{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_12035/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_12035","id":"gutenberg_12035","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12035","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Ethics, Evolutionary"],"text":"PROGRESSIVE MORALITY\n\n_FOWLER_\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nPROGRESSIVE MORALITY\n\nAN ESSAY IN ETHICS\n\n\nBY\n\nTHOMAS FOWLER, M.A., LL.D., F.S.A.\n\nPRESIDENT OF CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE\n\nWYKEHAM PROFESSOR OF LOGIC IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD\n\n\n1884\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\nThese pages represent an attempt to exhibit a scientific conception of\nmorality in a popular form, and with a view to practical applications\nrather than the discussion of theoretical difficulties. For this purpose\nit has been necessary to study brevity and avoid controversy. Hence, I\nhave made few references to other authors, and I have almost altogether\ndispensed with foot-notes. But, though I have attempted to state rather\nthan to defend my views, I believe that they are, in the main, those\nwhich, making exception for a few back eddies in the stream of modern\nthought, are winning their way to general acceptance among the more\ninstructed and reflective men of our day.\n\nIt is necessary that I should state that this Essay is independent of a\nmuch larger work, entitled the 'Principles of Morals,' on which I was,\nsome years ago, engaged with my predecessor, the late Professor Wilson.\nOwing to the declining state of his health during the latter years of\nhis life, that work was, at the time of his death, left in a condition\nwhich rendered its completion very difficult and its publication\nprobably undesirable. For the present work I am solely responsible,\nthough no one can have been brought into close contact with so powerful\na mind as that of Professor Wilson, without deriving from it much\nstimulus and retaining many traces of its influence.\n\nIt has long been my belief that the questions of theoretical Ethics\nwould be far less open to dispute, as well as far more intelligible, if\nthey were considered with more direct reference to practice. This little\nbook will, I trust, furnish an example, however slight and imperfect, of\nsuch a mode of treatment.\n\nC.C.C.\n\n_July_ 25, 1884.\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nIntroduction. The Sanctions of Conduct.\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nThe Moral Sanction or Moral Sentiment. Its\nFunctions and the Justification of its claims\nto Superiority.\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nAnalysis and Formation of the Moral Sentiment.\nIts Education and Improvement.\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nThe Moral Test and its Justification.\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nExamples of the Practical Application of the Moral\nTest to existing Morality.\n\n\n\nPROGRESSIVE MORALITY.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nINTRODUCTION. THE SANCTIONS OF CONDUCT.\n\n\nAll reflecting men acknowledge that both the theory and the practice of\nmorality have advanced with the general advance in the intelligence and\ncivilisation of the human race. But, if this be so, morality must be a\nmatter capable of being reasoned about, a subject of investigation and\nof teaching, in which the less intelligent members of a community have\nalways something to learn from the more intelligent, and the more\nintelligent, in their turn, have ever fresh problems to solve and new\nmaterial to study. It becomes, then, of prime importance to every\neducated man, to ask what are the data of Ethics, what is the method by\nwhich its general principles are investigated, what are the\nconsiderations which the moralist ought to apply to the solution of the\ncomplex difficulties of life and action. And still, in spite of these\nobvious facts, ethical investigation, or any approach to an independent\nreview of the current morality, is always unpopular with the great mass\nof mankind. Though the conduct of their own lives is the subject which\nmost concerns men, it is that in which they are least patient of\nspeculation. Nothing is so wounding to the self-complacency of a man of\nindolent habits of mind as to call in question any of the moral\nprinciples on which he habitually acts. Praise and blame are usually\napportioned, even by educated men, according to vague and general rules,\nwith little or no regard to the individual circumstances of the case.\nAnd of all innovators, the innovator on ethical theory is apt to be the\nmost unpopular and to be the least able to secure impartial attention to\nhis speculations. And hence it is that vague theories, couched in\nunintelligible or only half-intelligible language, and almost totally\ninapplicable to practice, have usually done duty for what is called a\nsystem of moral philosophy. The authors or exponents of such theories\nhave the good fortune at once to avoid odium and to acquire a reputation\nfor profundity.\n\nIn the following pages, I shall attempt (1) to discriminate morality,\nproperly so called, from other sanctions of conduct; (2) to determine\nthe precise functions, and the ultimate justification, of the moral\nsentiment, or, in other words, of the moral sanction; (3) to enquire how\nthis sentiment has been formed, and how it may be further educated and\nimproved; (4) to discover some general test of conduct; (5) to give\nexamples of the application of this test to existing moral rules and\nmoral feelings, with a view to shew how far they may be justified and\nhow far they require extension or reformation. As my subject is almost\nexclusively practical, I shall studiously avoid mere theoretical\npuzzles, such as is pre-eminently that of the freedom of the will,\nwhich, in whatever way resolved, probably never influences, and never\nwill influence, any sane man's conduct. Questions of this kind will\nalways excite interest in the sphere of speculation, and speculation is\na necessity of the cultivated human intellect; but it does not seem to\nme that they can be profitably discussed in a treatise, the aim of which\nis simply to suggest principles for examining, for testing, and, if\npossible, for improving the prevailing sentiment on matters of practical\nmorals.\n\nTo begin with the first division of my subject, How is morality,\nproperly so called, discriminated from other sanctions of conduct? By a\nsanction I may premise that I mean any pleasure which attracts to as\nwell as any pain which deters from a given course of action. In books on\nJurisprudence, this word is usually employed to designate merely pains\nor penalties, but this circumstance arises from the fact that, at least\nin modern times, the law seldom has recourse to rewards, and effects its\nends almost exclusively by means of punishments. When we are considering\nconduct, however, in its general aspects and not exclusively in its\nrelations to law, we appear to need a word to express any inducement,\nwhether of a pleasureable or painful nature, which may influence a man's\nactions, and such a word the term 'sanction' seems conveniently to\nsupply. Taking the word in this extended sense, the sanctions of conduct\nmay be enumerated as the physical, the legal, the social, the religious,\nand the moral. Of the physical sanction familiar examples may be found\nin the headache from which a man suffers after a night's debauch, the\npleasure of relaxation which awaits a well-earned holiday, the danger to\nlife or limb which is attendant on reckless exercise, or the glow of\nconstant satisfaction which rewards a healthy habit of life. These\npleasures and pains, when once experienced, exercise, for the future, an\nattracting or a deterring influence, as the case may be, on the courses\nof conduct with which they have respectively become associated. Thus, a\nman who has once suffered from a severe headache, after a night's\ndrinking-bout, will be likely to exercise more discretion in future, or\nthe prospect of agreeable diversion, at the end of a hard day's work,\nwill quicken a man's efforts to execute his task.\n\nThe legal sanction is too familiar to need illustration. Without penal\nlaws, no society of any size could exist for a day. There are, however,\ntwo characteristics of this sanction which it is important to point out.\nOne is that it works almost exclusively[1] by means of penalties.\nIt would be an endless and thankless business, in a society\nof any size, even if it were possible, to attempt to reward the virtuous\nfor their consideration in not breaking the laws. The cheap, the\neffective, indeed, in most cases, the only possible method is to punish\nthe transgressor. By a carefully devised and properly graduated system\nof penalties each citizen is thus furnished with the strongest\ninducement to refrain from those acts which may injure or annoy his\nneighbour. Another characteristic of the legal sanction is that, though\nit is professedly addressed to all citizens alike, it actually affects\nthe uneducated and lower classes far more than the educated and higher\nclasses of society. This circumstance arises partly from the fact that\npersons in a comfortable position of life are under little temptation to\ncommit the more ordinary crimes forbidden by law, such as are theft,\nassault, and the like, and partly from the fact that their education and\nassociations make them more amenable to the social, and, in most cases,\nto the moral and religious sanctions, about to be described presently.\nFew persons in what are called the higher or middle ranks of life have\nany temptation to commit, say, an act of theft, and, if they experienced\nany such temptation, they would be at least as likely to be restrained\nby the consideration of what their neighbours would think or say about\nthem, even apart from their own moral and religious convictions, as by\nthe fear of imprisonment.\n\n[Footnote 1: There are a few exceptions to the rule that the sanctions\nemployed by the state assume the form of punishments rather than of\nrewards. Such are titles and honours, pensions awarded for distinguished\nservice, rewards to informers, &c. But these exceptions are almost\ninsignificant, when compared with the numerous examples of the general\nrule.]\n\nOne of the most effective sanctions in all conditions of life, but\nespecially in the upper and better educated circles of a civilized\nsociety, is what may be called the social sanction, that is to say, a\nregard for the good opinion and a dread of the evil opinion of those who\nknow us, and especially of those amongst whom we habitually live. It is\none of the characteristics of this sanction that it is much more\nfar-reaching than the legal sanction. Not only does it extend to many\nacts of a moral character which are not affected, in most countries, by\nthe legal sanction, such as lying, backbiting, ingratitude, unkindness,\ncowardice, but also to mere matters of taste or fashion, such as dress,\netiquette, and even the proprieties of language. Indeed, as to the\nlatter class of actions, there is always considerable danger of the\nsocial sanction becoming too strong. Society is apt to insist on all men\nbeing cast in one mould, without much caring to examine the character of\nthe mould which it has adopted. And it frequently happens that a wholly\ndisproportionate value thus comes to be attached to the observance of\nmere rules of etiquette and good-breeding as compared with acts and\nfeelings which really concern the moral and social welfare of mankind.\nThere is many a man, moving in good society, who would rather be guilty\nof, and even detected in, an act of unkindness or mendacity, than be\nseen in an unfashionable dress or commit a grammatical solecism or a\nbroach of social etiquette. Vulgarity to such men is a worse reproach\nthan hardness of heart or indifferent morality. In these cases, as we\nshall see hereafter, the social sanction requires to be corrected by the\nmoral and religious sanctions, and it is the special province of the\nmoral and religious teacher in each generation to take care that this\ncorrection shall be duly and effectively applied. The task may, from\ntime to time, require the drastic hand of the moral or religious\nreformer, but, unless some one has the courage to undertake it, we are\nin constant danger of neglecting the weightier matters of the law, while\nwe are busy with the mint and cummin and anise of fashion and\nconvention. But, notwithstanding the danger of exaggeration and\nmisapplication, there can be no doubt of the vast importance and the\ngenerally beneficial results of a keen sensitiveness to the opinions of\nour fellow-men. Without the powerful aid of this sanction, the\nrestraints of morality and religion would often be totally ineffective.\n\nWhen the social sanction operates, not through society generally, but\nthrough particular sections of society, it may be called a Law of\nHonour, a term which originated in the usages of Chivalry. In a complex\nand civilized form of society, such as our own, there may be many such\nlaws of honour, and the same individual may be subject to several of\nthem. Thus each profession, the army, the navy, the clerical, the legal,\nthe medical, the artistic, the dramatic profession, has its own peculiar\ncode of honour or rules of professional etiquette, which its members can\nonly infringe on pain of ostracism, or, at least, of loss of\nprofessional reputation. The same is the case with trades, and is\nspecially exemplified in the instance of trades-unions, or, their\nmediaeval prototypes, the guilds. A college or a school, again, has its\nown rules and traditions, which the tutor or undergraduate, the master\nor boy, can often only violate at his extreme peril. Almost every club,\ninstitution, and society affords another instance in point. The class of\n'gentlemen,' too, that is to say, speaking roughly, the upper and upper\nmiddle ranks of society, claim to have a code of honour of their own,\nsuperior to that of the ordinary citizen. A breach of this code is\ncalled 'ungentlemanly' rather than wrong or immoral or unjust or unkind.\nSo far as this code insists on courtesy of demeanour and delicacy of\nfeeling and conduct, it is a valuable complement to the ordinary rules\nof morality, though, so far as it fulfils this function, it plainly\nought not to be the exclusive possession of one class, but ought to be\ncommunicated, by means of example and education, to the classes who are\nnow supposed to be bereft of it. There are points in this code, however,\nsuch as that the payment of 'debts of honour' should take precedence of\nthat of tradesmen's bills, and that less courtesy is due to persons in\nan inferior station than to those in our own, which at least merit\nre-consideration. It may, indeed, be said of all these laws or codes of\nhonour, that, though they have probably, on the whole, a salutary effect\nin maintaining a high standard of conduct in the various bodies or\nclasses where they obtain, they require to be constantly watched, lest\nthey should become capricious or tyrannical, and specially lest they\nshould conflict with the wider interests of society or the deeper\ninstincts of morality. It must not be forgotten that we are 'men' before\nwe are 'gentlemen,' and that no claims of any profession, institution,\nor class can replace or supplant those of humanity and citizenship.\n\nWe see, then, or rather we are obliged at the present stage of our\nenquiry to assume, that the social sanction, whether it be derived from\nthe average sentiment of society at large or from the customs and\nopinions of particular aggregates of society, requires constant\ncorrection at the hands of the moralist. The sentiment which it\nrepresents may be only the sentiment of men of average moral tone, or it\nmay even be that of men of an inferior or degraded morality, and hence\nit often needs to be tested by the application of rules derived from a\nhigher standard both of feeling and intelligence. Nor is it the moral\nstandard only which may be used to correct the social standard. We may\noften advantageously have recourse to the legal standard for the same\npurpose. For the laws of a country express, as a rule, the sentiments of\nthe wisest and most experienced of its citizens, and hence we might\nnaturally expect that they would be in advance of the average moral\nsentiment of the people, as well as of the social traditions of\nparticular professions or classes. And this I believe to be usually the\ncase. For instances, we have to go no further than the comparison\nbetween the laws and the popular or professional sentiment on bribery at\nelections, on smuggling, on evasion of taxation, on fraudulent business\ntransactions, on duelling, on prize-fighting, or on gambling. At the\nsame time it must be confessed that, as laws sometimes become\nantiquated, and the leanings of lawyers are proverbially conservative,\nit occasionally happens that, on some points, the average moral\nsentiment is in advance of the law. I may select as examples, from\ncomparatively recent legal history, the continuance of religious\ndisabilities and the excessive punishment of ordinary or even trivial\ncrimes; and, perhaps, I may venture to add, as a possible reform in the\nfuture now largely demanded by popular sentiment, some considerable\nmodifications of the laws regulating the transfer of and the succession\nto landed property. Thus it will be seen that law and the sentiment of\nsociety may each be employed as corrective of the other, and that,\nconsequently, their comparison implies a higher standard than either, by\nmeans of which each may be tested, and to which each, in its turn, may\nbe referred. This higher or common standard it will be our business to\nconsider in a subsequent part of this Essay. Meanwhile, it may be\npointed out that, in addition to its function as an occasional\ncorrective of the legal sanction, the social sanction subserves two\ngreat objects: first, it largely complements the legal sanction, being\napplicable to numberless cases which that sanction does not, and, in\nfact, cannot reach; secondly, the legal sanction, even in those cases\nwhich it reaches, is greatly reinforced by the social sanction, which\nadds the pains arising from an evil reputation, and all the indefinable\nsocial inconveniences which an evil reputation brings with it, to the\nactual penalties inflicted by the law.\n\nThe religious sanction varies, of course, with the different religious\ncreeds, and, in the more imperfect forms of religion, by no means always\noperates in favour of morality. But it will be sufficient here to\nconsider the religious sanction solely in relation to Christianity. As\nenforced by the Bible and the Church, the religious sanctions of conduct\nare two, which I shall call the higher and the lower sanctions. By the\nlatter I mean the hope of the divine reward or the fear of the divine\npunishment, either in this world or the next; by the former, the love of\nGod and that veneration for His nature which irresistibly inspires the\neffort to imitate His perfections. The lower religious sanction is\nplainly the same in kind with the legal sanction. If a man is induced to\ndo or to refrain from doing a certain action from fear of punishment,\nthe motive is the same, whether the punishment be for a long time or a\nshort one, whether it is to take immediate effect or to be deferred for\na term of years. And, similarly, the same is the case with rewards. No\npeculiar merit, as it appears to me, can be claimed by a man because he\nacts from fear of divine punishment rather than of human punishment, or\nfrom hope of divine rewards rather than of human rewards. The only\ndifferences between the two sanctions are (1) that the hopes and fears\ninspired by the religious sanction are, to one who believes in their\nreality, far more intense than those inspired by the legal sanction, the\ntwo being related as the temporal to the eternal, and (2) that, inasmuch\nas God is regarded as omnipresent and omniscient, the religious sanction\nis immeasurably more far-reaching than the legal sanction or even than\nthe legal and the social sanctions combined. Thus the lower religious\nsanction is, to those who really believe in it, far more effective than\nthe legal sanction, though it is the same in kind. But the higher\nreligious sanction appeals to a totally different class of motives, the\nmotives of love and reverence rather than of hope and fear. In this\nhigher frame of mind, we keep God's commandments, because we love Him,\nnot because we hope for His rewards or fear His punishments. We\nreverence God, and, therefore, we strive to be like Him, to be perfect\neven as He is perfect. We have attained to that state of mind in which\nperfect love has cast out fear, and, hence, we simply do good and act\nrighteously because God, who is the supreme object of our love and the\nsupreme ideal of conduct, is good and righteous. There can be no\nquestion that, in this case, the motives are far loftier and purer than\nin the case of the legal and the lower religious sanctions. But there\nare few men, probably, capable of these exalted feelings, and,\ntherefore, for the great mass of mankind the external inducements to\nright conduct must, probably, continue to be sought in the coarser\nmotives. It may be mentioned, before concluding this notice of the\nreligious sanctions, that there is a close affinity between the higher\nreligious sanction and that form of the social sanction which operates\nthrough respect for the good opinions of those of our fellow-men whom we\nlove, reverence, or admire.\n\nBut, quite distinct from all the sanctions thus far enumerated, there is\nanother sanction which is derived from our own reflexion on our own\nactions, and the approbation or disapprobation which, after such\nreflexion, we bestow upon them. There are actions which, on no\nreasonable estimate of probabilities, can ever come to the knowledge of\nany other person than ourselves, but which we look back on with pleasure\nor regret. It may be said that, though, in these cases, the legal and\nthe social sanctions are confessedly excluded, the sanction which really\noperates is the religious sanction, in either its higher or its lower\nform. But it can hardly be denied that, even where there is no belief in\nGod, or, at least, no vivid sense of His presence nor any effective\nexpectation of His intervention, the same feelings are experienced.\nThese feelings, then, appear to be distinct in character from any of the\nothers which we have so far considered, and they constitute what may\nappropriately be called the moral sanction, in the strict sense of the\nterm. It is one of the faults of Bentham's system that he confounds this\nsanction with the social sanction, speaking indifferently of the moral\n_or_ popular (that is to say, social) sanction; but let any one examine\ncarefully for himself the feelings of satisfaction or dissatisfaction\nwith which he looks back upon past acts of his own life, and ask himself\nwhether he can discover in those feelings any reference to the praise or\nblame of other persons, actual or possible. There will, if I mistake\nnot, be many of them in which he can discover no such reference, but in\nwhich the feeling is simply that of satisfaction with himself for having\ndone what he ought to have done, or dissatisfaction with himself for\nhaving done that which he ought not to have done. Whether these feelings\nadmit of analysis and explanation is another question, and one with\nwhich I shall deal presently, but of their reality and distinctness no\ncompetent and impartial person, on careful self-examination, can well\ndoubt. The answer, then, to our first question, I conceive to be that\nthe moral sanction, properly so called, is distinguished from all other\nsanctions of conduct in that it has no regard to the prospect of\nphysical pleasure or pain, or to the hope of reward or fear of\npunishment, or to the estimation in which we shall be held by any other\nbeing than ourselves, but that it has regard simply and solely to the\ninternal feeling of satisfaction or dissatisfaction with which, on\nreflexion, we shall look back upon our own acts.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE MORAL SANCTION OR MORAL SENTIMENT.\nITS FUNCTIONS AND THE JUSTIFICATION OF\nITS CLAIMS TO SUPERIORITY.\n\n\nI now proceed to consider more at length what are the precise functions\nof the moral sentiment or moral sanction[1], and what is the justification\nof the weight which we attach to it, or rather of the preference which\nwe assign to it, or feel that we ought to assign to it, over all the\nother sanctions of conduct. We have already seen that the moral\nsentiment or sanction is the feeling of satisfaction or dissatisfaction\nwhich we experience when we reflect on our own acts, without any\nreference to any external authority or external opinion. Now it is\nimportant to ask whether this feeling is uniformly felt on the\noccurrence of the same acts, or whether it ever varies, so that acts,\nfor instance, which are at one time viewed with satisfaction, are at\nanother time regarded with indifference or with positive\ndissatisfaction. It would seem as if no man who reflects on ethical\nsubjects, and profits by the observation and experience of life, could\npossibly answer this question in any other than one way. There must be\nvery few educated and reflective men who have not seen reason, with\nadvancing years, to alter their opinion on many of, at least, the minor\npoints of morality in which they were instructed as children. A familiar\ninstance occurs at once in the different way in which most of us view\ncard-playing or attendance at balls or theatres from the much stricter\nviews which prevailed in many respectable English households a\ngeneration ago. On the other hand, excess in eating and drinking is\nregarded with far less indulgence now than it was in the days of our\nfathers and grandfathers. On these points, then, at least, and such as\nthese, it must be allowed that there is a variation of moral sentiment,\nor, in other words, that the acts condemned or approved by the moral\nsanction are not invariably the same. Moreover, any of us who are\naccustomed to reason on moral questions, and can observe carefully the\nprocesses through which the mind passes, will notice that there is\nconstantly going on a re-adjustment, so to speak, of our ethical\nopinions, whether we are reviewing abstract questions of morality or the\nspecific acts of ourselves or others. We at one time think ourselves or\nothers more, and, at another time, less blameable for the self-same\nacts, or we come to regard some particular class of acts in a different\nlight from what we used to do, either modifying our praise or blame, or,\nin extreme cases, actually substituting one for the other. But, though\nthese facts are patent, and may be verified by any one in his experience\neither of himself or others, there have actually been moralists who have\nappeared to maintain the position that, when a man is unbiassed by\npassion or interest, his moral judgments are and must be invariably the\nsame. This error has, undoubtedly, been largely fostered by the loose\nand popular use of the terms conscience and moral sense. These terms,\nand especially the word conscience, are often employed to designate a\nsort of mysterious entity, supposed to have been implanted in the mind\nby God Himself, and endowed by Him with the unique prerogative of\ninfallibility. Even so philosophical and sober a writer as Bishop Butler\nhas given some countenance to this extravagant supposition, and to the\nexaggerated language which he employs on the prerogatives of conscience,\nand to the emphatic manner in which he insists on the absolute, if not\nthe infallible, character of its decisions, may be traced much of the\nmisconception which still prevails on the subject. But we have only to\ntake account of the notorious fact that the consciences of two equally\nconscientious men may point in entirely opposite directions, in order to\nsee that the decisions of conscience cannot, at all events, be credited\nwith infallibility. Those who denounce and those who defend religious\npersecution, those who insist on the removal and those who insist on the\nretention of religious disabilities, those who are in favour of and\nthose who are opposed to a relaxation of the marriage laws, those who\nadvocate a total abstention from intoxicating liquors and those who\nallow of a moderate use of them,--men on both sides in these\ncontroversies, or, at least, the majority of them, doubtless act\nconscientiously, and yet, as they arrive at opposite conclusions, the\nconscience of one side or other must be at fault. There is no act of\nreligious persecution, there are few acts of political or personal\ncruelty, for which the authority of conscience might not be invoked. I\ndoubt not that Queen Mary acted as conscientiously in burning the\nReformers as they did in promulgating their opinions or we do in\ncondemning her acts. It is plain, then, not only that the decisions of\nconscience are not infallible, but that they must, to a very large\nextent, be relative to the circumstances and opinions of those who form\nthem. In any intelligible or tenable sense of the term, conscience\nstands simply for the aggregate of our moral opinions reinforced by the\nmoral sanction of self-approbation or self-disapprobation. That we ought\nto act in accordance with these opinions, and that we are acting wrongly\nif we act in opposition to them, is a truism. 'Follow Conscience' is the\nonly safe guide, when the moment of action has arrived. But it is\nequally important to insist on the fallibility of conscience, and to\nurge men, by all means in their power, to be constantly improving and\ninstructing their consciences, or, in plain words, to review and,\nwherever occasion offers, to correct their conceptions of right and\nwrong. The 'plain, honest man' of Bishop Butler would, undoubtedly,\nalways follow his conscience, but it is by no means certain that his\nconscience would always guide him rightly, and it is quite certain that\nit would often prompt him differently from the consciences of other\n'plain, honest men' trained elsewhere and under other circumstances. To\nact contrary to our opinions of right and wrong would be treason to our\nmoral nature, but it does not follow that those opinions are not\nsusceptible of improvement and correction, or that it is not as much our\nduty to take pains to form true opinions as to act in accordance with\nour opinions when we have formed them.\n\n[Footnote 1: I use the expressions 'moral sanction' and 'moral\nsentiment' as equivalent terms, because the pleasures and pains, which\nconstitute the moral sanction, are inseparable, even in thought, from\nthe moral feeling. The moral feeling of self-approbation or\nself-disapprobation cannot even be conceived apart from the pleasures or\npains which are attendant on it, and by means of which it reveals itself\nto us.\n\nIt should be noticed that the expression 'moral sentiment' is habitually\nused in two senses, as the equivalent (1) of the moral feeling only, (2)\nof the entire moral process, which, as we shall see in the third\nchapter, consists partly of a judgment, partly of a feeling. It is in\nthe latter sense, for instance, that we speak of the 'current moral\nsentiment' of any given age or country, meaning the opinions then or\nthere prevalent on moral questions, reinforced by the feeling of\napprobation or disapprobation. As, however, the moral feeling always\nfollows immediately and necessarily on the moral judgment, whenever that\njudgment pronounces decisively for or against an action, and always\nimplies a previous judgment (I am here again obliged to anticipate the\ndiscussion in chapter 3), the ambiguity is of no practical importance at\nthe present stage of our enquiry. It is almost needless to add that the\nword 'sentiment,' when used alone, has the double meaning of a feeling\nand an opinion, an ambiguity which is sometimes not without practical\ninconvenience.]\n\nThe terms 'conscience' and 'moral sense' are very convenient expressions\nfor popular use, provided we always bear in mind that 'illuminate' or\n'instruct' your 'conscience' or 'moral sense' is quite as essential a\nrule as 'follow' your 'conscience' or 'moral sense.' But the scientific\nmoralist, in attempting to analyse the springs of moral action and to\ndetect the ultimate sanctions of conduct, would do well to avoid these\nterms altogether. The analysis of moral as well as of intellectual acts\nis often only obscured by our introducing the conception of 'faculties,'\nand, in the present instance, it is far better to confine ourselves to\nthe expressions 'acts' of 'approbation or disapprobation,' 'satisfaction\nor dissatisfaction,' which we shall hereafter attempt to analyse, than\nto feign, or at least assume, certain 'faculties' or 'senses' as\ndistinct entities from which such acts are supposed to proceed. I shall,\ntherefore, in the sequel of this work, say little or nothing of\n'conscience' or 'moral sense,' not because I think it desirable to\nbanish those words from popular terminology, but because I think that,\nin an attempt to present the principles of ethics in a scientific form,\nthey introduce needless complexity and obscurity.\n\nIf the statements thus far made in this chapter be accepted, it follows\nthat the feelings of self-approbation and self-disapprobation, which\nconstitute the moral sanction, by no means invariably supervene on acts\nof the same kind even in the case of the same individual, much less in\nthe case of different individuals, and that the acts which elicit the\nmoral sanction depend, to a considerable extent, on the circumstances\nand education of the person who passes judgment on them. The moral\nsanction, therefore, though it always consists in the feelings of\nself-approbation, or self-disapprobation, of satisfaction or\ndissatisfaction at one's own acts, is neither uniform, absolute, nor\ninfallible; but varies, as applied not only by different individuals but\nby the same individual at different times, in relation to varying\nconditions of education, temperament, nationality, and, generally, of\ncircumstances both external and internal. Lastly, it admits of constant\nimprovement and correction. How, then, it may be asked, do we justify\nthe application of this sanction, and why do we regard it as not only a\nlegitimate sanction of conduct, but as the most important of all\nsanctions, and, in cases of conflict, the supreme and final sanction?\n\nThe answer to this question is that, if we regard an action as wrong, no\nmatter whether our opinion be correct or not, no external considerations\nwhatsoever can compensate us for acting contrary to our convictions.\nHuman nature, in its normal condition, is so constituted that the\nremorse felt, when we look back upon a wrong action, far outweighs any\npleasure we may have derived from it, just as the satisfaction with\nwhich we look back upon a right action far more than compensates for any\npain with which it may have been attended. The 'mens sibi conscia recti'\nis the highest reward which a man can have, as, on the other hand, the\nretrospect on base, unjust, or cruel actions constitutes the most acute\nof torments. Now, when a man looks back upon his past actions, what he\nregards is not so much the result of his acts as the intention and the\nmotives by which the intention was actuated. It is not, therefore, what\nhe would now think of the act so much as what he then thought of it that\nis the object of his approbation or disapprobation. And, consequently,\neven though his opinions as to the nature of the act may meanwhile have\nundergone alteration, he approves or disapproves of what was his\nintention at the moment of performing it and of the state of mind from\nwhich it then proceeded. It is true that the subsequent results of our\nacts and any change in our estimate of their moral character may\nconsiderably modify the feelings with which we look back upon them, but,\nstill, in the main, it holds good that the approval or disapproval with\nwhich we regard our past conduct depends rather upon the opinions of\nright and wrong which we entertained at the moment of action than those\nwhich we have come to entertain since. To have acted, at any time, in a\nmanner contrary to what we then supposed to be right leaves behind it a\ntrace of dissatisfaction and pain, which may, at any future time,\nreappear to trouble and distress us; just as to have acted, in spite of\nall conflicting considerations, in a manner which we then conceived to\nbe right, may, in after years, be a perennial source of pleasure and\nsatisfaction. It is characteristic of the pleasures and pains of\nreflexion on our past acts (which pleasures and pains of reflexion may,\nof course, connect themselves with other than purely moral\nconsiderations), not only that they admit of being more intense than any\nother pleasures and pains, but that, whenever there is any conflict\nbetween the moral sanction and any other sanction, it is to the moral\nsanction that they attach themselves. Thus, if a man has incurred\nphysical suffering, or braved the penalties of the law or the ill word\nof society, in pursuance of a course of conduct which he deemed to be\nright, he looks back upon his actions with satisfaction, and the more\nimportant the actions, and the clearer his convictions of right and the\nstronger the inducements to act otherwise, the more intense will his\nsatisfaction be. But no such satisfaction is felt, when a man has\nsacrificed his convictions of right to avoid physical pain, or to escape\nthe penalties of the law, or to conciliate the goodwill of society; the\nfeeling, on the other hand, will be that of dissatisfaction with\nhimself, varying, according to circumstances, from regret to remorse.\nAnd, if no similar remark has to be made with reference to the religious\nsanction, it is because, in all the higher forms of religion, the\nreligious sanction is conceived of as applying to exactly the same\nactions as the moral sanction. What a man himself deems right, that he\nconceives God to approve of, and what he conceives God as disapproving\nof, that he deems wrong. But in a religion in which God was not regarded\nas holy, just, and true, or in which there was a plurality of gods, some\ngood and some evil, I conceive that a man would look back with\nsatisfaction, and not with dissatisfaction, on those acts in which he\nhad followed his own sense of right rather than the supposed will of the\nDeity, just as, when there is a conflict between the two, he now\ncongratulates himself on having submitted to the claims of conscience\nrather than to those of the law.\n\nThe justification, then, of that claim to superiority, which is asserted\nby the moral sanction, consists, I conceive, in two circumstances:\nfirst, that the pleasures and pains, the feelings of satisfaction and\ndissatisfaction, of self-approbation and self-disapprobation, by means\nof which it works, are, in the normally constituted mind, far more\nintense and durable than any other pleasures and pains; secondly, that,\nwhenever this sanction comes into conflict with any other sanction, its\ndefeat is sure, on a careful retrospect of our acts, to bring regret or\nremorse, whereas its victory is equally certain to bring pleasure and\nsatisfaction. We arrive, then, at the conclusion that it is the moral\nsanction which is the distinctive guide of conduct, and to which we must\nlook, in the last resort, to enforce right action, while the other\nsanctions are mainly valuable in so far as they reinforce the moral\nsanction or correct its aberrations. A man must, ultimately, be the\njudge of his own conduct, and, as he acts or does not act according to\nhis own best judgment, so he will subsequently feel satisfaction or\nremorse; but these facts afford no reason why he should not take pains\nto inform his judgment by all the means which physical knowledge, law,\nsociety, and religion place at his disposal.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nANALYSIS AND FORMATION OF THE MORAL\nSENTIMENT. ITS EDUCATION AND IMPROVEMENT.\n\n\nBefore proceeding to our third question, namely, how the moral\nsentiment, which is the source of the moral sanction, has been formed,\nand how it may be further educated and improved, it is desirable to\ndiscriminate carefully between the intellectual and the emotional\nelements in an act of approbation or disapprobation. We sometimes speak\nof moral judgment, sometimes of moral feeling. These expressions ought\nnot to be regarded as the symbols of rival theories on the nature of the\nact of moral approbation, as has sometimes been the case, but as\ndesignating distinct parts of the process, or, to put the same statement\nrather differently, separate elements in the analysis. Hume, whose\ntreatment of this subject is peculiarly lucid, as compared with that of\nmost writers on ethics, after reviewing the reasons assigned by those\nauthors respectively who resolve the act of approbation into an act of\njudgment or an act of feeling, adds[1]: 'These arguments on each side\n(and many more might be produced) are so plausible, that I am apt to\nsuspect they may, the one as well as the other, be solid and\nsatisfactory, and that reason and sentiment concur in almost all moral\ndeterminations and conclusions. The final sentence; it is probable,\nwhich pronounces characters and actions amiable or odious, praiseworthy\nor blameable; that which stamps on them the mark of honour or infamy,\napprobation or censure; that which renders morality an active principle,\nand constitutes virtue our happiness and vice our misery: it is\nprobable, I say, that this final sentence depends on some internal sense\nor feeling, which nature has made universal in the whole\nspecies. For what else can have an influence of this nature?\nBut, in order to pave the way for such a sentiment and give\na proper discernment of its object, it is often necessary, we find, that\nmuch reasoning should precede, that nice distinctions be made, just\nconclusions drawn, distant comparisons formed, complicated relations\nexamined, and general facts fixed and ascertained. Some species of\nbeauty, especially the natural kinds, on their first appearance, command\nour affection and approbation; and, where they fail of this effect, it\nis impossible for any reasoning to redress their influence, or adapt\nthem better to our taste and sentiment. But in many orders of beauty,\nparticularly those of the finer arts, it is requisite to employ much\nreasoning, in order to feel the proper sentiment; and a false relish may\nfrequently be corrected by argument and reflexion. There are just\ngrounds to conclude that moral beauty partakes much of this latter\nspecies, and demands the assistance of our intellectual faculties, in\norder to give it a suitable influence on the human mind.'\n\n[Footnote 1: Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, Section I.]\n\nThis passage, which I have thought it worth while to quote at length,\nexhibits, with sufficient clearness, the respective provinces of reason\nand feeling in the ethical estimation of action. Whether we are\nreviewing the actions of ourselves or of others, what we seem to do, in\nthe first instance, is to refer them to some class, or associate them\nwith certain actions of a similar kind which are familiar to us, and,\nthen, when their character has thus been determined, they excite the\nappropriate feeling of approbation or disapprobation, praise or censure.\nThus, as soon as we have realised that a statement is a lie or an act is\nfraudulent, we at once experience a feeling of indignation or disgust at\nthe person who has made the statement or committed the act. And, in the\nsame way, as soon as we have recognised that an act is brave or\ngenerous, we regard with esteem or admiration the doer of it. But,\nthough the feeling of approbation or disapprobation follows\ninstantaneously on the act of judgment, the recognition of the character\nof the action, or its reference to a class, which constitutes this act\nof judgment, may be, and often is, a process of considerable length and\ncomplexity. Take the case of a lie. What did the man really say? In what\nsense did he employ the words used? What was the extent of his knowledge\nat the time that he made the statement? And what was his intention?\nThese and possibly other questions have to be answered, before we are\njustified in accusing him of having told a lie. When the offence is not\nonly a moral but a legal one, the act of determining the character of\nthe action in question is often the result of a prolonged enquiry,\nextending over weeks or months. No sooner, however, is the intellectual\nprocess completed, and the action duly labelled as a lie, or a theft, or\na fraud, or an act of cruelty or ingratitude, or the like, than the\nappropriate ethical emotion is at once excited. The intellectual process\nmay also be exceedingly rapid, or even instantaneous, and always is so\nwhen we have no doubt as to the nature either of the action or of the\nintention or of the motives, but its characteristic, as distinguished\nfrom the ethical emotion, is that it may take time, and, except in\nperfectly clear cases or on very sudden emergencies requiring subsequent\naction, always ought to do so.\n\nWe are now in a position to see the source of much confusion in the\nordinary mode of speaking and writing on the subject of the moral\nfaculty, the moral judgment, the moral feeling, the moral sense, the\nconscience, and kindred terms. The instantaneous, and the apparently\ninstinctive, authoritative, and absolute character of the act of moral\napprobation or disapprobation attaches to the emotional, and not to the\nintellectual part of the process. When an action has once been\npronounced to be right or wrong, morally good or evil, or has been\nreferred to some well-known class of actions whose ethical character is\nalready determined, the emotion of approval or disapproval is excited\nand follows as a matter of course. There is no reasoning or hesitation\nabout it, simply because the act is not a reasoning act. Hence, it\nappears to be instinctive, and becomes invested with those superior\nattributes of authoritativeness, absoluteness, and even infallibility,\nwhich are not unnaturally ascribed to an act in which, there being no\nprocess of reasoning, there seems to be no room for error. And, indeed,\nthe feelings of moral approbation and disapprobation can never be\nproperly described as erroneous, though they are frequently misapplied.\nThe error attaches to the preliminary process of reasoning, reference,\nor classification, and, if this be wrongly conducted, there is no\njustification for the feeling which is consequent upon it. But, instead\nof our asking for the justification of the feeling in the rational\nprocess which has preceded it, we often unconsciously justify our\nreasoning by the feeling, and thus the whole process assumes the\nunreflective character which properly belongs only to the emotional part\nof it. It is the want of a clear distinction between the logical process\nwhich determines the character of an act,--the moral judgment,--and the\nemotion which immediately supervenes when the character of the act is\ndetermined,--the moral feeling,--that accounts for the exaggerated\nepithets which are often attributed to the operations of the moral\nfaculty, and for the haste and negligence in which men are consequently\nencouraged to indulge, when arriving at their moral decisions. Let it be\nrecollected that, when we have time for reflexion, we cannot take too\nmuch pains in forming our decisions upon conduct, for there is always a\npossibility of error in our judgments, but that, when our judgments are\nformed, we ought to give free scope to the emotions which they naturally\nevoke, and then we shall develope a conscience, so to speak, at once\nenlightened and sensitive, we shall combine accuracy and justness of\njudgment with delicacy and strength of feeling.\n\nThere remains the question whether the feelings of approval and\ndisapproval, which supervene on our moral judgments, admit of any\nexplanation, or whether they are to be regarded as ultimate facts of our\nmental constitution. It seems to me that, on a little reflexion, we are\nled to adopt the former alternative. What are the classes of acts, under\ntheir most general aspect, which elicit the feelings of moral\napprobation and disapprobation? They are such as promote, or tend to\npromote, the good either of ourselves or of others. Now the feelings of\nwhich these classes of acts are the direct object are respectively the\nself-regarding and the sympathetic feelings, or, as they have been\nsomewhat uncouthly called, the egoistic and altruistic feelings. We have\na variety of appetites and desires, which centre in ourselves, including\nwhat has been called rational self-love, or a desire for what, on cool\nreflexion, we conceive to be our own highest good on the whole, as well\nas self-respect, or a regard for our own dignity and character, and for\nour own opinion of ourselves. When any of these various appetites or\ndesires are gratified, we feel satisfaction, and, on the other hand,\nwhen they are thwarted, we feel dissatisfaction. Similarly, we have a\nnumber of affections, of which others are the object, some of them of a\nmalevolent or resentful, but most of them of a benevolent character,\nincluding a general desire to confer all the happiness that we can.\nHere, again, we feel satisfaction, when our affections are gratified,\nand dissatisfaction, when they are thwarted. Now these feelings of\nsatisfaction and dissatisfaction, which are called reflex feelings,\nbecause they are reflected, as it were, from the objects of our desires,\ninclude, though they are by no means coextensive with, the feelings of\nmoral approbation and disapprobation. When, for instance, we gratify the\nappetites of hunger or thirst, or our love of curiosity or power, we\nfeel satisfaction, but we can hardly be said to regard the gratification\nof these appetites or feelings with moral approval or disapproval. We\nperform thousands of acts, and see thousands of acts performed, every\nday, which never excite any moral feeling whatever. But there are few\nmen in whom an undoubted act of kindness or generosity or resistance to\ntemptation would not at once elicit admiration or respect, or, if they\nreflected on such acts in their own case, of self-approval. Now, what\nare the circumstances which distinguish these acts which merely cause us\nsatisfaction from those which elicit the moral feeling of approbation?\nThis question is one by no means easy to answer, and the solution of it\nmust obviously depend to some extent on the moral surroundings and\nprepossessions of the person who undertakes to answer it. But,\nattempting to take as wide a survey as possible of those acts which, in\ndifferent persons, elicit moral approbation or disapprobation, I will\nendeavour to discriminate the characteristics which they have in common.\n\nAll those acts, then, it seems to me, which elicit a distinctively moral\nfeeling have been the result of some conflict amongst the various\ndesires and affections, or, to adopt the more ordinary phraseology, of a\nconflict of motives. We neither approve nor disapprove of acts with\nregard to which there seems to have been little or no choice, which\nappear to have resulted naturally from the pre-existing circumstances.\nThus, if a well-to-do man pays his debts promptly, or a man of known\npoverty asks to have the time of payment deferred, we neither visit the\none with praise nor the other with censure, though, if their conduct\nwere reversed, we should censure the former and praise the latter. The\nreason of this difference of treatment is plain. There is not, or at\nleast need not be, any conflict, in the case of the well-to-do man,\nbetween his own convenience or any reasonable gratification of his\ndesires and the satisfaction of a just claim. Hence, in paying the debt\npromptly, he is only acting as we might expect him to act, and his\nconduct excites no moral feeling on our part, though, if he were to act\ndifferently, he would incur our censure. The poor man, on the other\nhand, must have put himself to some inconvenience and exercised some\nself-denial in order to meet his engagement at the exact time at which\nthe payment became due, and hence he merits our praise, though, if he\nhad acted otherwise, the circumstances might have excused him.\n\nAnother characteristic of acts which we praise or blame, in the case of\nothers, or approve or disapprove, on reflexion, in our own case, seems\nto be that they must possess some importance. The great majority of our\nacts are too trivial to merit any notice, such as is implied in a moral\njudgment. When a man makes way for another in the street, or refrains\nfrom eating or drinking more than is good for him, neither he nor the\nbystander probably ever thinks of regarding the act as a meritorious\none. It is taken as a matter of course, though the opposite conduct\nmight, under certain circumstances, be of sufficient importance to incur\ncensure. It is impossible here, as in most other cases where we speak of\n'importance,' to draw a definite line, but it may at least be laid down\nthat an act, in order to be regarded as moral or immoral, must be of\nsufficient importance to arrest attention, and stimulate reflexion.\n\nThus far, then, we have arrived at the conclusion that acts which are\nthe objects of moral approbation and disapprobation must have a certain\nimportance, and must be the result of a certain amount of conflict\nbetween different motives. But we have not as yet attempted to detect\nany principle of discrimination between those acts which are the objects\nof praise or approbation and those which are the objects of censure or\ndisapprobation. Now it seems to me that such a principle may be found in\nthe fact that all those acts of others which we praise or those acts of\nourselves which, on reflexion, we approve involve some amount of\nsacrifice, whereas all those acts of others which we blame, or those\nacts of ourselves which, on reflexion, we disapprove involve some amount\nof self-indulgence. The conflict is between a man's own lower and higher\ngood, or between his own good and the greater good of others, or, in\ncertain cases, as we shall see presently, between the lesser good of\nsome, reinforced by considerations of self-interest or partiality, and\nthe greater good of others, not so reinforced, or even, occasionally,\nbetween the pleasure or advantage of others and a disproportionate\ninjury to himself; and he who, in the struggle, gives the preference to\nthe former of these motives usually becomes the object of censure or, on\nreflexion, of self-disapprobation, while he who gives the preference to\nthe latter becomes the object of praise or, on reflexion, of\nself-approbation. I shall endeavour to illustrate this position by a few\ninstances mostly taken from common life. We praise a man who, by due\neconomy, makes decent provision for himself in old age, as we blame a\nman who fails to do so. Quite apart from any public or social\nconsiderations, we admire and applaud in the one man the power of\nself-restraint and the habit of foresight, which enable him to\nsubordinate his immediate gratifications to his larger interests in the\nremote future, and to forego sensual and passing pleasures for the\npurpose of preserving his self-respect and personal independence in\nlater life. And we admire and applaud him still more, if to these purely\nself-regarding considerations he adds the social one of wishing to avoid\nbecoming a burden on his family or his friends or the public. Just in\nthe same way, we condemn the other man, who, rather than sacrifice his\nimmediate gratification, will incur the risk of forfeiting his\nself-respect and independence in after years as well as of making others\nsuffer for his improvidence. A man who, by the exercise of similar\neconomy and forethought, makes provision for his family or relations we\nesteem still more than the man who simply makes provision for himself,\nbecause the sacrifice of passing pleasures is generally still greater,\nand because there is also, in this case, a total sacrifice of all\nself-regarding interests, except, perhaps, self-respect and reputation,\nfor the sake of others. Similarly, the man who has a family or relations\ndependent upon him, and who neglects to make future provision for them,\ndeservedly incurs our censure far more than the man who merely neglects\nto make provision for himself, because his self-indulgence has to\ncontend against the full force of the social as well as the higher\nself-regarding motives, and its persistence is, therefore, the less\nexcusable.\n\nI will next take the familiar case of a trust, voluntarily undertaken,\nbut involving considerable trouble to the trustee, a case of a much more\ncomplicated character than the last. If the trustee altogether neglects\nor does not devote a reasonable amount of attention to the affairs of\nthe trust, there is no doubt that, besides any legal penalties which he\nmay incur, he merits moral censure. Rather than sacrifice his own ease\nor his own interests, he violates the obligation which he has undertaken\nand brings inconvenience, or possibly disaster, to those whose interests\nhe has bound himself to protect. But the demands of the trust may become\nso excessive as to tax the time and pains of the trustee to a far\ngreater extent than could ever have been anticipated, and to interfere\nseriously with his other employments. In this case no reasonable person,\nI presume, would censure the trustee for endeavouring, even at some\ninconvenience or expense to the persons for whose benefit the trust\nexisted, to release himself from his obligation or to devolve part of\nthe work on a professional adviser. While, however, the work connected\nwith the trust did not interfere with other obligations or with the\npromotion of the welfare of others, no one, I imagine, would censure the\ntrustee for continuing to perform it, to his own inconvenience or\ndisadvantage, if he chose to do so. His neighbours might, perhaps, say\nthat he was foolish, but they would hardly go to the length of saying\nthat he acted wrongly. Neither, on the other hand, would they be likely\nto praise him, as the sacrifice he was undergoing would be out of\nproportion to the good attained by it, and the interests of others to\nwhich he was postponing his own interests would not be so distinctly\ngreater as to warrant the act of self-effacement. But now let us suppose\nthat, in attending to the interests of the trust, he is neglecting the\ninterests of others who have a claim upon him, or impairing his own\nefficiency as a public servant or a professional man. If the interests\nthus at stake were plainly much greater than those of the trust, as they\nmight well be, the attitude of neutrality would soon be converted into\none of positive censure, unless he took means to extricate himself from\nthe difficulty in which he was placed.\n\nThe supposition just made illustrates the fact that the moral feelings\nmay attach themselves not only to cases in which the collision is\nbetween a man's own higher and lower good, or between his own good and\nthat of another, but also to those in which the competition is entirely\nbetween the good of others. It may be worth while to illustrate this\nlast class of cases by one or two additional examples. A man tells a lie\nin order to screen a friend. The act is a purely social one, for he\nstands in no fear of his friend, and expects no return. It might be said\nthat the competition, in this example, is between serving his friend and\nwounding his own self-respect. But the consciousness of cowardice and\nmeanness which attends a lie spoken in a man's own interest hardly\nattaches to a lie spoken for the purpose of protecting another. And, any\nway, a little reflexion might show that the apparently benevolent\nintention comes into collision with a very extensive and very stringent\nsocial obligation, that of not impairing our confidence in one another's\nassertions. Without maintaining that there are no conceivable\ncircumstances under which a man would be justified in committing a\nbreach of veracity, it may at least be said that, in the lives of most\nmen, there is not likely to occur any case in which the greater social\ngood would not be attained by the observation of the general rule to\ntell the truth rather than by the recognition of an exception in favour\nof a lie, even though that lie were told for purely benevolent reasons.\nIn all those circumstances in which there is a keen sense of\ncomradeship, as at school or college, or in the army or navy, this is a\nprinciple which requires to be constantly kept in view, and to be\nconstantly enforced. The not infrequent breach of it, under such\ncircumstances, affords a striking illustration of the manner in which\nthe laws of honour, spoken of in the first chapter, occasionally\nover-ride the wider social sentiment and even the dictates of personal\nmorality, _Esprit de corps_ is, doubtless, a noble sentiment, and, on\nthe whole, productive of much good, but, when it comes into collision\nwith the more general rules of morality, its effects are simply\npernicious. I will next take an example of the conflict between two\nimpulses, each having for its object the good of others, from the very\nfamiliar case of a man having to appoint to, or vote in the election to,\na vacant office or situation. The interests of the public service or of\nsome institution require that the most competent candidate should be\npreferred. But a relative, or a friend, or a political ally is standing.\nAffection, therefore, or friendship, or loyalty to party ties often\ndictates one course of conduct, and regard for the public interests\nanother. When the case is thus plainly stated, there are probably few\nmen who would seriously maintain that we ought to subordinate the wider\nto the narrower considerations, and still, in practice, there are few\nmen who have the courage to act constantly on what is surely the right\nprinciple in this matter, and, what is worse still, even if they did,\nthey would not always be sustained by public opinion, while they would\nbe almost certain to be condemned by the circle in which they move. So\nfrequently do the difficulties of this position recur, that I have often\nheard a shrewd friend observe that no man who was fit for the exercise\nof patronage would ever desire to be entrusted with it. The moral rule\nin ordinary cases is plain enough; it is to appoint or vote for the\ncandidate who is most competent to fulfil the duties of the post to be\nfilled up. There are exceptional cases in which it may be allowable\nslightly to modify this rule, as where it is desirable to encourage\nparticular services, or particular nationalities, or the like, but, even\nin these cases, the rule of superior competency ought to be the\npreponderating consideration. Parliamentary and, in a lesser degree,\nmunicipal elections, of course, form a class apart. Here, in the\nselection of candidates within the party, superior competency ought to\nbe the guiding consideration, but, in the election itself, the main\nobject being to promote or prevent the passing of certain public\nmeasures, the elector quite rightly votes for those who will give effect\nto his opinions, irrespectively of personal qualifications, though, even\nin these cases, there might be an amount of unfitness which would\nwarrant neutrality or opposition. Peculiarly perplexing cases of\ncompetition between the rival claims of others sometimes occur in the\ndomain of the resentful feelings, which, in their purified and\nrationalised form, constitute the sense of justice. My servant, or a\nfriend, or a relative, has committed a theft. Shall I prosecute him? A\ngeneral regard to the public welfare undoubtedly demands that I should\ndo so. There are few obligations more imperative on the individual\ncitizen than that of denouncing and prosecuting crime. But, in the\npresent case, there is the personal tie, involving the obligation of\nprotection and assistance. This tie, obviously, must count for\nsomething, as a rival consideration. No man, except under the most\nextreme circumstances, would prosecute his wife, or his father, or his\nmother. The question, then, is how far this consideration is to count\nagainst the other, and much must, evidently, depend on the degree of\nrelationship or of previous intimacy, the time and amount and kind of\nservice, and the like. A similar conflict of motives arises when the\npunishment invoked would entail the culprit's ruin, or that of his wife\nor family or others who are dependent upon him. It is impossible, in\ncases of this kind, to lay down beforehand any strict rules of conduct,\nand the rectitude of the decision must largely turn on the experience,\nskill, and honesty of the person who attempts to resolve the difficulty.\n\nInstances of the last division, where the conflict is between the\npleasure or advantage of others and a disproportionate injury to\noneself, are of comparatively infrequent occurrence. It is not often\nthat a man hesitates sufficiently between his own manifest disadvantage\nand the small gains or pleasures of his neighbours to make this class of\ncases of much importance to the moralist. As a rule, we may be trusted\nto take care of ourselves, and other people credit us sufficiently with\nthis capacity not to trade very much upon the weakness of mere\ngood-nature, however much they may trade upon our ignorance and folly.\nThe most familiar example, perhaps, of acts of imprudence of the kind\nhere contemplated is to be found in the facility with which some people\nyield to social temptations, as where they drink too much, or bet, or\nplay cards, when they know that they will most likely lose their money,\nout of a feeling of mere good fellowship; or where, from the mere desire\nto amuse others, they give parties which are beyond their means. The\ngravest example is to be found in certain cases of seduction. Instances\nof men making large and imprudent sacrifices of money for inadequate\nobjects are very rare, and are rather designated as foolish than wrong.\nWith regard to all the failings and offences which fall under this head,\nit may be remarked that, from their false show of generosity, society is\napt to treat them too venially, except where they entail degradation or\ndisgrace. If it be asked how actions of this kind, seeing that they are\ndone out of some regard to others, can be described as involving\nself-indulgence, or the resistance to them can be looked on in the light\nof sacrifice, it may be replied that the conflict is between a feeling\nof sociality or a spirit of over-complaisance or the like, on the one\nside, and a man's self-respect or a regard to his own highest interests,\non the other, and that some natures find it much easier to yield to the\nformer than to maintain the latter. It is quite possible that the spirit\nof sacrifice may be exhibited in the maintenance, against temptation, of\na man's own higher interests, and the spirit of self-indulgence in\nweakly yielding to a perverted sympathy or an exaggerated regard for the\nopinions of others.\n\nBefore concluding this chapter, there are a few objections to be met and\nexplanations to be made. In the first place, it may be objected that the\ntheory I have adopted, that the moral feeling is excited only where\nthere has been a conflict of motives, runs counter to the ordinary view,\nthat acts proceeding from a virtuous or vicious habit are done without\nany struggle and almost without any consciousness of their import. I do\nnot at all deny that a habit may become so perfect that the acts\nproceeding from it cease to involve any struggle between conflicting\nmotives, but, in this case, I conceive that our approbation or\ndisapprobation is transferred from the individual acts to the habit from\nwhich they spring, and that what we really applaud or condemn is the\ncharacter rather than the actions, or at least the actions simply as\nindicative of the character. And the reason that we often praise or\nblame acts proceeding from habit more than acts proceeding from\nmomentary impulse is that we associate such acts with a good or evil\ncharacter, as the case may be, and, therefore, include the character as\nwell as the acts in the judgment which we pass upon them.\n\nIt may possibly have occurred to the reader that, in the latter part of\nthis chapter, I have been somewhat inconsistent in referring usually to\nthe social sanction of praise and blame rather than to the distinctively\nmoral sanction of self-approbation and self-disapprobation. I have\nemployed this language solely for the sake of convenience, and to avoid\nthe cumbrous phraseology which the employment of the other phrases would\nsometimes have occasioned. In a civilized and educated community, the\nsocial sentiment may, on almost all points except those which involve\nobscure or delicate considerations of morality, be taken to be identical\nwith the moral sentiment of the most reflective members of the society,\nand hence in the tolerably obvious instances which I have selected there\nwas no need to draw any distinction between the two, and I have felt\nmyself at liberty to be guided purely by considerations of convenience.\nAll that I have said of the praise or blame, the applause or censure, of\nothers, of course, admits of being transferred to the feelings with\nwhich, on reflexion, we regard our own acts.\n\nI am aware that the expressions, 'higher and lower good,' 'greater and\nlesser good,' are more or less vague. But the traditional acceptation of\nthe terms sufficiently fixes their meaning to enable them to serve as a\nguide to moral conduct and moral feeling, especially when modified by\nthe experience and reflexion of men who have given habitual attention to\nthe working of their own motives and the results of their own practice.\nAs I shall shew in the next chapter, any terms which we employ to\ndesignate the test of moral action and the objects of the moral feeling\nare indefinite, and must depend, to some extent, on the subjective\ninterpretation of the individual. All that we can do is to avail\nourselves of the most adequate and intelligible terms that we can find.\nBut, admitting the necessary indefiniteness of the terms, it may be\nasked whether it can really be meant, as a general proposition, that the\npraise of others and our approbation of ourselves, on reflexion, attach\nto acts in which we subordinate our own good to the greater good of\nothers, however slight the preponderance of our neighbour's good over\nout own may be. If we have to undergo an almost equal risk in order to\nsave another, or, in order to promote another's interests, to forego\ninterests almost as great, is not our conduct more properly designated\nas weak or quixotic, than noble or generous? This would not, I think, be\nthe answer of mankind at large to the question, or that of any person\nwhose moral sentiments had been developed under healthy influences. When\na man, at the risk of his own life, saves another from drowning, or, at\na similar risk, protects his comrade in battle, or, rushing into the\nmidst of a fire, attempts to rescue the helpless victims, surely the\nfeeling of the bystanders is that of admiration, and not of pity or\ncontempt. When a man, with his life in his hands, goes forth on a\nmissionary or a philanthropic enterprise, like Xavier, or Henry Martyn,\nor Howard, or Livingstone, or Patteson, or when a man, like Frederick\nVyner, insists on transferring his own chance of escape from a murderous\ngang of brigands to his married friend, humanity at large rightly\nregards itself as his debtor, and ordinary men feel that their very\nnature has been ennobled and exalted by his example. But it is not only\nthese acts of widely recognised heroism that exact a response from\nmankind. In many a domestic circle, there are men and women, who\nhabitually sacrifice their own ease and comfort to the needs of an aged\nor sick or helpless relative, and, surely, it is not with scorn for\ntheir weakness that their neighbours, who know their privations, regard\nthem, but with sympathy and respect for their patience and self-denial.\nThe pecuniary risks and sacrifices which men are ready to make for one\nanother, in the shape of sureties and bonds and loans and gifts, are\nfamiliar to us all, and, though these are often unscrupulously wrung\nfrom a thoughtless or over-pliant good-nature, yet there are many\ninstances in which men knowingly, deliberately, and at considerable\ndanger or loss to themselves, postpone their own security or convenience\nto the protection or relief of their friends. It is in cases of this\nkind, perhaps, that the line between weakness and generosity is most\ndifficult to draw, and, where a man has others dependent on him for\nassistance or support, the weakness which yields to the solicitations of\na reckless or unscrupulous friend may become positively culpable.\n\nThe last class of instances will be sufficient to shew that it is not\nalways easy to determine where the good of others is greater than our\nown. Nor is it ever possible to determine this question with\nmathematical exactness. Men may, therefore, be at least excused if,\nbefore sacrificing their own interests or pleasures, they require that\nthe good of others for which they make the sacrifice shall be plainly\npreponderant. And, even then, there is a wide margin between the acts\nwhich we praise for their heroism, or generosity, or self-denial, and\nthose which we condemn for their baseness, or meanness, or selfishness.\nIt must never be forgotten, in the treatment of questions of morality,\nthat there is a large number of acts which we neither praise nor blame,\nand this is emphatically the case where the competition is between a\nman's own interests and those of his neighbours. We applaud generosity;\nwe censure meanness: but there is a large intermediate class of acts\nwhich can neither be designated as generous nor mean. It will be\nobserved that, in my enumeration of the classes of acts to which praise\nand blame, self-approbation and self-disapprobation attach, I have\ncarefully drawn a distinction between the invariable connexion which\nobtains between certain acts and the ethical approval of ourselves or\nothers, and the only general connexion which obtains between the\nomission of those acts and the ethical feeling of disapproval. Simply to\nfall short of the ethical standard which we approve neither merits nor\nreceives censure, though there is a degree of deficiency, determined\nroughly by society at large and by each individual for himself, at which\nthis indifference is converted into positive condemnation. A like\nneutral zone of acts which we neither applaud nor condemn, of course,\nexists also in the case of acts which simply affect ourselves or simply\naffect others, though it does not seem to be so extensive as in the case\nwhere the conflict of motives is between the interests of others and\nthose of ourselves.\n\nIn determining the cases in which we shall subordinate our own interests\nto those of others, or do good to others at our own risk or loss, it is\nessential that we should take account of the remote as well as the\nimmediate effects of actions; and, moreover, that we should enquire into\ntheir general tendencies, or, in other words, ask ourselves what would\nhappen if everybody or many people acted as we propose to act. Thus, at\nfirst sight, it might seem as if a rich man, at a comparatively small\nsacrifice to himself, might promote the greater good of his poor\nneighbours by distributing amongst them what to them would be\nconsiderable sums of money. If I have ten thousand a year, why should I\nnot make fifty poor families happy by endowing them with a hundred a\nyear each, which to them would be a handsome competency? The loss of\nfive thousand a year would be to me simply an abridgment of superfluous\nluxuries, which I could soon learn to dispense with, while to them the\ngain of a hundred a year would be the substitution of comfort for penury\nand of case for perpetual struggle. The answer is that, in the first\nplace, I should probably not, in the long run, be making these families\nreally happy. The change of circumstances would, undoubtedly, confer\nconsiderable pleasure, while it continued to be a novelty, but their\nimproved circumstances, when they became accustomed to them, would soon\nbe out-balanced by the _ennui_ produced by want of employment; while,\nthe motive to exertion being removed, and the taste for luxuries\nstimulated, they or the next generation would probably lapse again into\npoverty, which would be all the more keenly felt for their temporary\nenjoyment of prosperity. Moreover, I should be injuring the community at\nlarge, by withdrawing a number of persons from industrial employments\nand transferring them to the non-productive classes. Again, if the five\nthousand a year were withdrawn not from my personal expenditure, but\nfrom industrial enterprises in which I was engaged, I should be actually\ndepriving the families of many workmen and artisans of the fruits of\ntheir honest labour for the purpose of enabling a smaller number of\nfamilies to live in sloth and indolence. But, now, suppose the case I\nhave imagined to become a general one, and that it was a common\noccurrence for rich men to dispense their superfluous wealth amongst\ntheir poorer neighbours, without demanding any return in labour or\nservices. The result would inevitably be the creation of a large class\nof idle persons, who would probably soon become a torment to themselves,\nwhile their descendants, often brought up to no employment and with an\ninsufficient income to support them, would probably lapse into\npauperism. The effect on the community at large, if the evil became\nwidely spread, would be the paralysis of trade and commerce. Of course,\nI am aware that these evils would be, to a certain extent, modified in\npractice by the good sense of the recipients, some of whom might employ\ntheir money on reproductive industries instead of on merely furnishing\nthemselves with the means of living at their ease; but that the general\ntendency would be that which I have intimated no one, I think, who is\nacquainted with the indolent propensities of human nature, can well\ndoubt. Similar results might be shewn to follow from an indiscriminate\ndistribution of charity on a smaller scale. It seems hard-hearted to\nrefuse a shilling to a beggar, or a guinea to a charitable association,\nwhen one would hardly miss the sum at the end of the week or the month.\nBut, if we could trace all the consequences, direct and remote, of these\napparent acts of benevolence, we should often see that the small act of\nsacrifice on our own part was by no means efficacious in promoting the\n'greater good' of the recipient, and still less of society at large. A\nlife of vagrancy or indolence may easily be made more attractive than\none of honest industry, and well-meant efforts to anticipate all the\nwants and misfortunes of the poor may often have the effect of making\nthem careless of the future and of destroying all elements of\nindependence and providence in their character. Another instance of the\ncontrast between the immediate and remote, or apparent and real, results\nof acts of intended beneficence is to be found in the prodigality with\nwhich well-to-do persons often distribute gratuities amongst servants.\nThese gratuities have the immediate effect of giving gratification to\nthe recipients and securing better service to the donors, but they have\noften the remote and more permanent effect of rendering the recipients\nservile and corrupt, and (as in the case of railway porters) of\ndepriving poorer or less prodigal persons of services to which they are\nequally entitled.\n\nIn adducing these illustrations, I must not be understood to be\nadvocating or defending a selfish employment of superfluous wealth, but\nto be shewing the evils which may result from an unenlightened\nbenevolence, and the importance of ascertaining that the 'greater good\nof others,' to which we sacrifice our own interests or enjoyments, is a\nreal, and not merely an apparent good, and, moreover, that our conduct,\nif it became general, would promote the welfare of the community at\nlarge, and not merely particular sections of it to the injury of the\nrest.\n\nTo sum up the results of this chapter, we may repeat that we must\ndistinguish carefully between the intellectual act of moral judgment, or\nthe judgment we pass on matters of conduct, and the emotional act of\nmoral feeling, or the feeling which supervenes upon that judgment, and\nthat, so far as we can give a precise definition of the latter, it is an\nindirect or reflex form of one or other of the sympathetic, resentful,\nor self-regarding feelings, occurring when, on consideration, we realise\nthat, in matters involving a conflict of motives and of sufficient\nimportance to arrest our attention and stimulate our reflexion, one or\nother of these feelings has been gratified or thwarted: moreover, that\nwe praise, in the case of others, and approve, in our own case, all\nthose actions of the above kind, in which a man subordinates his own\nlower to his higher good, or his own good to the greater good of others,\nor, when the interests only of others are at stake, the lesser good of\nsome to the greater good of others, as well as, under certain\ncircumstances, those actions in which he refuses to subordinate his own\ngreater good to the lesser good of others; while we blame, in the case\nof others, and disapprove, in our own case, all those actions of the\nabove kind, in which he manifestly and distinctly (for there is a large\nneutral zone of actions, which we neither applaud nor condemn)\nsubordinates his own higher to his lower good, or the greater good of\nothers to his own lesser good, or, where the interests only of others\nare at stake, the greater good of some to the lesser good of others, or,\nlastly, under certain circumstances, the lesser good of others to the\ngreater good of himself, especially where that greater good is the good\nof his higher nature.\n\nEven at the present stage of our enquiry, it must be tolerably evident\nto the reader that moral progress, if such a fact exist, will be due\nmainly to the increasing accuracy and the extended applications of our\nmoral judgments, or, in other words, to the development of the rational\nrather than the emotional element in the ethical act. The moral feeling\nfollows on the moral judgment, and awards praise or blame, experiences\nsatisfaction or dissatisfaction, in accordance with the intellectual\ndecisions which have preceded it. The character of the feeling,\ntherefore, as distinct from its intensity, is already determined for it\nby a previous process. And its intensity is undoubtedly greater amongst\nprimitive and uneducated men than it is in civilized life. Amongst\nourselves, not only are the feelings of approbation and disapprobation\nthemselves largely modified by the account we take of mixed motives,\nqualifying circumstances, and the like, but the expression of, them is\nstill further restrained by the caution which the civilized man\nhabitually practises in the presence of others. Indeed, great, in many\nrespects, as are the advantages of this moderation and restraint, there\nis a certain danger that, as civilisation advances, the approval of\nvirtue and the disapproval of vice may cease to be expressed in\nsufficiently plain and emphatic terms. But, on the other hand, with the\nextension of experience and the ever-improving discipline of the\nintellectual faculties, the moral judgment, we may already presume (for\nthe confirmation of this presumption I must refer to the next chapter),\nwill always be growing in accuracy, receiving further applications, and\nbecoming a more and more adequate representative of facts. The analysis,\ntherefore, of the moral act, with which we have been mainly engaged in\nthe foregoing chapter, besides being essential to the determination of\nany theoretical problem of ethics, has a most important practical\nbearing from the indication which it affords of the direction in which\nmoral progress is, in the future, most likely to be found.\n\nIt must never be forgotten, however, that men may know what is right and\ndo what is wrong, and, hence, the due stimulation of the moral emotions,\nso that they may respond to the improved moral judgments, is at once an\nindispensable branch of moral education and an indispensable condition\nof moral progress. But this is the function, not so much of the\nscientific moralist, as of the parent, the instructor of youth, the\npoet, the dramatist, the novelist, the journalist, the artist, and,\nabove all, of the religious teacher.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE MORAL TEST AND ITS JUSTIFICATION.\n\n\nThe moral feeling, as we have seen, follows immediately and necessarily\non the moral judgment. But what considerations guide the moral judgment?\nOur moral judgments, as we have also seen, are the result of a logical\nprocess of reference to a class or of association with similars. This\nparticular action is like certain other actions, or belongs to a class\nof actions, which we habitually regard as right or wrong, and,\nconsequently, as soon as the reference or association is made, the moral\nfeeling supervenes. Now, in this process, there are two possible sources\nof error. In the first place, the act of reference or association may be\nfaulty, and the action may not really belong to the class to which we\nrefer or really be like the other actions with which we associate it.\nThis fault is one of classification, and can only be remedied, as all\nother faulty acts of classification, by learning to discriminate between\nthe essential and the non-essential marks of similarity, and insisting\non the presence of the essential marks. In criminal cases, this is one\nof the functions of the jury, and, unless they exercise great care, they\nmay easily be mistaken as to whether an alleged act of fraud, theft,\nassault, &c., was really an act of that kind. But, even if the action be\nreferred to its right head, there remains the second question whether we\nare really justified in regarding the class of actions itself as right\nor wrong. Failure to prosecute for or punish heresy or witchcraft was at\none time regarded at least as wrong as failure to punish or prosecute\nfor theft or murder would now be. To decline to fight a duel was, till\nquite recently, to place yourself outside the pale of gentlemen. A\nreluctance to sacrifice herself on the funeral pile of her dead husband\nwas, till the practice of Suttee was abolished by the British\ngovernment, one of the most immoral traits which a Brahman widow could\nexhibit. Now, have we any means of discriminating, and, if so, how do we\ndiscriminate, between those acts which are really, and those which are\nonly reputed, right or wrong? That there is great need of such a test,\nif it can be discovered, is plain. The wide divergences of opinion on\nmatters of conduct in different ages, in different countries, in\ndifferent classes of society, and even amongst men of the same class In\nthe same country and at the same time, shew at once the vast importance\nof ascertaining some common measure of actions, and that there is no\nuniform rule of right and wrong to be found in the human mind itself. If\nthere is such a rule, it must be derived from some external\nconsiderations, and, if there is no such rule, then morality must be, to\na large extent, a matter of prejudice, fancy, and caprice. Now I\nconceive that there is a simple mode of ascertaining whether there is\nany test of actions other than the merely subjective determinations of\nour own minds, or, in other words, whether there are any reasons or\nexternal considerations by which the mind guides itself in its decisions\non matters of conduct. Do our moral opinions merely vary, or do they\ngrow? Is there any progress to be traced in morality, or does it simply\noscillate, within certain limits, round a fixed point? If some 'simple'\nand 'innate' idea of right, or some universal sense, were the test of\nmorality, then we might expect that the moral decisions of all men would\nbe uniform, or, at least, approximately uniform; if, on the other hand,\nthere were no test at all, or, what amounts to much the same thing, a\nmerely personal test, then we might expect that the moral judgments of\nmankind would vary arbitrarily according to the disposition and\ntemperament of each individual man. But, if there be a test derived from\nexternal considerations and capable of being applied to particular cases\nby the ordinary processes of reasoning, then we may fairly expect that,\nas the opportunities of observation and experience increase, the test\nwill be applied more widely and more accurately, and that the science of\nconduct will grow, like all other sciences, with the advance of\nknowledge and of general civilisation. Now, what, as a mutter of fact,\nhas been the case? Can anyone affect to doubt that the morality of\ncivilized countries is far higher and purer, and far better adapted to\nsecure the preservation and progress of society, than the customs of\nsavage or barbaric tribes? Or, however enamoured a man may be of\nclassical antiquity, is there any one who would be prepared to change\nthe ethical code and the prevailing ethical sentiment of modern times\nfor those of the Greeks or Romans? Or, again, should we be willing, in\nthis respect, to go back three hundred, or two hundred, or even one\nhundred years in our own history? Are not the abolition of slavery, the\nimproved and improving treatment of captives taken in war, of women and\nchildren, of the distressed and unfortunate, and even of the lower\nanimals, alone sufficient to mark the difference between the morality of\nearlier and of later times? I shall assume, then, that there is a test\nof conduct, and that this test is of such a character that its continued\napplication, by individual thinkers or by mankind at large, consciously\nor semi-consciously, is sufficient to account for the existence of a\nprogressive morality. But, if so, it must be a test which experience\nenables us to apply with increasing accuracy, and which is derived from\nexternal considerations, or, in other words, from the observation of the\neffects and tendencies of actions. And here I may observe,\nparenthetically, that to make 'conscience' or 'moral reason' or 'moral\nsense' the test of action, as, for instance, Bishop Butler appears to do\nin the case of conscience, is, even on the supposition of the\nindependent existence of these so-called 'faculties,' to confound the\njudge with the law which governs his decisions, the 'faculty' with the\nrules in accordance with which it operates. Limiting ourselves,\ntherefore, to a test which is derived from a consideration of the\nresults, direct and indirect, immediate and remote, of our actions, we\nsimply have to enquire what is the characteristic in these results which\nmen have in view when they try to act rightly, and which they mistake,\nignore, or lose sight of, when they act wrongly.\n\nThere are, in the main, three answers to this question, though they are\nrather different modes, I conceive, of presenting the same idea, than\ndistinct and independent explanations. It may be said that we look to\nthe manner in which the action will affect the happiness or pleasure of\nthose whom it concerns, or their welfare or well-being, or the\ndevelopment or perfection of their character. Now it seems to me that\nthese are by no means necessarily antagonistic modes of speaking, and\nthat, in attempting to determine the test of right action, they are all\nuseful as complementing each other. There is, however, a view of the\nmeasure of actions which, though derived from external considerations,\nis opposed to them all, and which it may be desirable to notice at once,\nwith the object of eliminating it from our enquiry. It is that we are\nonly concerned with actions so far as they affect ourselves, and that,\nproviding we observe the law of the land, which will punish us if we do\nnot observe it, we are under no further obligations to our\nfellow-citizens. This paradox, for such it is, has mainly acquired\nnotoriety though the advocacy of Hobbes, though it has sometimes been\nignorantly attributed to Bentham and other writers of what is called the\nutilitarian school. But, be this as it may, it is so plainly\ninconsistent with some of the most obvious facts of human nature, and\nspecially with the existence of that large and essential group of\nemotions which we call the sympathetic feelings, as well as with the\nconstitution of family, social, and civic life, that it is unnecessary\nhere further to discuss it. The views now generally accepted as to the\norigin of society in the family or tribal relations are alike\nirreconcileable with the selfish psychology from which Hobbes educes his\nsystem of morality and with that 'state of nature in which every man was\nat war with every man' from which he traces the growth of law and\ngovernment. Reverting, therefore, to those tests of conduct which\nrecognise, the independent existence of social as well as self-regarding\nsprings of action, I shall now make some remarks on the appropriateness\nand adequacy, for the purpose of designating such tests, of the three\nclasses of terms, noticed above. To begin with happiness or pleasure.\nTaking happiness to mean the balance of pleasures over pains, and\ndegrees of happiness the proportions of this balance, it will be\nsufficient if I confine myself to the word 'pleasure.' One statement,\nthen, of the test of the morality or rightness of an action is that it\nshould result in a larger amount of pleasure than pain to all those whom\nit affects. But it is at once objected that there is the greatest\nvariety of pleasures and pains, intellectual, moral, aesthetic,\nsympathetic, sensual, and so on; and it is asked how are we to determine\ntheir respective values, and to strike the balance between the\nconflicting kinds? How much sensual pleasure would compensate for the\npangs of an evil conscience, or what amount of intellectual enjoyment\nwould allay the cravings of hunger or thirst? The only escape from this\ndifficulty is frankly to acknowledge that there are some pleasures and\npains which are incommensurable with one other, and that, therefore,\nwhere they are concerned, we must forego the attempt at comparison, and\nso act as to compass the immeasurably greater pleasure or avoid the\nimmeasurably greater pain. Especially is this the case with the\npleasures and pains attendant on the exercise of the moral feelings. A\nman who is tormented with the recollection of having committed a great\ncrime will, as the phrase goes, 'take pleasure in nothing;' while,\nsimilarly, a man who is enjoying the retrospect of having done his duty,\nin some important crisis, will care little for obloquy or even for the\ninfliction of physical suffering. Making this admission, then, as well\nas recognising the fact that our pleasures differ in quality as well as\nin volume, so that the pleasures of the higher part of our nature, the\nreligious, the intellectual, the moral, the aesthetic, the sympathetic\nnature, affect us with a different kind of enjoyment from the sensual\npleasures, or those which are derived from them, we may rightly regard\nthe tendency to produce a balance of pleasure over pain as the test of\nthe goodness of an action, and the effort and intention to perform acts\nhaving this tendency as the test of the morality of the agent. But when\nwe enunciate the production of pleasure as our aim, or the balance of\npleasure-producing over pain-producing results as the test of right\naction, we are not always understood to have admitted these\nexplanations, and, consequently, there is always a danger of our being\nsupposed to degrade morality by identifying it with the gratification,\nin ourselves and others, of the coarser and more material impulses of\nour nature. Though, then, if due distinctions and admissions be made,\nthe tendency to produce, in the long run, the greatest amount of\nhappiness or misery, pleasure or pain, may be taken as the test of the\ngoodness or badness of an action, the phraseology is so misleading, and\nso liable to frustrate the practical objects of the moralist, that it is\ndesirable, if possible, to find terms not equally lending themselves to\nmisinterpretation and perversion. Let us now, then, consider whether we\nare supplied with such terms in the phrases 'perfection' or\n'development' of 'character.' It is a noble idea of human action to\nsuppose that its end is the perfection of individual men, or the\ndevelopment of their various capacities to the utmost extent that is\navailable. And yet, as the phrases 'pleasure' and 'happiness' are apt\ntoo exclusively to suggest material well-being and the gratification of\nthe more animal parts of our nature, so the phrases 'perfection' or\n'development' of 'character' are apt altogether to keep out of sight\nthese necessary pre-suppositions of a healthy and progressive condition\nof humanity. Unless there were some standard of comfortable living, and\na constant effort not only to maintain but to improve it, and unless\nsome zest were given to every-day life by the gratification of the\nappetites, within reasonable limits, and the endeavour to obtain the\nmeans of indulging them, men, constituted as they are, would be in\ndanger of sinking into sloth, squalor, and indigence, and, to the great\nmass of mankind, the opportunity of developing and perfecting their\nhigher nature would never occur. We seem, therefore, to require some\nterm which will not only suggest the highest results of moral endeavour,\nbut also the conditions which, in the case of humanity, are essential to\nthe attainment of those results. Moreover, to a greater extent even than\nthe words 'pleasure' and 'happiness,' the expressions 'perfection' and\n'development' of 'character' are in danger of being supposed to imply an\nexclusive reference to self. It is true that we cannot properly develope\nour characters, much less attain to all the perfection of which they are\ncapable, without quickening the moral feeling and giving larger scope to\nthe sympathetic emotions; but, in the mere attempt to improve their own\nnature, men are very apt to lose sight of their relations to others. The\nphrases ought, however, to be taken, and usually are intended to be\ntaken, to include the effort to improve the character of others as well\nas our own; and if this extension of their meaning be well understood,\nand it is also understood that the development or perfection of\ncharacter implies certain conditions of material comfort and the\ngratification, within reasonable limits, of our appetitive nature, there\nought to be no objection on the part of the moralist to their employment\nfor the purpose of designating the test of right conduct; and, any way,\nthey are useful as supplementing, correcting, and elevating the\nassociations attached to the more commonly employed terms, pleasure and\nhappiness. But are there no terms by which the somewhat exclusive\nassociations connected with the two sets of phrases already examined may\nbe avoided? I venture to suggest that such terms may be found by\nreverting to the old, but now usually discarded, expressions 'welfare'\nand 'well-being.' These words, it seems to me, do not primarily suggest\nmaterial prosperity, like happiness, nor the gratification of the lower\nparts of our nature, like pleasure, nor the exclusive development of the\nhigher parts of our nature, like perfection, but cover the whole ground\nof healthy human activity and the conditions which are favourable to it.\nCorresponding, too, almost exactly with the [Greek: eudaimonia] of\nAristotle, they have the advantage of venerable historic associations.\nLastly, they seem to have less of a personal and more of a social\nreference than any of the other terms employed. We speak, I think, more\nnaturally of the well-being or welfare of society, than of the\nhappiness, pleasure, or perfection of society. I cannot, therefore, but\nthink that the moralist would be wise in at least trying the experiment\nof recurring to these terms in place of those which, in recent systems\nof ethics, have usually superseded them. If it be said that they are\nvague, and that different people will attach different meanings to them,\naccording to their own prepossessions and their own theories of life, I\ncan only reply that this objection applies with at least equal force to\nany of the other terms which we have passed in review. And, if it be\nsaid that our conceptions of well-being and welfare are not fixed, but\nthat our ideas of the nature and proper proportions of their\nconstituents are undergoing constant modification and growth, I may ask\nif this is less the case with regard to happiness, or the sum of\npleasures, or the balance of pleasures over pains, or the perfection or\ndue development of human character, all of which expressions, indeed,\nwhen properly qualified and explained, I acknowledge to be the\nequivalents of those for which I have stated a preference. And here\noccurs a difficulty with respect to all these expressions and ideas. If\ntheir meaning or content is not fixed, and specially if they are\nundergoing a constant change, in the way of growth, with the progress of\nreason and society, how can we employ them as a test of morality, which\nis itself also a variable conception? Surely this is to make one\nindefinite idea the gauge of another indefinite idea. The answer to this\nquestion will, I trust, bring out clearly the nature of a moral test, as\nwell as the different modes of its application.\n\nThe ultimate origin of moral rules, I conceive, so far at least as\nscience can trace them, is to be found in the effort of men to adapt\nthemselves to the circumstances, social and physical, in which they are\nplaced. At first, probably, this process of adaptation was almost\nautomatic and unconscious, but, when men once began consciously to adapt\nmeans to ends, they would soon begin to reflect on their acts, and to\nask themselves the reasons why they had selected this course of conduct\nrather than another. The justifying reasons of their past acts, like the\nimpelling motives of their future acts, could have reference to nothing\nbut the convenience or gratification of themselves or those amongst whom\nthey lived. And the acts which they justified in themselves they would\napprove of in others. Here, then, already we have a test consciously\napplied to the estimation of conduct. Experience shews that this or that\naction promotes some object which is included in the narrow conception\nof well-being entertained by the primitive man. He, therefore, continues\nto act in accordance with the rule which prescribes it, or the habit\nfrom which it proceeds. And, in like manner, if he finds from experience\nthat the action does not promote that object, and he is free to exercise\nhis own choice, he desists from it and, perhaps, tries the experiment of\nsubstituting another. Now, in these cases, it is plain that any judgment\nwhich the man exercises independently, and apart from the society of\nwhich he is a member, is guided solely by the consideration whether the\ncourse of conduct is efficacious in attaining its end, that end being\npart of his conception of the well-being of himself, his family, or his\ntribe. If he thinks about the matter for himself at all, this is the\nonly consideration of which he can take account. There are three courses\nopen to him. He need not reflect on the action at all, but simply follow\nin the wake of his neighbours (and this, of course, is far the commonest\ncase); or, if there is any divergence of opinion about it amongst his\nneighbours, he may deliberate as to whose opinion it is safest to\nfollow; or, lastly, he may consider for himself, whether the action is\nreally the best means of attaining the end aimed at, that is to say, he\nmay test the means by its conduciveness to the end, which is always, in\nsome shape, the welfare of himself or others. If he follows the opinion\nof others, it is plain that their opinion, so far as it has been formed\nindependently, has been formed in the manner above described. The only\nalternative, therefore, is between the acceptance of existing opinions,\nwithout any consideration or examination, and their reference to the\nconception of well-being, or however else the idea may be expressed, as\na measure of their appropriateness and sufficiency. The idea of\nwell-being itself may be inadequate, and even in parts incorrect, and,\nas society advances, it is undoubtedly undergoing a constant process of\nexpansion and rectification; but it seems to me that this regard for\ntheir own welfare or that of others, however we may phrase it, is the\nonly guiding-principle of conduct, in the light of which men can\nreconsider and review their rules. Unless they follow the mere blind\nimpulses of feeling (in which case they do not follow rules at all, but\nsimply act irrationally), or else observe implicitly the maxims of\nconduct which they find prevalent around them, they must, and can only,\nask the question whether it is possible to alter their conduct for the\nbetter, that is to say, whether they can better promote their own\nwelfare or that of others by some modification of their actions. Take\nthe case of Slavery. There was a time when savage or barbaric tribes,\nmoved by a regard to their own interests, and also, we may trust,\ntouched by some compassion for their victims, began to substitute, for\nthe wholesale butchery of their enemies defeated in war, the practice of\nretaining some or all of them for the purposes of domestic or agrarian\nservice. Again, there came a time when, viewed by the side of other\nforms of service which had meanwhile come into existence, slavery, with\nits various incidents, began to shock the philanthropic sentiments of\nthe more civilized races of mankind, while the question also began to be\nraised whether slave-labour was not economically at a disadvantage, when\ncompared with free labour, and the result of these combined\nconsiderations, often aided by a strong and enthusiastic outburst of\npopular feeling, has been the total disappearance of slavery amongst\ncivilized, and its almost total disappearance even amongst barbaric or\nsemi-civilized races. Take, too, the revolting practice, common among\nmany savage tribes, past and present, of killing and eating aged parents\nor other infirm members of the tribe, when engaged in war. This practice\nwhich, at first sight, seems so utterly unnatural, was doubtless\ndictated, in part at least, by the desire to save their victims from the\nworse fate of being tortured and mutilated by their enemies.\nSubsequently, in the history of some of these tribes, there has come a\ntime when it has been discovered that a more humane mode of attaining\nthe same object is to build strong places and leave the feebler folk at\nhome. If we follow the varying marriage customs of savage or barbaric\ntribes, we shall find, in the same way, that they have always been\noriginally framed on reasons of convenience, and that, when they have\nbeen changed, it has been because different views of well-being,\nincluding the needs of purity, closer attachment, increased care of\nchildren, and the like, have begun to prevail. In all these examples,\nwhich might be multiplied to any extent, it is plain that changes of\nconduct are moulded and determined by changes of opinion as to what is\nbest and most suitable for the circumstances of the individual, the\nfamily, the tribe, or whatever the social aggregate may be. And I may\nventure to affirm that, wherever any change of moral conduct takes\nplace, unless it be dictated by blind passion, or mere submission to\nauthority, enforced or voluntary, the change is invariably due to some\nchange of opinion on what constitutes the advantage of the persons whom\nit affects. It is true, therefore, that moral conduct varies, and it is\ntrue that our conceptions of well-being vary, but the two do not vary\nindependently of one another, or either of them capriciously. Increased\nexperience of ourselves and of others, enlarged observation of the\nexternal world, more matured reflexion are constantly expanding and\nrectifying our conceptions of what constitutes human welfare, and to\nthis constantly amended conception are readjusted, from time to time,\nour conduct and our sentiments on the conduct both of ourselves and of\nothers. In brief, then, the conduct of men and the sentiments of men on\nconduct vary with their conceptions of well-being, and their conceptions\nof well-being are determined by experience (including the opportunity\nfor experience) and reflexion.\n\nMy conclusion may, perhaps, be illustrated and enforced by one further\nconsideration. It generally happens, in the progress of society, that,\nafter a number of rules of conduct have been accumulated, they become\nenshrined in some sacred book, some code, or, at least, some constant\nand authoritative tradition. In this manner they may be stereotyped for\nages. Now, after a time, these rules, especially if they are numerous\nand minute, become unsuited, at least in part, to the altered\ncircumstances of the society, and probably bear hardly on many of the\nindividuals composing it. When this condition of things is beginning to\nbe intolerable, there often arises the social reformer, and what is the\ncourse which he pursues? He endeavours to shew how unsuitable the rules\nhave become to attain the ends which they were originally intended to\ncompass, in how much better a manner other rules would attain these\nobjects, how grievously the present rules bear on many classes and\nindividuals in the state, how unequal they are in their incidence, at\nwhat a disadvantage they place the community in comparison with\nneighbouring communities, how easily they may be altered, and the like.\nIn fact, the considerations which he urges may all be included in the\none argument that the existing rules are opposed to the well-being of\nthe state, and that the advantages resulting from their abrogation will\nmore than compensate for any disturbance of existing relations which may\nensue from the change. Apart from force, or mere rant, rhetoric, or\nimposture, it is difficult to see what other resource the reformer has\nopen to him. And, in those cases where there is no accumulation of\nantiquated rules and no need of the individual reformer, but where\nsociety at large has the happy knack of imperceptibly accommodating its\npractice and principles of action to altered circumstances, there can be\nno doubt that it is by considerations of well-being, half conscious\nthough the process of application may be, that the change is directed.\nThe plastic power by which men accommodate their actions and even their\nmaxims of conduct to modifications in surrounding circumstances is one\nof the advantages which they gain by the progress of civilisation. In\nancient society the tyranny of custom is often almost absolute. In\nmodern society changes, which would otherwise require the drastic hand\nof the reformer, are often quietly effected by the gradual and almost\nimperceptible action of the people themselves. It is thus that the\nequity branch of English law, and much of our case law, grew up, giving\nexpression to changes which had already occurred in the current of\npopular opinion. It is thus that the obligation of 'gentlemen' to offer,\non the slightest provocation, and to accept, without questioning, a\n'challenge' to take each other's lives, has, in most civilized\ncountries, now grown obsolete, having gradually become enfeebled\ntogether with the exaggerated military spirit which gave it birth. It is\nthus also that, with an increase of the industrial spirit, with softened\nmanners, and with that quickening of our sympathetic nature which has\ngradually been effected by the teaching of Christianity, a strong\nsentiment against slavery, a respect for human life as such, a regard\nfor the weak, the suffering, the oppressed, and many tender feelings of\na similar kind, have almost insensibly been developed as an essential\nelement in modern civilisation.\n\nThese considerations naturally lead me to notice the two different ways\nin which the test of conduct may be, and as a fact is, applied. One mode\nis the conscious and intentional application of it by the reflective\nman. The other is the semi-conscious and almost instinctive application\nof it by the community at large. In morals, as in the arts, men, almost\nwithout knowing it, are constantly re-adjusting their means to their\nends, feeling their way to some tentative solution of a new difficulty\nor a better solution of an old one, shaping their conduct with reference\nto the special needs of the situation in which they are placed. It is\nthus, for the most part, that new circumstances develope new rules, and\nthat the simple maxims of a primitive people are gradually replaced by\nthe multifarious code of law and morals with which we are now familiar.\nThe guiding principle throughout the process is the conception of their\nown good, comprehending, as it does, not only ease, personal comfort,\nand gratification of the various appetites and desires, which, in the\nearly stages of society, are the preponderating considerations, but also\nthose higher constituents of welfare, both individual and social, which\nattain an ever-increasing importance as society advances, such as are\nthe development of the moral, the intellectual, and the aesthetic\nfaculties; the purification of the religious sentiments, the expansion\nof the sympathetic feelings, the diffusion of liberty and prosperity,\nthe consolidation of national unity, the elevation of human life. This\nprinciple works throughout the community, actuating some men in its\nhigher, others in its lower forms; but, except where the force of\ntradition or prejudice is too strong for it, invariably moulding conduct\ninto accordance with the more complex requirements of advancing\ncivilisation. Its action, of course, is not wholly advantageous. Growing\nneeds and more complicated relations suggest to men fresh devices for\ncompassing their selfish ends, such as the various forms of fraud,\nforgery, and conspiracy, as well as more enlarged or more effective\nschemes of beneficence, stricter or more intelligent applications of the\nprinciple of justice, and possibilities of higher and freer developments\nof their faculties. But, on the whole, and setting aside as exceptional\ncertain periods of retrogression, such as the decline of the Roman\nEmpire, the evolution of society seems to be attended by the progress of\nmorality, and specially by the amelioration of social relations, whether\nbetween individuals, families, or states. The intelligence that\napprehends the greater good re-acts upon the desire to attain it, and\nthe result is the combination of more rational aims with a purer\ninterest in the pursuit of them.\n\nThis tendency in society at large to modify and re-adjust its conduct in\nconformity with fuller and more improved conceptions of well-being,\nwhich are themselves suggested by a growing experience, is reinforced,\nespecially in the later stages of civilisation, by the consciously\nreflective action of philosophers and reformers. It is the function of\nthese classes not only to give expression to the thoughts which are\nworking obscurely in the minds of other men, but also to detect those\naspects and bearings of conduct which are not obvious to the general\nintelligence. This task is effected partly by tracing actions to their\nindirect and remote results, partly by more distinctly realising their\nresults, whether immediate or remote, direct or indirect, and partly by\ngeneralising them, that is to say, by considering what would happen to\nsociety if men generally were to act in that manner. Thus, take the case\nof lying. In primitive states of society, and even in some more advanced\nnations, no great opprobrium attaches to telling a lie. In ancient\nGreece, for instance, veracity by no means occupied the same prominent\nposition among the virtues that it does among ourselves, and, even now,\nTeutonic races are generally credited with a peculiar sensitiveness on\nthe subject of truthfulness. This improved sentiment as regards veracity\nis, no doubt, partly due to the realisation of its importance and of the\ninconveniences which result from the breaches of it, especially in\ncommercial affairs, by the members of a community at large; but it must\nalso, to a great extent, have been produced by the definite teaching\nconveyed in books, and by moral and religious instructors. Follow out a\nlie to all its consequences, realise the feelings of the person deceived\nby it, when he has discovered the deception, above all, consider what\nwould be the result if men were commonly to deceive one another, and no\nman could place any dependence on the information which his neighbour\ngave him; and then a falsehood excites very different feelings from what\nit does when regarded simply as an isolated act. Or, again, take the\nevasion of taxes. There is probably, even yet, no country in which the\npopular sentiment on this subject is sufficiently enlightened and\nsevere. A man smuggles a box of cigars, or evades paying a tax for his\ndog, or makes an insufficient return of his income, and few of his\nneighbours, if the fact come to their knowledge, think the worse of him.\nThe character and consequences of the action are not obvious, and hence\nthey do not perceive what, on reflexion, or, if guided by proper\ninstruction, they could hardly fail to realise, that the act is really a\ntheft, only practised on the community at large instead of on an\nindividual member of it, and that, if every one were to act in the same\nway, the collection of taxes and, consequently, the administration and\ndefence of the country, the maintenance of its army and navy, its\npolice, its harbours and roads, would become an impossibility, and it\nwould quickly relapse into barbarism. Other familiar instances of the\nadvantage to be derived from the conscious and intentional application\nof the reasoning powers to matters of conduct may be found in the\nsuccessive reforms of the penal code of any civilized country, or in the\nabolition of slavery. Punishment is, in all very early stages of\nsociety, capricious, mostly unregulated by any definite customs or\nenactments, and, consequently, often disproportioned, either in the way\nof excess or defect, to the character of the offence. As the community\nadvances in complexity and intelligence, successive reformers arise who\nattempt, by definite enactment, to regulate the amount of punishment due\nto each description of offence, and, from time to time, to increase or\ndiminish, as occasion seems to require, the severity of the existing\ncode. The considerations by which, at least in our own time, these\nreforms are determined are such as these: the adequacy or inadequacy of\nthe punishment to deter men from the commission of the offence, the\ntendency of excessive punishment to produce a reaction of sentiment in\nfavour of the criminal, and a reluctance on the part of the judge or\njury to convict, the superfluous suffering inflicted by that part of the\npunishment which is in excess of the requirements of the case, due\npublicity and notoriety as a means of warning others, the reform of the\ncriminal himself, and so on. All these considerations, it will be\nobserved, are derived from tracing the effects of the punishment either\non the criminal himself, or on persons who are under a similar\ntemptation to commit the crime, or on the sentiment of society at large,\nor of that portion of society which is connected with the administration\nof justice, and it is only by the exercise of great circumspection, and\nof a keen intelligence on the part of the statesman, the jurist, or the\nmoralist, that grave errors can be avoided, and an adequate estimate of\nthe probable results can be formed. The mere instinct of the community,\nunmodified and uncorrected by the conscious speculations of its more\nthoughtful members, would be in much danger of either causing a large\namount of needless suffering to the criminal, or of seriously\ndiminishing the security of society. It would almost certainly be guilty\nof grave inequalities in the apportionment of punishment to specific\ncrimes. The history of slavery similarly shews the importance of the\nfunctions of the moralist and the reformer. It must have been at the\nsuggestion of some prominent member of a tribe, whose intelligence was\nin advance of that of his fellows, that men first took to capturing\ntheir defeated enemies, with a view to future service, instead of\nslaughtering them on the field of battle. And we know that, in the time\nof Plato and Aristotle, there had already arisen a strong sentiment\nagainst the enslaving of Greeks by Greeks, originating probably in the\ninstinctive sympathy of race, but quickened and fostered, doubtless, by\nthe superior capacity which men possess of realising suffering and\nmisfortune in those who are constituted and endowed like themselves, by\nthe new conception of a Pan-hellenic unity, and by the vivid sense\nwhich, on reflexion, the citizens of each state must have entertained of\ntheir own liability to be reduced, in turn, to the same condition. In\nmodern times, the movement which has led to the entire abolition of\nslavery in civilized countries owes much, undoubtedly, to the softened\nmanners and wider sympathies of a society largely transformed by the\ncombined operation of Christianity and culture, but it has been\npromoted, to no inconsiderable degree, by conscious reflexion and direct\nargument. Social and religious reasons, derived from the community of\nnature and origin in man, reinforced by a vivid realisation of the\nsufferings of others, and appealing forcibly to the tender and\nsympathetic feelings, have co-operated with the economical\nconsiderations drawn from the wastefulness and comparative inefficiency\nof slave labour, and with what may be called the self-regarding reason\nof the hardening and debasing effect of slave-owning on the character of\nthe slave-owner himself.\n\nIt will be sufficient, in this connexion, simply to allude to the ideals\nof mercy, purity, humility, long-suffering, and self-denial, which are\npourtrayed in the Christian teaching and have, ever since the early days\nof Christianity, exercised so vast and powerful an influence on large\nsections of mankind.\n\nThere is, of course, a process of constant Interaction going on between\nthe two elements in the constitution of moral sentiment which I have\nbeen attempting to describe. The circumstances, opinions, and feelings\nof the society of which he is a member, must necessarily contribute to\ndetermine the opinions and feelings, the character and aims, of the\nmoralist or the reformer. In turn, the moralist or reformer modifies,\ncorrects, and elevates the current moral sentiment of those who are\nbrought within the influence of his work. And this result is usually a\npermanent one. When the average moral sentiment on a particular point of\nconduct has been consciously raised, and the change is fully realised,\nit seldom happens that it afterwards recedes, though the automatic or\nsemi-conscious adaptations of society to new needs and circumstances,\nwhen regarded from a more general point of view, are not infrequently\nfound to be regressive as well as progressive. Thus, though we may\nimagine the distinctions between the different classes of society\nbecoming more numerous or more accentuated (as I believe to have\nactually occurred in England during the present century), or the evasion\nof taxation becoming more general than it at present is, we can hardly\nconceive a recurrence to slavery, or a needless increase in the severity\nof punishments, or a revival of the hard-drinking habits of the last\ncentury. When society is fully aware of its moral gains, it is not\nlikely knowingly to surrender them. Hence, allowing for occasional\noscillations and for possible exceptions in certain departments of\nconduct, morality, as a whole, almost necessarily advances with the\ngeneral progress of intelligence.\n\nIt is not altogether easy to adjust the respective claims of society at\nlarge and of the individual thinker in the constitution of moral theory,\nor, in other words, to determine the limits within which the speculative\nmoralist may legitimately endeavour to reform the existing moral\nsentiment. It is plain that it must be open to the moralist, and, in\nfact, to every intelligent citizen, to criticize the current morality,\nor else moral progress, even if it took place at all, would, on many\npoints of conduct, be exceedingly slow. But, on the other hand, it is\nequally plain that a constant discussion of the accepted rules of\nconduct would weaken the moral sentiment, lessen the sense of\nobligation, and suggest a general uncertainty as to the validity of the\nmaxims which, in their relations to one another, men usually take for\ngranted. Hence, though it would be almost fatal to moral progress to\ndiscourage speculation on moral topics, the moralist must always bear in\nmind that his task is one which is not lightly to be undertaken, and\nthat, with an exception to be noticed presently, the presumption should\nalways be in favour of existing rules of conduct. If for no other\nreason, this presumption ought to be made on the practical ground that a\ndisturbance of the moral sentiment on one point is likely to weaken its\nforce generally, and, before we expose men to this danger, we ought to\nhave some adequate justification. But there is also the speculative\nground that any given society, and indeed mankind generally, has been\nengaged for ages in feeling its way, instinctively or semi-consciously,\ntowards a solution of the self-same problems which the philosopher is\nattempting to solve consciously and of set purpose. That, on the whole,\na society has solved these problems in the manner best suited to its\nexisting needs and circumstances may fairly be taken for granted, and,\neven where the ethical stand-point of the reformer is very superior to\nthe stand-point of the society which he wishes to reform, he will be\nwise in endeavouring to introduce his reforms gradually, and, if\npossible, in connexion with principles already acknowledged, rather than\nin attempting to effect a moral revolution, the ultimate results of\nwhich it may be impossible to foresee. The work of the moralist is,\ntherefore, best regarded as corrective of, and supplementary to, the\nwork which mankind is constantly doing for itself, and not as\nantagonistic to it. The method is the same in both cases: only it is\napplied semi-consciously, and merely as occasions suggest it, in the one\ncase; consciously and spontaneously in the other. In both cases alike\nthe guiding principle, whether of action or of speculation upon action,\nis the adaptation of conduct to surrounding circumstances, physical and\nsocial, with a view to promote, to the utmost extent possible, the\nwell-being of the individual and of the society of which he is a member.\nWhere the interests of the individual and of the society clash, society,\nthat is to say, a man's fellow-citizens, usually approves, as we saw in\nthe last chapter, of the sacrifice of individual to social interests, a\ncourse of conduct which is also, on reflexion, usually stamped by the\nindividual's own approbation, and hence we may say briefly that their\ntendency to promote or impair the welfare of society is the test by\nwhich, in different ways, all actions are estimated alike by the\nphilosopher, in his hours of speculation, and by the community at large,\nin the practical work of life.\n\nIn laying down the principle that the presumption of the moralist should\nalways be in favour of existing rules of conduct, I intimated that there\nwas one exception to this principle. The exception includes all those\ncases which are legitimate, though not obvious, applications of existing\nrules, and to which, therefore, the ordinary moral sentiment does not\nattach in the same way that it does to the plainer and more direct\napplications. Thus, if it can be shewn, as it undoubtedly can be, that\nsmuggling falls under the head of stealing, and holding out false hopes\nunder that of lying, the moralist need take no account of the lax moral\nsentiment which exists with regard to these practices, though, of\ncourse, in estimating the guilt of the individual as distinct from the\ncharacter of the act, due allowance must be made for his imperfect\nappreciation of the moral bearings of his conduct. This exception, as\nwill be found in the next chapter, covers, and therefore at once\njustifies, a large proportion of the criticisms which, in the present\nadvanced stage of morality, when the more fundamental principles have\nbeen already settled, it is still open to us to make.\n\nIt remains now to enquire what is the justification of the test\npropounded in this chapter. I do not found it on any external\nconsiderations, whether of Law or Revelation, both of which, I conceive,\npresuppose morality, but on the very make and constitution of our\nnature. The justification of the moral test and the source of the moral\nfeeling are alike, I conceive, to be discovered by an examination of\nhuman nature, and, so far as that nature has a divine origin, so far is\nthe origin of morality divine. Whatever the ultimate source of morality\nmay be, to us, at all events, it can only be known as revealed or\nreflected in ourselves. What, then, is it in the constitution of our\nnature, which leads us to aim at the well-being of ourselves and those\naround us, and to measure our own conduct and that of others by the\nextent to which it promotes these ends? In answering this question, I\nmust give a brief account of the ultimate principles of human nature,\nthough this account has been partly anticipated in the last chapter.\nHuman nature, in its last analysis, seems, so far as it is concerned\nwith action, to consist of certain impulses or feelings, and a power of\ncomparing with one another the results which follow from the\ngratification of these feelings, which power reacts upon the several\nfeelings themselves by way of intensifying, checking, or controlling\nthem. This power we call Reason. The feelings themselves fall into two\nprincipal groups, the egoistic or self-regarding feelings, which centre\nin a man's self, and are developed by his personal needs, and the\naltruistic or sympathetic feelings, which centre in others and are\ndeveloped by the social surroundings in which he finds himself placed.\nThese two groups of feelings, I conceive, were independent of one\nanother from the first, or at least as soon as man could be called man,\nand neither of them admits of being resolved into the other. As the one\nwas developed by and adapted to personal needs, so the other was\ndeveloped by and adapted to the manifold requirements of family or\ntribal life, which, from the first, was inseparable from the life of the\nindividual. Intermediate between these two groups of feelings, the\npurely self-regarding and the purely sympathetic, and derived probably\nfrom the interaction of both, is another group, which may be called the\nsemi-social group. This group includes shame, love of reputation, love\nof notoriety, desire of fame, and the like, but, on analysis, it will be\nfound that all these feelings admit of being referred to two heads, the\nlove of approbation and the fear of disapprobation. Lastly, if any of\nour desires or feelings are thwarted by the intentional action of other\nmen, the result in our minds is a feeling which we call Resentment, and\nwhich, though it regards others, is, unlike the sympathetic feelings, a\nmalevolent and not a benevolent feeling. It is important, in considering\nthe economy of human nature, to notice that Resentment, as is also the\ncase with the love of cruelty, is a secondary not a primary, a derived\nnot an original affection of our minds; for, apart from the desire to\ngratify some self-regarding or sympathetic feeling, or disappointment\nwhen that desire is not gratified, there is, I conceive, no such thing\nas ill-feeling in one human being towards another. Resentment is\nproperly a reflex form of sympathy or self-regard, arising when our\nsympathetic feelings are wounded by an injury done to another, or our\nself-regarding desires are frustrated by an injury done to ourselves;\nwhen, in fact, any emotional element in our nature is, by the\nintentional intervention of another, disappointed of attaining its end.\nEach of these groups of feelings admits of being studied apart, though\nin the actual conduct of life they are seldom found to operate alone,\nand each, under the continued action of reason, assumes a form or forms\nin which its various elements are brought into harmonious working with\neach other, so as best to promote the ends which the whole group\nsubserves. These forms, thus rationalised or moralised, if I may be\nallowed the use of such expressions, are, in the case of the\nself-regarding feelings, self-respect and rational self-love; in the\ncase of the sympathetic feelings, rational benevolence; in the case of\nthe semi-social feelings, a reasonable regard for the opinion of others;\nand in the case of the resentful feelings, a sense of justice. These\nhigher forms of the several groups of feelings themselves require to be\nharmonised, before man can satisfy the needs of his nature as a whole.\nAnd, when co-ordinated under the control of reason, they become a\nrational desire for the combined welfare of the individual and of\nsociety, or, if we choose to use different but equivalent expressions,\nof the individual considered as an unit of society, or of society\nconsidered as including the individual. In a settled state of existence,\nthe interests of the individual and of society, even leaving out of\naccount the pleasures and pains of the moral sanction, are, for the most\npart, identical. If an individual pursues a selfish course of conduct,\nneglecting the interests and feelings of others, he is almost certain to\nsuffer for it in the long run. And the prosperity and general well-being\nof the community in which they live is, to citizens, living a normal\nlife and pursuing ordinary avocations, an essential condition of their\nown prosperity and well-being. On the other hand, it is by each man\nattending to his own business and directing his efforts to the promotion\nof his own interests or those of his family, his firm, or whatever may\nbe the smaller social aggregate in which his work chiefly lies, that the\ninterests of the community at large are best secured. Men whose time is\nmainly taken up with philanthropic enterprises are very likely to\nneglect the duties which lie immediately before them. 'To learn and\nlabour truly to get mine own living, and to do my duty in that state of\nlife, unto which it shall please God to call me' is a very homely, but\nit is an essential lesson. That the great mass of the citizens of a\ncountry should lay it well to heart, and act habitually on it, is the\nfirst condition of national prosperity. Of course, this primary regard\nto our own interests, or those of the persons with whom we are more\nimmediately connected, must be limited by wider considerations. A man\nhas duties, not only to himself and his own family, but to his\nneighbours, to the various institutions with which he is connected, to\nhis town, his country, mankind at large, and even the whole sentient\ncreation. How far these should limit each other or a man's individual or\nfamily interests is a question by no means easy to answer, and is the\nmain problem which each man has to be perpetually solving for himself,\nand society at large for us all. There is hardly any waking hour in\nwhich we have not to attempt to settle rival claims of this kind, and,\naccording as we settle them to our own satisfaction or not, so have we\npeace or trouble of mind. No one can reasonably deny that the more\nimmediate interests of the individual and of the various social\naggregates, including society at large, are frequently in conflict. It\nseems to me, I must confess, that it is also futile to deny that there\nare occasions, though such occasions may be rare, in which even a man's\ninterests in the long run are incompatible with his social duties. To\ntake one or two instances. It may sometimes be for the good of society\nthat a man should speak out his mind freely on some question of private\nconduct or public policy, though his utterances may be on the unpopular\nside or offend persons of consideration and influence. The man performs\nwhat he conceives to be his duty, but he knows that, in doing so, he is\nsacrificing his prospects. Or, again, he is invited to join in some\npopular movement which he believes to be of a questionable or pernicious\ntendency, and, because he believes that to take part in it would be\nuntrue to his own convictions and possibly harmful to others, he\nrefrains from doing so, at the risk of losing preferment, or custom, or\npatronage. Then, we are all familiar with the difficulties in which men\nare often placed, when they have to record a vote; their convictions and\nthe claims of the public service being on one side, and their own\ninterests and prospects on the other. In all these cases it is true\nthat, if their moral nature be in a healthy condition, they approve, on\nreflexion, of having taken the more generous course, while it is often a\nmatter of life-long regret if they have sacrificed their nobler impulses\nto their selfish interests. And, taking into account these\nafter-feelings of self-approbation and self-disapprobation, it is often\nthe case, and is always the case where these feelings are very strong,\nthat a man gains more happiness, in the long run, by following the path\nof duty and obeying his social impulses than by confining himself to the\nnarrow view which would be dictated by a cool calculation of what is\nmost likely to conduce to his own private good. But, where the moral\nfeelings are not strong, and still more where they are almost in\nabeyance, I fear that the theory that virtue and happiness are\ninvariably coincident will hardly be supported by a candid examination\nof facts. To some men, I fear it must be acknowledged, present wealth\nand power and dignity are more than a sufficient recompense for any\nremorse which they may continue to feel for past greed or lack of\ncandour or truthfulness. These considerations will serve to shew the\nimmense importance of moral education, alike in the family, the school,\nand the state. If we are to depend on men acting rightly, and with a due\nregard to wider interests than their own, we must take pains to develope\nin them moral feelings sufficiently strong and sensitive to make the\nreflexion on wrong or selfish acts more painful to them than the\nsacrifice which is needed for dutiful and generous conduct. So far as\nsociety, through its various instruments of law and opinion, of\neducation and domestic influences, can effect this object, so far will\nit promote its own security and advancement.\n\nOur adoption, then, of a tendency to promote social welfare or\nwell-being, as the test of conduct, is justified, I conceive, by an\nexamination of the internal constitution of human nature and of the\nconditions which are necessary to secure the harmonious working of its\nvarious parts. It may be objected that this test is vague in its\nconception and difficult in its application. Both objections, to a great\nextent, hold good. If they did not, moral theory and moral practice\nwould be very easy matters, but, as a fact, we know that they are by no\nmeans easy. The conception of social well-being must be more or less\nvague, because we are constantly filling it up by experience; it is not\na fixed, but a growing conception, and, though we may be certain of the\ncharacter and importance of many of the elements which have already been\ndetected in it by the experience of past generations, it seems\nimpossible to fix any limits to its development in the future history of\nmankind. Man will constantly be discovering new wants, new and more\nrefined susceptibilities of his nature, and with them his conception of\nhuman well-being must necessarily grow. But, though not a fixed or final\nconception, the idea of social well-being is sufficiently definite, in\neach generation, to act as a guide and incentive to conduct. It is the\nstar, gradually growing brighter and brighter, which lights our path,\nand, any way, we know that, if it were not above us in the heavens, we\nshould be walking in the darkness.\n\nIt must be confessed that the test of social well-being is not always\neasy of application. Even, when we know what the good of the community\nconsists in, it is not always easy to say what course of action will\npromote it, or what course of action is likely to retard it. Society\narrives, in a comparatively early period of its development, at certain\nbroad rules of conduct, such as those which condemn murder, theft,\ningratitude to friends, disobedience to parents. But the more remote\napplications of these rules, the nicer shades of conduct, such as those\nrelating to social intercourse, the choice between clashing duties, the\nrealisation of our obligations to the community at large, require for\ntheir appreciation a large amount of intelligence and an accumulated\nstock of experience which are not to be found in primitive societies.\nHence, the rules of conduct, which at first are few and simple,\ngradually become more numerous and complex. Nor have we yet arrived at\nthe time, nor do we seem to be within any appreciable distance of it,\nwhen the code is complete, or even the parts of it which already exist\nare altogether free from doubt and discussion. In the simpler relations\nof life, he that runs may read, but with increasing complications comes\nincreasing uncertainty. To remove, as far as may be, this uncertainty\nfrom the domain of conduct is the task of advancing civilisation, and\nspecially of those members of a community who have sufficient leisure,\neducation, and intelligence to review the motives and compare the\nresults of actions. The task has doubtless its special difficulties, and\nthe conclusions of the moralist will by no means always command assent,\nbut that the art of life is an easy one, who is there, at all\nexperienced in affairs or accustomed to reflexion, that will contend?\n\nI may here pause for a moment, in order to emphasise the fact, which is\nalready abundantly apparent from what has preceded, that, with ever\nwidening and deepening conceptions of well-being, man is constantly\nlearning to subordinate his individual interests to those of society at\nlarge, or rather to identify his interests with those of the larger\norganism of which he is a part. It is thus that we may justify the\npeculiar characteristic of the moral sentiment, indicated in the last\nchapter, which seems, in all acts of which it approves, to demand an\nelement of sacrifice, whether of the lower to the higher self, or of the\nindividual to his fellows. In order thoroughly to realise ourselves, we\nmust be conscious of our absorption, or at least of our inclusion, in a\ngreater and grander system than that of our individual surroundings; in\norder to find our lives, we must first discover the art of losing them.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nPRACTICAL APPLICATIONS OF THE MORAL TEST.\n\n\nIn this chapter I propose, without any attempt to be exhaustive or\nsystematic, to give some examples of the manner in which the test of\nconduct may be applied to practical questions, either by extending\nexisting rules to cases which do not obviously fall under them, or by\nsuggesting more refined maxims of conduct than those which are commonly\nprevalent. In either case, I am accepting the somewhat invidious task of\npointing out defects in the commonly received theory, or the commonly\napproved practice, of morality. But, if morality is progressive, as I\ncontend that it is, and progresses by the application to conduct of a\ntest which itself involves a growing conception, the best mode of\nexhibiting the application of that test will be in the more recent\nacquisitions or the more subtle deductions of morality, rather than in\nits fundamental rules or most acknowledged maxims.\n\nI shall begin with a topic, the examples of which are ready to hand, and\nmay easily be multiplied, to almost any extent, by the reader for\nhimself--the better realisation of our duties to society at large as\ndistinct from particular individuals. When the primary mischief\nresulting from a wrong act falls upon individuals, and especially upon\nour neighbours or those with whom we are constantly associating, it can\nhardly escape our observation. And, even if it does, the probability is\nthat our attention will be quickly called to it by the reprobation of\nothers. But, when the consequences of the act are diffused over the\nwhole community, or a large aggregate of persons, so that the effect on\neach individual is almost imperceptible, we are very apt to overlook the\nmischief resulting from it, and so not to recognise its wrongful\ncharacter, while, at the same time, from lack of personal interest,\nothers fail to call us to account. Hence it is that men, almost without\nany thought, and certainly often without any scruple, commit offences\nagainst the public or against corporations or societies or companies,\nwhich they would themselves deem it impossible for them to commit\nagainst individuals. And yet the character of the acts is exactly the\nsame. Take smuggling. A man smuggles cigars or tobacco to an amount by\nwhich he saves himself twenty shillings, and defrauds the state to the\nsame extent. This is simply an act of theft, only that the object of the\ntheft is the community at large and not an individual. So far as the\nmischief or wrongfulness of the act goes, apart from the intention of\nthe agent, he might as well put his hands into the pocket of one of his\nfellow-passengers and extract the same amount of money. The twenty\nshillings which, by evading payment of the duty, he has appropriated to\nhis own uses, has been taken from the rest of the tax-payers, and he has\nsimply shifted on to them the obligation which properly attached to\nhimself. Sooner or later they must make up the deficit. If many men were\nto act in the same way, the burden of the honest tax-payer would be\nlargely increased, and, if the practice became general, the state would\nhave to resort to some other mode of taxation or collect its\ncustoms-revenue at a most disproportionate cost. Thus, a little\nreflexion shows that smuggling is really theft, and I cannot but think\nthat it would be to the moral as well as the material advantage of the\ncommunity if it were called by that name, and were visited with the same\npunishment as petty larceny. Exactly the same remarks, of course, apply\nto the evasion of income-tax, or of rates or taxes of any kind, which\nare imposed by a legitimate authority. Travelling on a railway without a\nticket or in a higher class or for a greater distance than that for\nwhich the ticket was taken is, similarly, only a thinly disguised case\nof theft, and should be treated accordingly. The sale or purchase of\npirated editions of books is another case of the same kind, the persons\nfrom whom the money is stolen being the authors or publishers. Many\npaltry acts of pilfering, such as the unauthorised use of\ngovernment-paper or franks, or purloining novels or letter-paper from a\nclub, or plucking flowers in a public garden, fall under the same head\nof real, though not always obvious, thefts. There is, of course, a\ncertain degree of pettiness which makes them insignificant, but there is\nalways a danger lest men should think too lightly of acts of this kind,\nwhether done by themselves or others. The best safeguard, perhaps,\nagainst thoughtless wrong-doing to the community or large social\naggregates is to ask ourselves these two questions: Should we commit\nthis act, or what should we think of a man who did commit it, in the\ncase of a private individual? What would be the result, if every one who\nhad the opportunity were to do the same? Many of these acts would, then,\nstand out in their true light, and we should recognise that they are not\nonly mean but criminal.\n\nOther, but analogous, instances of the failure of men to realise their\nobligations to society or to large social aggregates are to be found in\nthe careless and perfunctory manner in which persons employed by\ngovernment, or by corporations, or large companies, often perform their\nduties. If they were in the service of a private employer, they would at\nall events realise, even if they did not act on their conviction, that\nthey were defrauding him by idling away their time or attending to their\nown affairs, or those of charities or institutions in which they were\ninterested, when they ought to be attending to the concerns of their\nemployer. But in a government or municipal office, or the establishment\nof a large company, no one in particular seems to be injured by the\nineffective discharge of their functions; and hence it does not occur to\nthem that they are receiving their wages without rendering the\nequivalent of them. The inadequate supervision which overlooks or\ncondones this listlessness is, of course, itself also the result of a\nsimilar failure to realise responsibility.\n\nThe spirit in which patronage is often administered affords an instance\nof a similar kind. If a man were engaging a person to perform some\nservice for himself or his family, or one of his intimate friends, he\nwould simply look to competency, including, perhaps, moral character,\nfor the special work to be done. But, when he has to appoint to a public\npost, and especially if he is only one of a board of electors, he is\nvery apt to think that there is no great harm in appointing or voting\nfor a relative or friend, or a person who has some special bond of\nconnexion with him, such as that of political party, though he may not\nbe the candidate best qualified for the position. And, if it does occur\nto him that he is acting wrongly, he is more likely to think of the\nwrong which he is doing to the individual who possesses the highest\nqualifications (and to him it is an undoubted wrong, for it frustrates\njust expectations) than of the wrong which he is doing to the community\nor the institution which he is depriving of the services of the fittest\nman. And yet, if he takes the trouble to reflect, he must see that he is\nguilty of a breach of trust; that, having undertaken a public duty, he\nhas abused the confidence reposed in him.\n\nA vote given in return for a bribe, a case which now seldom occurs\nexcept in parliamentary elections, is open to the same ethical\nobjections as a vote given on grounds of partiality; and, as the motive\nwhich dictates the breach of trust is purely selfish, it incurs the\nadditional reproach of meanness. But why, it may be asked, should not a\nman accept a bribe, if, on other grounds, he would vote for the\ncandidate who offers it? Simply, because he is encouraging a practice\nwhich would, in time, deprive Parliament of most of its more competent\nmembers, and reduce it to an oligarchy of millionaires, as well as\ndegrading himself by a sordid act. To receive a present for a vote, even\nif the vote be given conscientiously, is to lend countenance to a\npractice which must inevitably corrupt the consciences, and pervert the\njudgment, of others. It hardly needs to be pointed out that the man who\noffers the bribe is acting still more immorally than the man who accepts\nit. He is not only causing others to act immorally, but, as no man can\nbe a proper judge of his own competency, he is attempting to thrust\nhimself into an office of trust without any regard to his fitness to\nfill it. Intimidation, on the part of the man who practises it, is on\nthe same ethical level as bribery, with respect to the two points just\nmentioned; but, as it appeals to the fears of men instead of their love\nof gain, and costs nothing to him who employs it, it is more odious, and\ndeserves, at the hands of the law, a still more severe punishment. To\nyield to intimidation is, under most circumstances, more excusable than\nto yield to bribery; for the fear of losing what one has is to most men\na more powerful inducement than the hope of gaining what one has not,\nand, generally speaking, the penalty threatened by the intimidator is\nfar in excess of the advantage offered by the briber.\n\nAs it betrays a vain and grasping disposition, when a man attempts to\nthrust himself into an office to which he is not called by the\nspontaneous voice of his fellow-citizens, so to refuse office, when\nthere is an evident opportunity of doing good service to the community,\nbetrays pride or indolence, coupled with an indifference to the public\nwelfare. In democratic communities, there is always a tendency on the\npart of what may be called superfine persons to hold aloof from public,\nand especially municipal, life. If this sentiment of fastidiousness or\nindifference were to spread widely, and a fashion which begins in one\nsocial stratum quickly permeates to those immediately below it, there\nwould be great danger, as there seems to be in America, of the public\nadministration becoming seriously and permanently deteriorated. To\nprevent this evil, it is desirable to create, in every community, a\nstrong sentiment against the practice of persons, who have the requisite\nmeans, leisure, and ability, withholding themselves from public life,\nwhen invited by their fellow-citizens to take their part in it. There\nmay, of course, be paramount claims of another kind, such as those of\nscience, or art, or literature, or education, but the superior\nimportance of these claims on the individuals themselves, where they\nobviously exist, and where the claims of the public service are not\nurgent, would readily be allowed.\n\nIt seems to be a rapid transition from cases of this kind to suicide,\nbut, amongst the many reasons, moral and religious, which may be urged\nagainst suicide, there is one which connects itself closely with the\nconsiderations which have just been under our notice. As pointed out\nlong ago by Aristotle, the suicide wrongs the state rather than himself.\nWhere a man is still able to do any service to the state, in either a\nprivate or a public capacity, he is under a social, and, therefore, a\nmoral obligation to perform that service, and, consequently, to withdraw\nfrom it by a voluntary death is to desert the post of duty. This\nconsideration, of course, holds only where a man's life is still of\nvalue to society, but it should be pointed out that, where this ceases\nto be the case, many other considerations often, and some always do,\nintervene. There are few men who have not relatives, friends, or\nneighbours, who will be pained, even if they are not injured materially,\nby an act of suicide, and, wherever the injury is a material one, as in\nthe case of leaving helpless relatives unprovided for, it becomes an act\nof cruelty. Then, under all circumstances, there remain the evil example\nof cowardice and, to those who acknowledge the obligations of religion,\nthe sin of cutting short the period of probation which God has assigned\nus.\n\nAmongst duties to society, which are seldom fully realised in their\nsocial aspect, is the duty of bringing up children in such a manner as\nto render them useful to the state, instead of a burden upon it. Under\nthis head, there are two distinct cases, that of the rich and that of\nthe poor, or, more precisely, that of those who are in sufficiently good\ncircumstances to educate their children without the assistance of the\nstate or of their neighbours, and that of those who require such\nassistance. In the latter case, it is the duty of society to co-operate\nwith the parent in giving the child an education which shall fit it for\nthe industrial occupations of life, and hence the moral obligation on\nthe richer members of a community to provide elementary schools, aided\nby the state or by some smaller political aggregate, or else by\nvoluntary efforts. The object of this assistance is not so much charity\nto the parent or the individual children, as the prevention of crime and\npauperism, and the supply of an orderly and competent industrial class.\nIn rendering the assistance, whether it come from public or private\nfunds, great care ought to be taken not to weaken, but, rather to\nstimulate, the interest of the parent in the child's progress, both by\nassigning to him a share of the responsibility of supervision, and, if\npossible, by compelling him to contribute an equitable proportion of the\ncost. So largely, if not so fully, are the duties of the state and of\nindividuals of the wealthier classes, in the matter of educating the\nchildren of the poor, now recognised, that the dangers arising from a\ndefective or injudicious education seem, in the immediate future, to\nthreaten the richer rather than the poorer classes. Over-indulgence and\nthe encouragement of luxurious habits during childhood; the weakened\nsense of responsibility, on the part of the parent, which is often\ncaused by the transference to others of authority and supervision during\nboyhood or girlhood; the undue stimulation of the love of amusement, or\nof the craving for material comforts, during the opening years of\nmanhood or womanhood; the failure to create serious interests or teach\nadequately the social responsibilities which wealth and position bring\nwith them,--all these mistakes or defects in the education of the\nchildren of the upper classes constitute a grave peril to society,\nunless they are remedied in time. It seems, so far as we can forecast\nthe future, that it is only by all classes taking pains to ascertain\ntheir respective duties and functions in sustaining and promoting the\nwell-being of the community, and making serious efforts to perform them,\nthat the society of the next few generations can be saved from constant\nconvulsions. As intelligence expands, and a sense of the importance of\nsocial co-operation becomes diffused, it is almost certain that the\nexistence of a merely idle and self-indulgent class will no longer be\ntolerated. Hence, it is as much to the interests of the wealthier\nclasses themselves as of society at large, that their children should be\neducated with a full sense of their social responsibilities, and\nequipped with all the moral and intellectual aptitudes which are\nrequisite to enable them to take a lead in the development of the\ncommunity of which they are members.\n\nAnd here, perhaps, I may take occasion to draw attention to the\nimportance of the acquisition of political knowledge by all citizens of\nthe state, and especially by those who belong to the leisured classes.\nIt is a plain duty to society, that men should not exercise political\npower, unless they have some knowledge of the questions at issue. The\namount of this knowledge may vary almost infinitely, from that of the\nveteran statesman to that of the newly enfranchised elector, but it is\nwithin the power of every one, who can observe and reason, to acquire\nsome knowledge of at least the questions which affect his own employment\nand the welfare of his own family and neighbourhood, and, unless he will\ntake thus much pains, he might surely have the modesty to forego his\nvote. To record a vote simply to please some one else is only one degree\nbaser than to barter it for money or money's worth, and indeed it is\noften only an indirect mode of doing the same thing.\n\nThere is a large class of cases, primarily affecting individuals rather\nthan society at large, which, if we look a little below the surface and\ntrace their results, are of a much more pernicious character than is\nusually recognised, and, as ethical knowledge increases, ought to incur\nfar more severe reprobation than they now do. Foremost amongst these is\nwhat I may call the current morality of debts. A man incurs a debt with\na tradesman which he has no intention or no reasonable prospect of\npaying, knowing that the tradesman has no grounds for suspecting his\ninability to pay. The tradesman parts with the goods, supposing that he\nwill receive the equivalent; the customer carries them off, knowing that\nthis equivalent is not, and is not likely to be, forthcoming. I confess\nthat I am entirely unable to distinguish this case from that of ordinary\ntheft. And still there is many a man, well received in society, who\nhabitually acts in this manner, and whose practice must be more than\nsuspected by his friends and associates. He and his friends would be\nmuch astonished if he were accosted as a thief, and still I cannot see\nhow he could reasonably repudiate this title. Short of this extreme\ncase, which, however, is by no means uncommon, there are many degrees of\nwhat may be called criminal negligence or imprudence in contracting\ndebts, as where a man runs up a large bill with only a slender\nprobability of meeting it, or a larger bill than he can probably meet in\nfull, or one of which he must defer the payment beyond a reasonable\ntime. In all these cases, which are much aggravated, if the goods\nobtained are luxuries and not necessaries (for it is one of the plainest\nduties of every man, who is removed from absolute want, to live within\nhis means), there is either actual dishonesty or a dangerous\napproximation to it, and it would be a great advance in every-day\nmorality if society were to recognise this fact distinctly, and\napportion its censures accordingly. Where the tradesman knows that he is\nrunning a risk, the customer being also aware that he knows it, and\nadapts his charges to the fact, it is a case of 'Greek meet Greek,' and,\neven if the customer deserves reprobation, the tradesman certainly\ndeserves no compassion. But this is a case outside the range of honest\ndealing altogether, and must be regulated by other sentiments and other\nlaws than those which prevail in ordinary commerce. There is another\nwell-known, and to many men only too familiar, exception to the ordinary\nrelation of debtor and creditor. A friend 'borrows' money of you, though\nit is understood on both sides that he will have no opportunity of\nrepaying it, and that it is virtually a gift. Here, as the creditor does\nnot expect any repayment, and the debtor knows that he does not, there\nis no act of dishonesty, but the debtor, by asking for a loan and not a\ngift, evades the obligation of gratitude and reciprocal service which\nwould attach to the latter, and thus takes a certain advantage of his\nbenefactor. In this case it would be far more straightforward, even if\nit involved some humiliation, to use plain words, and to accept at once\nthe true position of a recipient, and not affect the seeming one of a\nborrower. Connected with the subject of debtor and creditor is the\nungrounded notion, to which I have already adverted, that the payment of\nwhat are called debts of honour ought to take precedence of all other\npecuniary obligations. As these 'debts of honour' generally arise from\nbets or play or loans contracted with friends, the position assumed is\nsimply that debts incurred to members of our own class or persons whom\nwe know place us under a greater obligation than debts incurred to\nstrangers or persons belonging to a lower grade in society. As thus\nstated, the maxim is evidently preposterous and indefensible, and\naffords a good instance, as I have noticed in a previous chapter, of the\nsubordination of the laws of general morality to the convenience and\nprejudices of particular cliques and classes. If there is any\ncompetition at all admissible between just debts, surely those which\nhave been incurred in return for commodities supplied have a stronger\nclaim than those, arising from play or bets, which represent no\nsacrifice on the part of the creditor.\n\nAnother instance of the class of cases which I am now considering is to\nbe found in reckless gambling. Men who indulge in this practice are\nusually condemned as being simply hare-brained or foolish; but, if we\nlook a little below the surface, we shall find that their conduct is\noften highly criminal. Many a time a man risks on play or a bet or a\nhorse-race or a transaction on the stock exchange the permanent welfare,\nsometimes even the very subsistence, of his wife and children or others\ndepending on him; or, if he loses, he cuts short a career of future\nusefulness, or he renders himself unable to develope, or perhaps even to\nretain, his business or his estates, and so involves his tenants, or\nclerks, or workmen in his ruin, or, perhaps, he becomes bankrupt and is\nthus the cause of wide-spread misery amongst his creditors. And, even if\nthese extreme results do not follow, his rash conduct may be the cause\nof much minor suffering amongst his relatives or tradesmen or\ndependents, who may have to forego many legitimate enjoyments in\nconsequence of his one act of greed or thoughtlessness, while, in all\ncases, he is encouraging by his example a practice which, if not his own\nruin, is certain to be the ruin of others. The light-heartedness with\nwhich many a man risks his whole fortune, and the welfare of all who are\ndependent on him, for what would, if gained, be no great addition to his\nhappiness, is a striking example of the frequent blindness of men to all\nresults except those which are removed but one step from their actions.\nA gamester, however sanguine, sees that he may lose his money, but he\ndoes not see all the ill consequences to himself and others which the\nloss of his money will involve. Hence an act, which, if we look to the\nintention, is often only thoughtless, becomes, in result, criminal, and\nit is of the utmost importance that society, by its reprobation, should\nmake men realise what the true nature of such actions is.\n\nI pass now to a case of a different character, which has only, within\nrecent years, begun to attract the attention of the moralist and\npolitician at all--the peril to life and health ensuing on the neglect\nof sanitary precautions. A man carelessly neglects his drains, or allows\na mass of filth to accumulate in his yard, or uses well-water without\ntesting its qualities or ascertaining its surroundings. After a time a\nfever breaks out in his household, and, perhaps, communicates itself to\nhis neighbours, the result being several deaths and much sickness and\nsuffering. These deaths and this suffering are the direct result of his\nnegligence, and, though it would, doubtless, be hard and unjust to call\nhim a murderer, he is this in effect. Of course, if, notwithstanding\nwarning or reflexion, he persists in his negligence, with a full\nconsciousness of the results which may possibly ensue from it, he incurs\na grave moral responsibility, and it is difficult to conceive a case\nmore fit for censure, or even punishment. Nor are the members of a\ncorporation or a board, in the administration of an area of which they\nhave undertaken the charge, less guilty, under these circumstances, than\nis a private individual in the management of his own premises. If men\nwere properly instructed in the results of their actions or\npretermissions, in matters of this nature, and made fully conscious of\nthe responsibility which those results entail upon them, there would\nsoon be a marked decrease in physical suffering, disease, and premature\ndeaths. The average duration of life, in civilized countries, has\nprobably already been lengthened by the increased knowledge and the\nincreased sense of responsibility which have even now been attained.\n\nClosely connected with these considerations on the diminution of death,\ndisease, and suffering by improved sanitary arrangements, is the\ndelicate subject of the propagation of hereditary disease. It is a\ncommonplace that the most important of all the acts of life, is that on\nwhich men and women venture most thoughtlessly. But experience shews,\nunmistakably, that there are many forms of disease, both mental and\nbodily, which are transmitted from the parents to the children, and\nthat, consequently, the marriage of a diseased parent, or of a parent\nwith a tendency to disease, will probably be followed by the existence\nof diseased children. In a matter of this kind, everything, of course,\ndepends on the amount of the risk incurred, that is to say, on the\nextent of the evil and the probability of its transmission. The former\nof these data is supplied by common observation, the latter by the\nresearches of the pathologist. It is for the moralist simply to draw\nattention to the subject, and to insist on the responsibility attaching\nto a knowledge of it. The marriages of persons who are very poor, and\nhave no reasonable prospect of bringing up children in health, decency,\nand comfort, are open to similar considerations but, as in the last\ncase, I must content myself with simply adverting to the responsibility\nattaching to them, and noting the extent to which that responsibility is\nusually ignored. In connexion with this question, it may be added that\nmany of the attempts made by well-meaning people to alleviate poverty\nand distress have, unfortunately, too often the effect of ultimately\naggravating those evils by diverting attention from their real causes. A\nnot unnatural reluctance to discuss or reflect on matters of this\ndelicate character, combined with the survival of maxims and sentiments\nderived from an entirely different condition of society, are, doubtless,\nto a great extent, the reasons of the backward condition of morality on\nthis subject.\n\nThe importance, from a social point of view, of the careful education of\nchildren with reference to their future position in life has already\nbeen considered, but, in connexion with the class of duties I am now\ntreating, I may draw attention to the obligation under which parents\nlie, in this respect, to their children themselves. The ancient\nmorality, which was the product of the patriarchal form of society, when\nthe _patria potestas_ was still in vigour, laid peculiar stress on the\nduties of children to parents, while it almost ignored the reciprocal\nduties of parents to children. When the members of a family were seldom\nseparated, and the pressure of population had not yet begun to be felt,\nthis was the natural order of ideas with respect to the parental\nrelation. But now that the common labour of the household is replaced by\ncompetition amongst individuals, and most young men and women have, at\nan early age, to leave their families and set about earning their own\nliving, or carving out their own career, it is obvious, on reflexion,\nthat parents are guilty of a gross breach of duty, if they do not use\ntheir utmost endeavours to facilitate the introduction of their children\nto the active work of life, and to fit them for the circumstances in\nwhich they are likely to be placed. To bring up a son or daughter in\nidleness or ignorance ought to be as great a reproach to a parent as it\nis to a child to dishonour its father or mother. And yet, in the upper\nand middle classes at all events, there are many parents who, without\nincurring much reprobation from their friends, prefer to treat their\nchildren like playthings or pet animals rather than to take the pains to\ntrain them with a view to their future trials and duties. It ought to be\nthoroughly realised, and, as the moral consciousness becomes better\nadapted to the existing circumstances of society, it is to be trusted\nthat it will be realised, that parents have no moral right to do what\nthey choose with their children, but that they are under a strict\nobligation both to society and to their children themselves so to mould\ntheir dispositions and develope their faculties and inform their minds\nand train their bodies as to render them good and useful citizens, and\nhonest and skilful men. It is to be hoped that, some day, people will\nregard with as much surprise the notion that parents have a right to\nneglect the education of their children as we now regard with wonder,\nwhen we first hear of it; the maxim of archaic law, that a parent had a\nright to put his child to death.\n\nMuch of the trouble, vexation, and misery of which men are the cause to\nthemselves is due to cowardice, or the false shame which results from\nattaching undue importance to custom, fashion, or the opinion of others,\neven when that opinion is not confirmed by their own reflexion. Shame is\nan invaluable protection to men, as a restraining feeling. But the\nobjects to which it properly attaches are wrong-doing, unkindness,\ndiscourtesy, to others, and, as regards ourselves, ignorance,\nimprudence, intemperance, impurity, and avoidable defects or\nmisfortunes. While it confines itself to objects such as these, it is\none of the sternest and, at the same time, most effective guardians of\nvirtue and self-respect. But, as soon as a man begins to care about what\nothers will say of circumstances not under his own control, such as his\nrace, his origin, his appearance, his physical defects, or his lack of\nwealth or natural talents, he may be laying up for himself a store of\nincalculable misery, and is certainly enfeebling his character and\nimpairing his chances of future usefulness. It is under the influence of\nthis motive, for instance, that many a man lives above his income, not\nfor the purpose of gratifying any real wants either of himself or his\nfamily, but for the sake of 'keeping up appearances,' though he is\nexposing his creditors to considerable losses, his family to many\nprobable disadvantages, and himself to almost certain disgrace in the\nfuture. It is under the influence of this motive, too, that many men, in\nthe upper and middle classes, rather than marry on a modest income, and\ndrop out of the society of their fashionable acquaintance, form\nirregular sexual connexions, which are a source of injury to themselves\nand ruin to their victims.\n\nA circumstance which has probably contributed largely, in recent times,\nto aggravate the feeling of false shame is the new departure which, in\ncommercial communities, has been taken by class-distinctions. The old\nline, which formed a sharp separation between the nobility and all other\nclasses, has been almost effaced, and in its place have been substituted\nmany shades of difference between different grades of society, together\nwith a broad line of demarcation between what may be called the genteel\nand the ungenteel classes. It was a certain advantage of the old line\nthat it could not be passed, and, hence, though there might be some\njealousy felt towards the nobility as a class, there were none of the\nheart-burnings which attach to an uncertain position or a futile effort\nto rise. In modern society, on the other hand, there is hardly any one\nwhose position is so fixed, that he may not easily rise above or fall\nbelow it, and hence there is constant room for social ambition, social\ndisappointment, and social jealousy. Again, the broad line of gentility,\nwhich now corresponds most closely with the old distinction of nobility,\nis determined by such a number of considerations,--birth, connexions,\nmeans, manners, education, with the arbitrary, though almost essential,\ncondition of not being engaged in retail trade,--that those who are just\nexcluded by it are apt to feel their position somewhat unintelligible,\nand, therefore, all the more galling to their pride and self-respect It\nwould be curious to ascertain what proportion of the minor\ninconveniences and vexations of modern life is due to the perplexity, on\nthe one side, and the soreness, on the other, created by the\nexclusiveness of class-distinctions. That these distinctions are an\nevil, in themselves, there can, I think, be no doubt. Men cannot, of\ncourse, all know one another, much less be on terms of intimacy with one\nanother, and the degree of their acquaintance or intimacy will always be\nlargely dependent on community of tastes, interests, occupations, and\nearly associations. But these facts afford no reason why one set of men\nshould look down with superciliousness and disdain on another set of men\nwho have not enjoyed the same early advantages or are not at present\nendowed with the same gifts or accomplishments as themselves, or why\nthey should hold aloof from them when there is any opportunity of\ncommon action or social intercourse. The pride of class is eminently\nunreasonable, and, in those who profess to believe in Christianity,\npre-eminently inconsistent. It will always, probably, continue to exist,\nbut we may hope that it will be progressively modified by the advance of\neducation, by the spread of social sympathy, and by a growing habit of\nreflexion. The ideal social condition would be one in which, though men\ncontinued to form themselves into groups, no one thought the worse or\nthe more lightly of another, because he belonged to a different group\nfrom himself.\n\nConnected with exaggerated class-feeling are abuses of-esprit de\ncorps_. Unlike class-feeling, _esprit de corps_ is, in itself, a good.\nIt binds men together, as in a vessel or a regiment, a school or a\ncollege, an institution or a municipality, and leads them to sacrifice\ntheir ease or their selfish aims, and to act loyally and cordially with\none another in view of the common interest. It is only when it\nsacrifices to the interests of its own body wider interests still, and\nsubordinates patriotism or morality to the narrower sentiment attaching\nto a special law of honour, that it incurs the reprobation of the\nmoralist. But that it does sometimes deservedly incur this reprobation,\nadmits of no question. A man, to save the honour of his regiment, may\nimpair the efficiency of an army, or, to promote the interests of his\ncollege or school, may inflict a lasting injury on education, or, to\nprotect his associates, may withhold or pervert evidence, or, to\naggrandize his trade, may ruin his country. It is the special province\nof the moralist, in these cases, to intervene, and point out how the\nmore general is being sacrificed to the more special interest, the wider\nto the narrower sentiment, morality itself to a point of honour or\netiquette. But, at the same time, he must recollect that the _esprit de\ncorps_ of any small aggregate of men is, as such, always an ennobling\nand inspiriting sentiment, and that, unless it plainly detach them from\nthe rest of the community, and is attended with pernicious consequences\nto society at large, it is unwise, if not reckless, to seek to impair\nit.\n\nTo descend to a subject of less, though still of considerable,\nimportance, I may notice that cowardice and fear of 'what people will\nsay' lies at the bottom of much ill-considered charity and of that\nfacility with which men, often to the injury of themselves or their\nfamilies, if not of the very objects pleaded for, listen to the\nsolicitations of the inconsiderate or interested subscription-monger. It\nhas now become a truism that enormous mischief is done by the\nindiscriminate distribution of alms to beggars or paupers. It is no less\ntrue, though not so obvious, that much unintentional harm is often done\nby subscriptions for what are called public objects. People ought to\nhave sufficient mental independence to ask themselves what will be the\nultimate effects of subscribing their money, and, if they honestly\nbelieve that those effects will be pernicious or of doubtful utility,\nthey ought to have the courage to refuse it. There is no good reason,\nsimply because a man asks me and I find that others are yielding to him,\nwhy I should subscribe a guinea towards disfiguring a church, or\nerecting an ugly and useless building, or extending pauperism, or\nencouraging the growth of luxurious habits, or spreading opinions which\nI do not believe. And I may be the more emboldened in my refusal, when I\nconsider how mixed, or how selfish, are often the motives of those who\nsolicit me, and that the love of notoriety, or the gratification of a\nfeeling of self-importance, or a fussy restlessness, or the craving for\npreferment is frequently quite as powerful an incentive of their\nactivity as a desire to promote the objects explicitly avowed. There is,\nmoreover, an important consideration, connected with this subject, which\noften escapes notice, namely, the extent to which new and multiplied\nappeals to charity often interfere with older, nearer, and more pressing\nclaims. Thus, the managers of the local hospital or dispensary or\ncharity organisation have often too good cause to regret the\nenthusiastic philanthropy, which is sending help, of questionable\nutility, to distant parts of the world. People cannot subscribe to\neverything, and they are too apt to fall in with the most recent and\nmost fashionable movement. In venturing on these remarks, I trust it is\nneedless to say that I am far from deprecating the general practice of\nsubscribing to charities and public objects, a form of co-operation\nwhich has been rendered indispensable by the habits and circumstances of\nmodern life. I am simply insisting on the importance and responsibility\nof ascertaining whether the aims proposed are likely to be productive of\ngood or evil, and deprecating the cowardice or listlessness which yields\nto a solicitation, irrespectively of the merits of the proposal.\n\nThese solicitations often take the offensive form, which is\nintentionally embarrassing to the person solicited, of an appeal to\nrelieve the purveyor of the subscription-list himself from the\nobligation incurred by a 'guarantee.' The issue is thus ingeniously and\nunfairly transferred from the claims of the object, which it is designed\nto promote, to the question of relieving a friend or a neighbour from a\nheavy pecuniary obligation. 'Surely you will never allow me to pay all\nthis money myself.' But why not, unless I approve of the object, and,\neven if I do, why should I increase my subscription, on account of an\nobligation voluntarily incurred by you, without any encouragement from\nme? In a case of this kind, the 'guarantee' ought to be regarded as\nsimply irrelevant, and the question decided solely on the merits of the\nresult to be attained. Of course, I must be understood to be speaking\nhere only of those cases in which the 'guarantee' is used as an\nadditional argument for eliciting subscriptions, not of those cases in\nwhich, for convenience sake, or in order to secure celerity of\nexecution, a few wealthy persons generously advance the whole sum\nrequired for a project, being quite willing to pay it themselves, unless\nthey meet with ready and cheerful co-operation.\n\nIn the department of social intercourse, there are several applications\nof existing moral principles, and specially of the softer virtues of\nkindness, courtesy, and consideration for others, the observance of\nwhich would sensibly sweeten our relations to our fellow-men and, to\npersons of a sensitive temperament, render life far more agreeable and\nbetter worth living than it actually is. A few of these applications I\nshall attempt to point out. Amongst savage races, and in the less\npolished ranks of civilized life, men who disagree, or have any grudge\nagainst one another, resort to physical blows or coarse invective. In\npolite and educated circles, these weapons are replaced by sarcasm and\ninnuendo. There are, of course, many advantages gained by the\nsubstitution of this more refined mode of warfare, but the mere fact\nthat the intellectual skill which it displays gives pleasure to the\nbystanders, and wins social applause, renders its employment far more\nfrequent than, on cool reflexion, could be justified by the occasions\nfor it. There can be no doubt that it gives pain, often intense pain,\nespecially where the victim is not ready enough to retaliate effectively\nin kind. And there can be no more justification for inflicting this\npeculiar kind of pain than any other, unless the circumstances are such\nas to demand it. Any one, who will take the trouble to analyse his acts\nand motives, will generally find, when he employs these weapons, that he\nis actuated not so much by any desire to reform the object of his attack\nor to deter, by these means, him or others from wrong-doing, as by a\ndesire to show off his own cleverness and to leave behind him a mark of\nhis power in the smart which he inflicts. These unamiable motives are\nleast justifiable, when the victim is a social inferior, or a person\nwho, by his age or position, is unable to retaliate on equal terms. To\nvanity and cruelty are then added cowardice, and, though all these vices\nmay only be displayed on a very small scale, they are none the less\nreally present. It may be laid down, however difficult, with our present\nsocial habits, it may be to keep the rule, that sarcasm should never be\nemployed, except deliberately, and as a punishment, and that for\ninnuendo, if justifiable by facts, men should always have the courage to\nsubstitute direct assertion.\n\nOf the minor social vices, one of the commonest is a disregard, in\nconversation, of other persons' feelings. Men who lay claim to the\ncharacter of gentlemen are specially bound to shew their tact and\ndelicacy of feeling by avoiding all subjects which have a disagreeable\npersonal reference or are likely to revive unpleasant associations in\nthe minds of any of those who are present. And yet these are qualities\nwhich are often strangely conspicuous by their absence even in educated\nand cultivated society. One of the most repulsive and least excusable\nforms which this indifference to other persons' feelings takes is in\nimpertinent curiosity. There are some people who, for the sake of\nsatisfying a purposeless curiosity, will ask questions which they know\nit cannot be agreeable to answer. In all cases, curiosity of this kind\nis evidence of want of real refinement, and is a breach of the finer\nrules of social morality; but, when the questions asked are intended to\nextract, directly or indirectly, unwilling information on a man's\nprivate life or circumstances, they assume the character of sheer\nvulgarity. A man's private affairs, providing his conduct of them does\nnot injuriously affect society, are no one's business but his own, and\nmuch pain and vexation of the smaller kind would be saved, if this very\nplain fact were duly recognised in social intercourse.\n\nIt may be noticed in passing, that there still lingers on in society a\nminor form of persecution, a sort of inquisition on a small scale, which\nconsists in attempting to extract from a man a frank statement of his\nreligious, social, or political opinions, though it is known or\nsuspected all the time, that, if he responds to the invitation, it will\nbe to his social or material disadvantage. In cases of this kind, it\nbecomes a casuistical question how far a man is called on to disclose\nhis real sentiments at the bidding of any impertinent questioner. That\nthe free expression of opinion should be attended with this danger is,\nof course, a proof how far removed we still are from perfect\nintellectual toleration.\n\nImpertinent curiosity is offensive, not only because it shews an\nindifference to the feelings of the person questioned, but because it\nsavours of gratuitous interference in his affairs. This quality it\nshares with another of the minor social vices, the tendering of unasked\nfor advice, or, in brief, impertinent advice. There are certain\ncircumstances and relations in which men have the right, even if they\nare not under the obligation, to give unsolicited advice, as where a man\nis incurring an unknown danger or foregoing some unsuspected advantage,\nor to their servants, or children, or wards, or pupils; but, in all\nthese cases, either the special circumstance or the special relation\nimplies superiority of knowledge or superiority of position on the part\nof the person tendering the advice, and to assume this superiority,\nwhere it does not plainly exist, is an act of impertinence. Just as the\nassumption of superiority wounds a man's self-respect, so does the\ndisposition to meddle in his affairs, which is generally founded on that\nassumption, affect his sense of independence, and, hence, an act which\nincludes both grounds of offence seems to be a peculiarly legitimate\nobject of resentment. The lesson of letting other people alone is one\nwhich men are slow to learn, though there are few who, in their own\ncase, do not resent any attack on their liberty of judgment or action.\nThis is emphatically one of the cases in which we should try to put\nourselves in the place of others, and act to them as we would that they\nshould act towards us.\n\nExcessive, and often ill-natured, criticism of others is one of the\nminor vices which seem to grow up with advancing civilisation and\nintelligence rather than to retreat before them. It seems, as a rule, to\nprevail much more in educated than in uneducated society. The reason is\nnot difficult to find. Education naturally makes men more fastidious and\nmore keenly alive to the defects of those with whom they associate. And\nthen, when educated men converse together, they are apt, merely from the\nfacility with which they deal with language, to express in an\nexaggerated form the unfavourable estimate which they have formed of\nothers, especially if this exaggerated form can be compressed into an\nepigram. But it requires little reflexion to see that this keen and\nexaggerated habit of criticism must be productive of much discomfort in\na society in which it is general, and that, when applied to literary\nwork, even though it may be a protection against inaccuracy and breaches\nof taste, it must be a great discouragement to the young and repressive\nof much honest and valuable effort. To restrain the critical spirit,\nwhether applied to mind or conduct, with proper limits, it is necessary,\nkeeping these considerations in view, to ask how much we can reasonably\nor profitably require of men, and, above all, never to lose that\nsympathetic touch with others which renders us as keenly alive to their\ndifficulties as their errors, to their aspirations as their failure to\nfulfil them.\n\nI shall say nothing here of detraction, backbiting, or malicious\nrepresentation, because these are social vices which are too obvious and\ntoo generally acknowledged to be of any service as illustrations of\nthose extensions or new applications of morality which I have in view in\nthe present chapter. I may, however, notice in passing, that the\ninvention or exaggeration of stories, which have a tendency to bring men\ninto ridicule or contempt, is a practice which, from the entertainment\nit affords, is too easily tolerated by society, and usually fails to\nmeet with the reprobation it deserves.\n\n\nI shall advert to only one other topic, namely, the treatment of the\nlower animals. With rare exceptions, it is only of late that this\nsubject has been regarded as falling within the sphere of ethics, and it\nis greatly to the credit of Bentham that he was amongst the first to\nrecognise its importance and to commend it to the consideration of the\nlegislator. That the lower animals, as sentient beings, have a claim on\nour sympathies, and that, consequently, we have duties in respect of\nthem, I can no more doubt than that we have duties in respect to the\ninferior members of our own race. But, at the same time, considering\ntheir place in the economy of nature, I cannot doubt that man has a\nright, within certain limits, to use them, and even to kill them, for\nhis own advantage. What these limits are is a question by no means\ndevoid of difficulty. There are those who maintain that we have no right\nto kill animals for food, while there are those who, without maintaining\nthis extreme position, hold that we have no right to cause them pain for\nthe purposes of our own amusement, or even for the alleviation of human\nsuffering by means of the advancement of physiological and medical\nscience. It will be seen that the three questions here raised are the\nlegitimacy of the use of animal food, of field sports, and of\nvivisection. As respects the first, I do not doubt that, considering\ntheir relative places in the scale of being, man is morally justified in\nsacrificing the lives of the lower animals to the maintenance of his own\nhealth and vigour, let alone the probability that, if he did not, they\nwould multiply to such an extent as to endanger his existence, and would\nthemselves, in the aggregate, experience more suffering from the\nprivation caused by the struggle for life than they now do by incurring\nviolent deaths. At the same time, though man may kill the lower animals\nfor his own convenience, he is bound not to inflict needless suffering\non them. The torture of an animal, for no adequate purpose, is\nabsolutely indefensible. Cock-fights, bull-fights, and the like seem to\nme to admit of no more justification than the gladiatorial shows. Are\nfield-sports, then, in the same category? The answer, I think, depends\non three considerations: (1) would the animal be killed any way, either\nfor food, or as a beast of prey; (2) what is the amount of suffering\ninflicted on it, in addition to that which would be inflicted by killing\nit instantaneously; (3) for what purpose is this additional suffering\ninflicted. I shall not attempt to apply these considerations in detail,\nbut I shall simply state as my opinion that, amongst the results of a\nlegitimate application of them, would be the conclusions that worrying a\ndog or a cat is altogether unjustifiable; that fox-hunting might be\njustified on the ground that the additional suffering caused to the fox\nis far more than counterbalanced by the beneficial effects, in health\nand enjoyment, to the hunter; that shooting, if the sportsman be\nskilful, is one of the most painless ways of putting a bird or a stag to\ndeath, and, therefore, requires no justification, whereas, if the\nsportsman be unskilful, the sufferings which he is liable to cause,\nthrough a lingering and painful death, ought to deter him from\npractising his art. With regard to the much-debated question of\nvivisection, it seems to me utterly untenable, and eminently\ninconsistent on the part of those who eat animal food or indulge in\nfield-sports, to maintain that, under no circumstances, is it morally\njustifiable to inflict pain on the lower animals for the purpose of\nascertaining the causes or remedies of disease. But, having once made\nthis admission, I should insist on the necessity of guarding it by\nconfining the power of operating on the living animal to persons duly\nauthorised, and by limiting it to cases of research as distinct from\ndemonstration. Those, moreover, who are invested with this serious\nresponsibility, ought to feel morally bound to inflict no superfluous\nsuffering, and ought, consequently, to employ anaesthetics, wherever\nthey would not unduly interfere with the conduct of the experiment; to\nresort, as far as possible, to the lower rather than the higher\norganisms, as being less susceptible of pain; and to limit their\nexperiments, both in number and duration, as far as is consistent with\nthe objects for which they are permitted to perform them. This whole\nquestion, however, of our relation to the lower animals is one which is\nfraught with much difficulty, and supplies a good instance of the range\nof subjects within which the moral sentiment is probably in the course\nof development. Recent researches, and, still more, recent speculations,\nhave tended to impress us with the nearness of our kinship to other\nanimals, and, hence, our sympathies with them and our interest in their\nwelfare have been sensibly quickened. The word philanthropy no longer\nexpresses the most general of the sympathetic feelings, and we seem to\nrequire some new term which shall denote our fellow-feeling with the\nwhole sentient creation.\n\nSuch is a sample, and I must repeat that it is intended only as a\nsample, of the class of questions to which, as it seems to me, the moral\ntest still admits of further application. Morality, or the science and\nart of conduct, had its small beginnings, I conceive, in the primeval\nhousehold and has only attained its present grand proportions by gradual\nincrements, derived partly from the semi-conscious operations of the\nhuman intelligence adapting itself to the circumstances in which it is\nplaced, partly from the conscious meditations of reflective men. That it\nis likely to advance in the future, as it has done in the past,\nnotwithstanding the many hindrances to its progress which confessedly\nexist, is, I think, an obvious inference from experience. We may not\nunreasonably hope that there will be a stricter sense of justice, a more\ncomplete realisation of duty, more delicacy of feeling, a greater\nrefinement of manners, more kindliness, quicker and wider sympathies in\nthe coming generations than there are amongst ourselves. I have\nattempted, in this Essay, briefly to delineate the nature of the\nfeelings on which this progress depends, and of the considerations by\nwhich it is guided, as well as to indicate some few out of the many\ndirections which it is likely to take in the future. In the former part\nof my task, I am aware that I have run counter to many prejudices of\nlong standing, and that the theories which I consider to be alone\nconsistent with the fact of the progress of morality, may by some be\nthought to impair its authority. But if morality has its foundations in\nthe constitution of human nature, which itself proceeds from the Divine\nSource of all things, I conceive that its credentials are sufficiently\nassured. In the present chapter, I have, in attempting to illustrate the\npossibility of future improvements in the art and theory of conduct,\nbeen necessarily led to note some deficiencies in the existing moral\nsentiment. This is always an unwelcome and invidious task. Men do not\nlike to be reminded of their moral failings, and there is hardly any\nman, however critical he may be of others, who, in the actual conduct of\nlife, does not appear to delude himself with the idea that his own moral\npractice is perfect. I appeal, however, from the unconscious assumptions\nof men to their powers of reflexion, and I ask each man who reads this\nbook to consider carefully within himself whether, on the principles\nhere set out, much of the conduct and many of the ethical maxims which\nare now generally accepted do not admit of refinement and improvement.\nIn the sphere of morals, as in all other departments of human activity,\nwe are bound to do for our successors what our predecessors were bound\nto do, and mostly did, for us--transmit the heritage we have received\nwith all the additions and adaptations which the new experiences and\nchanging conditions of life have rendered necessary or desirable.","title":"Progressive Morality: An Essay in Ethics","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":33541}