverse circumstances of change and of progress in the Imman race. § 137. It is sometimes objected, that the Christian ethics are impracticable, because a system so unselfish cannot ethics called ^^ applied in a society which is avowedly and actu- iniprac- Q\\y controlled by principles of self-interest. It is forgotten, that separate and special duties to one's self, to one's family, and country, are entirely consistent, and are even required by the disinterested love of man as man. The objection itself finds all its force in a defective conception of the duties which true benevolence requires. We acknowledge that Christian aims and ideals are higher and purer than those which most men adopt ; and that to expect them to do this at once, and thoroughly, would seem romantic if not quixotic. That they are such as very few men exemplify with the energy and consistency which they warrant, is no argument against the §138,139.] THE CHRISTIAN THEORY OF MORALS. 291 practicability of the system itself, but rather an argument for the need of those nobler ideals and that more energetic force which Christianity furnishes, and its disciples respond to. In no other sense can it be true that the Christian ethics are im- practicable. AYere they adopted at once in the full energy of their fundamental principles, and applied in every possible form to the acts and institutions of humanity, the result in a reno- vated manhood would demonstrate that they constitute the only practicable ethical system which the world has ever known. or could dream of. § 138. If we compare this system in its theoretic and practi- cal perfection with any and every other which has been painfully wrought out by the ablest and most contrasted earnest philosophers, — whether with those which with every other ethics. were matured in desperate earnestness without the light and inspiration of Christianity, or with those which liave been composed in Christendom in ill-disguised but ignorant con- tempt of its light and wisdom, — we cannot but acknowledge its superior insight into the nature of man, and the unmeasured su- periority of its speculative profoundness, and its practical adap- tations to the various and changing wants and circumstances of humanity. "We are also struck with the fact that the best pagan ethics are more allied to the Christian than some (not to say most) of the so-called Christian systems which feebly and im- perfectly recognize the profoundness of the ethics of the New Testament. The ethics of Plato and Aristotle are in some im- portant particulars broader in their principles, more elevated in their spirit, and truer to the nature of man, than several well- known modern systems, which, with the New Testament open before their authors, reduce all the phenomena of conscience and duty, all the obligations to law and order, all the restraints upon murder, robber}^, and lust, to the relations of mechanism, and the affinities of matter, or the actions and re-actions of monads and environment. § 189. If our estimate of the Christian ethics is just, no 292 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 140, 141. thoughtful man can fail to ask himself the question, Whence Whence did Came this system, in form so simple, in pathos so it originate? moving, in its principles so profound, in its practical rules so adjustable, in its capacities for progress and adaptation so inexhaustible? Had it appeared by itself, and did the author make no claims for himself, it would itself suggest and enforce claims the most exalted for his work and for himself. Inasmuch, however, as its Expounder asserts for himself the supernatm-al authority which its internal characteristics would of themselves suggest, it is not easy to evade or resist the argu- ment, or to hold ourselves back from the conclusion which its striking and manifold excellences force upon us, that both in an extraordinary if not a supernatural sense are from God. § 140. The following additional questions naturally suggest themselves with respect to the Christian ethics, as Further questions related to the ethics taught and exemplified in the concerning Qld Testament: 1. How far are these two systems this system. *^ the same, and in what respects do they differ? 2. In what sense is there progress from the one to the other? 3. Are the precepts of one or both in any case immoral in their ethical teachings, spirit, or example? 4. By what general rules or formulae may we be guided in using the general prin- ciples or special rules of ethics in their application to other and later times ? § 141. (1) Is the ethical S3^stem of the- Old Testament the (1) Are the same with that of the New? To this question we ethics of the answer: It cannot be questioned, that, in their fun- Old and New . . ^ ' Testaments damcutal principles, the two systems are the same. the same I rj.^^^ ^^.^^ ^^^^ ^^^^^^ Commandment of the Hebrew law, given also at the very earliest period, is declared by the great Teacher of Christendom to be this : " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind ; " and the second is declared to be like unto it in authority and sacredness, viz., "Thou shalt love thy neiglibor § 142.] THE CHRISTIAN THEORY OF MORALS. 293 as thj^self." The comprehensive character of these two precepts is next affirmed in the words, "On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets." The same comprehensive character is re-affirmed more explicitl}^, and in a reflective form, in the words of Paul: "And if there be any other command- ment, it is briefly comprehended in this saying ; namely, Thou shalt love th}^ neighbor as thyself." With this evidence, there can be no question, that so far as the principle Hon far which underlies the two systems is concerned, liy we begin the immediate and direct relations of our actions to with duties ourselves alone, and their indirect results in our ^ ^^^^^ ^**' moral culture and habits. A correct judgment of our duties to ourselves will also enable us to understand and appreciate the duties which we owe to our fellow-men in their various forms, and their relative proportion and importance. The law which requires us to love our neigh- bor as ourselves supposes or implies that we have already determined the kind and degree of love which we may render to ourselves ; not, indeed, the love which we render in fact, which would sanction our selfish achievements as a standard of duty, but the love which we ought to render, that is, an unselfish or moral love. The Golden Rule, " Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them," also supposes that our demands upon others for ourselves should be limited by some fixed standard concerning what we ought to wish or expect others to do for us, and implies some limitation to our expectations and wishes for and our interest in ourselves. Our duties to ourselves and our fellow-men also furnish the principal, the most important, and often the only satisfactory criteria by which to determine and enforce our duties to the anim.ated and the unanimated creation ; inasmuch as these duties are chiefly determined by man's place in the finite uni- verse, and the ends for which nature and animals seem to exist. The consideration of these classes of duties will prepare us to understand the grounds of our special duties to God Why, and in as the enforcer of all duty ; inasmuch as he enforces ,yhat sense, every duty by tha rational sanction which he gives *^^ duties are •J -J J » duties to God. to each, and by the personal authority with which he makes every duty to others to be a supreme and personal ser- vice to himself. 312 ELEMENTS OF MOllAL SCIENCE. [§ 15a CHAPTER 11. DUTIES TO OURSELVES. -GENERAL PRINCIPLES. § 153. These duties have already been defined as those obliga- Fundaiiientai ^ory acts which prominently or exclusively affect principle. mau's individual well-being. They are derived from the principle that man is morally bound to choose, to feel, and to act, in such a way as to effect and attain the highest good possible for himself. In many cases, as we have seen, his voli- tions, feelings, and actions seem to terminate in himself only, even when they include the well-being of others. But, whether they do or do not extend beyond himself, so far as they affect himself they become duties to himself. Subjectively viewed, they are limited to his actual or possi- ble moral activities; i.e., to the acts and effects of choice. Thoughts, emotions, affections, and bodily acts are not duties at all, except as they are related directly or remotely to the will ; while words and acts, when voluntary, may be as impor- tant duties to ourselves as are the inner feelings and purposes. Objectively considered, those activities are binding which involve or promote man's highest good in character and condi- tion, for the present and the future, directly or indirectly. It should be remembered, — and for this reason the thought is repeated, — that man can never directly choose his highest good. Tliis would imply that he chooses a choice, or a voluntary emotion (§ 28). Both are impossible. He chooses certain §154.] DUTIES TO SELF: GENERAL PRINCIPLES. 313 objects, and in so doing he is bound to secure his highest good in the form of those desires and purposes which these acts of choice involve. The relation of the act of choosing, to the highest good of the individual, gives to it its moral character. vSome of these choices and their results seem to terminate ex- clusively in himself, for good or evil ; and hence such activities of voluntary preference or desire, of word or act, are duties to himself. These duties may respect his character or condition, according as they affect his feelings or states morally, making him a better man or the opposite ; or, as they bring him some form of natural good, either psychical or material. The duties which man owes to himself are sometimes conceived as im- plied in the precept, " Thou shalt love thy neighbor as (thou lovest) thjseU." If this interpretation is allowed, it deserves to be noticed that the love of self here required or impliedly sanctioned cannot be the simple (or constitutional) desire of happiness. Desire by itself, least of all the desire of an abstraction which can have no existence or im]3elling force separately from some one of the concrete forms in which it is exemplified, can have no moral quality whatever. Only a special voluntary desire can be right or wrong ; i.e., a desire de- fined by some object, and, moreover, such a desire when vivified by the will (cf. § 32). Happiness as such, moreover, cannot be the object of either desire or volition. Happiness is a generalized characteristic of many of the emotions, so far as they include the element of desire, which always reaches after good. § 154. The objective self which the precept requires us to love is pre-eminently and conspicuously tJie moral , -r . . 1 r.,- • 1 '^^^ objective self. It IS not the sentient, nor the affectional, nor ^eif is also the intellectual self, only, or apart, which we are t^ie moral permitted to love, but the voluntar}^ and personal self ; not the separate and selfish, but the social and self- sacrificing self : in one word, it is the human self, and this, not as it is, but in its ideal, i.e., as it morally ought to be. This self, in addition to its capacities and interests as an individual, holds manifold relations to its fellow-men and to God, to the future and unseen, as truly as to the present and sensible life. Hence the actual, much less the ideal, good of man as a single 314 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 154. self, cannot be understood apart from man's relations to other beings. Man is a social, political, and religious animal ; and his individual self is largely made up of his social, political, and religious capacities and susceptibilities. It follows that he cannot love himself as a moral person without respecting the affections and actions to which these social relations give rise, and which supplement his individual life. Separate from his fellow-men and his Creator, he is not a completed man, and can neither understand nor direct himself. He cannot know his ow^n nature in the ideal which he should aim to realize by his individual, i.e., his voluntary activity, except as he includes in this ideal the relations which he holds to other beings in the place belonging to each, and the duties which he owes to them as truly as to himself. It has, however, already been said, that there are duties which man is properly said to owe to himself, even terminate though, in every single instance, these acts may be with our- j^igQ owed to his fellow-men. The fact that such selves. actions in their effects pass over to others, and therefore become duties to them, does not make them to be any the less really .duties to ourselves, so far as they affect our happiness or our character. Sometimes the two relations con- spire, and give a double or it may be a triple motive, and a complex character, to the same individual act. It often happens that the same act is at once a duty to ourselves, to our fellow- men, and to God. Frequently, moreover, the claims which arise seem to conflict, and leave us in doubt which should prevail, involving serious speculative and practical perplexity in deciding questions of duty. Duties to ourselves, moreover, cannot be as (lefinite]3^ formulated and provided for by rules as tlie duties which we owe to others. Duties to They are often enforced by claims and considerations whicii OUFSClvCS ." are perfectly known to ourselves, and which, even if they not easily i j > j j deflned. were known to others, could only be imperfectly appreciated by them. The circumstauces which determine and enforce them not being open to general observation and appreciation, they cannot §155.] DUTIES TO SELF: GENERAL PRINCIPLES. 315 be provided for so explicitly by rules as might be desired. Even the induc- tions and rules which one person might possibly derive from his own experience could not be applied by another, even to himself. The moral claims of certain persons upon others — as their parents, children, and neighbors — are often open to the inspection of many, and can be enforced by the common interests or the common sentiments of many observers. But the circumstances or feelings which are peculiar to an individual, and which are the grounds of the duties which he owes to himself, are often such as to be incapable of being justly appreciated except by the individual alone. No observer can put himself in the place of another man, and know what are his inmost needs. For these reasons, duties to ourselves are incapable of being as exactly defined and as satisfactorily formulated as duties to others. The utmost that we can do is to state and enforce certain general j^rinciples which may serve for our guidance in the direc- tion of conduct and the formation of character, and leave their application to our individual exj^eriences as they arise. § 155. We assume, as we may, that our duties to ourselves are comprehended and enforced by the general obligation to effect our highest good. This highest good is broadly distinguished as good of charac- ter^ and good of condition; the one describing what . . , . , . , , . , Good of a man is in his personal, pre-eminently his moral charat-ter self, — that is, in his purposes and affections ; and *"^ ^<>*>'^ ^^ condition. the other, every thing besides, which he desires or possesses, whether it be knowledge and artistic skill, or wealth and power. Both these forms of good were distinguished by the ancient moralists in a general way, and both were recognized as essential elements of the summinn bomim. The moderns ordi- narily do not distinguish precisel}^ between what a man is, and what he has, except in a moral sense ; for the reason, that much that is attained by culture and discipline, in intellect and skill and grace, pertains to what he is, when contrasted with what he has in wealth or power or honor. AVe usualW limit the good of character to moral excellence, and set this in contrast to every thiuo; besides that is desirable. ^ . . , •^ ° Good of cliar- We also distinguish good of every kind as im- aeter always mediate and remote, and find in this a factor or *"P^*''"®* relation which ouglit to be considered. The divisions thus 316 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 1^5. constituted by no means coincide witli those of condition and character, and yet both classes of these relations determine many of our duties to ourselves. Immediate good of condition may not always be compatible with that which is remote, and it becomes our duty to sacrifice the one to the other. Good of character, however, is always supreme. It may never be sacri- ficed, either to present or future good of condition. Moral good should always be the controlling aim and law. It may be doubted, indeed, whether, in the strictest sense, any present moral activity has no relations to the future, and can therefore be said to be only of present obligation. It is certain, however, that, in the moral intentions, there can be no conflict between the motives of the present and the motives in prospect. Viewed in their relations to the future, the feeblest wish, the faintest aspiration, and the most casual resolve, may give energy to the character in warp and woof, and strengthen it to meet some future test or strain. But let it be supposed that no ethical consequences will follow from a present moral activity, and that no relations to habit or moral growth are in question. Let a man be alone, and isolated from human society ; let him find himself upon a des- ert island, or be immured in a solitary cell, and by the supposi- tion left to control his thoughts and feelings without respect to any future consequences, even to his own moral self. Which of his impulses, in such a case, should he sanction and allow by his will? Obviously, those which are naturally the highest and best. These only are sanctioned by reason, or enforced by conscience, or commanded by God, as his present duties to him- self. We say, in general, the psychical activities should take precedence of the sensual ; and, of the spiritual, the benevolent should prevail above the egoistic, by their own natural superi- ority, provided no other claims intervene. This narrow exam- ple of a limited sphere or opportunity of duties to one's self supposes an original natural difference or gradation in the natu- ral quality of the springs of action. That such a difference §156.] DUTIES TO SELF: GEXERAL PBIXCIPLES. 317 exists, we have already assumed (§ 17). Were there no such difference, the more intense or energetic impulses would take precedence, and carry the day above the feebler or less active, by mere natural energy. That these differences of quality do not exclude a regard to remote effects and consequences, will be seen in its place. In this gradation of natural differences of value or worth, we find a rule of precedence for all those acts which relate only to ourselves, in the maxim, The lower impulses may he indulged and alloiced, so long as they do not exclude or interfere tcith the higher, either for the present or the future. § 156. This example of duties to ouselves emphasizes the moral imi^ortance of a multitude of voluiitary im- „ ^ "^ Moral iiiipor- pulses, affections, purposes, and resolves, which are tance of sim- 1 ^ £c i-- ^ ^ i. ple emotions. never expressed, or made effective by word or act. Their indirect effect upon the habits of thought and feeling, and their future mfluence, is indeed not unimportant ; and herein we alwaj'S find a reason for their supremacy. But apart from this, these voluntary impulses themselves, whether called the heart, the disposition, or the will, designate a constantly active and permanent state, varying in energy, yet ever the same. They constitute the good will of which Kant sa^'s, with so much sim- plicity and force, "There is nothing which we can think of, an^'where in this world, nor, indeed, anywhere outside the same, which deserves to be esteemed as good without qualification, excepting only a good will." ^ Hence the direction, "Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life." "A good man, out of the good treasure of his heart, bringeth forth good things." To possess and strengthen this good will, is the one constant duty of man in respect to character. To manifest and energize, V)y constant activity, a good will or a good heart, 1 Es ist iiberall njchts in der Welt, ja iiberliaiipt a^ch ausser derselben, zu denken rooglicli, was phne Einsclirankung fiir gut konnte gehalten werden, als allein ein guter Wille. — Grundlefjunc/ zur Metaphysilc der bitten, 318 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§ 156. is the comprehensive duty which man owes to his present self, as contrasted with, and yet inchiding, the duties which he owes to his future self. It is the glory of the Christian morality, that it enforces this duty as supreme, and by requirements so strict and uncompromising ; and that it recognizes, in the moral con- dition of the inner man, the centre and seat of all moral respon- sibility. But, while it thus makes the moral perfection and culture of the individual the supreme object of his active ener- gies, it sets aside and discourages selfishness in any form by enjoining self-sacrifice and self-denial as the indispensable con- dition of attaining the highest perfection ; its cardinal and most comprehensive principle being expressed in the words, " He that findeth his life shall lose it, and he that loseth it for my sake shall find it." The best of the ancient schools, especially the Stoics, made the duty of perfecting one's self to be supreme and controlling; and in n ^' r" *^^^^ respect they deserve to be compared with the Christian self-culture, teachers. But while this duty was earnestly taught and rec- ognized by many as the chief end of man, and under the motive that he might make himself worthy of the society of the ideally perfect celestials in the city of God, the excellence which was sought for was self-perfection for self-gratulation, rather than self-sacrifice for the good of others from love to others. It is true that Stoicism, in its honest allegiance to truth, recognized the humblest of men in condition as equal with the most exalted. But it rarely recognized or loved them as breth- ren; and hence, in its best type, it lacked the spirit of sympathy and pity, of humane and loving tenderness, for the realization of which the world waited so long. Hence Stoicism, with its self-culture, and as a conse- quence of it, often fostered a selfish indifference to the well-being of others, and found, in the contemplation of its loftiest ideals, an incitement to selfish and self-satisfied pride in place of a loving discipline to humility. That style of morality in modern times which is inspired by culture only, whether it take the Christian type of a Pharisaic interest in one's inner perfection as a ground of spiritual pride, or a selfish and absorbing care for one's eminent qualifications for the celestial rewards, or the unchristian attitude of independence of higher help for forgiveness or sympathy, is nearly akin to Stoicism, because it is self-absorbed,' self-relying, self- satisfied, and in striking contrast with the flexible, self-forgetting, sym- pathizing, and self-sacrificing type of humanity which Christianity always proposes as its ideal, and so often turns into reality. § 157.] DUTIES TO SELF: GENERAL PBINCIPLES. 319 § 157. But duties to ourselves are not limited to tJie character. They also resi)ect the external condition: i.e., the ^ . •^ ^ ^ ' Duties uhkh health, the comfort, the knowledge, the accomplish- respect the ments bodil}' and mental, the wealth, the reputation, ^""" ^^"* and man}^ other means of good which it is a man's dut}^ to gain under the limitations and restraints which the law of duty imposes. These opportunities man is not only permitted to use, but it may be wrong for him to refuse to employ them. Good of condition or circumstances is not limited to physical advan- tages or the means of the same, nor to the means of gratifying the tastes, or even the social and domestic affections. It in- cludes every thing which contributes to security or comfort, as reputation, security, property, whether these means or condi- tions of well-being are physical, intellectual, aesthetic, social, jural, or political. Duties that concern both character and condition also respect both the present and the future. Man can, to a ^ ,^ ^ ^ ' For the pres- certain extent, forecast the future in respect to his ent and the purposes and desires, as these may affect his future character and well-being, or in any sense determine his outward actions. Hence the relations of time become very important in determining questions of duty. A future result, whether of character or condition, so far as it is foreseen and consented to, is a present act, if not provided against. Man, as a being who looks before and after, cannot divest himself of responsibility for the future consequences of his acts, especially so far as these acts affect himself. If these consequences will certainly accumulate at an increased ratio, many actions, which might be indifferent for the present, are invested with the gravest im- portance for this reason, and this alone. A bodily, intellectual, or aesthetic activity or enjoyment may in its present results be desirable, and yet, in its future consequences to ourselves, be injurious to the interests and damaging to the character. An indulgence which for the moment is morally innocent may stimulate a natural appetite to such a degree as to render prob- 320 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§§ 158, 15P able an immoral indulgence when special temptations are pre- sented. An innocent amusement, which would otherwise be innocent or even salutary, may for this reason become morally wrong. § 158. Hence the obligation to prudence, or wise forecast. Obligation to i'^^<^^6s every feeling and action which may affect prudence. Q^y future in respect either to character or condition. It is not enough that an act or feeling may be harmless and even desirable in its present relations and effects, if it is injuri- ous or even hazardous to the tastes, the temper, the habits, the appetites, or the desires, in the future, or if it anyway threatens evil to the reputation or the interests. The present aspect of any feeling or action should never decide any question, provided a wise and honest forecast can anticipate or even forebode any positive evil to the interests or character, which our judgment requires us to avoid. We do not say that evils which are feared are never to be hazarded. They are often not only to be risked, but to be manfully faced and defied. But if the con- science would not permit us to accept them for the present, no more should moral prudence allow us to risk them in the future ; and this, whether the evil affects the character or the interests. Recklessness and foolhardiness is a gross offence against that forecast which invests man with his peculiar dignity, and in every form of improvidence is a sin against the conscience. Whatever fair forms of generosity, or trust in Providence, or unselfishness, it may assume, it is condemned by the honest conscience, as it is by the judgment of good men. § 159. The operation of habit is also a most important ele- _, , .. . ment in determining our duties to ourselves. The Relations to => iiie iiabits fact that these laws act upon and within the consti- tution of the soul, under laws of necessity which can be foreseen, brings its operation and its foreseen results distinctly within the sphere of duty, and subjects it to the responsibilities which arise from freedom, when freedom is con- §160.] DUTIES TO SELF: GENERAL PRINCIPLES. 32^ nected with forecast. The law itself by which the present may affect the future is most beoeficeut in its design, and may be- come most salutary in its effects. By means of it, the voluntary character becomes fixed for good or evil. Through its opera- tion, prudence is exalted into a moral virtue of supreme impor- tance, and invested with the authority of a constant duty iri respect to what may befall ourselves, and what we may become in character and power, or may effect with others by our ey ample. For this reason, recklessness of the future in respe t to any risk in character or condition, which may come frorq habits of evil, is a prime offence against one's self. The duties which we owe to our future selves, so far as they respect what we may become under the law of habit jj^^^ ^^^^ and growth, are popularly designated as the duties ignated. of self -education^ self-cuUiire, and self-discipline. Each of these duties takes a special shade of meaning, according as the in- tellect, the feelings, or the moral nature are concerned. Self- education is usuall}^, though not uniforml}^, limited to the training of the intellect ; culture, to the training of the aesthetic sensi- bilities, or their expression ; discipline, to the formation and direction of the motives. When special activities are employed for the single or chief end of subjective improvement, they might be called ascetic, from the Greek ac-Kim. But ascetic and asceticism, as actually used, uniformly imply some special difficulty or obstacle to overcome, involving some reluctant or painful effort or sacrifice. § 160. Mere asceticism, in the unfavorable sense, practises and enforces the cultivation — or, as the case may be, the repression or mortification — of an impulse or habit, for the simple design of strengthening or weakening its positive and therefore its relative energy. It is analogous to the processes of phj'sical training, by which a set of members or organs is artificially strengthened by special movements directed exclusively to this end. In both cases, the physical and ethical activity or endurance is directly assumed, simply 322 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. - [§ IGO. for the sake of self-training and discipline. AVhen applied to moral discipline, it has been, furthered and sanctioned by the Stoical theory that indifference to many gratifications, par- ticularly those of a sensuous character, is an indication of Christianity niauhood or mauly self-sufficiency or self-control, not ascetic. ^\^q Christian morality has also been supposed to sanction what is called a "mortification of the flesh," or the denial of sensuous indulgences, for the purpose of training to the habit of indifference, or of superiority to sensuous and social pleasures, and to the amenities of art and culture. The superior attractions of the future life, the absolute obligation of Christian self-denial, the necessity of resisting evil in its most formidable and protean forms, and the uncompromising spirit of Christian duty, ver}^ naturally invested the Christian spirit with a stern aspect towards the Epicurean side of human- ity, and led perhaps to an unnatural interpretation of its own ideal of human perfection. Hence great ethical importance was soon attached by many to a life of voluntary hardship and self- abnegation ; and the highest sanctity has been attributed to such a life, especially when consecrated to the supposed service of higher, and pre-eminently to religious, aims and duties. The theory of asceticism in its principle is open to the following objections : In simple self-denial or voluntary suffering, except in the active service and exercise of a higher impulse, there can be no moral excellence. Self-inflicted suffering, when it is not required to accomplish some manifest good, is manifestly a sin against nature in every relation, and therefore against the laws of duty. What individuals need as a moral discipline, may be more safely trusted to a higher and better Master than assumed by ourselves, or imposed by others. The waste and sacrifice of good, and the rejection of it when it may be inno- cently enjoyed, would seem in its very nature and by its very terms to be an offence against the conscience, which obliges us to seek our highest well-being. It is also against the spirit of Christianity. Christianity, indeed, inculcates an elevated §161.] MAN'S DUTIES TO HIMSELF. 32S spirituality in the tastes and aims, and a complete indifference to sensuous good as compared with that which is higher, as also a prompt and complete mortification of every sensuous impulse the instant it threatens to become sensual, and a martj^r-like courage in facing suffering and death for the Master or his cause. But Christianity also teaches the cardinal truth, that the end of conquest over evil is to strengthen the love of the good. It is by faith in that which is fitted to satisfy and fill the soul, that the better impulses become triumphant, and temptation is overcome. Its lesson is, "Walk in the spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lusts of the flesh." "This is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith." § 161. Ethicall}^ considered, the decisive objection against asceticism is, that it overlooks the duty of stimulat- objection to ing the higher impulses, which alone can make any asceticism, discipline successful, or reward it by a habit of good. In the mere endurance of evil, or abnegation of good, there is no moral excellence, and there may be selfishness which is cruel and malignant. The self-denial and self-culture which are not sustained by that cheerful sacrifice which a fit occasion stimulates and elicits are in danger of being weak, heartless, and reluctant, if not selfish, hypocritical, and proud, simply because such discipline is unnatural. Enforced gymnastics of every kind are in constant danger of being tedious and heart- less. Enforced gymnastics in self-culture are almost certain to become so. Asceticism in its spirit and theorj^ fails for two reasons. It overlooks the truth that life itself, in the circumstances of which it is made up, is appointed for us by a Master who is wiser than ourselves, and with the express purpose of exercising bis pupils in the methods which are best fitted for their needs. This discipline, as we may suppose, involves all the self-denial and patience and self-control ; all the pain, the mortification and grief, which are required for the best good of each individual. If the pupil imposes on himself new and special tasks which 324 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§101. the Master does not require, he usurps the Master's place. Acting in this spirit, he will be in danger of losing siglit of the end in the means, and fail to make his costly self-denials and painful disciplines serve to any result except his self-com- placency and pride. Asceticism in the service of philosophy or religion has often miserably cheated itself of the end which it proposes to achieve. It has distorted the culture and im- peded the usefulness and blighted the lives of multitudes, in the name of temperance, virtue, and religion. The germs of it were distinctly recognized, and as distinctl}^ repressed and disowned, in the early Christian Church ; but they have not been wholly exterminated, and never will be as long as human nature remains what it is. Hence, in recognizing the duties of ethical self-culture as supreme among the duties which man owes to himself, it should be carefully distinguished from every ascetic strife against nature, and the painful denial of the rights of man to innocent and healthful indulgences. The various questions which constantly arise in respect to amusements, tastes, and enjoyments, seem all to be settled by the two mottoes: "Every creature of God is good if it be received with thanksgiving ; for it is sanctified by the word of God, and prayer;" "No man liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself." The first secures our individual liberty and rights. The second teaches us to regard the feelings and judgment of others in a wise but not a servile spirit ; in the temper of cheerful self-sacrifice, but never of unsympathetic intolerance. § 162.] THE BODILY LIFE, 325 CHAPTER III. DUTIES WHICH RESPECT THE BODILY APPETITES AND THE BODILY LIFE. § 162. The appetites are those of food and drink, of rest and sleep, and of sex. They depend on the bodily constitution for their excitement and energy. More character- exactly, they pertain to those endowments which we call the psycho-physical, in which body and soul suffer and act together, by laws which are as j^et imperfectly determined. As psychical experiences, they are engrossing and imperious when excited by the presence or thought of the occasions or objects which address or stimulate them. Some of them — as hunger and thirst, weariness and tendency to sleep — can be controlled only to a certain extent, when the bodily condition arouses the impulse, and requires its gratification, or yields to its power. The bodily health and life also require that these appetites should be controlled in respect to the manner and extent of indulgence, in subjection to other desires, largely the prudential so-called, which are confessedly superior to those which are corporeal, and are designed to regulate and control them. The sexual appetite has for its immediate object the trans- mission of life to other individuals. Its indulgence is not in- dispensable to the health or life of the individual whom it excites and impels. It is not irresistible in the same sense as are hunger and thirst ; for it can be controlled by withdrawing 326 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 163. the attention from the objects and thoughts which would excite it, in a sense and to an extent which hunger and thirst do not permit. This desire, more eminently than other appetites, is capable of being associated with the most elevating and unself- ish affections, and superadds to the promotion of the ends of animal existence the noblest accompaniments, in the affectional, moral, and spiritual training and character. § 1G3. As direct experiences of the conscious spirit, the gratified appetites differ from the other sensibilities guishe'd from ^^ ^^^^^ their gratifications are necessarily of short other sensi- duration. So soon as hunger and thirst are satiated, bilities. the possibility of further indulgence is excluded for a longer or shorter period. The enjoymicnt of the most luxurious feast cannot be indefinitely protracted, even by the most elaborate refinements of cookery, nor even by the most varied divertisements of social intercourse and intellectual or artistic excitement. Sleep will not continue forever, even to the savage who is engorged by gluttonous excess or a sensual debauch. This single fact reveals at once a discrimination between the sensual and other enjoyments, as limited, and for that reason as inferior. This inferiority of itself indicates, that, in the economy of nature, sensual is inferior to other good. It is also most obvious to human experience, that the capacity for what are called the more enduring or permanent of human enjoyments — as, for example, for social, intellectual, and aes- thetic gratifications — depends on the bodily condition, and that this is directly dependent upon a strict and regulated control of all the bodily appetites. This circumstance, which is one of tlie first lessons of individual experience, inculcates a sharp and positive lesson, of prudential if not of higher obligation, tliat the appetites were designed to be held under control. Nature, as we have already seen, enforces upon every man this law : So soon as the indulgence of any api)etite in kind or degree defeats the end for wliicli suc-h appetite exists, or was provided, t!::it indulgence is forbi;ldcu by the hiw of duty. §164.] THE BODILY LIFE. 327 This law is absolute so far as the appetites are regarded as conditions for the bodily health or life. Whether the health or life may not, under certain circumstances, be hazarded or sacrificed from higher motives, we do not here inquire (cf. §176). § 164. If we leave these prudential considerations out of view, and regard the appetites and their gratification as affections of the conscious spirit, we may safely ,y^"i7^he appW to them the following axiom : Sensuous grati- other sensi- r . bilities. fications, when brought mto competition with intel- lectual and emotional pleasures, are inferior in quality and worth. The man who seeks his highest good must in eveiy such case set aside that which he knows to be inferior. The case supposed is one in which the man is shut up to the direct comparison of the two opposing impulses, unclothed of all associated emotions. More comraonl}- some reason or excuse for sensuous indulgence suggests itself in its production of some near or remote benefit to body or mind. But, in any case in which the conflict is simply between the two, that which is known to be of the highest natural worth must pre- vail under our general formula of duty ; and this law is at once enforced with moral authority upon the consenting judgment. As has already been asserted, the present comparative worth of two conflicting impulses will rarely be the only relation in which they solicit the choice of the will. It rarely happens that the most animalized of men conceives his pleasures as simply animal experiences. There is wrought into almost every bodily indulgence or solicitation, even to the most sensualized, some association of memory or imagination or hope, which takes somewhat from its animal grossness, and thus breaks the shock of a direct collision between a higher good and a gratification which is purely animal. Let such accessories be wholly re- moved, and the essential inferiority of that which is simply beastly is revealed more distinctly to the honest judgment of everv man. 328 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. [§§ 1G5, 166. § 165. The relation of the animal indulgences to the future is How related the most important element in deciding their claims to the future, ^o indulgence. Like all the psychical impulses, they obey the general law of habit. This general tendency is inten- sified by their special capacity to gain a tenacious and exclusive hold of the imagination, unless they are kept under constant subjection. Their hold of the memory, and intrusion upon the imagination, are doubtless owing to a peculiarity of the psycho- physical in man, by which, as affection or desire, it increases by indulgence in tenacity, capacity, and impulse. The fact cannot be denied, that no other solicitations can come into com- petition with those which address the senses of the man whose memory and imagination have become thoroughly sensualized. The glutton, the drunkard, and the debauchee not only for the time being exclude the higher sensibilities by those which are inferior, on those occasions when opportunity and appetite tempt to gratification, but they limit their capacities and tastes for other enjoyments when opportunity and desire for these are wanting. Even then the imagination becomes possessed as by a sensual demon, w^hich never ceases to suggest images and scenes that are gross and foul. As a consequence, all the movements of thought and fancy become essentially sensual- ized ; and the man himself, in impulses and associations, is permanently debased in the world of imagery which so largely makes up and constitutes his inner self.^ s eciaiiim- ^ ^^^' '^^^ appetites are subject to the general itation to the law of habit ; under which, repetition gives a keener appe 1 es. capacity to the sensibility, and a more energetic im- pulsiveness to the desires. Under the operation of this law 1 " But when lust By unchaste lookp, loose gestures, and foul talk, — But most by lewd and lavish act of ein, — Lets in defilement to the inward parts, The soul grows clotted by contagion, Imbodies and imbrutes till she quite lose The divine property of her first being." Oomus, 463-469. § 167.] THE BODILY LIFE. 329 alone, it would follow, that given any energy or direction of the will, or the presence of any permanent volition, the repeated in- dulgence of the obedient sensibilities must auo;ment in a height- ened ratio the relation of the tempting to the resisting motive, and increases the improbability of any change (§ 34). In the animal passions, this ratio of increase is augmented by the pathological fact that the physical or physiological basis for the gratification of any impulse is diminished in its capacity for action, while, as indulgence is repeated, the imagined gratification serves to stimulate the unsatisfied desire. AVhile it is true generally, that novelty gives a special zest to gratifi- cation, it is eminently true of the animal passions. In this we find another indication that these impulses were intended for subjection, and never for supremacy, whenever a conflict arises between them and man's higher nature. While it is true that the law of habit holds of all the sensibili- ties, it is eminently true of the so-called animal propensities in man. If, in the psychical, the rate of increase is arithmetical as the consequence of repetition, in the animal it is geometrical as indulgence is repeated, and the hoped-for gratification stimu- lates unsatisfied desire. Then, too, as the desire is stimulated, the capacity for gratification is diminished in the opposite direc- tion ; and consequently the gulf widens more and more between rapacious passion and the means of its satisfaction. § 167. A theory directly the opposite of this is held more or less distinctly by not a few men of culture of the present time. These teach that animal indulgences dignity and of every kind, when looked upon in the lioht of eights of the •^ ' ^ * appetites. science, are as truly elevated as any other ; and that "the rehabilitation of the flesh" in its original rights, as against the narrow and envious teachings of priests and phi- losophers, is one of the solid achievements of modern science, and one of the flowery garlands of the aesthetic philosophy of life. The rough common-sense of the man of the world, and the refined taste of Christian philosophy, reject with dis- 330 ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. [§ 168. gust such a theory as luitrue to nature, and degrading to humanit3\ It would seem to be sufficient to reply to this theorj^, that duties to ourselves respect the future as truly as the}^ concern the present. Questions concerning our duties are not entirely disposed of when we have decided that a feeling or an act is for the moment innocent or even wholesome for ourselves. It not infrequently becomes our duty to consider what will be the future effect or tendency of any act or emotion, if we yield to present solicitation. This holds good, in a degree, of every act or impulse, but especially of the bodily appetites, whose very nature is so imperious, that, unless they are constantl}^ restrained in imagination and act, they tend to become the easy and the un- disputed tyrants of the man who asks for but one more harmless indulgence. From being gentle and plausible tempters to this single indulgence, they are exalted into the cruel masters of the enslaved will, which exact an endless repetition of compliance ; the will being none the less enslaved because the dominion is felt to be the more abject by the repeated humiliation of a ready and even passionate assent every time that the tempta- tion re-appears. That this is the certain and inevitable oper- ation of all the animal desires, is early made apparent to the experience of the most thoughtless and headstrong. It may be observed in infancy and childhood, by those who are least instructed and most feebly disciplined. The fact or law is made apparent to every one who feels any obligation of duty in its most indefinite and feeblest forms. From this obvious fact is derived the acknowledged duty, in all our actions and feel- ings, to respect the law of habit ; in other words, to own it as a duty to ourselves, in every form of activity, to regard the reflex influence of every act, be it thought or desire or purpose or outward deed, upon our future selves. § 168. So far as a man is aware of the relations or effects of a present indulgence or act with respect to his future, so far does he consent to its operation for the future, and include it §168.] THE BODILY LIFE. 331 and consent to it along with the present. Not only does he take upon himself all the moral responsil^ilit}^ of his , . . . How far a present act, but of what is morally certani ni the man is re- future, unless some important clianoe occurs in his *